HIM Chapter 12: There’s No Way I’m Not Good-Looking
The milk tea was warm. Bo Qin hesitated with the straw in hand, debating whether to poke it in. He Xizhou looked up from his computer again and asked, “Why aren’t you drinking it?”
…Why are you paying so much attention to me?
Bo Qin said he was watching his weight lately—eating cake and drinking milk tea felt way too sinful.
He Xizhou looked him up and down without any emotion. Today, Bo Qin wore a black T-shirt under a leather jacket, and a pair of casual blue jeans. It was a simple, everyday outfit, but he wore it differently—with an effortlessly cool air. He Xizhou said, “Why do you need to watch your weight? You’ve got a great figure.”
Bo Qin was momentarily dazed by the straightforward compliment. With a “pop,” he stabbed the straw in and took a huge gulp.
This time, He Xizhou’s car was different from the one Bo Qin had ridden in before, but the faint cool fragrance in the air remained unchanged. Bo Qin actually liked the scent—it was calming and soothing, something that helped clear the mind.
After a few bites of cake, Bo Qin didn’t feel so hungry and stopped eating. The car had been modified for safety and comfort, and the smooth ride lulled him into drowsiness. The sound of He Xizhou tapping away at his keyboard, on and off, became a lullaby. His head tilted, and he drifted off into sleep.
When Bo Qin woke up, he was still a bit out of it. Caught between dream and reality, a familiar scent suddenly filled his senses, jolting him fully awake.
He had fallen asleep in He Xizhou’s car.
Bo Qin sat up abruptly, the suit jacket on him sliding off. He rose too quickly and got dizzy, letting out a soft hiss. The car lights turned on. He Xizhou asked, “Had a bad dream?”
Bo Qin turned, dazed, and locked eyes with He Xizhou. He wore wireless earbuds, and a few strands of his meticulously styled hair had fallen loose. His expression was calm, his gaze deep. He wore only a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing firm, defined forearms.
He Xizhou was holding his phone. The screen was still lit with a familiar video, but Bo Qin’s mind hadn’t caught up yet. He just stared at He Xizhou’s hand—long fingers, the strap of his watch outlining his wrist bones, pale skin with faint blue veins beneath, like a piece of art.
He Xizhou snapped his fingers in front of him.
Bo Qin snapped out of it, rubbed his forehead, and said, “Sorry.”
Though he didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.
Fully awake now, Bo Qin felt sore all over from his nap. He rolled his neck and asked, “What time is it? Are we there yet?”
He Xizhou gave him the time. “You slept for two hours.”
Bo Qin picked up the suit jacket that had fallen. It was He Xizhou’s. He carefully folded it and asked, “Why didn’t you wake me? Don’t tell me you sat with me for two hours?”
He Xizhou gave a quiet “mm.” He put away his phone. Bo Qin glanced over and immediately sensed something was off. “Wait—what were you watching?”
Unexpectedly, He Xizhou showed him the phone screen directly. Bo Qin saw the avatar of his studio—it was a video of him playing guitar that he’d posted two nights ago.
Bo Qin asked, “…You’re still watching this?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” He Xizhou replied. “I filmed that video.”
He even opened the latest comments in front of him. “They’re complimenting the cameraman this time.”
Bo Qin looked at the screen. Sure enough, plenty of fans were praising the photography and saying the cameraman deserved a bonus. But sprinkled among those comments were ones calling him husband, baby, gege… Luckily, none calling him wife or little sister this time.
Still, it felt weird. He Xizhou reading those fan comments while watching his video felt so off.
He Xizhou took out his earbuds, shut his phone, and reached for his laptop and documents. Bo Qin instinctively moved to help, but hesitated mid-reach. “Can I… take this?”
He Xizhou handed him a stack of folders and glanced at him curiously. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Bo Qin rubbed his nose and mumbled, “Just afraid there’s, like, confidential business stuff…”
He Xizhou didn’t catch the muttering. He stepped out, braced a hand on the car roof, leaned down, and asked, “Not getting out? Aren’t your legs numb after that nap?”
Bad question—Bo Qin immediately felt the numbness creeping from his ankles to his thighs.
He swore under his breath.
He told He Xizhou, “Go ahead first. I’ll catch up.”
“You haven’t registered your fingerprint or iris yet. You can’t get in.” He Xizhou left his laptop in the seat, clearly waiting for him.
“I already waited two hours. What’s a few more minutes?”
That made Bo Qin even more guilty. He wasn’t great at handling others’ kindness. Online, fans showered him with love and affection, but there was always a screen between them, giving him space to adjust and accept. In person, though, he couldn’t respond smoothly. He always felt like he said the wrong thing. All he could manage was a stiff little “thank you,” like a nervous quail.
He Xizhou reached out a hand to him. Bo Qin looked at his long, fair fingers again and couldn’t help but think, Damn, his hands are really something.
He Xizhou sighed. “You’re not gonna move? Still enjoying the car?”
Bo Qin finally came to. I’m a grown man. No way I need to be pulled up… right?
But reality slapped him—he very honestly grabbed He Xizhou’s hand.
His hand was warm, Bo Qin thought.
The car was parked in the underground garage. Bo Qin held the jacket and folders, followed He Xizhou after he scanned his fingerprint and iris. He looked a bit dazed. He Xizhou took back the jacket, draped it over his shoulder, and asked, “What’s wrong? Still not fully awake?”
Bo Qin scratched his head. “You should’ve just tossed me in the car and gone up. I would’ve come up when I woke.”
“You were sleeping so soundly,” He Xizhou said. “Even snoring. Waking you felt a bit cruel.”
“Bullshit,” Bo Qin blurted out. “I don’t snore when I sleep.”
He Xizhou raised a brow, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll record it for you next time, then you’ll see.”
The certainty in his tone shook Bo Qin. His idol image was sacred. “No way, right? I can’t really snore, can I?”
He Xizhou mimicked him, “Yes yes, you really do snore.”
Bo Qin let out a dramatic cry. “No way! That’s impossible!”
The snoring hit his self-esteem hard. Even at dinner, he looked deflated. Mama He served him soup. “What’s wrong today, Xiao Qin? Rough day at work?”
He Xizhou casually sipped his soup and said slowly, “Maybe he just discovered a hidden side of himself.”
Bo Qin solemnly raised his right hand to cover his face.
Mama He watched their interaction, smiling silently.
Moonlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. After finishing his work, He Xizhou sipped his coffee, stood up, and walked out to the balcony.
The wind was gentle but cool. He lowered his head slightly, lit a cigarette, then raised his head to exhale, leaning against the railing as he stared at the summer stars above.
Suddenly, the sound of splashing water broke the silence. He turned slightly and found the source—it was the open-air pool.
Bo Qin wore only black boxer briefs. His muscles were lean, like silk wrapped around a blade—smooth lines and a sharply defined waist. His pale skin shimmered under the moonlight, almost blinding to the eyes.
He Xizhou hadn’t taken off his glasses—he saw everything clearly. The way Bo Qin’s arms stretched in the water, the smooth pull connecting to his waist, and the way water rippled around his body. After a lap, Bo Qin pulled himself up and tapped at his phone—likely recording his time.
Ash dropped onto He Xizhou’s hand. He wiped it off without caring.
In this industry, it wasn’t uncommon to see people sponsor celebrities. It was an exchange—money and resources for beauty and excitement. These stars were products, packaged for the masses, selling beauty and persona. Beautiful on the surface, empty within.
He thought Bo Qin was the same.
The moment he first saw the man, he’d thought, Too pretty.
Given Bo Qin’s role in the entertainment world, He Xizhou had judged him before they even met. And after seeing that face, his impression was confirmed—A pretty fool living off his looks.
The “pretty fool” whistled at him from below and said, “What’s the fun in just watching? Come down and race me.”
He Xizhou stubbed out his cigarette. “I was on the college swim team.”
Bo Qin crossed his arms. “I never went to college, but I grew up by the sea. Don’t get cocky, bro.”
Thirty minutes later, Bo Qin climbed out of the pool, dazed. “No way… how did this happen?”
He Mama quickly threw a towel over his head and offered him a drink, cooing like to a child, “It’s okay, just a fluke. Next time we’ll win it back.”
Bo Qin drank the juice in a daze. “How could this happen…”
He Xizhou climbed out too, water dripping down his muscular chest. His abs and V-line radiated hormones. He pushed back his hair, revealing a devastatingly handsome face.
Bo Qin stared at him, annoyed. “You sit in an office all day—why is your body better than mine? And how the hell did you beat me at swimming?”
Mama He patted his face with a towel. “It’s okay, Xiao Zhou was professionally trained, after all. Everyone’s got their strengths—Xiao Zhou can’t dance, for instance.”
Bo Qin kicked at the water. He’d grown up by the sea, swam like a fish, and danced nonstop since entering the industry. No way should he lose this badly.
He Xizhou dried his hair. “I work out every day,” he said, glancing at Bo Qin. “And I don’t work out just to look good.”
The implication being Bo Qin only worked out to look good.
Bo Qin couldn’t argue.
Because… he was right.
“What am I supposed to do,” Bo Qin said, flopping backward. “My body just isn’t built for that. Getting ripped like you would cost me half my fans.”
“This is good.” He Xizhou’s gaze lingered on Bo Qin’s bare torso, voice low. “You look good like this.”
Bo Qin’s ears twitched. He felt weirdly shy.
“Of course I do,” he said. “I’m never not good-looking.”
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