HIM Chapter 34: Such a Cute Kid
Having a meal alone with He Xizhou was a first for Bo Qin. Before they sat down, he even pretended to hesitate—should he act more reserved? But once the dishes were served, Bo Qin picked up his chopsticks and thought, To hell with that. Like He Xizhou doesn’t already know what I’m like?
So, Bo Qin ate his fill.
They sat side by side. After finishing the last lion’s head meatball in one bite, Bo Qin said, “I think I overate.”
He Xizhou handed him a napkin and said, “I’ve always been curious about something.” He smiled at Bo Qin. “Don’t you have to watch your diet?”
“Only during special times—like when I have a magazine shoot or something.” Bo Qin took the napkin. “That’s to keep my face in shape so it looks good on camera. Usually, I don’t need to. I work out a lot.”
He added, “I’m stuffed now, but I’ll probably be hungry again after dance practice.”
He Xizhou looked at him. “But your face always looks pretty good to me.”
Bo Qin couldn’t take He Xizhou looking at him like that. He got up, flopped onto the couch like a boneless cat, and muttered, “Yeah right. I hate being in front of the camera. If you’re even a little bloated, your face ends up looking like a giant steamed bun.”
He Xizhou followed, patting his shoulder. “You shouldn’t lie down like that right after eating.”
Bo Qin’s thoughts jumped. He suddenly sat up and said, “Am I being rude?”
He Xizhou bent down to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“Like... lying down right after eating. Isn’t that kind of improper or something?”
“What kind of rule is that?” He Xizhou couldn’t help but flick his forehead. “Just do what’s comfortable for you.”
Bo Qin covered his forehead and looked into He Xizhou’s smiling eyes. His face instantly heated up. Afraid He Xizhou would notice, he jumped up and ran upstairs. “I’m going to practice.”
He Xizhou sat up and muttered, “...Don’t do intense exercise right after eating.”
Bo Qin’s cheerful “Got it!” floated down from upstairs. He Xizhou lowered his head and wondered if he’d just scared Bo Qin off.
While practicing, Bo Qin couldn’t stop thinking about the way He Xizhou had looked at him. Bent over, hands on his knees, he stared at the sweat pooling on the floor.
Stop thinking about it, Bo Qin, he scolded himself. You’re messing up your practice.
He stood straight, tossed a towel over his head, and tried to refocus. When he went to the bathroom to shower, he realized—he hadn’t brought a change of clothes.
It wasn’t the first time he forgot. But this time, it wasn’t exactly an accident.
Wen the butler probably already had clean clothes ready for him in the wardrobe. Bo Qin rested his hands on the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. Fortunately, his post-workout skin looked good. His hair was damp but still—he looked hot.
He whistled, hung up the towel, ruffled his hair, and headed downstairs.
He Xizhou wasn’t on the second floor. He checked the first floor—also no sign. Thinking for a moment, he went to the study.
It required a fingerprint scan. Bo Qin tried it, half-expecting nothing. But, to his surprise, the door opened.
Sitting on the couch with a book, He Xizhou turned at the sound. He smiled at Bo Qin.
He was wearing glasses perched on his straight nose bridge. His features were deep, dressed in a light gray loungewear set. He looked clean and bright, like someone distant and untouchable. But when he smiled at Bo Qin, that aloofness melted away—he suddenly became a warm, approachable beauty.
Bo Qin chuckled to himself at the thought.
The “beauty” pushed up his glasses, frowning slightly. “Why are you wearing so little?”
“Just finished dance practice.” Bo Qin, like a mischievous monkey, kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the couch next to him. “What’re you reading?”
He Xizhou smiled and showed him the book.
Bo Qin leaned over a pillow to look. It was in English. He gave He Xizhou a thumbs up. “Damn, bro. Straight up reading the original.”
He Xizhou looked down at him. Bo Qin, freshly done with practice, had messy, fluffy hair and glistening eyes—he looked like a big, wet puppy. It made He Xizhou want to ruffle his head.
He closed the book and asked, “You took a new variety show?”
“Yeah. The director used to make documentaries. Pretty cool guy.” Bo Qin rolled onto his back and looked at the round skylight above. The blinds were closed, no stars visible.
“Honestly, I don’t know why he picked me,” Bo Qin said. “He seems pretty highbrow. Doesn’t need my popularity.”
Bo Qin’s hair brushed He Xizhou’s hand, tickling a little. He Xizhou pinched a strand and asked, “The director’s name is Jian Ling, right?”
“You know him?”
“Through Qiao Lei. They’re close.” He Xizhou, as if guessing Bo Qin’s next thought, raised a finger to his lips. “Shhh. I didn’t recommend you. Jian Ling is super picky and obsessive about his work. If he picked you, it’s because he saw something in you.”
He spoke softly. “Bo Qin, don’t belittle yourself. You’re talented. You earned this.”
“...I’m not down on myself,” Bo Qin smiled. “I just don’t have confidence in anything outside of music.”
“Not even dance?”
“No.” Bo Qin hugged his knees, sitting beside He Xizhou. “I actually hated dance when I started.”
Strangely enough, this was the second time Bo Qin found himself opening up to He Xizhou.
“When I debuted, I was positioned as the all-rounder ace. That meant I had to be good at everything. If I sucked at dancing—I had to train. If I couldn’t rap—I had to train harder. Others could specialize, but I had to do it all.”
“Looking back, I’m grateful for the skills. They’ve helped me branch out and get creative. But back then—it was pure torture.”
“I had zero dance talent. Training felt like death. And it’s not just mindless repetition—you have to understand rhythm, listen to music, hit beats. You have to think to dance well.”
Wearing just a white tank top, his fair arms showed well-defined but not bulky muscles. His body radiated health and energy. Sitting close, He Xizhou could feel Bo Qin’s warmth. He rested his arm along the back of the couch behind Bo Qin, as if wrapping him in an invisible hug.
“A lot of people criticized my dancing during my idol days. Some even wrote long essays analyzing it. I used to get defensive, but honestly, they weren’t wrong.”
“But you’re great now,” He Xizhou said. “I’m not a pro, but I have taste. You wouldn’t be this good without years of hard work. You pulled it off.”
“Thanks.” Bo Qin smiled, then joked, “Isn’t it a waste of time for a busy CEO to listen to me whine like this?”
“These aren’t just complaints,” He Xizhou said seriously. “I’m glad you’re telling me. I’m honored to hear about your past.”
Bo Qin’s ears turned red. He coughed and looked down to avoid He Xizhou’s gaze. “I only trained again after our group disbanded and I had no stage time. That’s when I realized how rare it is—to have a stage, an audience.”
Leaning back, he rested his head on He Xizhou’s arm and smiled vaguely. “Later I joined Director Wang’s film, and since I wasn’t trained, my acting sucked. That’s when I picked dance back up. It was the one thing I wasn’t completely hopeless at.”
“My best is urban. Technically not a dance genre. Then popping, and hip-hop. I don’t even know how I got good. One day it just clicked—like I broke through and everything made sense.”
He Xizhou listened quietly. Bo Qin’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, animated and lively.
Such a cute kid, He Xizhou thought.
“Is dance tiring?” he asked.
“You’re the first person to ever ask me that,” Bo Qin replied. “I guess I’m used to it now.”
He looked up and realized—they were really close. It felt like he was trapped in He Xizhou’s arms. That realization made him stammer. He scratched his head. “Once you’re used to it, it’s fine. People say I have too many gigs, but I think it’s okay.”
Bo Qin almost jumped up. He felt like even their breathing was in sync. All he could smell was He Xizhou’s clean scent. Shit—I’m still sweaty from dance practice and haven’t showered!
He sniffed his own shirt.
He Xizhou asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I just remembered I didn’t shower after practice.” Bo Qin looked up at him. “Do I smell?”
“No.” He Xizhou laughed—a laugh that felt different. More... indulgent.
“You just smell like your shampoo.”
Bo Qin subtly scooted away. If I stay this close, I’m going to die. “...You’re not lying, right?”
Noticing the movement, He Xizhou pulled his arm back, breaking the bubble. “I’m not lying. I’d never lie to you.”
I’m doomed, Bo Qin thought. Is He Xizhou flirting with me or not? What is this?!
He Xizhou saw Bo Qin curl up with his head down. Too fast, he thought. He stood and changed the subject. “Want to see the bookmark I made with that blue rose?”
It was barely a “bookmark”—just petals pressed into a book. Bo Qin didn’t really care. What he liked was watching He Xizhou delicately pull a book from the shelf, adjust his glasses, lean back with folded arms, and smile at him.
As he touched the blue petals, Bo Qin thought, Why is our time together so short?
He suddenly remembered something. “Hey, next week, KL’s fashion show in A City—did you get an invite?”
Though high fashion, He Xizhou probably wouldn’t go. Bo Qin just asked casually—he remembered the trench coat he wore was KL.
He Xizhou, putting the book back, paused. Usually, he wouldn’t attend such things. But since Bo Qin asked...
“Are you going?” he asked with a smile.
“I’m the Greater China spokesperson,” Bo Qin sighed. “Of course I have to.”
“Then I’ll go too,” He Xizhou looked at him. “Let’s go together?”
Bo Qin quickly raised the book to hide his face, leaning against the shelf to hide his joy. Trying to sound calm, he said, “Okay.”
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