Chapter 502: The Thirtieth Day of Transmigrating into an Alien War Novel

Chapter 502: Day Thirty of Being Dropped Into an Alien War Novel

An Yi's gaze finally landed on the view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

From here, the view really was excellent—he could see the full layout of the university campus, the brick-red buildings in the dormitory area, the figures jogging on the sports field, and the lights glowing in the library.

With his line of sight, he could even see the window of his own dormitory building, glowing with warm yellow light.

"You rented this place..." An Yi suddenly spoke: "Is it so you can see my dormitory building?"

An Cheng was pouring water for An Yi. When he heard the question, his hand trembled slightly as he held the cup.

A few drops of warm water spilled onto the back of his hand.

The droplets slid down his skin, catching the light.

He stood there with his back to An Yi, shoulders tense.

The T-shirt fabric stretched taut across his shoulder blades, like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

A few seconds later, he turned around and placed the cup on the coffee table in front of An Yi. The glass bottom hit the table with a crisp clink.

Then he sat down next to An Yi. The sofa dipped under his weight, pulling them unconsciously closer.

"Yes."

He answered without hesitation: "I rented this place because I can see your dormitory building."

Then he continued: "I watch you through my telescope every day."

He turned his face to look at An Yi, his eyes candid: "When you walk out of the teaching building, when you go to the cafeteria with your roommate, when you stroll around campus... I'm always watching."

He paused, fingers digging into his knees, knuckles white: "I know this isn't right. Like a pervert, a stalker, like... a possessive madman."

His voice dropped, with an unreadable undertone: "So what are you gonna do about it? Gonna punish me, Xiao Yi?"

He asked, not blinking, eyes fixed on An Yi.

An Yi: "..."

He was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to the space between them—An Cheng was sitting too close—close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint mint on his breath, see the emotions churning in his eyes, almost spilling over.

Does he have to sit this close? Right up against me?

An Yi sighed internally, then looked up at An Cheng and let out an exasperated laugh: "You're so honest, aren't you, gege~"

He deliberately drew out the word "gege," his tone teasing.

An Cheng's lips thinned into a line.

"I'm not your brother," he said, his voice lower now. "We're not blood-related."

An Yi turned to stare at him, eyes narrowing: "So you're a stalker?"

An Cheng opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. He looked at An Yi—at the clear scrutiny in those usually calm eyes, at the cold expression on that delicate face.

Then he nodded. "I am."

He paused, leaning in closer, his voice barely a whisper: "For you, I am."

His breath ghosted across An Yi's cheek, warm and damp: "Xiao Yi, can't you accept that? I just want to keep watching you. You can hit me, yell at me—I won't fight back."

He said it with utter seriousness—serious to the point of obsession.

An Yi narrowed his eyes and snapped: "Pervert!"

An Cheng laughed and admitted again: "I am."

An Yi stood up.

He didn't want to sit there anymore. He was going to move to the other armchair.

But the second he stood up, his wrist was caught.

An Cheng's fingers were long, his palm warm, rough with the calluses of years of training.

An Yi looked down at his trapped wrist, then up at An Cheng.

An Cheng looked back at him, something almost devout shining in his eyes.

He held An Yi's wrist and slowly lowered his head, intending to kiss the spot where the skin was thinnest, where the pulse beat underneath.

An Yi pulled free.

His wrist slipped from An Cheng's grip, stirring a faint breeze.

An Cheng's kiss landed on empty air.

But he didn't stop. He just followed through with the motion and pressed his lips to the hem of An Yi's shirt instead.

A white cotton shirt, the hem lifted slightly from the motion of standing, revealing a sliver of waist.

An Cheng's lips pressed against that spot through the thin cotton.

Then he did something even bolder.

He parted his lips and gently bit down on the fabric, along with the warm skin beneath.

Then he raised his other hand, trying to lift An Yi's shirt hem—he wanted more.

He wanted to touch bare skin, feel the warmth with his lips, leave marks behind.

An Yi: "..."

He reached out and grabbed An Cheng's neck.

It was fast—An Cheng didn't even see it coming. That slender, clean hand was already clamped around his neck.

The base of his palm pressed against An Cheng's jaw, thumb and forefinger tightening, compressing his windpipe and carotid.

With one hand, An Yi pinned him to the back of the sofa, staring down at him with icy eyes: "Enough."

He said it calmly, but the force in his hand was anything but light.

With his neck squeezed, An Cheng struggled to breathe, but a smile spread across his face.

He spoke in broken fragments, his voice hoarse from lack of air: "What do I do now, Xiao Yi... that was my first kiss..."

He paused, and the light in his eyes grew even brighter:

"You're gonna have to take responsibility for me."

An Yi stared at him for a few seconds, then let go.

He withdrew his hand, turned, and sat down on the armchair nearby, his posture settling back into its usual ease.

He smoothed out the rumpled hem of his shirt, pressing the fabric flat.

An Cheng stayed put, raising a hand to touch his own neck—where the warmth and feel of An Yi's fingers still lingered.

He rubbed the spot, as if savoring the feeling, smiling as he touched it, letting out low chuckles between coughs: "Cough, cough! Cough..."

He coughed a few times, then looked up at An Yi, who was sitting on the armchair.

An Yi looked back at him, his gaze calm and undisturbed.

"An Cheng..." An Yi spoke, his voice soft: "You like me?"

An Cheng looked at him, held his gaze for several seconds, then nodded: "Yeah."

He said it, then paused, as if that word wasn't enough, and added: "I love you."

He said it with utter seriousness, every word sounding like it was pulled from the very depths of his heart, burning with warmth.

He walked over to An Yi and sat cross-legged on the carpet at his feet.

"Xiao Yi, Xiao Yi." He looked at An Yi, an almost reverent light in his eyes: "I love you. I love you."

He repeated it, over and over.

He tentatively leaned closer, wanting to rest his forehead against An Yi's knee, but An Yi gently lifted his foot, pressing the tip of his shoe against An Cheng's shoulder, stopping him from getting closer.