HIM Chapter 33: The Innocent Tease Type
Tony noticed something was off with Bo Qin lately.
Bo Qin had always been a very straightforward guy. He had zero awareness of the need for skincare or makeup that came with being a celebrity. Back in the day, the very idea of putting on makeup would nearly give Tony gray hair. It had gotten slightly better over the years, but Tony still had to practically beg and threaten him to take basic care of his appearance.
Bo Qin’s ideal state of being was lounging around completely barefaced, hair undone, wearing a tank top and baggy shorts, playing video games. So when he came back to the studio after a flight and asked Tony to give him a natural no-makeup look, Tony nearly dropped his brush in shock.
“You going on a livestream or doing a video call?” Tony asked as he inspected Bo Qin’s face after he had removed his makeup. Bo Qin had great skin—cool-toned and fair, rarely broke out. Besides the obvious signs of fatigue and some faint dark circles, there wasn’t much wrong with it.
“Just do the makeup,” Bo Qin replied, not answering the question.
“If you’re not going on camera, your skin doesn’t even need foundation. Just a bit of contouring will do,” Tony said while lightly sketching Bo Qin’s brows with a pencil. “What kind of vibe are you going for?”
Bo Qin had striking features with a kind of elegant restraint—a blank-canvas beauty. He could pull off pretty much any look. Tony crossed his arms and studied him. “Where are you going?”
Bo Qin paused, seemingly lost in thought, then said, “Let’s try something a bit pure and innocent. If it doesn’t work, we’ll change it up next time.”
Tony chuckled. “Delicate and charming little white flower?”
Bo Qin snapped his fingers. “Exactly that vibe. Don’t overdo it. Help me pick out an outfit later.”
Just then, Luo Ming had finished making himself a bowl of instant noodles. He chimed in, “Dude, what the hell are you up to, going for the ‘delicate little flower’ look? Who are you trying to seduce?”
Bo Qin was putting on an earring. “None of your damn business. Eat your noodles.”
After doing a photoshoot and styling his hair, Bo Qin’s refined features came into full view. Tony thought the look was still too intense, so he had Bo Qin let his hair down. Following the principle that “white makes you look cuter,” Tony dressed him in all white—a white hoodie layered under a white graffiti-print jacket. When Bo Qin swapped his stud for a dangling earring, Tony whistled and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Perfect—pure and teasing type. No one could resist you.”
Bo Qin raised an eyebrow and added rings and a necklace.
As he was about to leave, Tony asked if he wanted some cologne. Bo Qin paused, then shook his head. “Nah.”
Luo Ming slurped his noodles and watched Bo Qin walk out, turning to Tony with awe. “What kind of god is He Xizhou, seriously? This is the first time I’ve ever seen Bo Qin act so… coquettish outside of work.”
Tony, wearing a face mask, said, “Hope He Xizhou can handle it. When a straight man realizes he’s attractive and starts using his looks to flirt? That’s dangerous.”
“A straight-up beauty-induced homicide.”
The underground parking lot was chilly. Bo Qin, wanting to look good, had only worn ripped jeans. In November, it was freezing, and the cold made him shiver. He popped in his earbuds and realized—belatedly—that he’d arrived too early.
Mistake. Way too early.
Thumping beats blasted through his headphones. Bo Qin randomly played a few tracks from the charts, and one really caught his attention. He glanced at the artist’s name—didn’t recognize it, probably a rookie.
He made a mental note—maybe he could collaborate with them sometime.
Hands in his pockets, still cold, he bounced in place a little to stay warm. Oddly, he was nervous—nervous and excited, so much so that his stomach hurt. He clutched his belly and winced. “Come on, don’t be so pathetic.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Bo Qin immediately froze mid-bounce. Years of filming had taught him to snap into a perfect, lazy-yet-striking pose in an instant.
A sleek black car pulled up. A man in a suit got out of the passenger seat to open the door for Bo Qin. Not Xu Zhi. Different driver. Different car. Bo Qin nodded his thanks and got in.
The familiar cool scent inside made him feel a strange pang of disappointment—but it vanished the second He Xizhou turned to him with a smile. Bo Qin’s heart started pounding like crazy.
He Xizhou had taken off his suit jacket. The smoke-blue shirt underneath was unbuttoned at the top, tie gone, exposing the faint outline of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up neatly to his elbows, showing off lean muscle and a watch on his wrist. His hair, styled earlier with gel, now fell loosely over his forehead, softening his chiseled features. When he smiled at Bo Qin, Bo Qin almost lost it.
A folder sat on He Xizhou’s lap. He closed it and paused as he caught Bo Qin removing his mask and looking up at him.
“…Xiao Qin, you look really good today,” he said.
Bo Qin thought: Damn. Worth it.
“When do I not look good?” he said, plopping himself right next to He Xizhou—closer than usual, with no polite gap between them.
He Xizhou paused mid-sentence. “...Have you been waiting long?”
Bo Qin hummed in response and held out his hand. “Feel how cold I am.”
Bo Qin had beautiful hands—long, pale fingers. A platinum ring on his index finger, a thin silver bracelet around his wrist. Because he was so slender, his wrist bones stuck out, and the bracelet hung loosely. His fingertips were tinged red from the cold. He Xizhou gently held them, frowning. “Why are they so icy?”
The moment their skin touched, Bo Qin shuddered uncontrollably. He looked up at He Xizhou and said, a little unfairly, “Next time, hurry up.”
To be fair, He Xizhou hadn’t done anything wrong. Bo Qin had just been too eager and ended up freezing for half an hour.
He Xizhou chuckled and said softly, “Sorry.”
Bo Qin was satisfied with the response and pulled his hand back. He stretched his legs, the silver chain on his waist clinking as he moved. Pulling out his phone, he asked, “Have you eaten?”
“No.” He Xizhou felt like Bo Qin was acting differently today—his tone, his gestures, everything had a touch of elegance and flirtation, like that dangling earring that swung with every movement.
“I asked Uncle Wen to prepare dinner. We’ll eat when we get back.”
“Cool,” Bo Qin said brightly.
He tapped his phone a few times and turned to look at He Xizhou. As if sensing it, He Xizhou looked up from his laptop and met his gaze. Bo Qin smiled and asked, “Do you need to finish work?”
“What’s up?” He Xizhou closed his laptop and spoke softly.
Why is he so gentle? Bo Qin thought, then showed him his phone. “Just wondering when you learned to draw.”
The screen showed He Xizhou’s sketches—mostly still life. Bo Qin had scrolled through his social media and found barely any portraits.
“What made you look at that?” He Xizhou asked. “I used to doodle back in college to kill time.”
Bo Qin almost asked, Have you ever drawn someone’s portrait? But reason held him back. Instead, he said, “I saw it on your feed. It’s pretty interesting.”
He Xizhou seemed slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat and said, “Just random stuff I like to record.”
“Well, you’ve got to have a life to record it, right?” Bo Qin spotted a pillow and blanket in the car—those hadn’t been there before. He picked up the pillow and said, “I wanna take off my shoes.”
He Xizhou handed him the blanket. When he noticed Bo Qin’s ripped jeans, he hesitated, then gently covered his legs. “Why are you only wearing that? Aren’t you cold?” he asked. “Do whatever you want.”
Bo Qin kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged. His knee brushed against He Xizhou’s. “These jeans look cool,” he said. “This is nothing—I’ve filmed in costume in sub-zero weather. I’m tough.”
The blanket had a cool, familiar scent. Bo Qin hugged it and sniffed. “Ge, did you use this? It smells like you.”
He Xizhou looked at him. “What do I smell like?”
“Cool and clean.” Bo Qin yawned and drawled, “Smells so good.”
The car ride was smooth, filled with silence and that gentle scent. Bo Qin was wrapped up and cozy, initially intending to chat more, but he got sleepier with every passing second. After his second yawn, he curled up with the pillow and fell asleep leaning against He Xizhou.
He Xizhou raised the partition and closed his laptop. He gently wrapped an arm around Bo Qin’s shoulder, adjusting their position so it was more comfortable. Half-asleep, Bo Qin blinked at him, rubbed his head against He Xizhou’s shoulder, and slowly closed his eyes again.
That one blurry glance melted He Xizhou’s heart like cotton candy in warm tea. A rush of warmth spread through him—like being bathed in early spring sunlight for the first time.
It was a new feeling—so novel that he sat quietly for a long time, savoring it. He turned to look at Bo Qin, who was breathing softly. His thick eyelashes cast faint shadows, his lips slightly pursed in a way that made him look inexplicably wronged. He Xizhou gently brushed his hair aside and couldn’t resist tapping the tip of his nose.
The innocent gesture made He Xizhou chuckle.
By the time they arrived at Fengjiang, Bo Qin was still asleep. He Xizhou didn’t want to wake him, but also didn’t want to make noise by working. So he just sat there doing nothing.
Dusk had fallen, and the car was dim. By the faint light, He Xizhou traced Bo Qin’s features with his eyes, wondering: If I were to draw him, how would I begin?
Bo Qin stirred slightly. He Xizhou softly called, “Xiao Qin.”
Bo Qin slowly opened his eyes, voice hoarse. “Are we there?”
He shut his eyes again, leaning into He Xizhou’s shoulder like he was dodging the light. He mumbled, “Don’t wanna get up.”
He Xizhou: He’s so cute. I’m dying.
He coughed, hiding his expression. “It’s not comfy sleeping like this. Didn’t you say you were hungry?”
Bo Qin reluctantly lifted his head, leaned back against the seat, and stayed there with his eyes closed for a few seconds before replying, “I really don’t want to get up.”
He Xizhou lifted the blanket off him like he was coaxing a kid. “You can’t sleep here forever. Eat first, take a shower, and then sleep, okay?”
Bo Qin sighed, sat up, and drawled, “Okay… how could I not?”
As he stepped out of the car, he thought, I’m doomed. I can’t handle this level of gentle.
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