“Are you trying to propose to me, Zhan-ge?” Yibo asks, lifting his eyebrows. Xiao Zhan laughs, the sound slightly wheezing. “At dinner…” He runs his thumb over the ring, biting down on his lip. “It was cute. You were acting like Yixing’s trophy husband.” His voice probably isn’t as light as he means it to be. It’s too rough around the edges for a joke. Still, the description makes Yibo stick his lower lip out in a frown. “I wouldn’t have if you weren’t ignoring me,” he says. “I wasn’t ignoring you.” He cups his hand around Yibo’s chin, their lips hovering close together again. “I was watching.”