Chapter 83: Friends
Pei Zhouye’s arm suddenly tightened, firmly encircling his waist with enough force to practically rub him into his embrace.
Wen Yan reflexively tried to struggle, but his back hit the cold wall first. The chill seeped through his clothes, yet the front of his body was met with the sudden proximity of Pei Zhouye’s scorching body temperature—the mix of hot and cold making him feel faint.
His nose bumped against the shirt on Pei Zhouye’s chest. The fabric still carried that cool sandalwood scent from the private room, which wound its way into his nostrils.
“A friend in need is a friend indeed.”
Pei Zhouye’s chin rested gently in the crook of Wen Yan’s shoulder. The heat from his cheek made Wen Yan’s neck go stiff. His voice came right against Wen Yan’s left ear, carrying a deliberate, low frustration as if he were sulking with someone. “Didn’t you say I was a ‘friend’?”
He paused, and the arm around Wen Yan’s waist tightened further. Their chests were nearly pressed together, even their breaths intertwining and becoming hot.
“There shouldn’t be a problem with me staying over for one night, right?”
The word “friend” was emphasized heavily, as if squeezed through his teeth. His tone carried an indescribable hint of grievance, mixed with a stubborn, rogue-like assertiveness.
Wen Yan was held so tightly he could neither advance nor retreat. He could only hear his own heart, which had suddenly sped up, echoing clearly in the quiet living room. Even his fingertips began to feel a slight numbness.
In the end, Wen Yan couldn’t win against Pei Zhouye’s stubbornness.
“There’s another room with a bed. I’ll go change the bedding.” He turned his face away, avoiding the other man’s overly burning gaze, his voice still carrying a hint of lingering frustration.
That room had originally been where his parents stayed. The bedding had been stored on the top shelf of the wardrobe, and it smelled dry, like it had been bleached by the sun.
Pei Zhouye, however, sat down on the sofa, his fingers resting casually on his knees. He looked up at Wen Yan. “Don’t go to the trouble.”
He paused, his gaze landing in the direction of the other bedroom. “Can I borrow your laptop? I have some things to handle.”
That would be Wen Yan’s room. There would definitely be traces of Wen Yan’s life there. What kind of layout was Wen Yan used to? What kind of decorations did Wen Yan like?
He had never been into Wen Yan’s bedroom…
Pei Zhouye unconsciously pressed his tongue against his cheek, forcing himself not to think about it.
“You’re not sleeping?”
Wen Yan frowned. He felt as though the current Pei Zhouye was like someone who had downed several bottles of wine—even more distracted than he was.
“I’ll finish this first,” Pei Zhouye said dismissively. His gaze lingered on the slight furrow of Wen Yan’s brow for a moment before he added, “Go to sleep. Don’t worry about me.”
Despite his words, as Wen Yan lay in bed, he felt as though the slight sound of keyboard clicking from the living room was slipping through the crack in the door, pricking his nerves like a fine needle. Occasionally, it was punctuated by Pei Zhouye’s low voice on a call. Across the door, the voice was muffled as if submerged in water, yet it still kept him from sleeping.
He rolled over, staring blankly at a faint water stain on the ceiling.
This man was always like this—using the most casual tone to do the most irresistible things. Just like at the door just now; it was clearly a forceful restraint, yet he had to pull out the “friend” excuse. That bit of grievance in his voice made it seem like it was Wen Yan who was in the wrong, like he was the one pushing him.
He had expected to spend the night thinking about the red paint on the door, but instead, his pre-sleep thoughts were entirely occupied by Pei Zhouye in the living room.
After an unknown amount of time, the sounds from the living room gradually faded, leaving only the occasional click of a mouse. Wen Yan held his breath and listened for a while. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and he finally fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Wen Yan was woken by the chirping of birds outside the window.
Dawn was just breaking. The living room was silent. He threw on a jacket and stepped out, his footsteps stopping at the bedroom door.
Pei Zhouye was still sitting on the sofa. The laptop screen emitted a faint glow. He was leaning back against the seat, his head tilted slightly to one side, his eyelashes casting a shallow shadow under his eyes.
The morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, landing right on the back of his hand, where the protruding veins were visible. That hand was still resting on the mouse; clearly, he had pulled an all-nighter.
Wen Yan stood still.
This man had been unreasoningly bargaining with him last night, but now that he had shed that layer of casualness or dominance, he showed a few hints of fatigue. The sofa was too short, and his long legs were cramped in an uncomfortable position, but his breathing was steady. He was likely truly exhausted.
Wen Yan’s gaze fell on the open collar of his shirt, then he quickly looked away as if burned. He turned to go to the kitchen for water, but his sleeve accidentally brushed against the edge of the coffee table, making a slight noise.
Pei Zhouye opened his eyes almost instantly.
Those eyes, which were usually full of casual indifference, were now remarkably clear, tinged with the slight lethargy of just waking up. “You’re awake?”
“Mhm.” Wen Yan looked away. “You didn’t sleep?”
“I finished.” Pei Zhouye sat up straight and stretched his neck, the joints making a slight cracking sound. He looked at Wen Yan’s tense profile and suddenly let out a low chuckle. “What, do you feel bad for me?”
Wen Yan suddenly turned to glare at him. “Who feels bad for you?”
This man was always so baffling. Give him an inch, and he’d take a mile.
“Oh, I must have seen wrong.” Pei Zhouye raised an eyebrow, though the smile in his voice couldn’t be hidden. “In that case, I’m hungry. Wen Yan, aren’t you going to treat your ‘friend’ to breakfast?”
There it was again—“friend.”
Wen Yan clenched his fists and turned toward the kitchen, his voice muffled. “There’s only milk and bread. If you want anything else, go buy it downstairs.”
From behind him came Pei Zhouye’s soft chuckle, as light as a feather.
The static on the phone was very light. The police officer’s voice came through clearly: “Mr. Wen, the person who splashed the paint on your door last night has been caught. We’re still interrogating them for details. Please stay safe lately and contact us if anything happens.”
Wen Yan gave an “Mhm” and hung up. His fingertips still felt the coolness of the phone screen. He stared at the green leaves outside the classroom window, his mind wandering.
It was spring. The withered trees outside were beginning to sprout new, emerald leaves—beautiful and fresh.
Pei Zhouye had said he was handling official business, yet this morning, when Wen Yan reported it to the police, they said it had already been settled. Who had settled it? The answer was self-evident.
Once again, he had received Pei Zhouye’s help.
Wen Yan truly couldn’t understand how someone like Pei Zhouye could be so consistently good to him. Even if it was just a passing whim, this “whim” had lasted far too long.
When class ended, Wen Yan put on his mask and prepared to head out. A Da had implemented even stricter controls; the campus was no longer as crowded, and there weren’t many outsiders. Wen Yan felt much more at ease, but the red paint from yesterday was still vivid in his mind.
It looked like red blood.
Wen Yan suddenly thought of the words Gu Yulan had said, and he felt a surge of irritability. He hadn’t thought of Gu Yulan in a long time.
Gu Yulan said that Pei Zhouye had stabbed someone with a knife when he was only twelve. He was a complete psychopath.
Wen Yan wondered: was the blood Pei Zhouye saw back then just like the red paint from last night?
Recommended Reads
![Enemies on a Narrow Road [Esports]](https://beereads.space/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/enemies-on-a-narrow-road-214x300.jpg)
