Xie Jinghui was taking his clothes off?
Shen Sixian's mind instantly went blank. He knew that, by any ordinary reckoning, there was only one possible meaning behind Shen Shuangjian's words.
Drunkenness, undressing, one infatuated fool and one idiot-did he really need to think carefully about what might happen?
Shen Sixian couldn't help drawing in a sharp breath. He quickly picked up the phone that had fallen onto the table and called back.
Pale moonlight spilled everywhere as Xie Jinghui held Shen Shuangjian, who had gone silent against his shoulder, with something close to helplessness.
There was no way he could change Shen Shuangjian's clothes now, anyway. He could only let Shen Shuangjian sleep against his shoulder, then gently lower him onto the bed once he was sleeping more soundly.
Beside his ear was Shen Shuangjian's soft breathing. Behind him was the ringing of Shen Shuangjian's phone, which had fallen onto the bed, repeating endlessly.
It took no thought to know that Shen Sixian must have misunderstood their current situation after hearing what Shen Shuangjian had said.
Xie Jinghui sighed rather helplessly, his fingertips gently combing through the long hair down Shen Shuangjian's back. Only after a long while did he softly say:
"Little drunk."
A hangover always came with a headache, and the frail Shen Shuangjian suffered worse than most.
When he woke, he was still in the same position as in the past few days, encircled in Xie Jinghui's arms with his head resting in the crook of the other man's arm.
"You're awake."
The low, slightly hoarse voice sounded beside his ear. Memories gradually resurfaced in his mind, but before he could think them through, a dull, stabbing pain interrupted him.
Shen Shuangjian instinctively frowned. Afraid to move his head, he could only hunch his shoulders and suppress the soft whimpers in his throat.
"What's wrong? Does your head hurt?"
Xie Jinghui propped himself up a little, his hand already reaching Shen Shuangjian's forehead before he could speak.
"Don't rush to get up, and don't try to remember what happened yesterday." Xie Jinghui massaged him gently. "Once you're feeling a little better, go take a hot bath."
As he spoke, Xie Jinghui tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose. The faint blue shadows beneath his eyes betrayed the utter exhaustion of the previous night, proof of the countless times Shen Shuangjian had woken him.
In truth, a drunken Shen Shuangjian was nowhere near as quiet as Xie Jinghui had imagined.
He didn't make a fuss, but he kept waking with a start from the heat in his body and the intermittent headaches.
Whenever he woke, Xie Jinghui roused from his light doze as well. Though Shen Shuangjian rarely complained of feeling hot, he didn't dare let him catch even the slightest chill.
By the time Shen Shuangjian had bathed, changed, and come downstairs, it was already eleven thirty.
Shen Shuangjian rubbed his still slightly damp long hair and slowly made his way toward the ground-floor living room, holding the stair railing.
Afraid that he might lose his footing and fall, Xie Jinghui followed a little more closely this time. His gaze stayed fixed on Shen Shuangjian, ready to reach out and pull him into his arms at the slightest sway.
The ground-floor living room seemed quieter than usual. Shen Shuangjian had assumed the production crew had taken everyone out on another task.
But when he reached the bottom of the stairs and raised his eyes with a trace of weariness, he discovered that not one of them had left. Instead, they were all sitting in the dining area, silent and somewhat ill at ease.
Following their gazes, Shen Shuangjian looked toward the sofa beside the fireplace with some hesitation. A single glance made him instinctively stop in his tracks.
There was always plenty of sunshine at noon in spring, and Shen Sixian sat there quietly, his head lowered, saying nothing.
A shaft of light through the window fell across his thin gold-rimmed glasses, so clear that even his lowered eyelashes seemed countable.
His expression revealed nothing. His deep-set, stern eyes and brows remained composed, his face indifferent, showing neither sorrow nor joy.
Perhaps hearing the footsteps on the stairs, Shen Sixian finally raised his eyes slowly. His gaze settled on Shen Shuangjian, unchanged, yet inexplicably oppressive and dark.
"Brother...?"
Shen Shuangjian's almost innocent bewilderment finally became the last spark that ignited the powder keg.
Shen Sixian had no idea how much mental preparation it had taken for him to preserve a final shred of dignity for both himself and Shen Shuangjian in front of the cameras, holding himself back from confronting Xie Jinghui.
"Come here."
Shen Sixian's toneless command made Shen Shuangjian hesitate, but out of respect for his elder brother, he still walked slowly over.
He keenly sensed that Shen Sixian was probably a little angry at the moment, but he couldn't understand why Shen Sixian was angry, or why he had once again traveled a thousand kilometers to Donglin.
"Brother."
The sight of Shen Shuangjian standing obediently before him and calling him brother calmed the anger churning inside Shen Sixian a little.
He seized Shen Shuangjian's hand and, ignoring his instinctive resistance, carefully pushed up his sleeve. Then he lifted his long hair to inspect his shoulders and neck.
Seeing no unsightly marks, Shen Sixian actually breathed a sigh of relief, though he didn't know why.
He didn't know whether to be thankful that his slow-witted, timid younger brother, burdened with breathtaking beauty, had escaped a vicious hand, or to marvel that Xie Jinghui had pulled back from the brink and resisted temptation with someone in his lap.
Shen Shuangjian's phone, which had been switched off and not yet restarted, concealed Shen Sixian's dozen or more incessant calls, but it could not conceal his sudden panic.
It was hard to say whether that idiotic joke last time had been more frightening, or this incident more absurd.
But what remained exactly the same was that Shen Sixian had once again driven a thousand kilometers like an idiot, reaching Donglin City before dawn and coming to this small villa he found so tiresome.
As an elder brother, he could not construct an image in his mind of what might happen. He had entered the house seething, yet had never managed to go upstairs and shove the door open.
What was he supposed to do?
Tear away this absurd fig leaf and let the filming crew, who thrived on chaos, and public opinion sensationalize the matter online?
Or, as an elder brother, personally catch his own younger brother in the act?
And so the angry Shen Sixian had been forced to suppress those impulses, sitting with his eyes closed from early morning until noon, waiting for Shen Shuangjian to come downstairs.
Shen Sixian had probably gone mad. Otherwise, how could he be so foolish as to meddle even in something this difficult to speak of?
But...
Shen Shuangjian was not a social butterfly in the circles of fame and fortune, there for anyone to pursue, much less a caged canary bought with money and power.
He was foolish, stupid, and poor at socializing. Like a hedgehog, he looked prickly, but inside he was so soft that a single poke would break him.
He was a burden Shen Sixian wanted desperately to avoid, yet could never shake off once entangled with him, and a karmic obstacle with which a satisfactory resolution grew harder the farther he tried to distance himself.
He was his own younger brother, linked to him by blood. What came from his mouth should have been a willful, discontented call of "Brother," not helpless sobs when someone else seized his vulnerable spots.
Xie Jinghui couldn't degrade him like this. No one could.