HIM Chapter 38: "I Like You."
Soft music played in the car. Accompanied by Bo Qin’s deliberately lowered voice and the deep thump of the beat, it lingered intimately in the air. He Xizhou was playing with his phone, logging into Weibo with the newly registered side account.
He refreshed his homepage. As expected, it was flooded with fans screaming excitedly. Every account with Bo Qin’s profile picture was reposting pictures of his appearance at today’s show. He Xizhou scrolled through the drooling, gasping emoji-filled comments and couldn’t help but chuckle.
He had been using this alt account for a month now and had more or less figured out the rules and social dynamics. He had infiltrated Bo Qin's fan circles. Scrolling down the timeline, he saw the newest updates were all from Bo Qin’s recent public appearance, along with screencaps from an interview.
He tapped on a GIF shared by a big fan account. Amid the flash of cameras, Bo Qin’s beautiful face was expressionless, his earring swinging lazily. He slowly looked up—time seemed to freeze in that moment.
He Xizhou saved the GIF and continued scrolling. The rest were posts from earlier in the week. It was clear fans were feeling uneasy. After a quick look, He Xizhou figured out why. Surprised, he raised an eyebrow and clicked on a video.
It was a livestream replay. Bo Qin, in full makeup and styling, was playing the keyboard. He lowered his head shyly and said he had a sandwich for breakfast.
He Xizhou tapped the screen, and at that moment Bo Qin lifted his head. The shy demeanor was gone—like it had never existed. Calm and poised, he faced the camera and his fans. At the end of the video, Bo Qin looked straight into the lens and smiled, saying, “Next, I want to fall in love.”
The video ended. The screen went dark, reflecting He Xizhou’s own face.
He tapped the screen again, about to close it, when the car door opened. A gust of cold wind and faint smoke drifted in.
Bo Qin stepped in, draped in He Xizhou’s suit jacket, but inside he only wore a black T-shirt. The pale skin from his neck to collarbones was now tinged red from the cold. He Xizhou looked up and saw Bo Qin’s makeup-free face.
His skin was fair, hair messy and disheveled, and he looked a little tired.
He Xizhou grabbed his cold wrist and pulled him into the car.
“You’re wearing this little? What if you catch a cold?”
His tone wasn’t the usual gentle one—it was stern, clearly because he was upset Bo Qin wasn’t taking care of himself. Bo Qin sat beside him with the help of his pull and replied casually, “It’s fine.”
He Xizhou smelled smoke on him, a little surprised. Bo Qin had strong self-discipline and rarely smoked or drank to protect his voice.
“Bad mood?” he asked.
Bo Qin paused while taking off the jacket, hesitated, then said, “...A little.”
“Why?” He Xizhou leaned against the seat, voice and gaze gentle. “Want to tell me?”
Because of you.
Bo Qin stared at him but shook his head. “I don’t want to say.”
“That’s okay.” He Xizhou remained warm and accepting. “Then don’t.”
Bo Qin looked away. The car music changed to the next song. He recognized the intro.
“Why are you playing my song again?” He sounded a bit surprised. “This one?”
“‘Playing for Fun.’ British rock,” He Xizhou said. “You don’t seem to write many songs like this.”
“I wrote it early on,” Bo Qin replied. “Very early.”
“The Chinese title is ‘Looking for Fun.’” He Xizhou smiled. “You name your songs interestingly.”
Bo Qin smiled faintly. “It was my first solo release. Also the only song I’ve done with a band.”
He looked out the window at the bustling nightlife, then asked, “Are we on Riverside Avenue?”
He Xizhou froze. Xu Zhi, in the front, answered first, “Yes. Beijing Road is jammed.”
“What’s up?” He Xizhou asked.
“Do we pass Yuanhong Plaza?” Bo Qin said.
They didn’t, but Xu Zhi glanced at his boss and said, “We do. Do you need something?”
Bo Qin grabbed He Xizhou’s sleeve, voice laced with a longing he didn’t even notice himself. “There’s a vendor selling roasted sweet potatoes there. I want one!”
That stunned even He Xizhou.
When Xu Zhi came back with the sweet potato, Bo Qin realized he may have acted a bit willfully. He took the hot paper bag, rubbed his nose awkwardly, and said, “Thanks, Assistant Xu. Sorry to trouble you.”
Xu Zhi looked at him in surprise, his voice steady. “Not at all, Mr. Bo.”
He caught his boss looking at Bo Qin with a very specific expression and thought: He’s really fallen for him now. Xu Zhi felt cheerful—this month’s bonus was looking promising.
Bo Qin smiled and opened the paper bag. The sweet honey aroma filled the car, rich and warm. He inhaled and said, “Smells so good. Just like I remember.”
He held the bag up to He Xizhou’s nose. “Smell this, isn’t it great?”
The roasted potato had a smoky char and sweet scent. He Xizhou leaned in and sniffed. “Smells really sweet.”
“It is really sweet.” Bo Qin split the sweet potato and offered half to him. “Want a bite? It’s delicious.”
He Xizhou took it but didn’t eat. Bo Qin bit into his half, instantly wincing. “H-hot!”
He Xizhou quickly opened his hand. “Spit it out here.”
Bo Qin was startled by that and reflexively swallowed it, burning his throat all the way down.
He Xizhou gently held his chin. “Why did you swallow it? Did you burn your throat?”
“I’m fine.” Bo Qin stuck out his tongue—it was red. “Still bearable.”
Xu Zhi passed them a tissue just in time. He Xizhou took it. “Open your mouth, let me see.”
Bo Qin obediently opened up. His tongue tip was red but otherwise fine.
He Xizhou’s finger brushed his chin, his gaze heavy. “Why didn’t you spit it into my hand?”
Bo Qin looked up at him and said quietly, “That’s gross.”
He Xizhou sighed. He gently ruffled Bo Qin’s hair, his voice low and soft. “Silly.”
He peeled the sweet potato slowly, revealing its golden, molten interior, handing it to Bo Qin. “Blow on it. Eat slowly.”
Bo Qin blew on it and took a small bite, smiling up at He Xizhou with eyes curved in delight.
He Xizhou smiled back, wanting to flick his nose or do something to express how adorable he found him—but he held back, not even daring to meet his eyes, afraid of scaring him with what he might see in his gaze.
The soft sweetness filled Bo Qin’s mouth. He offered the untouched half to He Xizhou. He Xizhou leaned down and took a bite. Warm breath brushed Bo Qin’s fingers.
“It’s sweet,” he said after chewing.
“That’s because it’s honey roasted,” Bo Qin replied. “The last time I had one of these was four years ago, after recording ‘Playing for Fun.’”
Maybe it was the song, or the sweet potato, or maybe it was just sitting next to He Xizhou—but Bo Qin suddenly felt like talking.
“I made the base track. Luo Ming and I composed it together,” Bo Qin said. “But we couldn’t record it. We couldn’t afford a proper studio.”
“I’d just terminated my contract with Tiancheng.” Bo Qin smiled lightly. “We tried to sell the track, but no one bought it.”
“How old were you then?” He Xizhou asked.
Bo Qin thought. “Five years ago, I was twenty.”
At twenty, He Xizhou had been twenty-three, doing his graduate studies in country D, living a comfortable, carefree life. He had just begun getting involved in his family’s business while still globe-trotting with a camera, clubbing and reading by turns.
“Then we met this indie band,” Bo Qin continued. “They were broke like us. The lead singer quit to get married, keyboardist went abroad, drummer took a government job. Just the guitarist and bassist left, struggling.”
He laughed. “We banded together. Found a drummer in the subway. I was the lead singer, Luo Ming did keys. We sang in bars for two months.”
“Were you happy?” He Xizhou asked.
“No. Just free,” Bo Qin replied. “We performed to survive, not for joy.”
The car was quiet, only his voice lingering. The song “Playing for Fun” began playing softly again.
Bo Qin smiled. “Assistant Xu really has great timing.”
He leaned back in the seat. “But looking back, it was kind of happy.” He turned to He Xizhou. “Am I boring you?”
“No. I think it’s very interesting,” He Xizhou said. “And then?”
“The band broke up. Chen-jie got me an audition—‘Settling the Wind.’ I trained in martial arts for two months and got the part. Then I became popular.”
He spoke of his rise like it was no big deal.
“‘Playing for Fun’ needed a trippy vibe. I went to the best studio after getting famous, but couldn’t capture the feel.” He laughed. “Luo Ming told me: think of that time when we had nothing but a roasted sweet potato for dinner. Sing like you're starving.”
He Xizhou pulled him into a side hug, patting his shoulder.
There was still half the sweet potato left, but Bo Qin had lost his appetite. He packed it away and noticed the car had arrived at Fengjiang and pulled into the underground garage.
Xu Zhi and the driver left. Only the two of them remained in the car.
Bo Qin looked down. “I was lucky. In the end, I made it. People heard the song.”
He Xizhou’s arm around him tightened. Bo Qin looked up—and froze at the look in his eyes.
Such eyes—full of admiration, regret, comfort, and… affection.
Bo Qin’s heart started pounding wildly.
In that gentle gaze, he found infinite courage.
Enough, he thought. No matter what happens tomorrow—whether it’s Lin or anyone else—he wanted this moment.
Logic screamed that the timing was wrong. That He Xizhou had seen countless confessions. That he was a grown man and should know how to play it cool.
But Bo Qin still spoke. Like a lovesick teenager—straightforward and bold. Lacking in charm, but full of truth.
He said, “He Xizhou, I like you.”
He Xizhou’s eyes widened in silence.
Bo Qin added, “It’s okay if you don’t like me. You can reject me now. But I hope… you’ll let me pursue you.”
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🥝🥝🥝
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