Night in Haicheng. The wind carried a damp, salt-tinged sense of romance.
Along the coastal boardwalk, streetlamps flickered to life one by one, bleeding circles of warm yellow light that transformed the long coastline into a tunnel leading toward another time. Silas Shen was bundled in Hunter Huo's oversized navy-blue suit jacket. The sleeves were a bit too long, partially veiling his palms. The residual heat of the suit and the concentrated scent of sun-drenched oranges were pervasive, tightly enveloping his own chilly scent of cold fir.
It was a peculiar sensation—as if, in full view of the world, a secret, sensory act of possession had been completed.
"Professor, look over there!"
The moment he reached the sea, Hunter seemed to shed his heavy armor, instantly reverting to a vibrant, twenty-something youth. Gone was the razor-sharp edge he displayed during the day's debates; gone was the suppressed fragility of the late-night bedchamber. Here, he was more like a giant dog finally allowed out for a run.
He dashed to the white wooden railing, bracing himself against it and letting the sea breeze mess up his brilliant blonde hair. He turned back, waving at Silas, who was strolling slowly behind him. His eyes curved into crescents as he grinned. "Professor, the sound of the waves here is much better than the noise of people in Beijing, don't you think?"
Silas stopped, standing three paces away. Looking at the youth's silhouette outlined by the lights, the place in his heart that had been frozen for years felt as if it had been gently licked by the incoming tide.
"The frequency of waves is stable, whereas human voices are chaotic and uncontrollable," Silas adjusted his glasses, attempting to use academic logic to mask the ripples in his heart. "From a bioacoustics perspective, it is indeed more conducive to neural relaxation."
"See, there you go again." Hunter hopped down from the railing steps and leaned into Silas's space, his tone carrying a hint of indulgent laughter. "Don't study 'bioacoustics' while we're out, Professor Shen. Right now, you only need to study one thing—what flavor that cotton candy over there is."
Following the direction of Hunter's finger, Silas saw a small mobile stall at the corner of the boardwalk. Beneath a transparent dust cover, clouds of sugar threads were rising like mist.
"I don't eat those things." Silas frowned slightly. That was high-purity sucrose mixed with artificial coloring—entirely against his dietary code.
"Wait for me!"
Hunter ignored his rejection entirely, his long legs eating up the distance as he ran over. Silas stood in place, watching him talk to the vendor. A moment later, Hunter came jogging back, holding a massive, pink cotton candy that was larger than his own head.
It was as fluffy as a clump of pink sunset clouds, trembling slightly on its bamboo stick in the breeze.
"Here." Hunter offered it to Silas's lips like a prized treasure, his eyes shimmering with fine starlight. "Strawberry flavor. The vendor said this is 'First Love Pink.' Professor, have a bite?"
"Hunter Huo, I am twenty-eight years old, not eight." Silas took half a step back, his expression poised and reserved.
"In my eyes, you're currently 'Little Kid Shen.'" Hunter was relentless, leaning in until the pink sugar cloud nearly brushed the tip of Silas's nose. "Just one bite. You worked hard all day at the summit; your brain desperately needs a glucose boost. Besides... consider it a token of my appreciation as your assistant."
He was using the "Assistant" and "Reward" cards again.
Looking at the handsome face that screamed 'I'm not leaving until you eat this,' Silas finally lost his armor under the puppy-like onslaught. He let out a helpless sigh, leaned down slightly, and cautiously opened his lips to take a tiny bite from the edge of the pink mist.
Extreme sweetness exploded on his tongue.
It was pure, unabashed sweetness, melting instantly into warm sugar water against his palate. Silas clearly hadn't expected it to be quite this sugary. His cold, clear eyes widened slightly, and he squinted against the intensity of the flavor, his long lashes fluttering uncontrollably.
"Mmh..." He let out a muffled hum, his brow furrowing as if he were tasting a baffling experimental sample.
"Hahahaha!"
Seeing Silas's "facing-a-mortal-enemy" expression, Hunter finally burst into a fit of hearty laughter. He doubled over, clutching his stomach with one hand while the other shook, still holding the cotton candy.
"Professor Shen, your face... it's too vivid! We should put that in the School of Life Sciences' meme bank. The caption can be: 'Iceberg Faints from Sweetness.'"
"Hunter. Huo!" Silas hissed, flushed with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He straightened his face and turned to walk away. He felt that the move he just made was a stain on his professional career—actually playing along with a student in public.
"Hey, Professor, don't go! Is it really that sweet?" Hunter scrambled to catch up, stuffing a huge mouthful into his own mouth as he ran. "It tastes great to me," he said, muffled. "Sweet right down to the heart."
Silas walked quickly, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the wooden boardwalk. He didn't look back, but Hunter's suit jacket billowed in the wind with every step, looking like a deep blue flag.
What Hunter didn't know was that as Silas walked ahead, the sweet fragrance of strawberry still lingered in his mouth.
That sweetness traveled up his taste buds and hit his cerebral cortex, forcing his tightly wound nerves to surrender. From an angle Hunter couldn't see, Silas's thin, usually straight-lined lips were curling upward into an infinitesimal, secret arc.
Turns out, being irrational once in a while... doesn't feel so bad.
The two walked one after the other, occasionally passing other couples who cast curious or envious glances. In the eyes of bystanders, they were clearly a striking pair—a tall, dashing Alpha chasing a cool, elegant Omega with an air of doting indulgence, the air between them pulled taut with invisible threads of sweetness.
As the boardwalk grew more remote, the lights became sparse. The sound of waves hitting the rocks grew deep and solid, like the heavy breathing of the earth itself.
"Professor, slow down. There are no lights ahead."
Hunter caught up to Silas. This time, he didn't run around like a puppy. His voice had dropped into a steady, protective register. He naturally fell into step beside Silas on the outer edge, using his broad shoulders to block the damp, cold gusts coming off the sea.
Silas came to a halt.
Ahead was a viewing platform extending over the water. At the end stood a solitary old lighthouse, emitting a faint but resolute white glow into the night.
"Let's rest for a moment," Silas said softly.
He walked over to an ice cream stall—an old wooden cart decorated with a string of twinkling fairy lights, looking exceptionally cozy at this quiet cape.
"I thought you didn't eat sweets?" Hunter arched an eyebrow, his eyes teasing.
Silas ignored the jab. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and looked at the dozing vendor.
"Two, please. Orange flavor." Silas paused, then added a postscript. "For one of them, please add extra fruit jam."
Hunter froze in place.
Orange flavor.
Extra jam.
That was his favorite flavor—one he was almost obsessive about.
On this beach, far from the lab, far from the papers, and far from all the shackles of their status, Silas Shen stood under the dim light. With the same hands that had discovered countless microscopic wonders, he was handing his student a cone loaded with "personal bias."
The sea breeze suddenly picked up, fluttering the collar of Silas's shirt.
Hunter watched his back, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He had thought tonight was a one-sided "pleasing" mission, but he hadn't realized that the "Deity" he had been chasing had actually long ago memorized every one of his tiny preferences.
This kind of sweetness was a thousand times more lethal than the cotton candy.