Weiran had wondered. When Xingyu had arrived, Xiaokai had already put himself together and was heading out the door, giving Xingyu a brief nod as he passed. Weiran had assumed he’d just gone back home ahead of him, but to the office? It was so late. “I’ll ask,” he said, and then gave a thin-lipped smile to Xingyu. “Guess I’ll go to bed. Have a good night, Xingyu.”

“You as well.”

It took him about ten minutes to set up his suitcase in the corner, wash his face, and get dressed for sleep. The bed was even more comfortable than that expensive hotel. Even as the murder, Xingyu’s confession, and Weiran’s declaration afterward swirled through his mind, sleep took hold of him quickly, and then he was lost to the world.

At about three in the morning, he heard his door open.

He felt he’d become attuned to such sounds since he came to the city; every moment that he was here was a moment that he was in danger. If someone found him, he needed to be ready to be up and gone before they could see his face. So, at the sound of the door, his eyes were open and he was sitting up in bed, tensing at the sight of the dark figure that slipped into his room.

“Are you awake?”

His entire body relaxed. “Did you just get back?”

Xiaokai closed the door behind himself but didn’t move any further into the room. “Yeah. I had a lot to do at the office after this stunt Xingyu pulled. The board is…. Did I wake you?”

“It’s fine. What’s wrong?” He was pleased—thrilled—that Xiaokai was here, especially after Weiran had confessed to him and Xiaokai had promptly rejected him, but he was also worried that he had more news. Weiran didn’t know if he could handle any more news.

“Nothing. I just…thought it would be hard to sleep tonight.”

Weiran sat up in his bed, slowly.

“I can leave if you want me to. I know that Xingyu gets up early, so you have to as well—”

“Come lie down,” said Weiran. He reached over to the other side of the bed and lifted the covers. “Come on.”

Xiaokai came toward him slowly, cautiously, like a stray cat coming to sniff his hand. “This doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “I just need sleep and thought…well, I—”

“You don’t need to explain anything. Just hurry up.”

Now that he was closer, Weiran could see that Xiaokai was still in his button up shirt and slacks, but he slid underneath the covers all the same, staying a careful distance away from Weiran.

“This really doesn’t mean anything,” he said, and Weiran hid his smile underneath the guise of pulling the blanket up to his nose.

“I know.”

“So don’t overthink it.”

“I know.”