Tuesday came, the long-awaited ceremony.
Yuhan stood in his bedroom, Li Hao beside him, helping him dress up.
"Should I come?" Li Hao asked, fastening Yuhan's wrist button.
Yuhan stopped, glancing at li hao the mirror, then turned to look directly at him.
"Umm… should I?" Li Hao repeated, looking up and realizing Yuhan was staring into his soul after a double take.
"Is that even a question? Of course you should come!" Yuhan exclaimed. "I'll trust you with packing some food and treats, right?"
"Of course," Li Hao grinned. "You trust me."
He stepped out of Yuhan's room, heading toward his own, when the doorbell rang. He turned and went to open it — only to find Chen Zixuan standing there.
"Good morning," Zixuan greeted.
Li Hao looked him up and down, his eyes catching on what Zixuan was holding. He blushed. "Good morning… you're here for Yuhan, right?"
Zixuan nodded.
"He's in his room," Li Hao said, ushering him inside. "Why did you even knock? Next time, just come in."
"Are you sure? It might make Yuhan angry," Zixuan replied.
"Go, go! He's in his room," Li Hao said, lightly pushing him forward.
---
"Who were you talking to outside?" Yuhan called when he heard footsteps approaching.
There was no reply — just the sound of steady steps drawing closer.
"Are you so happy about coming with me that you've started talking to yourself?" Yuhan laughed, shaking his head.
He picked up his wristwatch to put it on — and then froze. In the mirror's reflection stood a tall, broad, familiar figure. He screamed.
"I'm sorry, my love!" Li Hao whispered from his room.
Zixuan dropped what he was holding on the bed, crossed the room, and clamped a hand over Yuhan's mouth.
"What are you doing here?" Yuhan said, voice muffled beneath Zixuan's palm.
"What have you done to Li Hao?" he demanded again, still struggling.
"Shhh." Zixuan pressed a finger to his own lips, signaling him to keep quiet.
Yuhan grabbed Zixuan's hand and bit down hard — expecting a yell. But Zixuan didn't even flinch. Confused, Yuhan bit harder, until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
His eyes widened. Zixuan didn't move, even as blood trickled down. When zixuan finally released him willingly, yuhan stumbled back, gasping at the sight he had created.
"Blood…" he whispered — and then fainted.
Zixuan caught him just in time before his head hit the ground.
"What just happened?" Zixuan muttered in disbelief. "Why are you the one fainting,"
He lifted Yuhan's head and upper body, resting him gently beside the bed.
"Thank God for the rug," he murmured. "You'd have cracked your head open."
He searched through the drawers for something to clean his wound, found a blue handkerchief, and tied it around his hand.
Then he turned back to the bed, opened the bag he brought, and pulled out a sharply ironed suit — a tailored white shirt and matching trousers. He laid them neatly across the sheets.
Just as he was about to leave, Yuhan groaned.
"You're up," Zixuan said, moving closer.
"Are we late?" Yuhan asked immediately, scrambling to his feet.
Zixuan steadied him by the shoulders. "We're not. But my assistant can't be caught dead wearing that."
They both glanced at Yuhan's outfit.
"What's wrong with my outfit?" Yuhan asked defensively, removing Zixuan's hands from his shoulders.
"Save the talk," Zixuan said, spinning him toward the bed. "Wear this."
Yuhan's eyes widened at the sight of the outfit. Before he could react, Zixuan turned him around and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Yuhan exclaimed.
"Changing you," Zixuan said casually, still undoing the buttons.
"I can do it myself," Yuhan protested, pushing him toward the door. "Go wait outside — I'll be done soon."