Crossdress Ch10

This place was actually one of the private rooms along the outer corridor on the first floor. If you went through a certain door and turned a corner, you’d be back in the banquet hall.

Wen Sinian spoke in a steady tone: “What exactly did you see just now?”

Scenes of what he had just witnessed—passionate and overwhelming—floated vaguely through Xu Yan’s mind. Flustered, he quickly covered his mouth with both hands and shook his head pitifully.

He knew Wen Sinian and Lin Xingxian were good friends, and he’d just stumbled upon Lin Xingxian’s secret. Wen Sinian must’ve come to silence him for his friend.

No wonder he had dragged him to such a dark and isolated place, clearly worried someone else might find out.

Then, a hand grabbed Xu Yan’s slender wrist. With little effort, Wen Sinian easily pulled his hands down, revealing that flushed red mouth.

“Speak,” Wen Sinian said.

Xu Yan’s eyes darted about nervously, his lashes fluttering up and down. “Just… just saw a little bit…”

“Don’t talk about this to anyone,” Wen Sinian withdrew his hand, “Can you do that?”

Xu Yan blinked, a little surprised he wouldn’t be silenced for real. He quickly nodded. “I can.”

His voice sounded a bit softer than usual, the tone unconsciously dragging at the end like he was pouting. “Then can you tell me… how to get back?”

As he spoke, he tilted his head and looked up through misty eyes.

Wen Sinian reached out and straightened his head with two fingers, not answering, but instead asked, “If your alcohol tolerance is that bad, who were you drinking with?”

Xu Yan’s mind turned slowly. He obediently replied, “Myself.”

Wen Sinian narrowed his eyes in annoyance. If he hadn’t seen him earlier clinking glasses and chatting with others, he might’ve believed that innocent look.

“Don’t lie,” Wen Sinian pressed his long leg forward against Xu Yan’s knee, “Lying isn’t what good kids do.”

Xu Yan blinked slowly.

Those words sounded very familiar—his grandmother had raised him with those exact teachings. Just hearing them again made him subconsciously lean closer.

He wasn’t a bad kid who lied.

“It’s true,” he explained anxiously, “I drank by myself first, then with Nan Li, then with Senior Huaiche, and then by myself again…”

He counted them on his fingers—he had indeed started and ended alone, just omitted some of the middle details.

So technically… not a lie.

“I didn’t lie,” he insisted, “I’m a good kid.”

Wen Sinian didn’t respond, only stared at him in silence.

Xu Yan’s throat went dry under his gaze. He turned his eyes away and licked his lips. “I’m thirsty…”

His gaze wandered, and he muttered to himself, “I want water… I really want water…”

A flash of red crossed his eyes. Wen Sinian looked around. “There’s none here.”

Xu Yan thought for a moment. “There’s some in my backpack.”

“Where’s your backpack?”

Xu Yan touched his back—nothing there. “I don’t know… I can’t find it…”

It must still be in the banquet hall, but the music from inside was getting louder—clearly the party had moved into its next phase, chaotic and noisy.

Wen Sinian moved his leg away, and the boy in front of him wobbled a bit, barely managing to support himself against the wall.

Xu Yan licked his lips again, pitifully repeating, “I’m thirsty…”

Wen Sinian opened the door and walked out first. Seeing Xu Yan still leaning on the wall, he called out, “Follow me.”

Xu Yan obediently followed, his steps unsteady. When he reached Wen Sinian, he stumbled dramatically, like he was faking it.

Instinctively, Wen Sinian reached out and caught a warm, soft body that leaned tightly into his arms, even rubbing its cheek comfortably against his chest as if it were home.

This time, Wen Sinian didn’t let go. He simply picked him up like a baby chick and walked out the front entrance with long strides.

Back at the banquet hall, the place was bustling. Lin Xingxian had returned and searched around for a while. Not a single one of his friends was in sight—not even Xu Yan on the sofa.

Soon, Wen Sinian reentered through the main door, heading straight to the corner sofa. He ignored everyone who greeted him, grabbed a backpack, and was ready to leave.

Lin Xingxian stopped him. “Leaving already? You’re not staying to have more fun? Pan Yan was just asking where you’d gone—nobody’s seen you all night.”

“I’ve got something to do,” Wen Sinian replied coolly.

Lin Xingxian raised a brow meaningfully. “Oh? Something to do? Or someone waiting for you?”

He glanced at the worn-looking backpack Wen Sinian was holding—he remembered that was the one Xu Yan had brought earlier.

Feeling curious, Lin Xingxian leaned in. “Wasn’t it you who first said that junior had suspicious intentions? So who is it now, running around trying to return his backpack?”

He even sighed sincerely, “It can’t be you, right? How strange.”

Wen Sinian’s eyes were icy, but Lin Xingxian was unusually bold tonight. He took a sip of champagne and patiently waited for a reply.

Wen Sinian just shot him a cold glance and said, “Worry about your own problems. Looks like tonight’s security wasn’t as tight as it should’ve been.”

Lin Xingxian blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“Anyone can sneak in.” Wen Sinian tapped his lip once, then turned and walked out without looking back.

Lin Xingxian was left puzzled, touching his lip. It felt wet. When he looked at his fingers—there was blood.

He cursed under his breath and turned toward a private room.

***

Xu Yan felt dizzy, unsure of where he was lying. His eyes barely opened to a sliver—above him, even the ceiling seemed to sway.

Still so thirsty. He reached out, blindly fumbling around him. His hand brushed over something firm yet smooth—leather?

Suddenly, the vehicle jolted forward. Xu Yan lurched, the seatbelt digging into his waist while his head smacked into the front seat.

Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain. “Ugh…”

The driver had gotten out of the car, leaving Xu Yan groaning and rubbing his forehead against the seat.

Then, the rear door opened.

Someone leaned in.

With a soft click, the seatbelt around his waist was released. Xu Yan, unable to hold himself steady, rolled forward—but was caught again and gently eased back against the seat.

Holding his forehead, Xu Yan looked up—and under the glow of the dormitory’s street lamp, he could just barely make out that cold, angular profile.

Wen Sinian searched through the backpack and, sure enough, found a bottle of water. It was a familiar glass bottle. Holding it up to the light, he saw the large lettering: “Icelandic”—the brand he usually drank.

His fingers tightened slightly around the bottle as his gaze darkened, falling on the innocent face in front of him.

This kind of water was hard to find in the country. Lin Xingxian had often grumbled that Wen Sinian was a spoiled young master—so picky that even his drinking water had to meet specific standards.

But it was clear Xu Yan’s financial situation wasn’t good. His old backpack was so worn it had turned white, and he had worked countless part-time jobs… yet he was willing to buy such expensive water.

And this wasn’t a deliberate attempt to get close? A calculated gesture to please him?

Xu Yan had no idea that his actions had already been labeled as scheming. When he saw Wen Sinian pull out his “precious” water, he hurried forward to snatch it back.

“No… not that one…” Xu Yan mumbled. “You can’t drink that…”

Wen Sinian asked coldly, “Why not?”

Xu Yan wrapped both his arms around the bottle—and Wen Sinian’s hand along with it—gently caressing the glass. “It’s really expensive… it’s for someone else…”

Wen Sinian pulled his hand back, his voice turning colder. “Who is it for?”

Xu Yan leaned in slowly, eyes misty as they slid over Wen Sinian’s brows, nose, and lips. When he finally recognized the face, a dazed joy lit up in his eyes.

He cheerfully pushed the bottle back into Wen Sinian’s hands. “It’s for… you.”

His long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, as if they could stir a breeze in the quiet night.

Wen Sinian didn’t take it. “Why are you giving it to me?”

But there was no point trying to reason with a drunk person.

Xu Yan’s last bit of clarity had long since been melted away by the alcohol. Even sitting upright was a challenge—his delicate neck drooped without support, his head swaying, eyelids battling to stay open. He looked like he’d fall asleep at any moment.

It was already nearly 11 p.m.—the dormitory lights would soon go out and the doors would lock.

Wen Sinian had no choice but to lift the drunkard out of the backseat and carry him all the way back to room 318.

Only Zhao Qingji was inside. He’d gone to bed early and turned off the lights, though he had thoughtfully left the door unlocked for Xu Yan and Li Huaiche.

Wen Sinian entered without turning on the lights. He brought Xu Yan to his bed and softly ordered, “Get up.”

Xu Yan squinted, obediently kicked off his shoes, and wobbled up the steps to his bunk. As Wen Sinian lifted the curtain, Xu Yan lost balance and flopped straight onto the bed.

The wooden bed frame creaked loudly. Zhao Qingji stirred on the lower bunk but soon fell quiet again.

Wen Sinian turned on his flashlight, shielding the beam with his fingers, and shone it briefly into the bed.

Xu Yan had settled in, hugging the little bunny plushie next to his pillow and snuggling it under his cheek, already sleeping sweetly.

His loose pajama pants had ridden up, exposing a slender, smooth, fair calf.

Wen Sinian turned off the flashlight, let the curtain fall, and quietly exited the dorm.

He returned to the car with that glass bottle of water. The time was exactly 11:00 p.m.

The dormitory lights went out in an instant. The large, empty campus was now silent and deserted.

Suddenly, his phone screen lit up.

Wen Sinian unlocked it. It was a push notification from a random unfamiliar app. He vaguely remembered Lin Xingxian had borrowed his phone and might’ve swiped through some things.

He was about to delete the app when he accidentally tapped the notification instead. A photo popped up.

It was a faceless cross-dressing shot—just legs. But upon seeing it, Wen Sinian’s breath hitched sharply.

The legs were long, pale, and slender—not bony but well-shaped, wrapped in a tight white skirt. Whether it was due to filters or softening effects, the joints looked faintly pink—like they’d turn a deep, ravishing red after kneeling on the ground for too long.

And most importantly—he noticed a small red mole on the inside of the thigh, near the edge of the photo.

It was in a hidden, suggestive spot—intensely provocative.

No one knew that he had a serious leg fetish. And up until now, he’d only seen one pair of legs that matched his tastes this perfectly.

Unforgettable. No need for confirmation.

His always-cold, reserved eyes instantly darkened to something unreadable.