DSMIS CH46

Chapter 46: He… He Likes Jiang Lin?

The aroma of the baked bun instantly assaulted his starving nerves. By the time Shen Xing realized what was happening, his mouth had already clamped down on the bun Jiang Lin was holding out. Jiang Lin smiled and gently nudged it further into his mouth. Feeling a bit awkward, Shen Xing quickly reached up to take it, but the moment his fingers touched the crust, he recoiled from the heat. He bit off a chunk of the bun, mumbling as he swallowed it whole:

“Wait, Hero, do you have iron hands or something?”

Jiang Lin blinked:

“I have calluses on my hands, so they’re pretty heat-resistant. Have another bite.”

Jiang Lin offered the bun forward again at just the right moment. The outer crust was baked to a crispy, oily perfection, and paired with the beef filling inside, one bite truly left you wanting another.

Shen Xing stared at the bun, somewhat speechless:

“I feel like you’re feeding a dog.”

Before Jiang Lin could respond, Shen Xing added:

“And I know Heibao eats on his own.”

With that, Director Shen decided to let himself off the hook, leaned in, and took another huge bite. After finishing one bun, he waved his hand, refusing more:

“That’s enough, that’s enough. I have to save room for the roasted lamb chops.”

Jiang Lin sat beside him and finished the remaining bun in two bites.

After waiting for over half an hour, it was finally their turn. Luck was on their side, and they got a window seat on the second floor, offering a sweeping view of the street below. Because it was the Tibetan New Year, there were many young people in the restaurant wearing traditional Tibetan clothing—some were locals, others were tourists trying on the attire. Regardless, their presence significantly intensified the festive atmosphere.

They ordered quite a feast: a large portion of Tibetan-style roasted lamb chops, spicy yak beef, a Tibetan-style earthen pot hot pot, Tibetan mixed rice, and a pot of butter tea.

Just as Jiang Lin was about to pick up some food, Director Shen suddenly held out his hand:

“Wait a second.”

He pulled out his phone to take a ‘family portrait’ of the meal. Whether intentional or not, he included a bit of Jiang Lin’s hand resting by the table in the frame. Only half the hand was visible, but it was enough to show off the long, well-defined fingers. After taking the photo, Shen Xing specifically checked the hand in the picture. Mm, not bad. Definitely camera-ready.

Once satisfied, he quickly posted it to his WeChat Moments without any caption—just the photo accompanied by three little sun emojis.

Guessing what he was doing, Jiang Lin also took out his phone. Soon, Director Shen’s post received its very first like. Shen Xing looked up in shock:

“Hero, you know how to ‘like’ posts?”

Jiang Lin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry:

“Am I some kind of prehistoric creature?”

Shen Xing laughed:

“It’s mainly because your Moments feed is as clean as my pockets. I thought you didn’t even know where the Moments feature was.”

People their age truly didn’t post on Moments very often. Shen Xing himself only posted a dozen or so times a year, averaging about one a month. His last post was the Snow Top Coffee picture he took on the way back from Baoshan with Jiang Lin, which was over two months ago. But as low as his frequency was, at least he still posted occasionally. Jiang Lin’s Moments, on the other hand, was truly pristine—completely empty from top to bottom, not a single post in sight.

Jiang Lin lowered his head:

“I don’t really have anything to post.”

Shen Xing paused. True. Given Jiang Lin’s previous line of work, he definitely wouldn’t have been casually posting on Moments. Sensing a lull in the conversation, Jiang Lin looked up again:

“But I do read them. I’ve read yours.”

Director Shen’s Moments were very slice-of-life. No inspirational quotes, no venting, and no showing off IP addresses from around the world. There were only two main themes: food and the Samoyed. Jiang Lin had scrolled through them several times.

Shen Xing smiled:

“So, what do you think? My photography skills are pretty awesome, right?”

“Very awesome. Though Qianjin looks even chubbier on camera.”

“Let’s not talk about that semi-truck of mine.”

When they left the restaurant, it was past eight, nearing nine o’clock. The pedestrian street was even more crowded. Jiang Lin looked at the small stalls lining the distance, guessing Shen Xing would want to browse:

“Want to go take a look over there?”

Shen Xing did want to go, but he looked down and tugged at Jiang Lin’s pants:

“Does your leg hurt?”

He stared intently at Jiang Lin; the look in his eyes clearly said, You’d better tell the truth.

“You used the heat lamp on it this afternoon and even massaged it. It really doesn’t hurt.”

“Then let’s go. Let’s buy something to drink. That meat earlier was so salty, and butter tea doesn’t quench thirst.”

There were several chain beverage shops lining the street, but Jiang Lin was unfamiliar with them. He rarely bought milk tea year-round. Hearing Shen Xing wanted a drink, he looked at each shop one by one. Watching him examine them so carefully, Shen Xing smiled and bumped his shoulder:

“Looking so seriously, do you even recognize all the brands?”

Jiang Lin rubbed his nose:

“I can read the words. How about that one?”

He pointed to the shop with the largest storefront on the corner, which looked the most upscale of the lot. Shen Xing laughed at his choice, Chagee:

“Let’s go somewhere else. I’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. I don’t want to suffer from insomnia again and risk sudden death.”

Jiang Lin looked at him, clearly confused. Shen Xing explained:

“Their drinks taste great, but their tea base is a recipe for insomnia. I tried one of their star products once, and I was wide awake staring at the ceiling until 3 AM without a hint of sleepiness. Let’s just stick with Snow King.”

They went two doors down. Unsurprisingly, Mixue Bingcheng had a line. Jiang Lin stepped right to the back of the line:

“What do you want to drink?”

Shen Xing, intimately familiar with the menu, replied without hesitation:

“I want the Fresh Squeezed Orange. I recommend the Taro Ball Grape for you. Their ice cream is also good.”

Jiang Lin waited in line for ten minutes, bought the two drinks and one ice cream cone, and handed the ice cream to Shen Xing.

“Aren’t you having ice cream?”

“I ate too much. A drink is fine.”

The further they walked down the pedestrian street, the more crowded it became. Temporary stalls packed the street, selling various Tibetan snacks, handicrafts, and trinkets—a dazzling array of items. The path grew narrower, forcing people to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. Suddenly, Shen Xing stumbled and pitched forward, nearly shoving his ice cream up his own nose. Jiang Lin, quick reflexes in play, grabbed his arm:

“Careful.”

Looking down, Shen Xing realized his shoelace had come untied and someone passing by had stepped on it. He rarely wore shoes with laces, but he specifically dug out a pair of Dr. Martens yesterday to match the white outdoor pants Jiang Lin gave him. He was just about to quickly finish his ice cream to free up his hands when Jiang Lin pulled him by the arm into the space between two stalls.

Jiang Lin finished his drink, tossed the cup into a nearby trash can, and crouched down to tie Shen Xing’s shoelaces. Holding his drink in one hand and his ice cream in the other, Shen Xing stared dumbfoundedly at the man kneeling on one knee before him.

Because his left leg was bad and he didn’t dare put weight on it while crouching, Jiang Lin rested his right knee on the ground. His long, well-defined fingers swiftly tied a knot in the loose shoelace. Not only did he tie the loose one, but he also tightened the laces on the other shoe. Watching this, Shen Xing felt his heart skip a beat. Forget adulthood; he couldn’t remember anyone tying his shoelaces for him since he was old enough to remember.

Furthermore, he found the act of having his shoelaces tied incredibly… incredibly intimate. The atmosphere, how should he put it, felt intensely unfamiliar, yet he didn’t want to reject it. He simply had no idea how to react; his brain seemed to have crashed.

After tying the laces, Jiang Lin used his left leg to push himself up. Catching this detail, Shen Xing suddenly felt a pang of heartache. Two words blurted out of his mouth:

“Hero.”

Jiang Lin smiled and pointed at his ice cream:

“Quick, take a lick, your ice cream is melting.”

Shen Xing hurriedly lowered his head, shoving it into his mouth just before the melted cream could drip.

With this interruption, the feeling that had been slipping beyond Shen Xing’s control seemed to dissipate somewhat. He even rationalized to himself: Jiang Lin probably only helped tie my shoelaces because both my hands were full, right? It’s normal for friends to help each other out, isn’t it?

They strolled for over an hour that night, Shen Xing reaping a bountiful harvest from the stalls. It was nearly ten o’clock by the time they strolled back to the car. Shen Xing drove.

Jiang Lin spoke up:

“You have your regular days off starting tomorrow, right?”

Shen Xing nodded: “Yeah, I’m on duty on the sixth day of the New Year, but the rest are days off. What about you? Still on duty?”

“Yeah. Off tomorrow and the day after, on duty on the fourth, off on the fifth, on duty again on the sixth. Come to my place for hot pot tomorrow. I bought a lot of mutton before the New Year.”

“Sure. Hot pot is easy anyway.”

By the time they got home, Shen Xing washed up, and got into bed, it was past 11 PM. Qianjin, who had been guarding an empty apartment all night, affectionately clung to the side of the bed, burying his large head into Shen Xing’s embrace. Lying on his side, Shen Xing rubbed the dog’s large head for a long time, but his mind, uncharacteristically, wasn’t on the white furball in front of him. For some reason, he kept thinking of the scene where Jiang Lin tied his shoelaces. It played like a movie, constantly looping in his mind. The impression was even deeper than the first time he watched a joint replacement surgery video.

And every time he thought about it, he felt an indescribable sensation in his heart—like a tiny claw scratching at it. It was a ticklish, very comfortable feeling that he didn’t really want to reject.

He kept trying to explain it away as something a friend would just conveniently do. But he couldn’t help inserting Patrick Star into the scenario. If Patrick Star had seen him almost trip over his shoelaces, heh, that guy would have laughed himself to death. Conversely, if Patrick Star almost tripped over his shoelaces, there was no way in hell Shen Xing would crouch down to tie them for him. Not in a hundred thousand parallel universes.

But… but what if the one who almost tripped was Jiang Lin?

Shen Xing’s mind violently flashed back to Jiang Lin pushing himself up with his left leg earlier. The heart-wrenching feeling from that moment was still fresh in his memory. If… if it were Jiang Lin, he felt he wouldn’t mind tying his shoelaces for him.

Perhaps sensing that the person petting him was distracted, Qianjin whined and whimpered against his ear, acting spoiled. Shen Xing cupped the Samoyed’s round head. Man and dog, locking eyes. Shen Xing spoke, seemingly to the dog, yet also murmuring to himself:

“His leg is injured, and he’s my patient. Tying a shoelace for him is no big deal, right, Qianjin?”

He fiddled with the Samoyed’s tender pink ears. The comfortable Qianjin narrowed his eyes, ears flattening into airplane mode as he whimpered, seemingly answering him, ‘Mm-hmm, yes, yes.’

Torn over a shoelace, Shen Xing didn’t fall asleep until nearly 1 AM. In a daze, he heard the sound of someone showering in the bathroom. He looked toward the sound of the water and saw the silhouette of a person bathing through the semi-frosted glass. Even through the glass, he could tell the person had an incredible physique: broad shoulders, narrow waist, and incredibly long legs.

“Shen Xing.”

Someone was calling him? Why was the voice so familiar?

“Shen Xing, help me grab some underwear.”

The familiar voice belonged to Jiang Lin. Why is Jiang Lin showering in my house? No, this isn’t my house, this is the room in the village. Oh, it’s the day Jiang Lin came to visit me. I’m going to get him some disposable underwear.

The door drew closer and closer. Shen Xing felt he could hear his own heartbeat. His entire body ran hot with sweat, and a surge of heat coursed through him. Just as he was about to hand the underwear through, the door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped out. Jolted by excitement, Shen Xing’s eyes flew open. He panted heavily a few times. The room before him was dim, and he found the culprit making him sweat from the heat: the “semi-truck” that had climbed onto the bed and pressed tightly against him.

He wiped the sweat off his face and then discovered a fact he was very reluctant to admit: he was pitching a tent!

He checked his watch; it was almost 5 AM. He couldn’t fall back asleep after that, a sense of panic settling in his heart. Why on earth did he dream of Jiang Lin showering at his place? And why did just looking at his legs excite him this much? W-was this normal? No matter how dense Shen Xing was, he couldn’t convince himself this was normal.

But if it wasn’t normal, what did it mean? The pre-dawn sky left his mind lingering on the impulses and imagination of the night. Shen Xing didn’t quite dare to think any further, because the more he thought about it, the more he felt his feelings for Jiang Lin were no longer entirely pure.

Holding his phone, he scrolled through his contact list, opening chat windows one by one. With some people, there were only a few sparse words; with others, polite small talk. Even with friends he used to be close with, they would chat for a bit when they had something going on, then stop, only chatting again when they remembered. Only with Jiang Lin’s chat window did he earnestly answer every single question. And, of course, Jiang Lin did the same for him.

That feeling of something being ‘off’ grew too strong to ignore. Shen Xing propped up his pillow, sat up, took a deep breath, and opened DeepSeek, typing in a question:

“What are the signs that you like someone?”

Layers upon layers of answers immediately popped up below.

Shen Xing held his breath and read down:

Sign 1: “Hyper-focused attention: You frequently think about the other person, even subconsciously ‘replaying’ details of your interactions in your mind.”

Shen Xing instantly thought of the “shoelace incident” from last night. That replay was an extreme replay—it had looped for an entire night…

Sign 2: “Strong desire to confide: Whether it’s something happy or troubling, they are the first person you want to tell. When you find something good, you want to share it with them immediately.”

Shen Xing silently opened his WeChat list from earlier. His face gradually paled; every message felt like irrefutable evidence. Also, sharing—it reminded him of the coasters, keychains, and scarf from before. He truly did subconsciously buy one for Jiang Lin whenever he saw something nice!

Sign 3: “Desire for physical contact: When you have physical contact with them, you feel a sense of joy, like a feather brushing against you, making your heart feel ticklish and warm. You might even feel that touching them relieves your fatigue…”

Shen Xing couldn’t help but remember the time Jiang Lin stroked his hair. Didn’t it feel exactly like a feather brushing against him? And that brief embrace yesterday morning. Shen Xing carefully recalled how he felt at the time. He was incredibly exhausted, but he couldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t like the feeling of Jiang Lin’s arms around him. It felt very grounding. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have rested his chin on his shoulder, right? And last night, he remembered exactly how it felt when Jiang Lin grabbed his arm. He truly didn’t resist it; in fact, he didn’t want to pull away.

Sign 4: “Physical attraction: For example, a certain physical feature of theirs brings you immense satisfaction, even infatuation. You feel no one compares to them, and you can’t take your eyes off them when you see it…”

“Hero, if you debuted in the entertainment industry, these legs alone would be worth at least fifty thousand.”

This sentence instantly echoed in Shen Xing’s mind.

He opened his Moments and his gaze landed on the hand in the corner of his photo from last night. He really had zero resistance to Captain Jiang’s manga-perfect physique! Otherwise… otherwise, he wouldn’t have had that dream just now, right?

Sign 5…Sign 6…Sign 7…

Reading all the way down, Shen Xing felt like he was playing a game of ‘萝卜坑’ (a game where each person is a radish with a specific designated pit/role). No way, was he this precise of a radish? He fit perfectly into every single pit? Every single sign matched?

He couldn’t resist reading through them again, his brain replaying everything like a movie review. Finally, he arrived at the same conclusion—a conclusion that left him feeling somewhat numb.

He… he really liked Jiang Lin?