Mo Fei washed his hair with the products Yichen had in his bathroom.
According to Yichen, they would prevent further damage to his electrocuted, peacock-chicken-fried hair.
Mo Fei did not know whether to feel grateful or offended.
Possibly both.
By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, water dripped from his violet strands and ran down the sides of his face. His eyes were still a little red from the emotional devastation of nearly losing his precious hair.
Yichen glanced at him from across the room. A weary breath left him.
He walked over and dropped a towel onto Mo Fei's head.
"Are you always this careless?"
Mo Fei shook his head beneath the towel. Tears threatened to gather again, but he sniffed them back stubbornly.
Yichen looked down at him.
Mo Fei was tall, but Zhang Yichen still had a few inches on him. Standing this close made the difference annoyingly obvious.
"Look at me." Yichen hooked two fingers beneath Mo Fei's chin, tilting his face upwards as he dabbed the towel over his damp hair.
"Mm." Mo Fei raised his gaze. His violet eyes were still bright, wounded and just pitiful enough to be troublesome.
Yichen studied him for a moment. The corner of his mouth curved. "Are you usually an idiot?"
Mo Fei's brows knitted. "I thought I could fix it."
"And you almost ended up bald." Yichen clicked his tongue. "Whoever heard of a bald model?"
Mo Fei slapped his hand away. "Hey. I made a mistake, okay? Don't taunt me."
He turned and marched off.
Yichen caught his wrist before he could get far. "Where are you going?"
"Home. I've had enough of your help."
Yichen tugged him back. Mo Fei stumbled straight into his chest, neither of them moved.
The faint scent of Yichen's cologne surrounded him, cool and clean, with something deeper beneath it. Yichen's fingers remained firm around his wrist without hurting him.
"Your home smells of smoke," Yichen said. "The electrician is still working."
He released Mo Fei only to steer him towards the dressing table.
"Come. Let's dry your hair before you turn my floor into a swimming pool. I don't want to slip and fall because you're dripping water everywhere."
Mo Fei sat with a frown. "Do you ever have anything nice to say?"
"Nope." Yichen picked up the hairdryer.
Mo Fei scoffed. "What a brute."
Yichen leaned closer, his lips brushing faintly over Mo Fei's damp hair as his voice dropped. "Say one more piece of trash talk, and I'll turn this dryer to the highest setting and fry off whatever precious hair you have left."
Mo Fei went rigid.
He slowly turned his head, peering at Yichen from the corner of his eye.
"Thank you for your help, Yichen-gege." The sincerity in his frightened voice was almost moving.
Yichen smiled. "You're welcome."
The hairdryer roared to life.
Mo Fei sat perfectly still, his survival depended on obedience.
───
Soon, Yichen switched off the dryer.
"There." He ruffled Mo Fei's hair once.
"All done."
Mo Fei stared at his reflection, carefully combing his fingers through the restored violet strands.
"Woah." His eyes lit up. "You really do have some skills. My hair looks good as new, almost like nothing happened." He turned in the chair. "Are you some kind of hair expert?"
His gaze drifted to Yichen's own hair.
The white strands, with dark roots faintly visible beneath them, had been styled to perfection. Under the light, they shone with a cold, expensive softness.
It seemed Yichen had changed his hair colour too.
"Not really," Yichen said.
Something shifted across his expression.
Quiet and distant. Gone before Mo Fei could properly catch it.
"I just used to do it for someone."
"Huh. Mm." Mo Fei had already returned his attention to the mirror.
He was handsome again. The smoky scent was gone too.
Disaster had officially been defeated.
"Tell you what," he said, admiring his reflection, "have you ever considered becoming a hairstylist?"
Yichen stared at him.
Mo Fei turned his head. "You could make a fortune with those hands."
Yichen walked away.
If he remained there any longer, Mo Fei would undoubtedly invent more nonsense.
"If you're done, leave." His voice had gone cold again.
Mo Fei rose from the chair.
There it was.
He had been wondering when the niceness would expire.
Shaking his head, he walked into the living room, then stopped.
For the first time since entering Yichen's apartment, he properly looked around.
Dark sofa. Dark curtains.
Dark walls.
Dark everything.
Was the man's soul also dark?
What was his obsession with black?
Still, there was a clear difference between their homes.
Mo Fei's apartment exuded comfort and wealth. It was expensive, certainly, but warm and lived-in. Soft enough to welcome laughter, snacks and chaos.
Zhang Yichen's apartment had the aura of absurd wealth tied to silence.
Too controlled and polished.
Mo Fei could not quite place it.
Fine, Yichen was a global star. Of course he was wealthy.
But still… Why were his rich-boy senses tingling?
Footsteps sounded behind him. He turned as Yichen approached.
"You're still here."
"I was just about to leave." Mo Fei edged backwards.
"Were you trying to sneak around?" Yichen continued towards him.
Mo Fei took another step back. Something about him seemed off.
"What? No." He shook his head quickly. "I only wanted to thank you before leaving."
"I don't need it." Yichen stopped in front of him, his expression unreadable.
"Get out."
Mo Fei stepped back again. His foot found nothing.
He slipped, pitching backwards, but before he could hit the floor, Yichen caught him and hauled him forwards.
Mo Fei collided with him.
Everything stilled as his chest pressed against Yichen's. One hand braced against Yichen's arm.
Beneath the silence, Yichen's heartbeat remained steady.
Close. Far too close.
Yichen looked down at him.
"Not only are you dumb," he murmured, "you're also clumsy as fuck."
Mo Fei opened his mouth to retort.
Before he could say a word, the front door swung open.
"I keep telling you, everything about you is trash, and I am not among your... "
Chen Yu and Sima Li entered the apartment.
Sima Li stopped mid-step.
Chen Yu stopped beside him.
The bag slipped from Chen Yu's hand and hit the floor. "…fans."
Silence.
Mo Fei froze.
Yichen did not move.
Sima Li's gaze travelled slowly over the scene.
Mo Fei pressed against Yichen.
Yichen's arm around him.
The criminally suspicious distance between their faces.
No one spoke.
Chen Yu's expression darkened. "You fucking arsehole!" He shoved up his sleeves. "I knew you were after him. You're dead today!"
Yichen released Mo Fei and moved him aside just as Chen Yu launched himself forwards.
With one hand, Yichen caught Chen Yu and held him at arm's length.
Chen Yu swung uselessly through the air. "Let go! I'll deal with you one-on-one today! No one is coming to save you!"
Sima Li grabbed Chen Yu from behind and dragged him back.
"Let me go!"
"Calm down, Ratatouille." Sima Li tightened his hold. "He's three times your size."
Chen Yu twisted around and bit his hand.
"Aww!" Sima Li jerked but refused to release him.
"Chen Yu!" Mo Fei called.
Chen Yu stopped fighting.
Barely.
Still trapped in Sima Li's arms, he stared at Mo Fei with equal parts fury and concern.
"He bullied you, didn't he? Are you all right?" He tried to wrench himself free again, but Sima Li held firm.
"Mo Fei, give me a hand. Together, we can take him!"
Mo Fei glanced at Yichen.
Take who?
The man looked capable of crushing them both with one hand.
Mo Fei swallowed and walked over. "I'm fine. You misunderstood."
Chen Yu stared at him. "But... "
"It's really not how it looks," Mo Fei said quickly.
"Maybe it is how it looks," Yichen remarked behind him.
"I knew it!" Chen Yu roared.
Mo Fei whipped around. "Not helping!"
Still restraining Chen Yu, Sima Li looked between them. His eyes narrowed. "Why were you in his arms?"
Mo Fei scratched behind his ear as heat crept up his neck.
Well.
That was an excellent question.
An extremely unfortunate one.
And he had absolutely no dignified answer.