Xie Yan did not know what was happening either. The moment he saw Zheng Zaisheng and pulled him into his arms, his soul seemed to grow light and float away. In his haze, he caught the scent of straw mixed with earth from his memories again.
Xie Yan had worked hard all these years and had never felt tired. Or rather, he believed he had no right to call himself tired. But at that moment, an endless weariness broke through every nerve. Xie Yan could not help lowering his head slightly and sniffing at Zheng Zaisheng's collar. "You still like lily of the valley."
Actually, Xie Yan had nearly failed to recognize Zheng Zaisheng just now. It was clearly still that same face, yet the timidity and reserve carved into his bones were gone. Like a mimosa beneath a crack in the rocks spreading its branches and leaves, no longer content with darkness and dampness, he had reached out and caught the sunlight.
This version of Zheng Zaisheng radiated a deadly attraction.
Xie Yan was still savoring it, still immersed in the moment, when the person in his arms suddenly struggled violently and crashed into him without any restraint. Xie Yan took a blow to the chin. With a muffled grunt, he let Zheng Zaisheng go.
Zheng Zaisheng managed to turn around, his expression panicked and disgusted.
Xie Yan paused slightly, then smiled.
His features were striking and sharp, the tails of his brows tilted upward, his eye sockets slightly deep-set, and his brow bone cast a heavy shadow over his face. Xie Yan's first impression, meanwhile, was simply "rugged." His shoulders and chest were solidly muscular. Back when he had applied to be a nightclub waiter, his appearance had passed at first glance: wheat-colored skin and eyes as black