Chapter 96: D-L (2)
96 – D-L (2)
Lin Xun fell silent.
He sensed a hint of danger.
Then he saw his idol glance at him with a faint, ambiguous smile before turning and walking into the inner shower area, pulling the frosted glass partition door shut behind him. The sound of running water soon followed.
Lin Xun splashed around in the bathtub a few times before starting to clean himself up, but there was only so much one could do in a tub. He finished first and obediently stayed soaking in the water, waiting for Dong Jun to come out.
When Dong Jun emerged, he wore only a white bathrobe. With his hair still damp, a few slightly curled strands clung to his cheeks. Broad-shouldered and long-legged, and with a face that could elevate any outfit to high fashion, even a bathrobe looked like haute couture on him. The soft, snow-white fabric did little to soften the slightly distant aura he carried, and without his glasses, the contours of his features appeared even colder.
But that was from a distance.
As Dong Jun approached, Lin Xun looked up at him and once again confirmed that there was a gentle gleam in this man’s eyes.
He patted the water’s surface a few times.
The bathtub was built-in, with a wide white marble edge. Dong Jun sat down beside it and reached out to wipe the foam from Lin Xun’s cheek.
His fingertip was warm, sliding from Lin Xun’s cheek to the side of his ear. He didn’t pull his hand away; instead, his fingers lingered in Lin Xun’s hair, the place where his thumb had brushed leaving behind a lingering warmth that made Lin Xun’s heart flutter.
Dong Jun picked up a towel. Lin Xun cooperatively lowered his head. His idol’s hands moved with just the right amount of pressure, drying his hair until it was half-dry. Then Dong Jun turned on the blow-dryer, and a stream of perfectly temperate air blew down from above. Lin Xun squinted slightly.
“I can actually take care of myself, you know,” Lin Xun said.
Dong Jun, who was using his fingers to comb through Lin Xun’s hair, replied, “You can choose not to.”
“I don’t think you should let me get used to this,” Lin Xun argued, feeling his reasoning was solid and his point well-supported. Of course, he hadn’t brought this up on a whim. Although he was willing to go along with whatever Dong Jun wanted, he wasn’t comfortable being someone who felt uncertain about things. He added, “If there ever comes a day when I’m not with you anymore, I’ll probably go through a period of sadness.”
Dong Jun simply looked at him, his eyelashes slightly lowered, a clear, cool light shining in his distinct black-and-white eyes.
Lin Xun heard him say, “I could order the rings right now.”
“Don’t,” Lin Xun laughed. “You shouldn’t be so impulsive.”
A hint of amusement also appeared in Dong Jun’s eyes. “Aren’t I your idol?” he asked.
Lin Xun replied, “Yes.”
Dong Jun’s fingers slid down from Lin Xun’s hair, moving lower. His fingertip seemed to casually brush over Lin Xun’s Adam’s apple before tracing the outline of his jaw. Finally, he lifted Lin Xun’s chin, making him meet his gaze.
Dong Jun asked, “Has your idol ever made impulsive decisions?”
Lin Xun thought for a moment. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
Dong Jun gave a faint “Mm” in response. The soft light of the bathroom fell on him, giving his skin a pearlescent glow. Lin Xun was momentarily mesmerized. “You’re really beautiful.”
Dong Jun didn’t say anything. Lin Xun lowered his eyes, feeling his own eyelashes tremble slightly. He felt Dong Jun’s fingertip tracing his features—slowly, meticulously—from his eyebrows to the corners of his eyes, his nose, his lips, not missing a single detail.
A thick, ambiguous tension slowly grew from this gesture. From this angle, Lin Xun couldn’t see Dong Jun’s face, but he could see the expanse of chest and faint muscle lines revealed by the open collar of the white bathrobe. He could almost hear his own heartbeat.
After a long while, Dong Jun asked, “Who do you look like?”
“Like my mother, I suppose,” Lin Xun thought for a moment. “That’s what everyone says, though I don’t remember her. She and my father died in a car accident when I was very young.”
Dong Jun’s voice softened slightly. “She must have been beautiful.”
Lin Xun: “I think so too.”
Dong Jun withdrew his hand, and with the obstruction gone, Lin Xun looked back at him. Suddenly, he recalled that day in the cemetery, during the heavy rain, the moment he passed by Dong Chen—Dong Chen also had that same sharply defined, strikingly handsome face. Though Lin Xun disliked Dong Chen’s character, he had to admit the man possessed a captivating appearance.
It also proved that no matter how much time passed, twenty years later, his idol was still his idol.
As for Dong Chen, why he had appeared in that cemetery was something Lin Xun had never been able to figure out.
“You look a bit like Mr. Dong Chen,” Lin Xun said. “I saw him at the Eastern Suburbs Cemetery half a month ago. Do you know what he was doing there?”
Dong Jun: “I don’t know much about him.”
Lin Xun: “So the rumors are true? Online, they say you really dislike him.”
“He and I are only related by blood,” Dong Jun said slowly. “But I have no grounds to dislike him.”
Lin Xun asked, “How so?”
Dong Jun’s fingers pressed against his shoulder, which was exposed above the water, and his voice lowered slightly. “Because I resemble him.”
Lin Xun laughed.
Dong Jun raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think it’s quite the same,” Lin Xun said. “You’re actually quite easy to please.”
Water splashed out of the bathtub as Dong Jun’s kiss came more suddenly than he had expected, forceful and almost biting. Lin Xun wrapped his arms around Dong Jun’s shoulders, while Dong Jun’s hands gripped his waist beneath the water.
Completely unclothed.
Lin Xun’s breath trembled lightly. At least Dong Jun still wore a bathrobe, while he himself was utterly defenseless. Especially with the water in the bathtub swaying, lifting the hem of the bathrobe underwater, rubbing against his body—every reaction, appropriate or not, was slowly being coaxed out.
When he was finally released, he rested his forehead against Dong Jun’s shoulder, trying to steady his breathing. Having soaked in the hot water for so long, a lazy weakness seeped from his bones, and his arms felt weak, hanging limply over Dong Jun’s shoulders.
But the next moment, his breath hitched sharply.
Dong Jun kissed his neck, then moved lower. His movements were slow, but it was precisely this unhurried pace that made the underlying suggestion feel overwhelmingly intense.
Lin Xun’s voice grew slightly hoarse, tinged with a nasal tone. As he spoke, he felt like a small animal pleading for mercy.
“My leg is still broken…”
Dong Jun lifted his head and chuckled softly in his ear.
“Today… aren’t you just taking advantage of your broken leg?”
Lin Xun kissed his neck, then leaned against him and laughed.
Then he heard Dong Jun say, “But your assumption is that I’m still a person with a conscience.”
Lin Xun grew wary. “Aren’t you a person with a conscience?”
Dong Jun: “No.”
Lin Xun: “You have to uphold the basic qualities of an idol—”
Before he could finish, his words were silenced as he was pushed down, almost entirely submerged in the water. Struggling to breathe, he felt completely out of control.
This man truly had no intention of acting human.
Lin Xun regretted everything.
An hour later, Dong Jun finally wrapped him in a large towel and carried him out of the water.
Dong Jun did indeed retain a trace of basic decency befitting a male god, not completely abandoning his humanity, but his actions during that hour teetered precariously on the edge of inhumanity.
This directly led to Lin Xun not even looking at his thesis, instead hugging Zhi Zhen and burrowing under the covers, turning his back to him, declaring that he intended to renounce his fandom on the spot.
Dong Jun hugged him from behind, softly calling him “baby.”
Lin Xun, not particularly strong-willed, was pulled back from the brink of renouncing his fandom by that one word “baby,” turning around to play with him.
Then he saw Dong Jun pick up his phone and log into Weibo.
Lin Xun watched along. The uproar they had stirred up earlier was still boiling and hadn’t subsided, with the homepage still filled with sour comments—though a small portion had been won over by his credentials, no longer attacking the matter, and some had even become CP fans, expelled from the fanbase by the “wifey” fans.
Of course, there was also a large group of people being sarcastic—after all, you can’t be sure that everyone on the other end of the internet is human; some might be dogs.
The most prominent comments fell into two categories.
One seized on Lin Xun’s three obscure years after graduation, saying he had received the highest level of education but now seemed to be doing nothing, achieving nothing except getting involved with Dong Jun, which was laughable.
Another group said, “Your imaginations are so rich, Dong Jun just posted ‘little friend,’ this isn’t even the official partner yet, self-delusion is so amusing.”
Lin Xun didn’t have much of a reaction.
After all, it wasn’t anyone else being called “baby” by Dong Jun now.
But then he saw Dong Jun click into his senior sister’s homepage.
The post where his senior sister had shared Lin Xun’s popular science article was still pinned at the top, unchanged in content: “Long time no see, Lord Xun.”
Below, a crowd was worshipping the Lin Xun of the past.
Then, he saw Dong Jun hit the repost button.
Galaxy-Dong Jun: Taking him away.
Then he turned off his phone and placed it beside the glass vase holding the rose stem.
Lin Xun bit his male god, then was pinned down and “punished” for a while. He didn’t check the subsequent online storm, perhaps because his vanity was already greatly satisfied.
For the next three days, Lin Xun didn’t leave the house due to his leg, relying on the internet to communicate with the outside world. Qi Yun, having been enlightened by Buddhist light, could now maintain human form for three hours a day, but still had to stay in the bathtub the rest of the time. After the crack at West City Station closed, the capital appeared peaceful, with almost no new monsters appearing—whether because all monsters had been completely eradicated or because it was the calm before the storm was unclear.
Officer Cao was also fully investigating the underground cold storage dismemberment case, with current clues pointing to an entertainment company suspected of money laundering. During their conversation, Officer Cao mentioned that similar cases had occurred in the southern suburbs before but were later dropped, with the clues having vanished entirely.
The rest of the time, he spent working with Dong Jun to perfect the Goddess of the Luo River. Dong Jun didn’t go to work; he had taken a week off for himself.
After finishing the day’s work, with two people in the house and one unable to walk upright, entertainment options were limited. Besides curling up together to watch a few movies or read some papers, the only other option was lying in the holographic pod to play games.
Dong Jun’s ID was actually “JavaIsNumberOne.”
Fine, Lin Xun followed suit and changed his name to “CIsNumberOne.”
The two of them teamed up with the three from Chaoyang Community. Wang Anquan, who called himself “PHP is the Best in the World,” was a given. Jia Gou went by “Python is the Best in the World,” and Jiang Lian had no choice but to follow suit, changing his name to “SQL is the Best in the World.”
This way, after a single game, everyone would know that the truly best language in the world was Glax.
Over the course of three days, Lin Xun’s leg gradually improved, allowing him to walk short distances slowly. At the same time, he was on the verge of losing his mind from playing games.
Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Dong Jun said, “Let’s go out.”
He mentioned going for a drive in the southern suburbs, meeting a few friends, and having dinner together.
Once downstairs, Lin Xun thought they were heading straight out. But he didn’t expect Dong Jun to take him to the underground garage first.
Dong Jun asked, “Which one do you want to ride in?”
There weren’t actually that many cars.
Just… about thirty or so.
Lin Xun remarked, “Do you have a special preference for buying cars?”
“Not really,” Dong Jun replied. “Only two of them were custom-ordered by me.”
Lin Xun said, “I bet you want me to guess.”
Dong Jun replied, “I’m not that bored.”
Lin Xun insisted, “Well, I’m going to guess anyway.”
Dong Jun smiled.
Lin Xun said, “One is the one you always drive.”
Dong Jun nodded. “Mm.”
Then, after hesitating for a moment between a deep blue Bugatti and a black-and-white Koenigsegg on the inner side, he chose the Bugatti.
Dong Jun kissed his forehead, and Lin Xun knew he had guessed correctly.
Settling into the passenger seat, Lin Xun heard Dong Jun ask, “What was your reasoning?”
“Well… looking at your code, I think you’re still pretty wild, so I figured your second car would be the one with the most extreme performance. And… among these, you’d probably like the looks of these two.” Lin Xun explained, “But my intuition tells me you’re not completely out of control—you still have some restraint. The Koenigsegg feels a bit too reckless. So by process of elimination, I chose this one.”
Dong Jun’s lips curved slightly. “Which one do you like?”
Lin Xun pondered.
After a moment, he said, “If I were driving myself, I’d want the fastest one. But if I were taking someone with me, I’d skip that.”
As he finished speaking, he glanced out the window at the rows of cars, realizing he could name almost all their models. He felt a bit puzzled because, in his memory, he didn’t have any particular preference for cars, so he shouldn’t have been able to recognize them all.
But then again, his memory was somewhat exceptional. When someone possessed a skill akin to photographic memory, it wasn’t surprising for them to have unexpected knowledge.
Dong Jun started the car effortlessly, drove out of the garage, and onto the road.
The next moment, Lin Xun understood why Dong Jun always drove the Bentley in the city instead of this car.
Because this kind of vehicle—its accelerator could push it to speeds faster than a high-speed train. Let alone forcing it to queue in traffic, even waiting at red lights felt like torture.
But his idol was a patient one. It wasn’t until they left the city limits that he began to accelerate properly.
Lin Xun, holding Zhi Zhen, glanced at their destination.
Then he looked again.
Finally, he furrowed his brows and opened his chat history with Officer Cao.
He confirmed that the private estate they were heading to happened to be near the location Officer Cao had mentioned—the site of the unresolved case from years ago.