For the rest of the day, I couldn't shake the thoughts clogging my mind like mud in a stream. I needed to set things straight between Lan Feng and myself—draw a line, or at least a dotted one—but every time I opened my mouth, my tongue shriveled into a coward. How was I supposed to kill the joy on his face? The glow in his eyes? He looked like someone who had just discovered sugar.
Tearing that happiness away felt cruel. He'd probably cry—or worse, decide to march straight back to Hanyue on his own, convinced I no longer wanted him by my side. The trust we'd built would shatter, and the sweet, affectionate Feng'er I'd come to cherish would vanish forever, replaced by something colder. And I wasn't ready for that.
We made camp that evening in a quiet clearing, surrounded by towering trees. The wind was cool, the fire warm, and everything might have felt peaceful—if not for the fact that I was now apparently in a relationship I never agreed to.
Lan Feng knelt by the fire, arranging the logs with meticulous care, like he was prepping for a romantic dinner instead of a night on dirt and rocks. When he finished, he came up behind me, and without a shred of warning, wrapped his arms around my waist in a firm, possessive hug.
I stiffened. What used to be innocent affection now felt... calculated. Like a sheep had realized it was actually a wolf and had decided to try its luck.
"It's my first time having a lover," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.
Lover.
Lover.
How did we get here? We skipped at least six major steps.
The word slammed into my spiritual core like a misfired lightning technique. I was two seconds away from flinging him over my shoulder and running into the woods.
"I'm not really sure how to handle a relationship," he continued, his tone soft and intimate, "especially with someone as beautiful as my gege."
I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. This wasn't something I could ignore anymore. I needed to end this misunderstanding before it spiraled further out of control.
"Do you not mind that I'm ten years older than you?" I asked, hoping to gently discourage him.
He tilted his head to the side, his face now close enough that his cheek brushed mine. Then he leaned in and kissed me lightly on the cheek. "I don't mind it at all, gege. In fact, I like it. But if we're being honest, I'm technically older than you. I just can't remember everything right now."
I sighed. So much for that strategy. His casual confidence made it impossible to find a crack in his reasoning.
"Do you want to recover your memories?" I asked, changing tactics.
"Of course," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "That way, I can take even better care of my gege."
If only he knew. A knot formed in my stomach at the thought of him regaining his memories. When that day came, his affection would undoubtedly turn to hatred. He would be so disgusted by what his younger self had done that he might try to kill me for allowing it to happen.
"Don't you want to fall for a woman instead?" I tried again, my voice calm but hopeful.
His arms tightened around me, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. "Gege, even if you turned into a woman, I'd still love you."
I blinked, speechless. His words made no sense at all.
"It's late," I finally said, untangling myself from his embrace. "I should sleep."
He didn't protest. Instead, he knelt down and began arranging the blankets like he was preparing a honeymoon suite—folded edges, smooth lining, the whole production. "Lie down, Gege," he said with a smile that clearly meant I'm not done yet.
I obeyed, more out of emotional exhaustion than willingness. He tucked me in with alarming tenderness, like I was his favorite dumpling. "Thank you," I murmured, facing the fire and silently praying it would burn away the rising awkwardness in the air.
Then came the rustle of blankets—his, of course—as he settled in behind me. I felt him shift closer. And closer.
For the past few months, I hadn't minded him sleeping beside me. It had become a routine, one I accepted without much thought. But now, knowing what was in his heart, his closeness felt suffocating.
"You should sleep near the fire," I suggested, trying one last time to create some space. "It's warmer over there."
Instead of listening, he shifted closer, his body heat radiating through the thin layers of my clothes. "No need," he replied, his voice soft and content. "My gege will keep me warm."
I closed my eyes tightly, trying to will my thoughts away, but my frustration lingered. How had things spiraled so quickly out of control? I should have been firm with Lan Feng from the beginning, setting clear boundaries the moment his affection crossed into dangerous territory. Now, I was trapped in a dilemma of my own making, unsure of how to extricate myself without breaking his heart.
Was Ruan Yanjun really like this as a youth?
I found myself wondering, reluctantly, whether his fondness for men had always been there. If so, it certainly explained why he'd spoken so indifferently about that girl from his past.
The thought made me uncomfortable—not because of his preference, but because it was directed entirely at me.
"You behave, okay?" I said, breaking the silence.
He hummed sleepily behind me, his tone warm and slurred. "I will, Gege. No inappropriate touching, I promise."
We'd had this conversation earlier in the day after he'd wrapped himself around me like a vine—under the guise of "protecting" me while crossing a log bridge. Thankfully, he'd obeyed when I asked him to stop. For that, I was grateful. Small mercies.
I sighed and closed my eyes. Exhaustion eventually pulled me into a restless sleep.
Sometime in the night, a sharp chill pried me back awake. The fire had burned down to pale embers, and the night air had grown mercilessly cold. The thin blanket I had pulled over myself was no match for the breeze creeping through the trees. I curled in tighter, trying to preserve what little warmth I had left.
Behind me, Lan Feng stirred. I felt the shift of his weight, the rustle of cloth. "Gege?" he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. "You're cold."
Before I could protest or utter a single word, he shifted forward, his entire body pressing against my back. One strong arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me into his warmth like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I froze, uncertain whether to elbow him in the ribs or thank him.
"Let me keep you warm, Gege," he whispered, his breath brushing my ear. The intimacy of it made my spine tingle in a very inconvenient way.
To my dismay, the warmth was immediate—he was like a walking furnace, and the chill that had sunk into my bones began to melt away. I hated how good it felt. His breath was steady against the nape of my neck, his embrace secure without being overbearing.
I exhaled slowly, trying not to think too much. This was just a survival necessity, I told myself. A one-night concession. Tomorrow, I'd have to set firm boundaries between us.
This couldn't continue.