The cool running water quickly carried away the heat from his arm, leaving only the warmth where the other’s hand held his wrist.
When the hot oil splattered and steam burst out, Huo Weiran stared at the flames leaping in front of him. It felt as if something within the fire might suddenly leap forth, cross the blaze, and plunge straight into his chest.
That surge of adrenaline was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. After a brief moment of daze came the chill of water on his arm, the firm grip on his wrist, and the rapid pounding of his heart.
He wasn’t sure when Nian Le had come back. Instinctively, he tried to pull his hand away, but his grip only tightened.
“Don’t move.”
His voice was still gentle, calm without the panic one might expect in an accident, and without a trace of blame toward the one who caused it.
“You need to rinse it a bit longer.”
A thin layer of sweat glistened at his neck proof that he’d rushed home. The skin there was smooth and pale, like fine jade.
His heartbeat still refused to slow down. Huo Weiran knew this wasn’t infatuation—it was adrenaline. It made his breathing quicken, his pulse race, and his skin flush.
He’d felt the same rush when racing down a track at 260 kilometers per hour. But as his body grew used to it, he needed 280, then 300, 350, 380… until the car itself reached its limits, and still his craving did not end.
Water gushed over his arm as Nian Le glanced at the stove. Seeing that the fire had died, he slowly let out a breath of relief.
His brother only had one arm he could fully use if this one got hurt, it would be disastrous.
He had promised his roommate he’d make sure Huo Weiran didn’t starve, but any other accident, if avoidable, should be avoided at all costs.
Still holding his wrist, Nian Le looked up at him. When their eyes met his amber, gentle gaze locking with Huo Weiran’s—Huo Weiran quickly turned away, the tips of his ears unconsciously tinged pink.
Cooking with one hand was definitely a challenge. As for why his brother had decided to attempt it, Nian Le suspected it had something to do with how he’d successfully done his laundry by himself the day before and how he’d applauded him for it, practically fueling his sense of initiative.
He probably couldn’t escape blame as an accomplice.
After over twenty minutes of rinsing, Nian Le turned off the water and checked his arm. Only a few faint red spots remained.
“Does it still sting?” he asked.
Huo Weiran’s lips moved slightly, as though he was choosing his words carefully. After a moment, he looked straight at him and said,
“The spot you were holding is actually hotter than the one splashed by oil. Please don’t take it the wrong way I’m only stating an objective fact.”
His tone was polite but distant, as if he were suppressing both his heartbeat and his voice, keeping them cool and composed.
At that, Nian Le was about to let go of his wrist but then noticed the water droplets still clinging to his skin. Having injured his arm once before, he knew from experience: one hand could wipe almost the entire body except for the arm that wasn’t hurt.
He pulled two napkins from the counter. Before they even touched his skin, Huo Weiran instinctively stepped back, clearly uneasy with the closeness.
His hand paused for a moment, then, through the napkin, he quickly dabbed away the water from his brother’s arm before releasing his wrist.
He couldn’t help thinking how strong he was when he’d struggled under the running water earlier, he’d almost lost his grip on him.
Huo Weiran hadn’t really felt where the hot oil had splashed before, but after his gentle dabbing, the skin he’d touched began to feel hot and itchy.
When Nian Le finally let go, it felt as if something was suddenly missing. He turned back to the sink, opened the faucet again, and let the cool water run down his arm especially over the place that now tingled.
Nian Le watched silently as his brother rinsed his arm again where he had just wiped it. He seemed to mind being touched, and this quiet, deliberate action was his way of making that clear.
Nian Le had always been self-aware, he avoided doing things that made others uncomfortable. It was part of why he got along so well with his two dormmates back at school.
The current situation wasn’t all that different from living in a dorm except now the other person was the homeowner. He’d have to be careful from now on, avoid unnecessary physical contact with Huo Weiran.
Even though his brother had nearly set the kitchen on fire, dinner still had to be made. Lifting the lid off the pot, Nian Le used chopsticks to pick up a piece of meat and noticed traces of blood still on it.
“I took the beef from… that compartment.” Huo Weiran lowered his gaze slightly, motioning toward the freezer. He picked up the scorched pan, emptied the burnt scraps into the trash, and placed it in the sink. With one hand, he grabbed a steel scrubber, his expression serious.
A pan this burnt couldn’t be cleaned properly by the dishwasher. As the one responsible for the accident, he would bear the consequences.
“How long did you thaw the beef?” Nian Le asked, watching him scrub as he pumped two squirts of dish soap into the sink.
Huo Weiran stared at the blackened bottom of the pan, silent for a moment, his movements pausing slightly. Realizing something, Nian Le raised his eyes.
“You didn’t thaw it?”
“No.” He kept his head down, his voice muffled.
“Then how did you manage to slice through a solid block of frozen meat?” He looked toward the cutting board—deep, uneven knife marks told him everything.
He had chopped it apart with brute force.
Nian Le had to fight to keep his lips from curling up. He could easily imagine him awkwardly hacking at frozen meat with one hand.
“Putting frozen food into hot oil can easily cause an explosion,” he reminded, watching him scrub the pan so hard that most of its nonstick coating was gone.
“Mm.” Huo Weiran rinsed it under running water, answering quietly.
“I was late today too,” Nian Le admitted. “That’s on me. Next time, if there’s something you’re unsure about, you can ask me. And if I’m not home…”
He pulled out his phone, opened his WeChat QR code, and showed it to him.
“Add me. We can stay in touch remotely. I’ll turn my phone on after the tournament.”
Huo Weiran immediately saw through his intention.
He wants my contact info.
“I don’t use WeChat,” he said coolly, tearing off two paper towels to dry the pan.
Nian Le put his phone away and opened QQ instead.
“I don’t have that either.” He spoke without looking at him, meticulously wiping the pan.
Remembering that he had lived in Australia for years, Nian Le considered checking what apps people there used but his distant attitude made it clear he didn’t want to exchange contact information at all.
Which was fair enough.
He was just staying here for a couple of weeks. They weren’t even friends. They could get by just fine without sharing contacts.
“That’s fine,” he said, putting his phone away. He looked at him as he wiped the counter.
“But at least promise me when I’m not around, don’t get yourself hurt.”
He was already eating and living here for free. If anything happened to him while he was here, even if the Huo family didn’t blame him, he’d never forgive himself.
Huo Weiran’s movements faltered slightly. He could almost imagine his expression—disappointed, yet with that unhidden trace of concern in his eyes.
He’d done his best, but received not even a small reward. And still, he remained composed, suppressing the hurt, speaking only words of quiet care to someone he liked.
He scrubbed the countertop harder, threw the dirty paper towels in the trash, and turned to go upstairs.
At this moment, Huo Weiran felt he wasn’t someone worth liking. If he ever learned the truth behind his permanent injury, he would leave too.
Perhaps the incident had shaken him, he skipped lunch entirely. Later that afternoon, as Nian Le reheated the leftovers, he saw him come downstairs to the dining room.
Following his “no waste” principle, he served both the new and leftover dishes. Huo Weiran looked at the spread poached beef, stir-fried beef slices then glanced up at him, realizing he had gone out of his way to make what he liked.
The meal was eaten in silence. Watching him finish every bite of both old and new dishes, Nian Le understood he must have been starving.
To his surprise, he didn’t leave after eating. Perhaps realizing how hard cooking was, he stayed behind, putting the empty dishes into the dishwasher and even wiping the table clean with one hand.
Seeing the faint redness still on his arm, Nian Le took a burn ointment from the home medical kit.
Knowing he disliked being touched, he simply placed the tube on the table and looked at him.
His hand paused mid-wipe. After a long moment, he picked up the ointment.
Another piece of kindness.
Not his usual way of dealing with him.
Back in his dimly lit room, Huo Weiran examined the tube under the light, reading the Chinese text carefully. He twisted the cap open with one hand, but then froze he couldn’t figure out how to apply it to his good arm.
After thinking for a while, his mind suddenly drifted to that jar of jam between his legs from before.
He clamped the ointment tube in the drawer, pressing against it to squeeze some onto the burned spot. It was clumsy, but it worked.
The coolness of the ointment spread over his skin, and his hand unconsciously reached for his phone by the pillow.
When he turned it on, every social app had already been deleted something his therapist had advised after the accident.
Before you’re ready, don’t re-enter the social world. Every comment good or bad would be another straw weighing on the heart.
He scrolled through his nearly empty screen. Most of the apps were gone: anything that connected him to others, required two hands, or no longer sparked interest had all been deleted.
Only a blank space remained.
He recalled the QR code Nian Le had shown him earlier such a simple thing, yet it stirred memories of those apps.
China had so many convenient tools apps that let you scan to pay, share daily life, or buy all sorts of strange little things.
Although he had lived in Australia for many years, Huo Weiran had also spent some time in China since his mother lived there. Every visit brought new discoveries and sometimes, unexpected gains.
When Huo Weiran came back to his senses, he realized that several apps were already being installed on his phone. Opening the WeChat app Nian Le had shown him, he was surprised to find that he actually had an account likely registered during one of his earlier visits and even had a few contacts added.
New message notifications chimed one after another. Sitting under the warm yellow light, Huo Weiran tentatively reached out, trying once again to touch the world beyond his screen.
The next morning, Nian Le was hurrying to prepare breakfast when he suddenly heard a piece of familiar music. Glancing toward the source, he realized it was the video doorbell ringing.
Turning down the stove, he walked to the door. Through the monitor, he saw the visitor and his eyes froze for a moment in surprise.
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