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Zhou Zishu didn't do this. He didn't talk so openly and honestly to anyone. Not anymore.
He used to, when he was only a child in Qin Huaizhang's house, when his hands weren't stained red and his soul charred. There was little he wouldn't share during that time, besides those small insecurities and sentiments that any child would be embarrassed by.
But then he'd grown up. Inheriting Qin Huaizhang's title and fortune had soon turned him into an older, quieter, tired version of himself, one that kept his thoughts close to his chest, and his fears buried deep within. No one had been able to penetrate his shell since then, and even now, especially now, no one could read his thoughts.
The founder and Leader of Tian Chuang didn't share any truths about himself. Not even to his most loyal followers. He couldn't.
But Wen Kexing made him want to. He made him want to tell him everything, to open his own chest and carve out every little thing he'd hidden in there years ago.
He smiled, a small, rueful thing, and brushed a lock of hair away from Wen Kexing's eyes.
"Lao Wen," he said seriously, "I'm not worth your time."
Wen Kexing's heart broke on his face.
He grabbed Zhou Zishu's hand and squeezed his fingers so hard that the bones inside them cracked. Zhou Zishu didn't mind.
"You are the only man who is," Wen Kexing said, wet eyes boring into Zhou Zishu's, "I can promise you that, A-Xu."
The kiss was brief, chaste. Wen Kexing's lips tasted of wine. Zhou Zishu expected him to linger, but he didn't; in fact, he pulled away first. Then he smiled that knowing little smirk of his, and batted his eyelashes at him.
"Am I worth yours?" he said, holding onto Zhou Zishu's hand like a lifeline.
Zhou Zishu laughed. "Guess."