The Meeting
The meeting had ended.
Papers were stacked.
Chairs shifted.
Voices loosened.
It was no longer formal.
Just people talking.
Senior scientists remained in the conference room.
Men and women older than Xiao Zhan.
Experienced.
Comfortable.
Someone laughed lightly.
"Professor Xiao," one of them said, leaning back,
"you're very young for your position."
Xiao Zhan nodded once.
Didn't smile.
"Experience matters more than age," he replied.
Another voice joined in.
"But still," an older professor added,
"you've been leading projects for years now."
He tilted his head.
"How old are you exactly?"
The room quieted slightly.
Not awkward.
Just curious.
Xiao Zhan paused.
Just a second too long.
Then answered calmly.
"Thirty-eight."
Yibo, who had been quietly organizing documents near the side table—
Stopped.
Thirty-eight.
The number landed heavily.
Not because it was shocking.
But because—
Yibo suddenly saw the years.
The silence.
The restraint.
The way Xiao Zhan never joked about his personal life.
Someone chuckled.
"Thirty-eight and still unmarried?"
"That's rare in our field," another said.
A woman smiled kindly.
"Is it work pressure, Professor Xiao?"
Xiao Zhan remained standing.
Straight.
Hands folded behind his back.
"No," he said simply.
A younger scientist joked lightly,
"Then you must have very high standards."
Laughter followed.
Xiao Zhan didn't join.
"I don't," he replied.
"My standards are simple."
"And yet?" someone pressed.
Xiao Zhan looked down at the table.
At the documents.
At nothing.
"There are some things," he said slowly,
"you don't move on from just because time passes."
The room fell quiet.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… thoughtful.
No one laughed after that.
Someone cleared their throat.
"Well," another senior said gently,
"everyone has their own timing."
Xiao Zhan nodded.
"Yes."
That was all.
Yibo stood very still.
Files forgotten in his hands.
Thirty-eight.
He remembered the photograph.
The faded sticky notes.
The mug.
The box.
Xiao Zhan wasn't cold because he didn't feel.
He was cold
because he had been living alone with something unfinished
for almost two decades.
As people began to leave—
Someone called out,
"Professor Xiao, you still look young though."
Xiao Zhan gave a faint, polite smile.
Not denying.
Not agreeing.
Yibo finally looked at him.
Really looked.
The fine lines near his eyes.
The tiredness he hid well.
The way his shoulders carried more than work.
He isn't old, Yibo thought.
He is tired.
Later, in the hallway—
Yibo walked beside him silently.
"Dr. Wang," Xiao Zhan said suddenly,
"about the data correction—"
"I'll finish it tonight," Yibo replied.
Then hesitated.
Just a fraction.
"…Professor," he added softly.
Xiao Zhan looked at him.
Waiting.
Yibo opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Nothing came out.
Because knowing someone's age
didn't give him the right
to touch the years that had already passed.
And Xiao Zhan—
Still didn't know—
That Yibo now understood
just how long
he had been carrying regret alone.
Wang Yibo didn't change suddenly.
That wasn't his way.
He tested things
the way someone tests water after a long winter—
one finger first.
It began with small moments.
Almost invisible.
During lab hours, Xiao Zhan stood as always—
straight-backed, distant, precise.
Yibo followed instructions exactly.
But now—
He stayed half a second longer when spoken to.
"Yes, Professor,"
but softer.
Xiao Zhan noticed.
Didn't comment.
One afternoon, Xiao Zhan corrected a calculation on Yibo's screen.
He leaned closer than necessary.
Not touching.
Never touching.
Yibo didn't step back.
That was new.
Xiao Zhan paused.
Just for a breath.
Then stepped away himself.
Yibo watched that too.
Another day—
A junior scientist joked carelessly.
"Dr. Wang, you're too quiet. You should speak more."
Before Yibo could respond—
"He speaks when it matters," Xiao Zhan said calmly.
"Focus on your own section."
The room went quiet.
Yibo didn't look up.
But his fingers tightened slightly around the pen.
That night, Yibo placed a cup of tea on Xiao Zhan's desk.
No words.
No explanation.
Just—
There.
Xiao Zhan stared at it.
Didn't drink it immediately.
But he didn't push it away either.
The next morning—
Yibo arrived early.
As usual.
Xiao Zhan was already there.
As usual.
But today—
There were two cups on the table.
Yibo stopped.
Looked at them.
Then at Xiao Zhan.
"For efficiency," Xiao Zhan said flatly.
"Shared breaks save time."
Yibo nodded.
Didn't smile.
But something warm moved quietly in his chest.
He tested again.
When handing over reports,
Yibo no longer placed them at the edge of the desk.
He placed them closer.
Within reach.
Xiao Zhan didn't push them back.
Once, late evening—
The lab lights dimmed automatically.
Yibo flinched slightly.
Just a habit.
Xiao Zhan noticed.
"Leave the lights on," he said.
"We're not done."
Yibo looked up.
Surprised.
"It's fine," Xiao Zhan added.
"I don't like working in the dark."
A lie.
But a kind one.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Yibo stopped sanitizing immediately after handing files to Xiao Zhan.
Not always.
But sometimes.
Xiao Zhan noticed that too.
His jaw tightened.
But he said nothing.
One evening, Xiao Zhan asked—
"Are you overworking?"
Yibo blinked.
That question had never been asked before.
"I'm fine," he replied.
Xiao Zhan nodded.
But later—
A message appeared on Yibo's screen.
Take tomorrow morning off. Lab opens at ten.
No signature.
But he knew.
Yibo sat staring at the screen for a long time.
Then typed back—
Understood.
That night, alone in his room—
Yibo whispered to himself,
"Careful."
Because gentleness—
Especially unexpected gentleness—
Can be more dangerous than cruelty.
Still—
The next day—
He brought two cups of tea again.
And Xiao Zhan—
Didn't refuse.
This was not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Not love.
It was a quiet experiment.
Two people testing
whether something broken
could exist again
without cutting them both.
The Test
Wang Yibo had already forgiven him.
Not because the pain was small—
but because he finally understood where it came from.
Guilt.
Regret.
Years of self-punishment.
Xiao Zhan had never moved on.
He had stayed exactly where he was left.
Yibo saw it now.
In the way Xiao Zhan never allowed closeness.
In the way he protected without touching.
In the way he carried love like a sin.
And Yibo knew something else too.
Xiao Zhan loved him.
Deeply.
Quietly.
But didn't know it yet.
That's why Yibo decided—
Not to ask.
To test.
It was a midway workday.
Files incomplete.
Time short.
They had to stop by the mansion to retrieve old research data.
The house welcomed them with silence.
Same walls.
Same air.
Xiao Zhan removed his coat.
"I'll get the files," he said.
Yibo nodded.
"I'll wait."
Minutes passed.
Too quiet.
Xiao Zhan returned with a folder.
Placed it on the table.
Their hands brushed.
Accidentally.
Xiao Zhan pulled back instantly.
Like burned.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly.
Yibo looked at him.
Really looked.
The instinctive retreat.
The fear.
That was when Yibo decided.
"Professor," Yibo said softly.
Xiao Zhan looked up.
"Yes?"
"Do you regret it?" Yibo asked.
Xiao Zhan stiffened.
"…Regret what?"
Yibo stepped closer.
Just one step.
"The things you said back then."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Xiao Zhan's voice was low.
"I regret them every day."
Yibo nodded.
"I know."
Another step.
Now they were close.
Too close.
Xiao Zhan didn't move.
Didn't retreat.
Didn't reach out.
Just stood there—
Torn.
Yibo's heart beat hard.
This was the moment.
"If I do something now," Yibo said quietly,
"you don't have to respond."
Xiao Zhan's brows furrowed.
"Yibo—"
Yibo raised his hand.
Stopped him.
"Let me finish."
He inhaled.
Steady.
"I just need to know."
Xiao Zhan searched his face.
Confused.
Worried.
"Know what?"
Yibo leaned in.
Slowly.
Enough time for Xiao Zhan to stop him.
Enough time to turn away.
Yibo's lips touched his.
Soft.
Brief.
Almost fragile.
A test.
For half a second—
Xiao Zhan froze.
Yibo's heart began to fall.
Then—
Xiao Zhan exhaled sharply.
Like something inside him finally broke.
His hand came up—
Not forceful.
Not desperate.
Just—
There.
At Yibo's wrist.
Holding.
He didn't kiss back.
Not fully.
But he didn't pull away either.
His forehead rested against Yibo's.
Breath uneven.
Voice shaking.
"…You shouldn't do this."
Yibo whispered,
"Why?"
Xiao Zhan closed his eyes.
"…Because I won't survive it if I lose you again."
That was the answer.
Yibo smiled softly.
Relieved.
Sad.
Warm.
"So you do love me," Yibo said gently.
Xiao Zhan's hand trembled.
"I don't deserve to," he replied.
Yibo stepped back.
The test was over.
"I forgive you," Yibo said.
Clearly.
Finally.
Xiao Zhan opened his eyes.
Shock.
Pain.
Hope—all tangled.
"You don't have to decide anything now," Yibo added.
"I already know the truth."
He picked up the file.
Professional again.
But lighter.
"Let's finish the work," Yibo said.
Xiao Zhan stood there—
Heart racing.
Years collapsing.
He didn't know it yet—
But that was the moment
he stopped punishing himself
and started loving
without fear.
Little Things
The changes were small.
So small that at first, Xiao Zhan thought
he was imagining them.
It began on a late afternoon.
The lab was quiet.
Deadlines were not.
Xiao Zhan stood at the desk, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the screen.
Too many variables.
Too little time.
Yibo noticed.
He always did.
Without saying anything,
Yibo stepped closer.
Didn't interrupt.
Didn't ask.
Just waited for Xiao Zhan to pause.
When Xiao Zhan finally exhaled—
Yibo leaned in.
A soft kiss.
Right at the corner of his lips.
Barely there.
Gone before Xiao Zhan could react.
Xiao Zhan froze.
Breath caught sharply in his chest.
"…Yibo?"
Yibo was already stepping back.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"You were stressed," he said simply.
As if that explained everything.
Xiao Zhan stood there for a long moment.
Heart racing.
Hands useless at his sides.
It happened again days later.
A meeting ended badly.
Voices raised.
Criticism unfair.
Xiao Zhan returned to his office silent.
Jaw tight.
Yibo followed.
Closed the door quietly.
Walked up to him—
And pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Lingering this time.
Warm.
Xiao Zhan's eyes widened.
His breath stuttered.
"You—" he began.
Yibo smiled faintly.
"You look better when you breathe."
Xiao Zhan didn't answer.
Couldn't.
The touches grew… familiar.
Not frequent.
But natural.
Sometimes, while discussing data—
Yibo would step close.
Wrap his arms loosely around Xiao Zhan's neck.
Just resting there.
Talking as if nothing was unusual.
Xiao Zhan would stop listening to the words entirely.
Every time.
His hands hovered.
Unsure.
Afraid to touch back.
Afraid to do something wrong.
"Relax," Yibo would murmur.
"I'm still here."
Sometimes, when they stood face to face—
Too close—
Yibo would rub their noses together lightly.
Playful.
Intimate.
A breath shared.
Xiao Zhan's breath would catch every single time.
Like his body hadn't learned this language yet.
"Yibo…" he whispered once, voice low.
"This isn't… appropriate."
Yibo tilted his head.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Xiao Zhan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
His silence answered for him.
That scared him more than words.
At night, alone—
Xiao Zhan lay awake.
Heart loud.
Skin remembering warmth.
He realized something terrifying.
He wasn't just allowing this.
He was waiting for it.
And Yibo—
Yibo never pushed further.
Never demanded.
Never crossed what Xiao Zhan wasn't ready to give.
Every kiss was soft.
Every touch brief.
Every closeness chosen.
That was what undid Xiao Zhan the most.
One evening, after a particularly long day—
Yibo kissed him again.
Gentle. Familiar.
Xiao Zhan closed his eyes this time.
Didn't pull away.
Didn't move.
Just breathed.
His chest rose and fell unevenly.
"…You're dangerous," he murmured.
Yibo smiled against his skin.
"No," he said softly.
"I'm patient."
And that—
That was what finally made Xiao Zhan's breath break.
Because patience meant choice.
And choice meant—
Love, finally, without fear.
It was evening.
Not late.
Not rushed.
The kind of quiet hour where work finally loosens its grip.
Xiao Zhan sat on the sofa, glasses low on his nose, reviewing documents.
His posture was tired.
Shoulders stiff.
Yibo stood near the window.
Watching the city lights come on.
Out of nowhere, softly—
"You're getting old," Yibo whispered.
Xiao Zhan stilled.
Slowly leaned back against the sofa.
Turned his head just enough to look at Yibo.
An eyebrow lifted.
"…Excuse me?"
Yibo smiled faintly.
"Thirty-eight," he said calmly.
"That's not young, Professor Xiao."
Xiao Zhan exhaled a quiet laugh.
Not offended.
Just… thoughtful.
"So," Xiao Zhan said, leaning back further, voice relaxed,
"does that mean it's time for me to get married?"
Yibo turned.
Met his eyes.
"Yes."
Simple. Certain.
Xiao Zhan studied him.
Then asked casually—
"Then tell me."
He tilted his head.
"What kind of person would suit me?"
Yibo didn't answer immediately.
He walked closer.
Sat on the arm of the sofa.
Too close.
He spoke slowly.
Carefully.
As if listing facts.
"Someone patient," Yibo said.
"Because you overthink everything."
Xiao Zhan's lips curved slightly.
"Someone quiet," Yibo continued,
"but not weak."
Xiao Zhan listened.
Heart oddly tight.
"Someone who won't be scared of your silence," Yibo added,
"and won't misunderstand your distance."
Xiao Zhan's breath slowed.
"Someone who notices small things," Yibo said, eyes steady,
"like when you're tired… or guilty… or lonely."
Xiao Zhan swallowed.
Didn't interrupt.
"Someone who won't rush you," Yibo went on,
"and won't leave when you pull away."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Yibo leaned in slightly.
Voice softer now.
"Someone who knows you're not cold," he whispered,
"you're just careful with your heart."
Xiao Zhan's gaze darkened.
"Someone who won't mind your age," Yibo added,
"or your past… or your regrets."
He smiled faintly.
"Someone who already forgave you."
Xiao Zhan stared at him.
Long.
Then—
His eyebrow lifted slowly.
A familiar gesture.
"…You know," Xiao Zhan said quietly,
"you're describing someone very specific."
Yibo tilted his head.
Pretended innocence.
"Am I?"
Xiao Zhan leaned closer.
Their knees almost touched.
"You know who you're describing," Xiao Zhan whispered.
Yibo didn't deny it.
Didn't look away.
"Yes," Yibo replied softly.
"I do."
The room felt warmer.
Smaller.
Xiao Zhan's voice dropped.
Bare.
"…And what if that person already exists?"
Yibo's eyes softened.
"Then," he said gently,
"he's already standing in front of you."
Xiao Zhan closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
His breath caught.
When he opened them—
The years of guilt looked suddenly… lighter.
"…You're dangerous," Xiao Zhan whispered again.
Yibo smiled.
Still patient.
Still gentle.
"Then stop pretending you don't see me."
And for the first time—
Xiao zhan didn't lean away.
Xiao Zhan moved before he could think.
One moment Yibo was standing in front of him—
soft smile, knowing eyes—
The next—
Zhan's hands were on him.
Firm.
Certain.
He pulled Yibo down into his lap.
The movement surprised them both.
Yibo let out a small breathless sound.
Not fear.
Shock.
Zhan's arms tightened around him instinctively,
pulling him closer, closer—
As if afraid distance might return.
His lips found Yibo's.
A kiss.
Deep.
Sudden.
Uncontrolled.
And then—
Just as suddenly—
Zhan pulled back.
Breathing hard.
Eyes dark.
Hands still gripping Yibo's waist.
He searched Yibo's face.
Really searched.
Voice low. Unsteady.
"…May I?"
The room went very still.
Yibo stared at him.
Then—
He laughed softly.
Warm. Fond.
A little breathless.
"You're unbelievable," Yibo said, amused.
Then he nodded.
Clear. Certain.
"Yes."
Something broke in Xiao Zhan then.
Not painfully.
Finally.
He kissed Yibo again.
This time—
There was no hesitation.
The kiss was deeper.
Longer.
Hungry.
Not rushed—but intense, like years had been waiting.
Zhan's hands came up, cradling Yibo's face.
As if memorizing it.
As if afraid it might disappear.
He kissed him again.
And again.
And again.
Each one heavier than the last.
Yibo melted into him.
Hands gripping Zhan's shoulders.
Steadying.
Anchoring.
Zhan's breath was uneven now.
Chest rising fast.
He kissed Yibo's lips slowly—
Then pressed his forehead to Yibo's.
Breathing together.
Then kissed him again.
Long.
Deep.
Unapologetic.
All the restraint he had practiced for years—
Gone.
Yibo didn't pull away.
Didn't stop him.
He stayed.
Chose him.
Again and again.
When they finally paused—
Zhan's voice was rough.
Bare.
"…I've wanted to do that for a very long time."
Yibo smiled.
Thumb brushing gently against Zhan's jaw.
"I know," he said softly.
"That's why I waited."
Zhan closed his eyes.
Emotion flooding in too fast.
Regret.
Relief.
Love—finally allowed to exist.
He hugged Yibo close.
Tight.
Protective.
Real.
For the first time—
Xiao Zhan didn't pull away.
Didn't stop himself.
Didn't ask forgiveness with silence.
He chose love.
And Yibo—
Yibo stayed.
Xiao Zhan was still holding him.
Arms firm.
Protective.
As if letting go might undo everything.
His forehead rested against Yibo's temple.
Breathing finally slowing.
Voice low.
Bare.
"I love you," Xiao Zhan whispered.
The words weren't dramatic.
They were quiet.
Certain.
Yibo didn't pull back.
Didn't look up.
He only nodded once, small and soft, still hugging him.
"I know," he replied gently.
Xiao Zhan's chest tightened.
Relief washed through him.
Warm.
Overwhelming.
And then—
Without thinking.
Without filtering.
Without realizing what he was saying—
Xiao Zhan whispered again, half-broken, half-honest—
"I thought I would die without ever having sex with you."
The sentence fell.
Heavy.
Final.
Silence.
Xiao Zhan froze.
Completely.
His body went rigid like stone.
The words replayed in his head—
Too late.
Unstoppable.
His eyes widened slowly.
Oh.
Oh no.
Yibo stiffened too.
For one heartbeat.
Then—
Heat rushed up his neck.
His ears.
His cheeks.
Red.
Everywhere.
Yibo's whole body turned warm, flustered, embarrassed.
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't even blink.
Xiao Zhan swallowed hard.
"…I—"
His voice cracked.
"I didn't mean— I mean—"
He pulled back just enough to look at Yibo.
Mortified.
Absolutely mortified.
"I'm sorry," he blurted.
"That was inappropriate. I wasn't— I shouldn't have—"
Yibo finally looked up.
Eyes wide.
Face burning.
Lips slightly parted.
For a second—
Xiao Zhan thought he had ruined everything.
Then—
Yibo laughed.
Not loud.
Soft.
Embarrassed.
He buried his face into Xiao Zhan's shoulder immediately.
As if hiding from the world.
And from himself.
"You're unbelievable," Yibo mumbled.
His voice muffled.
Still red.
Xiao Zhan's hands hovered again.
Unsure.
Panicked.
"I didn't mean to pressure you," Xiao Zhan said quickly.
"I swear. I just— I was overwhelmed—"
Yibo shook his head slightly.
Still hiding.
"No," he said quietly.
"I know."
He took a breath.
Still blushing.
Still warm.
"It's just…" Yibo hesitated.
"…you said it so suddenly."
Xiao Zhan let out a weak, embarrassed laugh.
"I've waited years," he admitted softly.
"My mouth stopped listening to my brain."
Yibo smiled against his shoulder.
Still not looking up.
"…You're really bad at being smooth."
Xiao Zhan relaxed just a little.
Thank God.
"I waited too," Yibo added, barely audible.
That made Xiao Zhan still again.
But this time—
Not rigid.
Just quiet.
He tightened his arms gently around Yibo.
No rush.
No expectation.
Just warmth.
"I won't cross any line," Xiao Zhan whispered seriously.
"Not unless you want me to."
Yibo nodded again.
Heart pounding.
Face still red.
"I know," he replied.
They stayed like that.
Awkward.
Close.
Safe.
Two people who had waited too long—
Now learning how to breathe
in the same moment.
Yibo was still pressed against him.
Warm.
Safe.
Heart loud.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The air felt fragile.
Like one word could tip everything.
Then Yibo lifted his head.
Slowly.
His face was still flushed.
Eyes steady now.
Certain.
He leaned in, close to Zhan's ear, and whispered—
"Let's go to the bedroom."
Xiao Zhan's breath stopped.
Completely.