Chapter 45: Vulnerability (5)
45 – Vulnerability (5)
The familiar fragrance lingered in the room. Before going out for dinner, Lin Xun had opened the window in an attempt to let the scent dissipate quickly.
However, when he returned to the room in the evening, a faint, elusive aroma once again surrounded him.
Left with no other choice, Lin Xun decided to give up and simply closed the window before starting a video call with Dong Jun.
After several days of conversation, Lin Xun felt the awkward atmosphere had eased somewhat. Their topics were no longer limited to Zhi Zhen but had begun to touch on daily life and work—after all, when people feel awkward, they tend to grasp for things to say, and after a few days of forced conversation, they gradually grew accustomed to those topics.
Holding Zhi Zhen, Lin Xun recounted his day to Dong Jun: “Today, I went to the airport to pick up my sister. Well… tomorrow we’ll go back to our old home together and stay for one or two nights before returning.”
Dong Jun asked, “Can the Goddess of the Luo River manage without you?”
Lin Xun replied, “Yes, I think my role is quite minimal now. I just need to write some MATLAB code, and then they spend a long time coding…”
As he spoke, a hint of laughter crept into his voice: “While they’re coding, I write another MATLAB script, and the cycle repeats indefinitely.”
“Your role isn’t exactly minimal,” Dong Jun’s voice softened, perhaps even gentle: “Your contribution is more… soulful.”
“Maybe,” Lin Xun chuckled and continued, “Yesterday, they even mocked me, saying my algorithms weren’t designed with coding in mind and asked me to revise them.”
“Hmm…” Dong Jun seemed to raise an eyebrow: “It’s just that their skill level isn’t high enough.”
Lin Xun said, “After all, not everyone is like Dong Jun.”
A flicker of amusement seemed to appear in Dong Jun’s eyes: “Do you think highly of me?”
“Of course… everyone holds you in high regard,” Lin Xun looked at Dong Jun on the screen. The relaxed tone of their conversation had led him to say more than he intended. “I’ve always known about you—after all, you’re everyone’s idol. I’ve also followed your GitHub and Weibo.”
Dong Jun watched him but said nothing.
Lin Xun unconsciously ran his fingers through Zhi Zhen’s fur and continued, “But I always thought you’d have a cold personality. I didn’t expect you to be like this—ah, I think I’ve said something like this before.”
Dong Jun replied calmly, “Perhaps it’s partly because of you.”
Lin Xun: “…Huh?”
He met Dong Jun’s gaze, and Dong Jun gave a slight, subtle smile.
This person really looked good when he smiled, carrying a certain refined charm.
“When talking to you, I feel like you’re always smiling,” Dong Jun said lightly. “So, when it’s you, I don’t speak the way I would with the media or others. Perhaps that’s why your perception of me is skewed.”
Lin Xun looked at him, somewhat bewildered: “Was I smiling?”
Dong Jun: “Yes.”
“I…” Lin Xun patted his face, feeling an unusual stiffness from maintaining a certain micro-expression for too long. He buried his face in Zhi Zhen’s fur, slightly flustered: “Sorry…”
Dong Jun’s voice could almost be described as gentle: “It’s fine.”
“I might not be able to control it,” Lin Xun raised his head, feeling a bit feverish. He said, “After all, I’m your die-hard fan. In fact, I don’t even realize I’m smiling—I think my face is expressionless.”
“Not obvious,” Dong Jun replied, “mainly in the eyes.”
“I…” Lin Xun didn’t know what to say. He could only manage, “I hope you don’t find it offensive.”
“Not at all,” Dong Jun said, “You’re very cute.”
Lin Xun: “…”
“No, I can’t keep talking to you.” Lin Xun pursed his lips, lowered his eyes, and smiled, “I’m a bit embarrassed. I need to adjust my state.”
Dong Jun asked, “Are you going to sleep?”
“I have to wake up early tomorrow,” Lin Xun said. “Zhi Zhen and I will sleep in a bit.”
“Then good night.” Dong Jun paused, then added a second later, “Don’t be nervous.”
Lin Xun looked up and saw Dong Jun gazing at him, a faint smile in his eyes.
Behind him was the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling glass window. The morning sunlight at half past nine streamed in, softening his entire silhouette with a golden glow once again.
“I’ll try…” Lin Xun looked at him and said, “Good night.”
Then, he waited for Dong Jun to cut off the communication on his end.
As soon as the call ended, he hugged Zhi Zhen and collapsed onto the bed.
His cheeks felt a bit sore. Replaying the conversation with Dong Jun in his mind, he realized he had unconsciously curled the corners of his lips again.
So, he really couldn’t control it.
After all, after all…
Having your longtime idol listening to you gently and kindly on the other side of the video—who could resist that?
Lin Xun vigorously rubbed Zhi Zhen: “Your Dong Jun should tone it down a bit. If he faced me expressionlessly, I could probably control my emotions too.”
Zhi Zhen ignored him, settling on the pillow, already preparing to sleep.
Lin Xun, distracted by what had just happened, absentmindedly tidied up a bit and lay down as well.
Having stayed in the room for a while, he had grown accustomed to the faint, cool scent of perfume. Yet, as soon as his head touched the pillow, he clearly sensed it again.
It was unmistakably identical to the scent on Dong Jun. It felt as if Dong Jun were right beside him, very close.
His heartbeat quickened.
Lin Xun was certain he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Unless he changed rooms, he would remain in this state of arrhythmia until morning.
He grabbed Zhi Zhen, trying to soothe his emotions by petting the cat—only to find that, having lain on the pillow, Zhi Zhen was also covered in the scent of perfume.
He decisively tossed Zhi Zhen aside, placing him at the foot of the bed.
Zhi Zhen meowed and snuggled back over.
Lin Xun looked at him—a little liar.
The beautiful little liar, as usual, settled on his chest again.
Lin Xun tugged at his tail while gazing out at the night sky outside the window, his mind wandering.
He didn’t know how long his thoughts drifted, but the perfume’s character gradually shifted, seemingly transitioning to its base notes—a faint coolness with a hint of underlying warmth.
In this gentle lingering scent, Lin Xun actually began to feel drowsy. At some indefinable moment, he fell asleep.
—Then, after who knows how long, he woke up again.
The scent still seemed to linger at the tip of his nose. As his consciousness gradually cleared, he felt some soreness in his shoulders and back. He realized he had fallen asleep slumped over the desk.
He opened his eyes, his first sight being the deep brown, smooth wooden desktop. Sunlight streamed in from the nearby window, giving the surface a honey-like glow. Looking further ahead, he saw rows of identical desks, bookshelves, and books packed tightly together.
A thought surfaced in his mind: Ah, it’s the school library, a corner of the library.
Few people came here, and at noon, it was especially empty.
The soft tapping of a keyboard had been sounding in his ears, but it stopped as soon as he woke up.
A voice spoke: “You slept for three hours.”
Lin Xun replied, “Shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night… My head hurts.”
“Go back and sleep?”
“No.” He leaned naturally toward the person, almost resting his head on their shoulder.
A clear, cool aura suddenly drew closer.
But Lin Xun didn’t turn to look at them. Instead, he glanced at the computer screen. “You finished writing it?”
In the black-background program compiler were lines of code—beautifully written code.
“Finished.” The voice beside him was pleasant, like a pine-scented spring in snowy mountains.
On the laptop keyboard, a pair of slender, well-defined hands tapped lightly a few times.
Two program files appeared, with identical functions and similar algorithmic frameworks. However, the coding styles were entirely different—both elegant, yet clearly not written by the same person.
The person opened two documents, templates for the final hands-on assignment of the course. He copied the two programs into the respective documents—then began filling them out.
The first document.
Student ID: a familiar string of numbers. Name: Lin Xun.
Save.
The second.
Student ID: another familiar string of numbers.
Name: Dong Jun.
Save.
Next, he opened the email, sent both documents to the professor’s inbox, and quickly received an automated receipt in reply.
Lin Xun smiled at the computer screen.
He asked, “What should we eat for lunch?”
“Not sure,” the other replied. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know either.” Lin Xun reached over and operated the keyboard, skillfully pulling up another program. “Let’s randomize it.”
The random result was a hotpot restaurant.
“Not that.” Lin Xun randomized again.
This time, it was a Chinese restaurant.
“Not that either.” Lin Xun randomized once more.
After rejecting sixteen or seventeen options in a row, he heard the person he was leaning against chuckle softly.
Lin Xun: “.”
The other said, “Let me try.”
Lin Xun: “Okay.”
In life, luck varies. The screen instantly displayed a restaurant Lin Xun was willing to eat at.
Lin Xun: “I want this.”
The response was a faint: “Mm.”
Lin Xun closed the textbook spread open on the desk and neatly arranged the paper and pens. Then, almost instinctively, he reached for the hand of the person beside him.
The other took his hand in return, while pressing the computer’s sleep key with the other hand.
The screen went dark, turning off. The blackened screen reflected their figures clearly, like a mirror.
Lin Xun turned to look at him.
Under the gentle glow, he saw a very familiar face—no one else had features like his.
Yet it seemed different, slightly younger than he remembered, not cold or distant, with a gentle expression in his eyes.
They were close, breaths mingling. For a moment, silence washed over them like a tide.
Lin Xun lightly brushed his fingers against the other’s palm.
The man tightened his fingers, then kissed him lightly at the corner of his lips: “Let’s go.”
—Lin Xun abruptly opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of his bedroom.
It took him quite a while to realize what kind of fantastical thing had just happened.
He sat up on the bed and pressed his fingers against the space between his eyebrows.
The little liar Zhi Zhen seemed to be startled awake by his movement. In the dim light, a pair of quiet eyes stared straight at him.
Lin Xun gazed back, gradually regaining clarity.
He… had dreamed of Dong Jun.
He and Dong Jun had even used a random mini-program to draw lots to decide what to eat for lunch—a method he, Wang Anquan, and Zhao Jiagou often used back in university.
Not only that, they seemed to be in the same year, working on the same final assignment, and Dong Jun had written two sets of code, one of which was for him.
No, it wasn’t just about the assignment—it was far more complicated than that. He also…
As if a feather had lightly brushed against his palm, Lin Xun closed his eyes, took a soft breath, and dared not dwell on the memory.
The scent of perfume in the room had completely faded, leaving no trace, as if it had all been nothing more than a dreamlike illusion.