CHAPTER 28: SWEET DREAM

AN: So sorry for the delay. I hope you are enjoying your Sunday. Happy reading.

***

Yu Xi’s heart thudded softly in his chest, a steady rhythm that betrayed his calm exterior. He leaned in, feigning interest in the communicator’s interface, but his gaze kept slipping, drawn not to the pulsing lights or the sleek alloy band, but to Jian Ci himself.

Jian Ci’s eyes, dark and unreadable, held him captive. His voice was a current, smooth and low, pulling Yu Xi deeper into a place he didn’t understand and didn’t dare to.

"Did you get that?" Jian Ci asked, tilting his head.

Yu Xi blinked. "No."

Jian Ci raised an eyebrow. "No?"

Yu Xi looked down at his wrist, then back up. "I wasn’t... I didn’t catch it."

Jian Ci studied him for a moment, then exhaled softly. "Alright, I will explain again."

He leaned closer, and Yu Xi’s breath caught. The scent of amber and vanilla clung to Jian Ci’s skin. It was warm, comforting and sweet. The proximity made it worse... or better... or both.

Yu Xi nodded, eyes fixed on the screen, trying not to notice the way Jian Ci’s lashes brushed his cheek when he glanced down, or the faint scar beneath his jaw, or the way his voice dipped when he said his name.

He didn’t know what this feeling was. Only that it made his chest feel too full and his thoughts too slow.

Jian Ci tapped the screen again. "Focus, Yu Xi. Or I will get Wei-ge to teach you. And he is very mean."

Yu Xi flushed. "Sorry."

Jian Ci smiled faintly, unaware of the storm he’d just stirred. "I am just kidding. Look at you, all scared. We will go slower."

And Yu Xi, still not understanding a word, nodded again. He was content to stay lost in the lesson, as long as Jian Ci kept teaching him.

***

Yu Xi lay down, the cabin lights dimmed to a soft, enveloping darkness. Outside his door, faint sounds filtered through. It was Jian Ci’s voice, animated and sharp, tangled in a familiar rhythm of bickering with Jian Rui. There was a scuffle, a muffled thud, followed by a dramatic "ow" that could only belong to Jian Ci. They were probably tussling.

Yu Xi smiled slightly, the image of Jian Ci’s expressive face flashing in his mind. His eyes bright with mischief and his lips curled in a grin even mid-argument. Just the thought of him made Yu Xi’s chest loosen, the anticipated nightmares retreating like shadows chased by dawn.

The pill he had taken earlier had begun to settle, its calming effect threading through his bloodstream. The tension in his limbs softened, the static in his mind quieted. His thoughts, usually guarded and fragmented, drifted toward the only warmth he knew... Jian Ci.

What Yu Xi didn’t know was that the medication hadn’t been prescribed by chance. Jian Ci had asked for it, worried that Yu Xi wouldn’t be able to sleep, haunted by memories of that dark, suffocating place. Jian Ci had imagined himself in Yu Xi’s shoes and knew that if it were him, he would be afraid to close his eyes.

Yu Xi reached for the pajama shirt he was wearing, fingers curling into the fabric. He raised it to his face.

The scent hit Yu Xi gently, like a memory brushing past his cheek. At first, it was the sterile crispness of ship-grade detergent... clean, efficient and forgettable. But beneath that, something else stirred. A quiet, comforting warmth that clung to the threads like a whisper.

It was amber and faint vanilla, rich and inviting. There was a trace of skin salt, barely perceptible, and something deeper like sun-warmed silk and the breath of a quiet fire. It was grounding and elusive, the kind of scent that made him feel safe without knowing why.

Yu Xi’s smile grew bigger, his eyes half-lidded, the shirt still pressed to his face. His thoughts drifted, thinking of Jian Ci’s voice that was low, steady, threaded with humor and calm.

To the way his fingers moved when he explained things, confident and precise. To the way his gaze lingered without judgment, like he saw everything and still stayed.

Yu Xi didn’t notice when sleep took him. He drifted off with the scent wrapped around him like a cocoon.

In his dream, Yu Xi stood at the edge of the sea. The waves were impossibly blue, deeper than any pigment and richer than any sky. They rolled in slow, rhythmic pulses, brushing against the shore like a lullaby whispered by the earth itself.

The sand beneath his feet was warm and soft, grains slipping between his toes with every step, grounding him in a place that felt both ancient and eternal.

A breeze drifted in from the horizon, cool and fragrant, carrying the scent of salt and something sweeter, sun-warmed citrus and the memory of laughter. Just like his mother had always told him.

Think of the blue sea whenever something bad is about to happen, she had said. Feel the breeze on your cheeks, the sand between your toes.

It was this image that had kept him sane through the torturous days. Through the silence, the confinement, the fear.

He lay down, letting the warmth of the shore cradle him. Above, the twin suns hung in the sky, one golden and one pale silver, casting long, overlapping shadows across the water. He watched them, eyes half-lidded, heart quiet.

Then the light dimmed.

A shadow fell across his chest.

Yu Xi blinked, and there was Jian Ci, lying on top of him, their bodies barely touching, a white cloth draped over them like a veil of quiet intimacy. It fluttered with the breeze, catching sunlight like a sail, casting shifting shadows across their skin.

Jian Ci’s face hovered close, so close their noses brushed, breath mingling in the narrow space between them. His eyes were soft, unreadable, and his smile held a quiet knowing, as if he had already heard the words Yu Xi hadn’t yet spoken aloud.

"What are you thinking?" Jian Ci asked, voice low and warm, like the hush of waves against the shore.

Yu Xi swallowed, heart thudding in the stillness of the dream. "Thinking of you," he said, barely a whisper.

He raised his hand slowly, hesitantly, afraid the moment might dissolve. His fingers grazed Jian Ci’s ear, then drifted down to the nape of his neck, where they lingered gentle and reverent, memorizing the warmth.

Jian Ci closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. "It’s time to wake up."

The words were soft, but they carried weight. The sea shimmered. The twin suns pulsed. The breeze stilled.

Yu Xi wanted to stay. Just a little longer. But the dream was already fading, like foam drawn back into the tide. And Jian Ci, like sunlight on water, slipped from his grasp.