Sickly Bigshot CH 34 Hugging Each Other
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
Looking at the so-called "double" tent—which was ridiculously narrow—Shi Zhou wanted to scream, "Help me, oh my god!" They had just been in a cold war, not speaking or touching each other.
Earlier, Shi Zhou had been trying to figure out how to light the barbecue grill. No matter what angle or method he tried, the damn charcoal just wouldn’t catch fire. He felt like an idiot holding a lighter to a rock, attempting the impossible.
After multiple failed attempts, Li You, who was skewering meat nearby, suggested, "It’s not easy to light barbecue charcoal directly with a lighter. Maybe try adding something flammable first?"
Shi Zhou smacked his forehead—that made sense. He grabbed some scrap newspaper, planning to light it first and then add the charcoal.
Having never played with fire much in his life—aside from smoking—he didn’t realize how quickly newspaper burned. In just two seconds, before he could even toss the lit paper into the grill, flames shot up wildly!
Shi Zhou yelped and let go, but not fast enough—the flames licked at his right fingertips.
"Ah—!" He sucked in a sharp breath. Luckily, it was just a small burn on his thumb and index finger.
He had always been sensitive to pain. A few years ago, he would’ve made a big deal out of it, showing off even the tiniest scratch to his doting older brother.
Shi Li would sigh helplessly, applying a band-aid while teasing, "Good thing I got off work early today, or this would’ve healed before I even saw it."
Their mother had passed away early, leaving only their cold, distant father. To Shi Zhou, Shi Li—seven years his senior—had been both father and mother, his only family and support.
Now, though, Shi Zhou was used to being alone. He didn’t make a fuss, just quietly blew on his stinging fingertips, muttering to himself, blow on it and it won’t hurt, won’t hurt...
As he did, his wrist was suddenly grabbed—
Qin Yancheng, who had been moving things nearby, was now standing right in front of him, frowning at his burned fingers with an unreadable expression.
Still in the middle of their cold war, Shi Zhou, irritated by the silent treatment, yanked his hand back and snapped, "What are you staring at?!"
Qin Yancheng’s frown deepened. "I’ll light the charcoal. Go do something else."
Shi Zhou, now wary of fire after getting burned, didn’t argue and went to help Tan Zhi hang up star-shaped string lights instead. Qin Yancheng shook his head, speechless.
While arranging the lights, Shi Zhou was interrupted by Assistant Bian. "Brother Shi, here’s some burn ointment."
Shi Zhou blinked. Are the cameras catching everything? How does even my assistant know I got burned?
"Put it aside. I’ll deal with it after hanging these." He stretched to reach the highest spot.
"President Qin said you need to apply it now. If you can’t, I’ll help."
Shi Zhou was baffled. "He told you to buy this?"
What the hell? Wasn’t he just glaring at me like I owed him eight million?
And why couldn’t he just come over and say it himself? Too good to open his precious mouth?
Thus, the awkward tension between them persisted.
Back to the present—
Shi Zhou stared at the tiny tent, struggling to imagine sharing such a cramped space with Qin Yancheng, forced into zero-distance contact.
The cameras were still rolling. Shi Zhou had already spent over an hour playing in the sand to stall, building a miniature castle. If he kept this up, he’d recreate Disneyland.
Despite their silent standoff, Shi Zhou noticed Qin Yancheng had barely eaten at dinner—just a couple of skewers—likely because his delicate stomach couldn’t handle greasy food.
The area was remote, with no delivery options. Shi Zhou considered asking Assistant Bian to fetch something light for Qin Yancheng, but Qin Yancheng had already wordlessly retreated into the cursed tent, seemingly done for the night.
As everyone else retired to their tents, only Tan Zhi remained on the beach, chatting with fans and watching the sea and starry night sky with them via livestream.
Shi Zhou couldn’t pretend to admire the view any longer. Steeling himself, he thought, if I’m gonna die, I’ll die boldly. As long as I’m not embarrassed, Qin Yancheng will be!
Once inside, Shi Zhou was still shocked. "Damn, this tent is tiny! If this is a double, it must be for ‘double stick figures’! What was Director Xin thinking?!"
Qin Yancheng lowered his eyes, silently scooting aside, but it barely made a difference. Shi Zhou had no choice but to lie down stiffly.
They were practically pressed up against each other, sharing a single blanket. The moment Shi Zhou stretched his legs, his ankle brushed Qin Yancheng’s. When he tried to shift, his hand accidentally landed on Qin Yancheng’s waist.
Shi Zhou: .....
I swear I’m not trying to cop a feel!
After much adjusting, they settled back-to-back, squeezed together.
The night was chilly. Despite the thick tent and blanket, the cold seeped in.
Shi Zhou longed to inch closer to the warmth beside him, but their cold war made it awkward. So he subtly scooted backward... little by little...
Unbeknownst to him, Qin Yancheng had turned around. His stealthy movements were fully observed as he unknowingly nestled into Qin Yancheng’s arms.
Qin Yancheng stared at Shi Zhou’s head of long, thick black hair, conflicted. After a long silence, he finally asked coldly, "Who was that ex-boyfriend you mentioned? Zheng Qi?"
Shi Zhou, who could fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, mumbled drowsily, "Him? As if he deserves me. I don’t even know him... trash."
Someone intimate enough to call "brother" so affectionately—their relationship must’ve been deep.
So why were they exes? Had they broken up, yet Shi Zhou still held onto him, even calling for him in moments of danger? Had Shi Zhou been dumped—
In Qin Yancheng’s eyes, Shi Zhou had always possessed a kind of magical charm—just thinking about him could clear away stormy moods and even spark an involuntary sense of joy.
Qin Yancheng took a sharp breath. An inexplicable irritation surged. Who would ever break up with Shi Zhou?
—No. This is Shi Zhou’s personal life. None of my business. Why does it bother me? It shouldn’t.
But despite his thoughts, Qin Yancheng—usually composed and detached—found himself unable to resist asking in a low voice, "Why did you break up?"
Shi Zhou, half-asleep, was startled by the question. His sluggish brain struggled: Break up? What break up? I’d need a boyfriend first to break up! Can the government issue me one?
After a full minute, he remembered his earlier lie about his "ex" to cover his slip-up. Why is Qin Yancheng obsessing over this in the middle of the night?
A good lie mixes truth with fiction. Though half-asleep, Shi Zhou managed to remember this fact, so he said honestly, "He’s dead."
The minute-long delay seemed like deliberate, grief-laden silence to Qin Yancheng—uncharacteristic of Shi Zhou’s usual cheerfulness.
Qin Yancheng’s heart sank.
Shi Zhou rolled onto his back, murmuring, eyes still closed, "He was only twenty-seven. So young. His annual physical never showed any heart problems..."
The air grew heavy, filled only by the sound of crashing waves and the wind.
Qin Yancheng’s heart plummeted. A bitter, unreasonable anger swelled inside him.
Now he understood why Shi Zhou had cried while making milk that drunken night—Who had Qin Yancheng reminded him of?
Shi Zhou drifted off after that. Qin Yancheng lay rigid, letting Shi Zhou cling to him in sleep.
Why am I angry? Why does this bother me? It’s Shi Zhou’s private matter, his feelings. I—
Qin Yancheng closed his eyes. A vague, unwelcome realization hovered at the edge of his consciousness, one his subconscious refused to acknowledge.
The next morning, for once, Shi Zhou woke first—finally witnessing his own sleeping habits firsthand.
He knew he was a restless sleeper, hence the giant pillow he usually hugged to avoid rolling off the bed.
But this was his first time sharing a bed. To his horror, he realized he hugged his bed partner too!
Blame the cold or the cramped space—he’d latched onto Qin Yancheng like an octopus, legs tangled with his. His first sight upon waking? Qin Yancheng’s blue pajamas.
Because his face was buried in Qin Yancheng’s chest!
Shi Zhou tried to extricate himself carefully, but as he shifted his legs—which had been wrapped around Qin Yancheng’s waist—he felt something very inappropriate pressing against his inner thigh.
The memory of that sight—the one that had made his nose bleed—flashed before his eyes.
Shi Zhou froze as if struck by lightning, terrified of triggering another nosebleed in front of Qin Yancheng. If that happened again he might as well bury himself in front of Qin Yancheng.
Blushing, he attempted to adjust his legs slowly, inch by inch—
Just then, the tent flap was yanked open!
Xin Jing's energetic and infectious voice called out, “Hey! Why aren’t you two up ye—uh... sorry, my bad! So sorry!”
Not only did he walk in to find the two of them clinging to each other like magnets—in a rather suggestive position, no less—but the real kicker was that the camera crew had followed right behind him!
First thing in the morning and fans were hit with a visual shockwave, instantly overwhelmed as they erupted into frenzied screams:
[AHHHHH! Is this really free content?! Wait, is this really paid content?!]
[SOS! The early bird gets the worm! Mama, I’m eating real food today! So delicious!!]
[The sight has me kicking my cow out and plowing 50 acres myself!]
[I SCREENSHOTTED! I SCREENSHOTTED! QIN YANCHENG'S HAND WAS ON SHI ZHOU’S WAIST!]
[I MISSED IT! SIS, DM ME!]
Qin Yancheng, who’d barely slept last night, was still groggy when he opened his eyes—only to meet Shi Zhou’s flushed face.
Shi Zhou hastily untangled himself, scooting to the side. "Uh... y-you groped my butt too, so we’re even."
Qin Yancheng immediately withdrew his hand, his ears faintly red. He said expressionlessly, "Be reasonable. That was your waist."
After Shi Zhou’s near-drowning, rumors spread that "President Qin banned dangerous outdoor activities in a rage over his beloved."
Xin Jing could only choke down a mouthful of metaphorical blood—this was his idea, after all! He, the director who’d given his all for this show! And sure enough, these fans were all sugar factories in disguise, completely ignoring the objective fact that the two had only been snuggled up because it was still raining outside.
Seeing that everyone had gathered, Xin Jing cleared his throat and announced, “Alright viewers in front of the screen, today on Real: Zero Distance, we’re interrupting the usual schedule for a special foodie episode!”
“Today’s lunch ingredients will be distributed based on your performance in a game. You'll be cooking as a team, and whether or not you get to eat lunch—it’s all up to you!”
Yang Yuxin was the first to chime in, “Wait, we have to cook? But I can’t cook! Brother Guo, can you cook?”
Over the past couple of days, Guo Chenming had gained a deep and painful understanding of just how clueless, dramatic, and capable Yang Yuxin was of driving his teammates insane. Yet, because the cameras were always rolling, he had to maintain his gentlemanly image and keep from exploding.
Today the rooms had changed—each pair would be sharing a space. Though only Qin Yancheng and Shi Zhou were assigned to the same room, the other two groups were at least housed in the same unit. Still, sharing meals and living space brought its own kind of dread. Guo Chenming was now forced to dwell in the horror of coexisting with Yang Yuxin.
Of course, Guo Chenming wasn't the only one suffering—Xin Jing, the show’s main director, was hanging on by a thread too.
He seriously started wondering if Yang Yuxin had been planted there to sabotage the show. Every time he opened his mouth, it was a social disaster. If it weren’t for the fact that his greasy, overweight, bald sugar daddy of a sponsor had business ties with Xin Jing’s dad, making it impossible to object... Xin Jing wouldn’t have let Yang Yuxin within a hundred miles of the show.
Shi Zhou twirled his ponytail thoughtfully. “Can we gift or trade ingredients? Like, help someone cook in exchange for a fee?”
“Of course,” Xin Jing replied. “How you handle your ingredients is entirely up to you.”
Three large baskets were displayed nearby. The first basket was overflowing with everything—meat, fish, vegetables, carbs—you name it.
The second basket had noticeably less, maybe about two-thirds full. No big meats or premium items.
The third? One step away from eating bark and dirt. It was filled with nothing but leafy greens—all of which Shi Zhou hated. Not a single substantial dish in sight.
Once the food was shown, it was packed away into the fridge, and Xin Jing moved on to the first challenge:
“Here’s the rule for round one: each team of two will have one person blindfolded, carrying the other on their back. The one on top will guide them through an obstacle course to collect as many peach-heart clips as possible and return safely.”
Shi Zhou grinned and teased, “Qin sir, how about I carry you?”
Qin Yancheng replied expressionlessly, “You’re welcome to try.”
As expected, it ended in total failure. Shi Zhou barely made it two steps before wobbling all over the place. Unsurprisingly, the “who gets blindfolded and who gives commands” decision was obvious across all teams—given their height and build disparities, the results were inevitable.
As the game was about to begin, Shi Zhou rested his chin on Qin Yancheng’s shoulder and turned his head—
Yang Yuxin, with a look of grievous resentment on his face, was struggling pitifully to lift Guo Chenming, a broad-shouldered man, onto his back.
Shi Zhou: ???
The comment section exploded with a unified barrage of
[Hahahahahahahaha].
[No way! What happens if the panda starves to death!]
[Help! My mom asked why I’m laughing like a 300-pound child]
[What were they thinking? Who came up with this terrible idea?]
Behind the scenes, Xin Jing was doing his best not to burst out laughing. Guo Chenming was just too upright—he’d do anything to avoid scandalous rumors or odd pairings. He flat-out refused to carry Yang Yuxin.
Being a senior with a higher status, Guo had the upper hand. Yang Yuxin didn’t have solid backing; even his ties with his sugar daddy were shaky. Left without support, he could only clench his teeth and accept Guo Chenming’s extreme dedication to image management.
Shi Zhou tilted his head, cheek brushing against Qin Yancheng’s shoulder. His thick ponytail swiped gently across Qin’s neck. After a good night’s sleep, his grudges were gone—the cold war already forgotten.
He sounded cheerful. “Qin Yancheng, you smell really good. I’ve been meaning to say that.”
He even took a deep sniff, then rubbed his face against him.
Qin Yancheng instantly felt heat rise to his cheeks and up his neck. His tone was stiff and unnatural when he said, “Move your hair, it tickles.”
He couldn’t smell himself, but the moment Shi Zhou leaned in, there was a faint sweet fruity scent that lingered in the air. It made his arms tense up suddenly, not knowing where to put his hands while carrying Shi Zhou.
Xin Jing cleared his throat. “Ready—go!”
“There’s nothing in front, go straight,” Shi Zhou said in in Qin Yancheng’s ear.
Warm breath tickled his skin. Blindfolded, Qin Yancheng’s other senses felt especially sharp—his scalp tingled and every touch, scent, and sound became magnified several times.
His steps wobbled. He had barely entered the course before he knocked over two bottle-shaped obstacles.
Nearby, Tan Zhi moved swiftly, his dance background showing in his light, agile steps. Paired with the petite and slender Li You, barely over 160 cm tall, he had a clear physical advantage. Shi Zhou, slim as he was, was still a 180 cm tall adult man. His frame alone outweighed any dainty girl.
“Ah! Tan Zhi’s team is ahead—come on, Qin sir, let’s aim for first place!”
First place meant spare ribs—and Qin Yancheng’s corn ribs were especially delicious.
Qin Yancheng took a deep breath to clear his head.
He lifted his feet and stepped smoothly through the tight, unevenly shaped path between obstacles. Even before Shi Zhou could give directions, he nimbly navigated the jumbled course, moving quickly and cleanly. It was as if he’d memorized every obstacle’s position the moment he entered.
“Qin Yancheng, can you see through the blindfold?” Shi Zhou asked, puzzled.
As soon as he spoke, another breath of warm air hit Qin Yancheng’s ear. A wave of tingling sensation washed over him. His steps faltered again, and he knocked into another obstacle.
Shi Zhou wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but it was obvious: every time he opened his mouth, Qin Yancheng messed up. So he shut up quickly.
Once they entered the clip-collecting phase, though, Shi Zhou had to give directions. He craned his neck, planting his chin atop Qin Yancheng’s head. “A little left… yes…”
“Lower. Crouch down a bit.”
To be fair, Qin Yancheng had some serious strength—he managed to bend into a squat while carrying Shi Zhou. Definitely not the frail, delicate, easily pushed down “sickly beauty” type that Shi Zhou had imagined.
Shi Zhou didn’t have a free hand to hold the clips, so he clipped them directly onto Qin Yancheng’s hair. By the fifth one, just as he was about to turn Qin Yancheng’s head into a sea of red, the director’s voice cut in briskly. “Time’s up!”
Qin Yancheng set Shi Zhou down and took off his blindfold. He rubbed the back of his neck—the spot Shi Zhou had breathed on constantly—still tingling in a weirdly pleasant way.
Shi Zhou had collected one more clip than Li You. Tan Zhi, while fast, had knocked down more obstacles than Qin Yancheng.
As for Yang Yuxin and Guo Chenming… they were in an entirely different genre from everyone else. While the others raced seriously, these two looked like full-time comedy actors.
Yang Yuxin was too thin to carry Guo Chenming to begin with. Blindfolded, he stumbled around, bowling over obstacles like a human pinball. The sounds of bottles and jars crashing echoed nonstop. Eventually, he stepped on something slippery, lost his footing, and the two of them collapsed dramatically.
“First place: Qin Yancheng & Shi Zhou — 5 points. Second place: Tan Zhi & Li You — 3 points. Third place: Yang Yuxin & Guo Chenming — 1 point.”
Shi Zhou jumped up happily—one step closer to corn ribs and braised pork. If they could win the next round too, it’d be a guaranteed feast.
While he was thinking of food, the comment section had already turned into a rooster coop of shrieks. The moment Shi Zhou looked into the camera and said “you smell really good,” fans lost their minds. Because Qin Yancheng had actually blushed—his ears were completely red, the flush spreading all the way down his pale neck.