Blushing?
Ji Ruan wriggled out of Gu Xiuyi's embrace and instinctively opened the front camera on his phone.
…His face was really a mess.
Patches of orange-red paint were smeared across his cheeks and chin, while his fingertips—where the damage was worst—had rubbed against his eyes, leaving a smudge of black-gray pigment on his eyelids.
With his face already flushed from embarrassment, he now looked like a literal palette—bursting with a riot of colors.
“Oh my god…”
Ji Ruan was so shocked by his own reflection that he forgot about being shy. He immediately rushed to the sink to clean himself up.
Gu Xiuyi finally let out a breath when the soft, fragrant boy slipped from his arms. He flexed his slightly numb fingers before shoving them into his pockets.
To ease the awkwardness, he glanced at the painting on the wall and cleared his throat. “You painted the sun really well.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ji Ruan’s back stiffen for two seconds before he pretended nothing had happened. “Thanks.”
Gu Xiuyi ran out of things to say.
Honestly, the blame for what had just happened rested entirely on him. Whether it was because of comfort or pain, making noises during a massage was completely normal.
Ji Ruan had just done something totally ordinary, yet Gu Xiuyi had reacted as if it were a big deal. Clearly, he was the one with the problem.
Gu Xiuyi fell silent, trying to calm himself down, but Ji Ruan remained at the sink without making a sound.
By the time Gu Xiuyi had fully composed himself, Ji Ruan was still bent over the sink. The faucet trickled out a thin stream of water, and it seemed like no matter how much he washed, the paint wouldn’t come off. His back even ached from leaning over so long, and every now and then, he straightened up to pound his waist.
Gu Xiuyi frowned, walked over, and pulled Ji Ruan upright, turning off the tap.
The running water was ice-cold—frigid enough to bite in winter. After scrubbing for so long, Ji Ruan’s hands were flushed red from the cold, and his cheeks were just as crimson. Most of the paint had finally been washed away, except for the stubborn black smudges on his eyelids.
Gu Xiuyi pressed the back of his hand against Ji Ruan’s cheek, the chill startling him. “What’s going on?”
Ji Ruan was just as frustrated.
The paint they used for their artwork was notoriously hard to wash off. The smudges on his hands could be removed with multiple rounds of scrubbing with soap, and though it stung, the marks on his cheeks could also be managed with some effort.
But his eyelids—there was no way he dared to scrub those with soap. And rinsing with just water did almost nothing.
“I can’t get it off…” Ji Ruan sighed helplessly.
“Stop using cold water for now.” Gu Xiuyi guided Ji Ruan to the lounge area and handed him a few tissues. “Dry yourself off first.”
Ji Ruan folded the tissue and patted his face dry, but his whole demeanor remained listless.
Gu Xiuyi scrolled through his phone and asked, “It says here that makeup remover oil might work?”
Ji Ruan looked up and blinked. “Yeah, I think that could work… but I don’t have any right now.”
Gu Xiuyi thought for a moment. “Are you still painting later?”
Ji Ruan shook his head. “My part is mostly done for today. The seniors will take over tonight.”
Gu Xiuyi sat down beside him, dabbing at his damp eyelashes with the tissue. His voice was calm as he suggested, “Then why don’t you come home with me? It’s the weekend tomorrow. We can pick up some makeup remover on the way, and you can clean up properly.”
Ji Ruan’s vision was still blurry from his wet lashes. Gu Xiuyi’s movements were gentle, and instinctively, Ji Ruan closed his eyes, relaxing slightly as he pondered.
Gu Xiuyi wasn’t in a hurry. He continued softly wiping Ji Ruan’s face, his fingertips occasionally brushing over the corners of his eyes.
After a while, Ji Ruan finally said, “Makes sense. If I go back to the dorm like this, Han Xiaolin and the others will definitely laugh at me. Might as well go with you. I’ve been craving Aunt Zhao’s fried shrimp anyway.”
Gu Xiuyi’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Alright, I’ll let her know.”
He picked up Ji Ruan’s down jacket and helped him into it before taking his hand and leading him outside. “Let’s go home.”
—
Before dinner, the rich aroma of fried shrimp filled the entire villa. Xiao An was so tempted by the smell that he kept circling Aunt Zhao nonstop.
Upstairs, Ji Ruan sat in the bathroom, using makeup remover oil to clean his eyelids. As he wiped, he swallowed reflexively.
Leaning against the doorframe, Gu Xiuyi chuckled. “Look at you drooling over the food. Why not go eat first and clean up later?”
“No way. The longer I wait, the harder it is to remove.” Ji Ruan focused on the mirror, speaking to Gu Xiuyi absentmindedly. “The school anniversary is early next month. Are you coming?”
Gu Xiuyi replied flatly, “I received an invitation.”
Ji Ruan waited silently for a moment. When no further response came, he turned his head. “And? Are you not coming?”
Gu Xiuyi pressed his lips together but didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “Do you want me to come?”
“Mm…” Ji Ruan actually thought about it seriously. After a moment, he said slowly, “I do. I also want you to see my painting when it’s finished.”
As he spoke, he tilted his head slightly, brushing aside the strands of hair covering his eyes. His hair looked incredibly soft.
A sudden tingling spread through Gu Xiuyi’s fingertips, as if the warmth in his chest had scalded them.
“…Alright.” Gu Xiuyi’s throat felt dry, and he covered his mouth with his hand, coughing lightly. “I’ll be there on time.”
Ji Ruan didn’t notice Gu Xiuyi’s subtle emotional shift. His full attention remained on cleaning the paint from his eyelids, carefully wiping bit by bit.
Gu Xiuyi stood with his arms crossed, watching for a while. Eventually, he couldn’t resist stepping forward, snatching the cotton pad from Ji Ruan’s hand. Holding Ji Ruan’s chin, he swiftly and efficiently cleaned off the remaining pigment.
Ji Ruan was slender, his chin small and sharp. After wiping it clean, Gu Xiuyi hesitated for a split second before pulling his hand back, almost reluctant to let go.
“All done.” Gu Xiuyi curled his fingers slightly, as if trying to retain the lingering warmth on his fingertips. “Let’s eat.”
Ji Ruan washed his face and casually applied a bit of moisturizer before heading downstairs with Gu Xiuyi.
On the table, a plate of fragrant, glistening oil-braised shrimp was already waiting. Aunt Zhao had also prepared a few homestyle dishes and a bowl of seaweed and egg drop soup.
Ji Ruan picked up a shrimp. As soon as he twisted off the head, the bright red oil dripped down his fingertips, releasing an irresistible aroma.
To accommodate Ji Ruan’s stomach, Aunt Zhao never made the shrimp too spicy, focusing instead on enhancing its fragrance and freshness. For this dish alone, Ji Ruan could easily eat three extra bowls of rice.
Of course, that was just a thought—eating too much would upset his stomach.
Across from him, Gu Xiuyi ate at a steady pace, watching as Ji Ruan’s fingertips were soon coated in red oil, his lips turning glossy and vibrantly red.
Though Ji Ruan ate with refined manners, his good looks and the way he enjoyed his food made him particularly appetizing to watch.
Gu Xiuyi had been keeping an eye on him. When he saw the red oil about to drip from Ji Ruan’s fingers onto his wrist, he handed him a tissue at just the right moment.
“Slow down. Be careful when peeling the shrimp.”
Ji Ruan paused briefly but didn’t argue. His movements did become more cautious.
There was a reason for this.
Once, while eating oil-braised shrimp, he had gotten carried away. In his eagerness, he applied too much force while peeling and ended up cutting his finger on the shrimp shell. The wound was small, but the red oil stung painfully. Even after washing it clean, it kept bleeding intermittently for quite a while.
The next second, a perfectly peeled shrimp—head and tail removed—appeared on his plate.
Ji Ruan looked up.
Gu Xiuyi, now wearing gloves, was peeling shrimp at a steady pace. Though his actions seemed casual, they were quick and practiced. Within moments, another beautifully peeled shrimp landed on Ji Ruan’s plate.
Ji Ruan: “?”
Gu Xiuyi didn’t even lift his eyes, his expression calm. “Go wash your hands.”
Ji Ruan nearly doubted his own ears. “…You’re peeling them for me?”
Gu Xiuyi remained expressionless, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “What else? If you cut yourself again, won’t it be a problem? You still have painting to do.”
Ji Ruan’s heart thumped, as if it had been nudged.
By the time Ji Ruan returned from washing his hands, his small plate was already piled high with glistening, bright red shrimp. Just looking at it made him feel happy.
“Thank you…”
Gu Xiuyi took off his gloves and smiled. “You can only eat this much—any more, and your stomach will start acting up again.”
“Mm-hmm!” Ji Ruan’s eyes sparkled, their curved shape especially beautiful. “This is more than enough. Thank you!”
He was never shy about expressing his emotions. When he was happy, his little dimples would pop out uncontrollably—two round ones on his cheeks, as if soaked in honey. As he chewed, they deepened and softened, as if they might spill over with sweetness at any moment.
Gu Xiuyi went to wash his hands and returned, propping his head up as he quietly watched Ji Ruan eat.
Ji Ruan’s eyelids were slightly swollen, likely from scrubbing the paint off earlier. His entire eye socket was a bit red. He sniffled softly as he scooped shrimp and rice together, looking as if he had been moved to tears by the food. Every now and then, he would unconsciously lick his lower lip.
That tiny, rosy lip bead—so red—was truly beautiful.
—
On the day of the school anniversary, Gu Xiuyi arrived on time, but Ji Ruan was late.
As a special guest, Gu Xiuyi was led into the exhibition hall by a volunteer. The first area was a long, spacious corridor.
Bright lights illuminated the space. On the left wall, a timeline displayed major historical events from a hundred years of Peking University’s history. On the right, a long scroll painting stretched out in an unbroken line, like an ink dragon diving into the depths, vast and powerful.
Each scene in the painting corresponded to a point on the historical timeline, depicting how students of different eras had viewed their alma mater.
In the earliest years, Peking University appeared as a sacred temple of learning in their eyes. Later, it transformed into a battlefield beneath their pens. As the timeline progressed, the school became a towering mountain, climbed with hardship under the first light of dawn… Until finally, it culminated in a radiant sun suspended at the peak of the clock tower, symbolizing an endless future.
“This is incredible…”
“It feels like watching a documentary…”
“Looking at the timeline while viewing the painting—it’s genius. The part where the pen turns into a gun gave me chills…”
“That dawn-lit mountain too… My grandmother still regrets missing out on the college entrance exam back then…”
“The final sun is stunning… Damn, I feel kind of proud that I got into our school…”
Students all around were engaged in excited discussion. Gu Xiuyi walked slowly through the crowd, his blood surging with heat as he took in the stirring imagery of Ji Ruan’s brushstrokes.
Peking University’s centennial celebration had drawn considerable public attention, bringing in numerous news media outlets. Reporters stood before cameras, broadcasting live reports, while countless flashes flickered nonstop throughout the hall.
"Peking University really is full of talent..."
"I heard the students who painted this aren’t even art majors—it’s just their hobby..."
"The spirit in this painting, though—it truly embodies the character of a prestigious school..."
This corridor wasn’t originally meant to be a major exhibition area. It was simply designed as an introduction, leading visitors into the main exhibition hall.
But interestingly, the corridor had become the liveliest spot. Students, professors, guests, and media personnel all unconsciously lingered here, leaving the main exhibition hall relatively empty for the time being.
Gu Xiuyi walked slowly, fully absorbed in the school history painting. Even after reaching the end, he still felt unsatisfied.
At the bottom corner of the painting, the names of the lead artists were inscribed. His eyes landed on the two characters: Ji Ruan.
He stared at them in silence for a long time.
A volunteer approached and asked, "Sir, would you like me to introduce the main artists of this school history painting?"
Gu Xiuyi came back to his senses. He glanced at the volunteer and smiled, his voice carrying a faintly restrained pride:
"No need. I know him."
They had agreed to meet in the exhibition hall at eight in the morning, but now, thirty minutes had passed, and the highly praised lead artist was nowhere to be seen.
Gu Xiuyi called Ji Ruan. The phone rang until it automatically hung up—no one answered.
Frowning slightly, he turned and walked outside, dialing again. After a long wait, Ji Ruan’s voice finally came through.
"Mm?"
Drowsy. Muffled.
Gu Xiuyi paused mid-step and let out a small sigh with a smile. "So you really overslept?"
There was a brief silence on the other end—then sudden chaos.
Gu Xiuyi had to raise his voice to stop him. "Wait, wait—Ji Ruan! Don’t rush, take your time. I’ll wait for you downstairs at the dorm."
The exhibition hall wasn’t far from the boys’ dormitory. Just as Gu Xiuyi reached the building, he saw Ji Ruan jogging out.
His hair was a little messy, and he hadn’t even had time to put on his scarf properly—just loosely gripping it in his hand. Even though Gu Xiuyi had told him not to hurry, this kid had clearly just thrown on some clothes and ran out. The faint red flush from sleep still lingered on his cheeks.
Gu Xiuyi chuckled and rubbed his warm cheek. "How did you end up oversleeping?"
Ji Ruan took a deep breath and finally wrapped his scarf around his neck. "I was at the exhibition hall last night watching them hang the paintings, then stayed to wait for the lighting adjustments. It took too long, so I got back late, and I just didn’t wake up this morning."
Even now, Ji Ruan still seemed half-asleep. His brain felt like it was in standby mode—sluggish, limbs lacking strength.
His eyes had dark circles underneath them. It was clear he had been exhausted lately. Gu Xiuyi smoothed out his hair and led him toward the cafeteria. "If I had known, I wouldn’t have called you. You could’ve slept a little longer."
"It’s fine," Ji Ruan shook his head slightly. "I was hungry anyway."
At the cafeteria, Ji Ruan bought a few soup dumplings and a cup of soy milk, while Gu Xiuyi sat across from him, waiting for him to eat.
"You saw the painting, right?" Ji Ruan sipped his soy milk and asked.
"Yeah." Gu Xiuyi smiled. "It’s even more breathtaking than I imagined."
Ji Ruan, like a child receiving praise, flushed slightly and smiled shyly. "Honestly, I’m pretty satisfied with it myself. So? Your junior did well, didn’t he?"
"Of course," Gu Xiuyi’s smile deepened, indulging him. "Your senior is very proud."
He had always known Ji Ruan was outstanding. In fact, that "excellence" had been one of the reasons Gu Xiuyi had originally chosen him as a marriage candidate. But now, his perspective had changed.
Now, Ji Ruan’s excellence was something that made his heart race just thinking about it.
Ji Ruan was amused by the "senior" remark. He covered his face, lowered his head, and quietly nibbled on his bun.
—
After breakfast, more people began filling the campus as various school anniversary events unfolded, making the atmosphere lively.
"Do you want to go back to the exhibition hall to see the painting again?" Gu Xiuyi asked.
Ji Ruan thought for a moment. "Nah, I already saw the final setup last night. Let’s go to the auditorium instead—there’s a performance, right?"
He shrank into his scarf a little. "I’m kind of cold."
"Alright."
The auditorium was hosting performances from various student clubs in succession. By the time they arrived, it was the street dance club’s turn. The music was explosive, and the crowd was roaring with excitement.
Ji Ruan and Gu Xiuyi found seats in the last row, in a quieter corner. The indoor heating was on high, so Ji Ruan took off his scarf.
But he didn’t seem to handle loud music well. After sitting for a while, the noise started giving him a headache.
Thankfully, each club only performed one routine. By the time Ji Ruan started feeling overwhelmed, the street dance segment was already ending, and a soft guitar ballad took its place.
As the music shifted, Ji Ruan unclenched his hand and let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Halfway through, Gu Xiuyi stepped out to take a phone call, leaving Ji Ruan sitting alone, chatting with Han Xiaolin over text.
But maybe it was the stuffiness of the auditorium, or maybe the lingering effects of the loud music—Ji Ruan’s temples throbbed painfully.
Han Xiaolin’s messages kept popping up on his screen as he excitedly talked about what he was doing outside, but Ji Ruan, staring at the rapidly scrolling messages, felt dizzy. His stomach churned, and for a split second, he almost gagged.
Hurriedly, he shut off his phone, bent forward, and pressed his hands against his stomach, gritting his teeth to ride out the wave of nausea.
His vision gradually cleared, but cold sweat broke out on his back. His dizziness was so bad that even his eye sockets ached.
Ji Ruan touched his face. It felt unusually warm…
A sinking feeling settled in his chest.
When Gu Xiuyi returned, he saw Ji Ruan slumped weakly against the back of his chair, looking unwell.
The auditorium was dimly lit, so he had to get closer before realizing that Ji Ruan’s face was flushed, his eyes slightly red, yet his lips were dry and chapped.
"What’s wrong?" Gu Xiuyi asked in a low voice. "Are you feeling unwell?"
Ji Ruan slowly opened his eyes, resting a hand on his stomach. His voice was faint and dazed.
"I think… I have a fever again…"
Gu Xiuyi’s heart clenched. He immediately placed the back of his hand against Ji Ruan’s forehead—it was indeed warm.
Gently, he wrapped an arm around Ji Ruan’s shoulders, pressing his fingertips to the skin behind his left ear. "How do you feel right now? Does this area hurt?"
Ji Ruan shook his head weakly. "Dizzy… and a little nauseous."