Chapter 507: The Thirty-Fifth Day of Transmigrating into an Alien War Novel

Chapter 507: Day 35 of Being Thrown Into an Alien War Novel

They stayed at home for five days.

These five days passed peacefully and cozily, like any ordinary vacation.

An Qionglan's attitude was so natural that you could almost forget that she and her two children had just had an important conversation about brothers turning into lovers.

Except at night... she said, "Xiao Cheng, I put new sheets on your bed, but I changed Xiao Yi's sheets too. You two can decide who sleeps where."

Then she turned and left, leaving An Yi and An Cheng in the hallway, staring at each other.

An Yi: "..."

An Cheng's eyes lit up, and he turned to look at An Yi, his gaze filled with obvious anticipation.

But An Yi just looked at him calmly, then turned and walked into his room, closing the door behind him.

The moment the door shut, An Cheng heard the soft "click" of the lock.

He'd been shut out.

An Cheng stood outside the door, staring at it for several seconds, then rubbed his nose, turned, and went back to his room, his shoulders slumped a little.

It wasn't until the evening of the fifth day, late at night.

An Yi came out of the bathroom after showering, and his footsteps paused—he sensed someone outside his door.

Under the hallway's dim yellow light, a tall figure stood at his door.

It was An Cheng.

An Yi opened the door. An Cheng looked like he'd just showered too; his hair was still damp, a few strands stuck to his forehead, water droplets sliding down his hair, tracing his neck, and disappearing into his pajama collar.

An Yi looked at him. "What's wrong?"

An Cheng looked back at him, his gaze unusually deep in the dim light, something complicated churning beneath the surface.

His eyes lingered on An Yi's face, moving over his still-damp eyelashes, his slightly flushed cheeks, his damp lips, and finally resting on the open collar of his pajamas, pausing for a moment before quickly looking away.

His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Xiao Yi," he said, his voice a little husky. "Can I come in?"

An Yi stepped aside, making room. "Come in."

An Cheng's eyes lit up. He followed An Yi into the room, then turned and gently closed the door.

"Click." The lock closed.

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The lights were off.

Only the moonlight from outside and the glow from beyond the window filtered through the sheer curtains, casting blurry patches of light on the floor.

Those patches rippled like water, swaying gently as the curtains moved in the night breeze.

An Yi walked to the bed and sat down, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

After closing the door, An Cheng didn't walk over right away.

He stood in the shadows by the door, watching An Yi sit on the edge of the bed. The young man, in light gray pajamas, sat in the moonlight, his whole figure wrapped in a silvery-white glow.

His pajama collar hung slightly open, revealing pale collarbones and a small patch of chest, his skin gleaming with a soft sheen in the moonlight, like fine porcelain.

His gaze drifted uncontrollably over An Yi's cheeks, down his slender neck, into his pajama collar, then to his hands resting on his knees—those hands were very pale, with long fingers and defined knuckles, like some kind of exquisite artwork in the dim light.

In the darkness, he looked especially soft, especially... enticing.

Like some kind of forbidden fruit, giving off a sweet but dangerous vibe.

An Cheng's throat bobbed.

He could hear his heart beating loudly and slowly in his chest, could feel the blood rushing through his veins, could smell the faint fragrance of An Yi lingering in the air—the jasmine-scented body wash, the same one he used, but on An Yi, it carried a fresher, cleaner scent he couldn't quite describe.

How could it smell so good?

He took a deep breath and walked over to An Yi.

He stopped in front of An Yi, kneeling on one knee on the carpet, just like that day in the apartment, just like so many times before—putting himself lower, looking up at An Yi.

He had to tilt his head up to see An Yi's face.

"Xiao Yi," he called again, his voice even lower, barely a whisper.

An Yi looked down at him.

"Hm?" An Yi responded, his voice very soft.

An Cheng looked up at him for several seconds, then raised a hand and gently took hold of An Yi's hand resting on his knee.

His palm was large, warm, with calluses from years of training. He held An Yi's hand, and once he had it, he didn't want to let go.

"Xiao Yi," he said. "Can I... kiss you?"

An Yi looked down at him, at the nervous yet expectant expression on that face, and then he smiled.

"What?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did you dream about it again last night?"

An Cheng: "..."

His face flushed red instantly. He remembered the messages he'd sent An Yi before—those explicit, blunt, almost harassing messages.

The ones about "dreaming of kissing," the ones about "wanting to keep looking at you," the ones about... so many desires that shouldn't have been spoken aloud.

His fingers tightened slightly. "Not just that."

He said, his Adam's apple rolling. "It's already gone further."

An Yi looked at him for a few seconds, then withdrew his hand, raised it, and gently patted the top of An Cheng's head.

That gesture was very light, carrying a soothing quality.

Then he lowered his head and, in An Cheng's astonished gaze, kissed him.

An Yi's lips were very soft, carrying the moisture and warmth of having just showered.

An Cheng reached out and wrapped his arms around An Yi's neck.

His arms were strong, pulling An Yi back toward him, and then he tilted his head up, deepening the kiss.

His lips pressed tightly against An Yi's, his tongue tentatively pushing past the seam of An Yi's lips, tasting something deeper, something that was purely An Yi.

Clean, warm, with a hint of coolness.

They parted, their breaths mingling together.

An Cheng breathed heavily, his eyes fixed on An Yi.

An Cheng's lips were shiny from the kiss, and then he smiled.

The corners of his mouth lifted, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"Xiao Yi..." he began, his voice hoarse, "Xiao Yi..."

He repeated the name, his voice full of reverence.

An Yi looked at him, at the pure joy and satisfaction on his face, at the love in his eyes that was practically spilling over, and then he smiled too.

"Enough," he said, reaching out to pat An Cheng's head again. "Go back to sleep."

An Cheng didn't want to leave.

He really didn't want to leave.

He wanted to stay, to hold An Yi, to keep kissing, to do so much more... all the things he had done countless times in dreams and practiced in his mind over and over.

He stood up, bent down, and gently pressed a kiss to An Yi's forehead.

"Xiao Yi," he said. "Can I stay?"