Chapter 124: Password (7)

124 – Password (7)

His shoulder pressed against the other man’s chest through the thin fabric of his shirt.

The sensation was solid, familiar, the cool, clear aura enveloping him like the scent of snow.

His heart pounded fiercely a few times before gradually calming. Those elusive, tangled thoughts were like the last few snowflakes of a winter night, caught by the treetops, settling the dust of the entire season.

Dong Jun’s arm encircled his entire body, his right hand gripping Lin Xun’s left arm. Lin Xun relaxed, leaning against him, then took Dong Jun’s right hand. It was a flawless pianist’s hand. He found the pads of the index and ring fingers, gently rubbing them to confirm there were no scars, then lowered his head to sniff, detecting not a trace of cigarette smoke.

Dong Jun: “What are you doing?”

“Paying homage to the fingers of the Eastern God, so I can write better code in the future.” He spoke nonsense casually, then asked, “Why are you here?”

“Hmm?” Dong Jun chuckled softly. “Can’t I come?”

Lin Xun: “You said you’d only come to see me during the final selection.”

“I never said I wouldn’t come during the preliminaries.”

“At this time, you should be in a Galaxy meeting.”

“I skipped it.” Dong Jun pecked his earlobe. “I thought this competition must be very important to you.”

Lin Xun: “Mhm.”

Dong Jun tightened his embrace, pulling him closer into his arms. “To me, you’re more important, so…”

So he came?

Lin Xun both believed and didn’t believe it. He now felt this man’s sweet words were like deceitful ghosts.

He turned around. Dong Jun ruffled his hair.

“I don’t think I presented very well,” he said. “I didn’t speak with much emotion.”

Dong Jun: “This kind of presentation doesn’t require emotion.”

“The application aspect was a bit vague, not very reliable.”

Dong Jun: “That means there’s more room for development.”

“I released Luo’s footage ahead of time. I’m not sure if that was the right thing to do.”

Dong Jun: “It was.”

Lin Xun laughed. “Why are you like this?”

Dong Jun, who was usually strict during work, had unexpectedly transformed into an emotionless praise machine.

“Hmm?” Dong Jun looked at him. “I’m being very objective.”

Lin Xun: “Then what do you think I still need to improve?”

He said this while looking at Dong Jun, his tone relaxed, without any pressure. Strangely enough, he remembered he never asked others like this. He was used to doing everything better than others, so he wasn’t willing to actively discuss his shortcomings with anyone. Shortcomings, flaws—he knew them himself, so why show them to others?

But he also felt that with Dong Jun, it was okay. Sometimes, he felt his interactions with Dong Jun were as natural as if they had known each other for years, with a kind of atmosphere where… anything could be said.

Dong Jun: “You kept looking at the audience.”

Lin Xun: “?”

He asked sincerely, “Shouldn’t I have looked?”

“You should.” Dong Jun nibbled his ear again before answering. “So there’s nothing to improve.”

Lin Xun: “Hmm… so you watched the whole thing?”

Dong Jun: “Yes.”

Lin Xun: “But I didn’t see you.”

Dong Jun: “You were always looking at others.”

“There were so many people.” Lin Xun hooked his finger, changing the subject. “I was thinking about what to wear for the final selection. Is what I’m wearing now too casual? Should I wear formal attire?”

“No need,” Dong Jun adjusted his collar for him, then said, “This is just fine.”

This man truly was an emotionless praise machine today, so Lin Xun asked with a mix of belief and doubt, “Really?”

Dong Jun lowered his head and whispered something in his ear. The slightly hoarse voice, with just a few words, made Lin Xun blush. He stared at Dong Jun, speechless for a long moment, before finally leaning closer, standing on tiptoe to lick those thin lips.

Just that one touch, and his vulnerability was seized. Held tighter and kissed more deeply, his fingers firmly grasped, he was led toward the sofa in the lounge and tumbled onto it.

The layout of the lounge was conventional—the sofa faced away from the entrance, directly toward the staff passage. Now, the door to the staff passage was closed, while the door leading to the backstage was half-open. The open half connected to the lively scene outside, but fortunately, no one was nearby, and for a short while, it was unlikely anyone would notice what they were doing.

After a deep kiss ended, Dong Jun turned to his cheek. Kissing was actually an overly intimate act. Lin Xun hadn’t thought much of it before, but after more intense encounters with the person beside him, the entanglement of lips and tongues inevitably carried certain implications and evoked some untimely reactions.

The backstage and the front stage were separated by only a thin line. Due to the widespread distribution of the sound system, the general sounds could be heard here as well—someone was introducing a 3D motion capture and modeling system that could make holographic images appear more realistic and flexible.

His voice trembled slightly as he asked Dong Jun, “This is amazing… will you buy it?”

Dong Jun’s thin lips pressed against his ear, saying, “Yes.”

His breath was deep, held in his chest, making his voice even lower. It felt electrifying as it reached Lin Xun’s ears, making it hard for him to breathe. A softness seeped from his very bones, and he didn’t want to listen, fearing that if he did, he’d lose all ability to think.

But Dong Jun’s voice didn’t spare him, asking, “Have any investors contacted you?”

“A few,” Lin Xun gasped, “I turned them all down.”

He thought this answer should satisfy Dong Jun, but he also sensed something off about Dong Jun’s state, so he added, “Waiting for you… waiting for you to buy it.”

Dong Jun buried his face in Lin Xun’s shoulder, chuckled, and bit his neck lightly before saying, “So many people were looking at you today.”

“Mhm…” Lin Xun exhaled, his voice slightly hoarse. The side of his neck was one of the places he couldn’t bear to be touched. Being licked and bitten like this, his eyes had already narrowed, losing all sense of time.

Dong Jun’s other hand also rested on his body, kneading lightly and intermittently. Among the touches, one inevitably hit the right spot, sending an electric shock-like shiver through him, making him gasp. But it didn’t linger, and he never knew when the next touch would come—like a sweet torment or punishment.

Lin Xun curled up restlessly. Dong Jun bit him deeper, a bit painful—recalling how this man had repeatedly mentioned earlier, “You kept looking at the audience,” he finally understood. Perhaps Dong Jun had shown up here today only half to participate in an important moment in his life, and the other half to stir up trouble. The fact that he had exchanged a few extra glances with others, though not enough to warrant punishment, had still displeased this man.

Lin Xun raised his eyes and glared at Dong Jun, saying, “You get looked at by others even more.”

Dong Jun smiled, leaning down to capture his lips. “Good boy.”

Outside, voices rose and fell in waves. Lin Xun was so tense he hardly dared to breathe, trying to push him away when suddenly he was swept up into a bridal carry.

The interior structure of the science exhibition hall was intricate and labyrinthine, almost eerie. A door in the lounge led directly to staff corridors and hallways. Since this expo was Galaxy’s home turf, Dong Jun’s access privileges were enough to swipe open all staff corridor security doors. The elevator descended to the underground parking lot on the second basement level, where Lin Xun was unceremoniously tossed into the back seat of the car.

The clothes he wore today were simple, not the truant-youth style favored by Lin Ting. His overall demeanor could be summed up with the word “senior.” A white shirt, its buttons not easily undone, but Dong Jun was not a man lacking in patience.

Yet when he reached the third button, he stopped.

Lin Xun looked at him and saw a shadowed expression in his eyes. Dong Jun’s fingers reached toward the breast pocket of his shirt—two slender, pale fingers plucking out a folded blue sticky note.

Lin Xun: “…”

Realizing what it was, he reached out to snatch it back, but it was already too late.

The note had been folded twice, leaving a cross-shaped crease when opened. Dong Jun showed him the front—a string of numbers, clearly someone’s contact information.

Lin Xun said, “It’s from a junior, I didn’t—”

Before he could finish, a soft rip sounded, and the blue sticky note became two pieces.

Then, those two pieces were methodically folded again, becoming four, and finally torn to shreds, scattered across the car floor.

And Dong Jun said nothing.

Lin Xun pouted, nuzzling against Dong Jun as if pleading for mercy, but he was already prepared, knowing this matter wouldn’t end well today.

And just as he predicted, at one moment when he lifted his head from the dizzying whirlpool of lost senses and met Dong Jun’s gaze, the corners of his eyes held a crimson hue like blood, reminiscent of roses and their thorns—Lin Xun thought that if there truly existed a way for two people to never be apart for even a moment, this man would surely obtain it.

When it finally subsided, he put his clothes back on, tidied himself up until he was presentable again, and checked the time. It was nearly the end of the preliminary competition. Scattered groups of spectators were entering the underground garage, starting their cars and leaving.

Lin Xun: “I…”

He wanted to ask whether he should go with Dong Jun or return to his own place, but the words caught in his throat. He felt Dong Jun’s intensity today had exceeded the usual limits and likely wouldn’t give him a chance to leave.

Dong Jun leaned down and kissed him, their interlocked fingers still tightly clasped, just half a step away from pain.

But then, in a fleeting moment, the grip slowly loosened. The moisture that had gathered on their skin from the tight clasp evaporated, and evaporation carried away heat, leaving him exposed to the cool air outside.

“Go back with them today,” Dong Jun said. “I think you’ll want to celebrate together.”

“Mm.” Lin Xun smiled. They really were planning to gather and celebrate, and if Dong Jun let him go, he wouldn’t have to ask for leave.

Feeling somewhat happy, he looked up at Dong Jun, only to see him with lowered lashes, lips pressed tightly together. His unhappiness was unmistakable, and paired with his finely sculpted features, it softened his usual godlike aura, making him seem smaller—like a child who hadn’t gotten candy, too timid to ask, just waiting obediently.

Lin Xun’s heart melted instantly. He had no resistance to beautiful children.

He wanted to invite Dong Jun to join them, but considering this man’s habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length in daily life, he dismissed the thought.

He leaned over to kiss Dong Jun. “I’ll go back tomorrow.”

Dong Jun gave a soft “Mm” in acknowledgment. He seemed to brighten suddenly, smiling at Lin Xun with a gentle curve at the corners of his eyes, soft enough to melt.

If not for the faint ache from the bite marks on his chest and shoulders, Lin Xun might have believed this was his true nature. This man was always like this, teetering between madness and sanity. Finding it amusing, Lin Xun kissed him again, only to be held tightly by Dong Jun, unwilling to let go. Pressed against him, Lin Xun could feel Dong Jun’s heartbeat through his skin—one beat, then another.

In their entangled embrace, Lin Xun turned his head and reached out to play with Dong Jun’s eyebrows. Dong Jun complied, closing his eyes, his eyelashes brushing against Lin Xun’s palm while his fingers kept a firm grip on Lin Xun’s other wrist.

Lin Xun propped himself up and looked down at Dong Jun’s gentle, serene expression.

He actually had many questions he wanted to ask, too many uncertainties swirling within him.

But this man loved him so deeply.