Chapter 486 Entrusted Since Childhood

Chapter 486: Entrusting Heart and Soul Since Youth

Cheng Ge turned half his face out of the pillow, revealing one eye, and glared at Yun Xunyu.

Yun Xunyu was looking at him, the corners of his mouth curved up, his eyes crinkling at the corners—a smile so perfectly proper and agreeable that no fault could be found with it.

But Cheng Ge always felt that what was pressed beneath it was even harder to withstand than Wuliji's direct hits.

"You're needling me again." Cheng Ge's voice was muffled and slurred in the pillow.

Yun Xunyu smiled, didn't refute, and didn't stop his movements either.

His hand moved from Cheng Ge's waist to his spine, from his spine to his shoulder blade, his fingertips pressing lightly on the bone.

Cheng Ge's spine arched slightly beneath his fingertips, like a bow drawn taut, bowing once, then slowly relaxing again.

"Qingqing's waist is so slender." Yun Xunyu's voice was low, as if spilling from the depths of his throat, carrying the kind of lazy teasing that gets under your skin.

His thumb traced a circle on Cheng Ge's waist, then another circle, neither too hard nor too soft, neither too fast nor too slow, like someone grinding fine ink—unhurried, but determined to get the consistency just right.

Cheng Ge's waist flinched—not pulling away, but trembling, like a plucked string, vibrating once, the echo still ringing in the air.

"Can you keep your hands to yourself?" Cheng Ge's voice came from the pillow, muffled, with a gritted-teeth bite to it.

"What do you mean, not behaving?" Yun Xunyu said, his tone as sincere as if he were making a formal report to the emperor.

His fingers moved from Cheng Ge's waist to his spine, pressing upward along the curve of the vertebrae one by one, from the lumbar to the thoracic, from the thoracic to the cervical. With each press, Cheng Ge's breathing got more uneven.

When he reached the cervical vertebrae, Cheng Ge went completely boneless, like ice left out in the sun, melting from the inside out into a puddle, going limp and collapsing onto the bed.

Cheng Ge took a deep breath, reached out and grabbed the open collar of Yun Xunyu's robe, and pulled it shut, hiding all that exposed collarbone, chest, and that distracting mole.

Yun Xunyu looked down at the hand gathering his lapels, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, but he didn't move, letting him do it.

Cheng Ge pulled the lapels tight, then yanked again, until Yun Xunyu let out a light cough from the pressure, before letting go.

"Quit being such a tease." Cheng Ge said, his voice gruff and raspy.

Yun Xunyu looked down at his neatly gathered lapels and said nothing.

He reached out, picked out a strand of Cheng Ge's hair from where it lay scattered on the pillow, twirled it around his finger, rolling it between his fingers, then pinched the end of the strand and lightly brushed it across his own chin.

Once, twice, three times. The black strands swept across his skin, like a heavy stroke of ink on rice paper—spreading, refusing to be reined in.

"I just want Qingqing to be able to hear my heartbeat." Yun Xunyu said, taking Cheng Ge's hand and pressing it to his chest.

Though the lapels were gathered, the fabric was thin, and beneath it, the heartbeat was steady and slow.

"Your heart's not even beating fast." Cheng Ge said, trying to pull his hand back, but Yun Xunyu held it in place.

"It's not fast normally," Yun Xunyu said, his voice light as if sharing a secret, "only when Qingqing is around."

Cheng Ge's palm pressed against Yun Xunyu's chest, and he could feel that heartbeat suddenly jump a beat.

Cheng Ge's fingers curled slightly, wanting to withdraw, but Yun Xunyu held on, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric, so hot it made Cheng Ge's fingertips tremble.

"See," Yun Xunyu said, the corners of his mouth curved, his eyes arched, his white hair falling to brush across Cheng Ge's hand, tickling, "I'm not lying to Qingqing."

Cheng Ge glared at him for a full three seconds, then yanked his hand back abruptly, tucking it into the blanket, and scooted half an inch toward the inside of the bed.

Yun Xunyu gathered Cheng Ge, blanket and all, into his arms.

The blanket sat between them like a soft cocoon, Cheng Ge curled up inside it, and he held the shell.

Cheng Ge kicked his leg under the blanket, failed to roll over, flailed once more, failed again, then went still.

"What are you doing?" Cheng Ge's voice was muffled in the blanket, dull.

"Hugging you." Yun Xunyu said it with utter frankness, as matter-of-factly as if he were talking about the weather.

His chin rested on top of Cheng Ge's head, and through the blanket, he could feel the head beneath shift slightly, like he was trying to get comfortable, or maybe protesting.

Cheng Ge was quiet for a while, and the lump under the blanket slowly relaxed from stiff to soft, from soft to loose.

His voice came from inside the blanket, muffled and indistinct: "Yun Xunyu."

"Mm."

"Why would you want to be with me?"

Yun Xunyu's fingers tapped lightly on the blanket, a soft tap, as if he were thinking something over.

"Because I love you, naturally." Yun Xunyu said, his voice very soft.

Cheng Ge poked half his face out from the blanket, revealing one eye, and rolled his eyes at Yun Xunyu.

"You're just after my good looks, aren't you? And once I'm old, you'll toss me aside like a worn-out shoe."

Yun Xunyu looked at that exposed eye, at the flickering light within it, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He pulled the blanket down a little, revealing Cheng Ge's entire face.

Cheng Ge's face was flushed pink from the heat, his hair spread across the pillow, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead.

Yun Xunyu reached out, tucked those stray strands behind his ear, his fingertips grazing his forehead.

He pulled Cheng Ge, blanket and all, closer into his arms, holding tight.

So tight that Cheng Ge felt like an egg swaddled in a quilt—soft on the outside, soft on the inside, but squeezed so tight he couldn't budge.

"How could I ever," Yun Xunyu's voice was low, as if vibrating directly from his chest.

Without passing through his throat, without passing through his lips, it went straight from his heart to Cheng Ge's ears.

"I've given you my heart and soul since I was a kid, and I'll follow you through life and death."

"That silver tongue of yours must have fooled plenty of girls." Cheng Ge said, his voice much softer than before.

Yun Xunyu didn't refute, just pressed a gentle kiss to Cheng Ge's forehead.

Cheng Ge's breathing slowly steadied, from rapid to calm, from calm to long and deep.

His hand slipped out from under the blanket, fumbled, found Yun Xunyu's fingers, and held on.

Not an interlocked grip, just five fingers wrapping around three of his—loose, but solid.

Yun Xunyu looked down at that hand. Cheng Ge's hand was smaller than his, nails trimmed neatly, knuckles faintly flushed, gripping his fingers.

The corner of Yun Xunyu's mouth twitched upward, and he gripped back, wrapping Cheng Ge's hand in his palm.

Palm to palm, warmth flowing from one hand to the other.

The night wind crept in through the cracks in the window, making the bed curtain sway slightly.

The candle flame flickered twice, then went out. Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the window, a few thin strands falling onto their two hands, intertwined.

The dream came like fog, surging from all directions—gray, thick as ink that wouldn't dissolve, flooding over his ankles, then his knees, then his waist.

Cheng Ge stood in the fog, unable to see anything, but he caught a scent.

Rotten herbs, the stench of dead bugs, the metallic tang of blood—all mixed together, thick as a wall, shoving him back a step.

He didn't want to move forward, but his feet wouldn't obey him. They stepped out on their own. One step. Two steps. Three steps.

The fog slowly thinned, as if someone had peeled back a veil by hand, revealing what lay beneath.

A damp, filthy room, with cracks running from the corner of the earthen wall all the way up to the roof.

There was a hole in the roof, and moonlight streamed through it, illuminating the blackened straw and the things squirming beneath it.

Black bugs crawled through the straw. In the corner sat a chipped, broken bowl.

Half a bowl of soured, watery porridge was left, flies perched motionless on the rim, as if they'd eaten so much they couldn't fly anymore.

A small figure huddled in the corner, knees pressed to chest, arms wrapped around shins, chin on knees, hair hanging down, hiding the face.

His clothes were torn in several places, and through the holes you could see skin—bruised purple, covered in dense red welts.

His fingers trembled as bugs crawled out from under his clothes, over the back of his hand, across his cracked nails, and into his hair.

Cheng Ge crouched down in front of the child. The straw was wet, pressing into his knees, water seeping into his pants—cold, but he didn't feel it.

He reached out and gently brushed the hair aside.

The hair was filthy, matted, clumped into hard balls with dried blood and mud—stiff, like a wad of tangled dead grass.

The child's face came into view—bruised, with black scabs like a centipede crawling across his cheek. One eye was swollen, black and blue, puffed shut to just a slit.

Cheng Ge stared at that face, his throat clogged with something he couldn't swallow or spit out.

"Who are you?" the child asked. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper on wood, as if he hadn't talked to anyone in a long time.

His eyes looked at Cheng Ge through the swollen slits of his eyelids—no fear, no surprise, just a quiet, serious look, like he was confirming something.

Cheng Ge opened his mouth, wanting to say his name, but no sound came out.

He looked down and saw he was still clutching half a milk biscuit—the one he'd snuck from the fridge before bed, the blue-and-white striped wrapper still stuck to his fingers.

He held it out. His hands were shaking, the biscuit shaking too, crumbs falling through his fingers onto the straw, and the bugs swarmed over them right away.

The child stared at the biscuit for a long time, wariness in his eyes.

But the hunger in them couldn't be hidden. He reached out tentatively—his fingers cracked, dried blood caked in his nails.

He snatched the biscuit, shoved it into his mouth, and swallowed without even chewing.

He looked like a starving ghost reincarnated. The kid reached up and grabbed at his throat, like he was choking.

Cheng Ge thought for a moment, then, like an adult would, reached out and patted his back. "Eat… slowly."