Chapter 17

A kiss seemed to brush against the tip of his ear, so faint he could not tell whether it had truly touched him.

He could not refuse.

Xin Chun heard his hoarse voice squeeze from his dry throat. "Mm."

First, his shirt was picked up. Xin Chun obediently held out his arms, and the garment slipped down over his head. The soft fabric seemed capable of making one feel safe, and the flush in Xin Chun's face and the racing of his heart finally eased somewhat.

But before he could relax, a scorching palm stroked his thigh, sliding twice along its side.

"Lift your leg." Something seemed deliberately concealed in Owen's voice.

Xin Chun obediently raised one leg, then the other, and his pajama pants were on as well.

"I-I'm done, Owen." Xin Chun cleared his throat. "You should go take a shower too."

"Okay."

Owen leaned down and kissed the back of his neck. "Wait for me."

Xin Chun abruptly covered the back of his neck and blinked.

Wait—wait for what?

Chapter 17

Xin Chun lay on the bed with a trace of unease and a little excitement. The sound of running water rose from the bathroom again. After an unknown amount of time, it stopped, and Owen opened the door and emerged with warm steam clinging to him.

Like Xin Chun, he wore only a bath towel around his waist. But after drying his hair, as he walked toward the bed, Owen casually draped the towel over the back of the sofa, then reached for his waist and untied the bath towel.

Xin Chun immediately covered his face with both hands, yet left gaps between his fingers, his eyes blinking shyly.

Owen wore black boxer briefs beneath the towel, perfectly wrapping that part of him, its shape impressively apparent.

Above that were his V-lines and defined abs, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Below were a pair of long, strong legs without a trace of excess flesh. It was the sort of ideal physique that would not look out of place on a runway.

Under Xin Chun's gaze, Owen came to the bed, lifted the covers, and lay down halfway. There was one quilt for two people. There should have been spare bedding in the wardrobe, but neither of them mentioned it, both knowing perfectly well why.

Once Owen's presence surrounded him, Xin Chun asked, "You told me to wait for you... What was I waiting for?"

Owen leaned against the headboard, facing Xin Chun. "Wait for me to recite poetry to you."

Xin Chun said, "But we didn't bring a book in Y language."

So that was it. He wanted to lull him to sleep.

Owen said, "It's okay. I happen to remember a poem. Shall I recite it for you?"

"Okay." Xin Chun nodded and burrowed deeper beneath the covers.

Owen tucked in the corner of his quilt and gazed at Xin Chun. His dark green eyes were like a brilliant, profound alien sky full of stars, so intent and captivating that one could not help wanting to drown in them.

His voice was low as he began to speak slowly, each line gradually leaving his lips.

Xin Chun listened for a while and sensed that something was wrong. The meaning of this—this poem... was like someone reading erotic fiction into his ear.

It was so explicit and ambiguous, even the wording nakedly revealing an undisguised love and longing, as though it wished to remain entwined with its beloved forever, without distinction between them.

The tips of Xin Chun's ears quietly reddened, but he was supposed not to understand Y language, so he could not react.

His fingers clenched the edge of the quilt, his calves rubbing against the smooth sheets. His body grew faintly warm. How could he possibly still feel sleepy now? Owen's "poem" had completely awakened him.

Xin Chun looked at Owen with moist, glistening eyes.

Owen suddenly paused. He reached out and rubbed Xin Chun's earlobe with his fingertips. "Why is this red?"

"...It's a little hot." Xin Chun stuck out his tongue and licked his lips.

"Where is hot?" Owen's eyes flickered. His fingers did not leave Xin Chun's earlobe, instead moving downward until his burning palm pressed against Xin Chun's neck.

His pulse beat distinctly beneath Owen's palm, impossible to ignore.

"This is hot too," Owen said.

Xin Chun gripped his wrist, his throat moving. He felt as though the atmosphere was faintly dangerous now. He spoke softly, "Maybe the quilt is a little too thick. It'll be fine in a while."

"Is that so?" Owen neither agreed nor disagreed, but he lifted his wrist away from Xin Chun's neck and slipped it beneath the covers. Under his palm was delicate skin and a beating heart.

He said, "Do you want me to help cool you down?"

How? Xin Chun asked it aloud.

Owen said, "That is what I'm thinking about too. I think I may not be able to lower your temperature effectively."

He would not cool him down, but he could make him hotter.

Realizing what Owen meant, Xin Chun felt his heartbeat speed up slightly. He hugged Owen's arm and softened his voice. "I'm so sleepy. Let's sleep, Owen."

"The poem isn't finished yet."

If he kept reciting, Xin Chun would not be able to take it.

Xin Chun said, "Can you tell me tomorrow?"

"Okay, then let's sleep." Owen looked at Xin Chun, smiled, and yielded to him.

Once the lights were turned off, the room became pitch-black. Xin Chun finally breathed a sigh of relief. The presence beside him made him feel secure, and before he knew it, he fell asleep.

Early the next morning, just as expected, Xin Chun woke up in Owen's arms.

After breakfast, they began preparing to go skiing. Xin Chun was the only one among them who could not ski—he truly could not ski at all.

In his previous life, Owen had also gone to R Country on a business trip, but Xin Chun had not accompanied him. Back then, he and Owen had been at odds. How could he possibly have been willing to go on a business trip with him?

It had originally been a three-day itinerary, but Owen had shortened it to two days.

Li Ze had gone along and returned regretting that he had not had time to try skiing. What a pity.

This time, Owen would personally teach Xin Chun.

When they arrived at the ski resort, Ivy and Annie went off on their own to enjoy some time together.

William was smarter this time. He did not follow Xin Chun and Owen around. Now that he had seen the snow, who cared about some plan to split them up? He would have fun first. The plan could go to hell.

Before long, William had run off and disappeared as well.

Dressed in thick ski gear, Xin Chun received Owen's hands-on instruction. His breath turned to white mist, and his stiff limbs gradually became fluid. He could already ski a short distance alongside Owen.