09 : Fat in place it should have

 When Yin Luo woke up the next day, his hand was swollen and felt like it was on fire to the touch.

Even getting dressed was much slower.

After getting dressed, he grabbed his phone and a small fan. As soon as he opened the door, Shang Chengnin was standing outside: "How's your injury?"

The temperature was low in the mountains that morning, and Yin Luo was wearing a thin long coat, which covered his swollen wrist. He looked downcast, his mood not good: "It's nothing."

Shang Chengnin felt a little guilty, after all, he hadn't taken good care of Yin Luo: "Why don't you rest at the hotel this morning, and I'll take you back to Wucheng at noon? If you want to go back now, I can have someone take you."

Going back now would be a waste of the opportunity. Yin Luo immediately grabbed his clothes: "I'll go with you, don't leave me behind."

His dependent look made the man stiffen slightly.

After a moment.

"Okay, let's go together, be careful not to touch the wound again."

Yin Luo then let go of him.

*

When they arrived at the film set, the set had already been set up, different from yesterday's.

Yin Luo looked around but didn't see Duan Muze. After waiting for another ten minutes or so, the other person still hadn't appeared.

Could it be that he wasn't getting any scenes today?

The dull pain in his wrist prevented Yinluo from thinking about these things. He wanted to get some ice to apply, so he asked a nearby staff member. The staff member told him there were ice packs in the refrigerator in the last warehouse and even offered to get them for him.

Yinluo declined.

The warehouse was easy to find; just a right turn and a straight walk would get him there. However, it was very dusty inside, and the air wasn't very good.

Yinluo saw the refrigerator, took out an ice pack, and as soon as he turned around, he saw someone standing in the doorway.

He was startled at first, then he realized it was Duan Muze.

The dim light couldn't reveal the man's expression, but Yinluo could sense that his aura was lower than usual, and he seemed to be in a bad mood.

Was he here to get an ice pack? Just as he was considering whether to give him the ice pack, a deep, displeased voice suddenly rang out: "Aren't you stupid?"

Yinluo didn't react: "...What?"

Duan Muze was already approaching him. "

Approaching" would probably be a more accurate description than "approaching. " The difference in their stature, coupled with the man's gloomy expression, frightened Yin Luo.

He wasn't friendly,

even though she had

shown a great deal of kindness.

Duan Muze stopped very close, his gaze falling on her pale wrist: "Who taught you to put a band-aid on a wound in the summer?"

"I didn't put it on..." His tone was cold, and Yin Luo was so frightened she stammered.

Perhaps it was the increasingly painful wrist, or perhaps it was the man's impatient expression, but she instinctively felt her nose and eyes sting, and she couldn't hold back her tears: "I got hurt because of you."

Large tears streamed down her face.

"Because I saw you were hot, I wanted to bring you a fan, and then my hand got bumped."

Her eyes were downcast, her voice trembling with grievance and a sob, but it was clear she was trying hard to hold back.

"Even if you hate me, don't call me stupid..."

Duan Muze froze.

He was at a loss. He

hadn't expected to make her cry.

Ever since yesterday afternoon, when he heard from someone that Yin Luo might be injured, he had been restless. Not knowing what kind of injury it was, he brought all his medicine.

But at the hotel room door, he saw another man enter Yinluo's room with medicine.

He felt an inexplicable irritation.

But… he didn't want to make Yinluo cry.

"I'm sorry." This was probably one of the few times Duan Muze apologized, his tone stiff, so he repeated it, this time with a much softer voice, "I'm sorry. I wasn't clear. 'Stupid' wasn't referring to you, it was to the person who put the band-aid on you."

"You…" He looked at Yinluo, his voice even softer, "Don't cry."

These were words of comfort, the first time Yinluo had heard them from Duan Muze.

She was so shocked she forgot to cry for a moment.

The boy's eyes were red, his nose was red, his face was damp and flushed. Duan Muze stared at him for a while, then took out a wet wipe from somewhere and leaned down to look him in the eye.

Yinluo finally paid attention to him: "What…"

"Wipe your tears."

Yinluo sniffed: "I don't want to."

Duan Muze was much more patient this time: "Shall I apologize again?"

This made Yinluo feel embarrassed.

He was coaxed into calming down before explaining, "I don't have hands to hold it."

Duan Muze then noticed the ice pack in Yin Luo's hand, and his gaze shifted to the boy's tear-streaked face.

"Hold it for me,"

Yin Luo suddenly said, making Duan Muze's outstretched arm freeze. He quickly reversed direction and took the ice pack.

He had originally intended to wipe the boy's face.

The wet wipe was icy cold; Yin Luo placed it over his eyes after wiping his face. The room was quiet for a moment before Duan Muze suddenly asked, "How's your hand?"

Yin Luo, thinking the other had left, reacted after a few seconds and said, "I twisted it."

Duan Muze walked to the door, seemingly waiting for him: "I have medicine in my rest room."

*

Yin Luo sat down in a chair, looking around.

Duan Muze's rest room was small and sparsely furnished; he was sitting on the only chair.

The other was taking medicine from the drawer. Seeing him finish, Yin Luo stood up: "I don't need so much."

Duan Muze didn't give him the medicine: "Sit still."

Was he going to apply medicine to his hand?

Given his less-than-ideal favorability rating and Duan Muze's perpetually sour face, Yin Luo didn't presume to be affectionate. His voice was soft: "I'm going back."

"Where to?" Duan Muze squatted down. "To find the person who gave you the band-aid?"

His mood seemed to be sour again.

Afraid of further damaging his favorability rating, Yin Luo obediently sat in the chair without speaking.

Duan Muze rolled up the boy's jacket sleeve, only to discover that the sprain was more serious than he had imagined—his wrist was swollen quite a bit, and purple bruises were already appearing, particularly striking against his pale skin.

He leaned closer and carefully peeled off the band-aid that had been on it.

The wound was also inflamed.

Yin Luo didn't dare speak; Duan Muze's expression was terrifying. He let the other man massage his wrist, using cotton swabs to apply medicine bit by bit.

Then he rubbed the sprained area.

Duan Muze's movements were actually very gentle, but Yin Luo was naturally sensitive and still felt a lot of pain. He bit his lower lip tightly, but even though his lips were rubbed red, he couldn't help

but kick the man's shoulder.

"Go easy on me, it hurts so much." The boy frowned.

The kick was too light, and Duan Muze didn't even move.

But his pupils suddenly contracted.

—Because that slender, fair leg appeared in his field of vision.

Yin Luo looked thin, but he had flesh in all the right places. When he kicked, the soft flesh on his leg trembled.

Like ripples on water.

Giving off the original fragrance of flesh.

Duan Muze was a little stunned.

His gaze fell on Yin Luo's ankle, on the protruding bone, there was a light-colored mole.

There was a similar mole on the boy's wrist.

He was holding it in his hand at the moment.

When rubbed with medicated oil, the mole also shone.

Duan Muze's breathing became erratic.

"Hey." Yin Luo called out.

Duan Muze belatedly raised his eyes and saw the boy take something out of his coat pocket, then bring his handsome face close to his: "Little fan, do you still want it?" 

← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →