Chapter 26
Zhuo Yifan didn’t feel wronged at all; he grabbed the stuff and hurried off.
Fang turned off the computer and went to wash up. The bathroom light was warm, and on the counter sat two identical mugs. His usual one even had a toothbrush resting on top, toothpaste already squeezed.
Whatever small regret he’d had about not staying up late vanished instantly, replaced with smug satisfaction. Maybe marriage wasn’t so bad after all.
Of all the clauses in their “agreement,” Long Yu had been most particular about bedtime. When Fang walked into the bedroom, Long Yu was already waiting on the bed, reading as usual.
He always read before sleep. Fang dried his hair and sat at the edge of the bed, still mulling over the plot of his story. The new scene he’d sketched tonight tied several old threads together, and inspiration buzzed through him again.
Long Yu glanced at him, and Fang took it as a cue to hurry up, slipping under the covers beside him. But then Long Yu looked again—brows slightly furrowed.
Fang blinked. “What’s wrong?”
Long Yu set his book aside. “Aren’t we talking tonight?”
Fang chuckled, rolling onto his side to face him. He thought Long Yu looked especially endearing like this. “Sure, let’s talk. You done reading? Let’s chat for five yuan’s worth!”
Long Yu gave a soft laugh, closed the book, set it down, and took off his glasses to lie beside him. “What shall we talk about tonight?”
That smile made Fang’s heart itch. He rubbed his nose. “You don’t usually talk much, right? Am I bothering you?”
Long Yu shook his head. For years he’d been used to quietly reading before bed—but now, more and more, he found himself wanting to chat with Fang. It wasn’t Fang interrupting him; it was him who couldn’t stop sneaking glances, as if something about Fang just pulled him in, making him want to listen to whatever came out of his mouth. Anything, really—he just wanted to hear his voice.
Their nightly talk was light and casual. Fang was curious about Han Qiaoye and asked a few questions. Long Yu answered at first, but when Fang kept circling back, he eventually fell silent.
Fang propped himself up and poked him. “Hey, I’m asking you—what exactly does Han Qiaoye do in Africa? He must’ve seen the great migration, right? I really want to see that someday. Even just on TV, it looks incredible—it must be amazing in person…”
Long Yu frowned and said, “I don’t know.”
Fang Jing Yao: “Hm?”
Long Yu replied, “I don’t keep much contact with him. We only meet once or twice a year for gatherings. But if you want to visit, we can find a time. I’ll take you there.”
Fang Jing Yao patted his shoulder and said, “It’s fine, I was just saying. You’re so busy with work—no need to plan a special trip. It’s far and tiring. We can just watch documentaries at home, right? I’ll get a few Blu-ray discs, and we’ll watch them here?”
Long Yu smiled. “Alright.”
Fang Jing Yao, lost in his love for animals, couldn’t stop talking—from the great grasslands to the Antarctic. “Oh right, do you remember? Back in high school, there was that half-hour English program at 7:30 every evening. They often showed nature documentaries. Once, they aired Emperor Penguin Parenting Diaries—those little round fluffballs were too cute! Everyone watching clutched their hearts and said it triggered their ‘reproductive instincts’…”
Long Yu looked at him with a smile. He reached out to brush aside his hair, but the fine strands fell back, half-covering his eyes again. Long Yu reached out with a finger to touch his curved, smiling eyes. At that, Fang Jing Yao instinctively closed them, calling softly in confusion, “Long Yu?”
At that moment, Long Yu realized he was the one whose instincts were being triggered—not fiercely, but like a tide, slow and steady, rising layer after layer, pulling him irresistibly closer. He lowered his head and kissed Fang Jing Yao, tracing the outline of his lips with his tongue before gently slipping inside, taking him completely.
Fang Jing Yao parted his lips slightly in response. Long Yu’s kiss was firm yet tender. He tried to push back, but was quickly subdued. At first he panicked, but soon accepted being overpowered—after all, Long Yu didn’t look like someone who would ever submit to others. He’d never gone this far with anyone before, never tried it in detail, but if it was with Long Yu… it wasn’t so hard to accept.
Fang Jing Yao opened his heart, ready to explore the grand harmony of life—but Long Yu’s kiss ended. His kiss, like the man himself, was proper and restrained: born of affection, stopping at propriety. Soon it softened, a few light pecks before he let go.
Fang Jing Yao felt stifled. He reached for Long Yu’s waist, clearly unwilling to end it there. He’d been teased all day—wrong time, wrong place before—but now they were in his own bed, with his own man. What was there to be afraid of?
Long Yu’s voice was hoarse. “Jing Yao.”
“Mm?” Fang Jing Yao murmured, kissing him while his hand continued downward, sliding along his waist, slipping beneath his shirt.
Long Yu drew in a deep breath and caught that wandering hand. “Not yet.”
Fang Jing Yao, nearly burning up, rubbed against him twice to make his frustration clear.
Long Yu kissed his forehead, voice gentle as ever. “Just wait a little longer.”
Wait? For what?
Fang Jing Yao’s little flame flared higher. He buried his face in Long Yu’s chest, nuzzled twice, and mumbled, “I want you.”
Long Yu’s fragile thread of reason nearly snapped. His Adam’s apple bobbed; his gaze darkened. He took Fang Jing Yao’s hand and guided it to touch him, his voice low and rough. “But I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”
Feeling the heavy weight in his palm, Fang Jing Yao swore inwardly—holy shit!—then immediately lost his nerve and tried to pull back. Long Yu, already aroused, held him close. Fang Jing Yao’s lust had mostly cooled; turning his head, he muttered, “I was just joking. Um… we can take it slow. I don’t think I can handle it all at once. You don’t have experience…”
Long Yu gave a nasal hum that didn’t sound pleased.
Fang Jing Yao smiled awkwardly. “Neither do I.”
That finally softened Long Yu’s expression. He kissed Fang Jing Yao’s neck, slow and tender, until the man melted in his arms. Then, leaning close to his ear, he whispered something. Seeing Fang Jing Yao nod, he slowly slipped his hand under the sleepwear, kissing him while moving lower to help him with his hand.
Fang Jing Yao’s toes curled in pleasure. Long Yu’s fingers were cool, the unfamiliar touch making him tremble and lose control of his voice. When he couldn’t hold it back, he bit Long Yu’s shoulder several times.
Long Yu didn’t go all the way, but his hands didn’t leave a single spot untouched. After that, their relationship moved a big step forward—even if they hadn’t completed the act, things were no longer the same as before.
This time, Fang Jing Yao fell asleep much faster than Long Yu—probably exhausted. His lips turned slightly downward as he slept, looking just like a child.
Long Yu rubbed his lips with a finger, kissed him softly, and pulled him into his arms. Fang Jing Yao stirred slightly, still unaccustomed, but Long Yu held him tight, and soon he adjusted to a comfortable position without even opening his eyes.
Long Yu chuckled quietly, closed his own eyes, and drifted off. He had never been this intimate with anyone—it felt as if this man had become part of his very body.
—
The next morning, Long Yu left for work. Fang Jing Yao knocked on the door next door to call Zhuo Yifan out. “Come on, let’s go get your stuff from the hotel. And listen—you’re only staying two more days. You’ve got work too, don’t waste all your time here.”
Zhuo Yifan nodded, yawning before he could reply, rubbing his eyes. “Master, why are you up so early?”
Fang Jing Yao laughed. “It’s past eight—how is that early? You didn’t even hear us go for a run this morning, did you?”
Zhuo Yifan looked at him in disbelief, staring a few times before muttering, “So dating can really change someone, huh? Even your schedule! Shigong is amazing.”
Fang Jing Yao, in a bright spring mood, didn’t argue with him and took him to the hotel.
Zhuo Yifan had a lot of stuff, but surprisingly, it wasn’t messy—everything packed neatly into suitcases. He was done quickly.
Seeing the luggage, mostly travel items, Fang Jing Yao remembered the past and smiled. “Not bad. You still keep that habit—packing fast and tidy.”
Zhuo Yifan clicked the suitcase lock and grinned. “Of course. I learned it from you back when we went on signing tours. I used to lose things all the time and had to ask the hotel to mail them back. You couldn’t stand it anymore, so you taught me how to pack—told me to always lay everything flat in the suitcase no matter what, so nothing would be left behind. Luo Yi, that dumbass, used to laugh at me for it…”
He stopped, glancing up to see Fang Jing Yao’s expression. Since he didn’t react much, Zhuo Yifan went on slowly, “That dumbass Luo Yi kept saying stuff about me.”
Fang Jing Yao kicked him lightly. “Once is enough! He’s older than you—if you can’t call him brother, at least talk politely.”
Zhuo Yifan pouted. “You still thinking about him, Master?”
“No, don’t talk nonsense. There wasn’t anything between us.” Fang Jing Yao felt a bit stuffy in the chest and wanted a smoke. He patted his pocket, only to remember he hadn’t carried cigarettes for days. He wasn’t a heavy smoker—just used it to clear his head when bothered. Couldn’t find one? Fine, forget it. He looked up at Zhuo Yifan. “All done? Let’s go.”
Zhuo Yifan nodded and followed him out with the luggage.
Bad luck, maybe—but while he was checking out for Zhuo Yifan at the front desk, the person next to them checking in turned and called out, “Jing Yao!”
Fang Jing Yao looked up, brows instantly knitting. It was someone he knew—Luo Yi.
