With those unfathomable, yet deeply luminous black eyes.

In the end, the man said nothing. Ethan Carter was anxiously wondering if the other was angry, when his jaw was suddenly gripped.

He was caught by the chin with a gentle yet irresistible force, his head forcibly turned to face Nathaniel Grant.

Nathaniel Grant looked cold, but his hands were warm. When Ethan Carter's jaw was clamped, it still felt warm, but when the long fingers pressed against his lips, it was a solid, burning heat.

"...?"

Ethan Carter wanted to speak, but as soon as his lips moved, they rubbed even harder against the man's fingertip.

And it was him who initiated it.

Ethan Carter froze, not moving any further. He tried to calm himself, but the situation was impossible to improve—his upper lip was pressed against the man's fingertip, his lower lip rubbing the finger pad, and because he froze at just the wrong moment, it was as if he was holding the man's fingertip in his mouth.

The phone vibrated a few more times, but Ethan Carter was completely distracted. All his attention was seized by those warm, callused fingers; blood rushed to his head, and his usually cold ears finally grew hot.

Not until the pressure on his lips disappeared did Ethan Carter regain his breath.

The grip on his jaw loosened, the warmth lingering on his skin, making Ethan Carter's jaw tingle slightly.

The fingers that had just pressed his lips stretched out, palm open in front of Ethan Carter.

By the flickering lights outside the car, Ethan Carter saw a dark, damp mark on the dry fingertip.

The man said calmly, "You're bleeding."

It was from Ethan Carter's lips.

His lips were so dry they had started to bleed.

Only then did Ethan Carter snap out of his daze. "...Ah, yes, they're a bit too dry."

He touched the tip of his nose. "I'll be fine after drinking some water when I get back."

Nathaniel Grant was silent for a moment, then said, "Drink more hot water."

Ethan Carter nodded, replying earnestly, "Okay."

He often comforted others this way, too.

The other still had his blood on his hand. Ethan Carter thought for a moment, then took a pack of tissues from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it over.

He was still a bit awkward with that intimate form of address.

"Gege... wipe it off."

He felt that Nathaniel Grant wasn't used to this form of address either; the man clearly paused when he heard it, then reached out to take the tissue.

Holding the tissue, Nathaniel Grant didn't wipe the blood from his fingers. Instead, he asked, "Does it hurt to use a tissue?"

Ethan Carter didn't understand. "Hm?"

Why would wiping your hand hurt?

Before Ethan Carter could react, the man's deep voice was already close.

"I'll be gentle."

Nathaniel Grant raised his hand and gripped Ethan Carter's chin—he did this move with particular ease. With the other hand holding the tissue, he reached out to wipe the blood from Ethan Carter's lips.

Ethan Carter: "...??!"

He jumped in surprise. "It's not for me, the tissue is for you to wipe your hand!"

Afraid the other would really do it, Ethan Carter hurriedly said, "I don't need to wipe, I can just lick it off."

He quickly licked his dry lips, only thinking of removing the blood, not realizing how this action might look to the other person.

The licked, thin lips glistened, catching a faint, luminous sheen. Ethan Carter couldn't see it himself, but for some reason, his lips felt hot.

As if being stared at.

He looked up, but saw nothing unusual. The man had already looked away, his face as cold as ever, focusing on wiping his own fingers.

Feeling guilty for troubling the other, Ethan Carter didn't look any longer and sat up straight again.

A dozen minutes later, the car finally pulled up in front of the familiar school gate.

The close contact in the confined space still made Ethan Carter a bit nervous, especially since Mr. Grant looked both cold and stern. Although tonight Ethan Carter found him easier to get along with than expected, when getting out of the car, Ethan Carter still quietly let out a sigh of relief.

The car stopped at the school gate. Now that the start-of-term rush was over, outside vehicles were no longer allowed on campus. Ethan Carter had planned to say goodbye and get out, walking back on his own, but saw Nathaniel Grant also open the car door and get out.

"Lu..."

Ethan Carter was about to speak, but the cold night wind made him shiver. His voice was muffled by a low cough, and his throat felt uncomfortable.

"Cough, cough cough..."

He covered his lips with a fist, about to pull up his collar against the wind, when suddenly his neck felt warm.

A dark-colored cashmere scarf was wrapped around him.

Ethan Carter looked up in surprise. The man was lowering his eyes, tying the scarf for him, and they were so close that they could clearly feel each other's breath.

Nathaniel Grant's hands were steady, his long fingers brushing Ethan Carter's cool jaw by accident, making it a little itchy. Ethan Carter couldn't help but shrink back a bit.