“Achoo!”
There is an old saying: sneeze once, and someone is cursing you. “Achoo!” Sneeze twice, and someone is missing you. “A—A—Achoo!” Sneeze three times, and you’ve most likely caught a cold.
Shen Yanzhou struggled to open his eyes. His nose was red, and his vision was still blurry, but he found himself staring directly into a pair of dark, wet, puppy-like eyes. They were fixed on him with intense, raw focus. However, the man’s face usually possessing a wild and rugged handsomeness was now covered in glistening water droplets, even his eyelashes were damp, making him look both miserable and comical.
Shen Yanzhou immediately understood: his sneeze had been too loud, spraying the man’s face. He awkwardly turned his head away, his voice hoarse and nasal from just waking up. “What… what are you doing?”
The man didn’t bother to wipe the moisture from his face. Instead, he leaned in closer, his damp look, paired with those innocent eyes, radiating the grievances of someone who didn’t dare complain even after being mistreated.
“Continuing to kneel,” he answered honestly. “I’m sorry, Master. Last night, as I was kneeling, I got too tired and accidentally fell asleep on the floor. The floor was too cold; I think I might have been sleepwalking and instinctively tried to find something warm… I didn’t mean to take your blanket. Please, don’t be angry.”
Cough, cough. Shen Yanzhou coughed intentionally. He was the one who had moved the man to the carpet and covered him with the blanket, but since the man assumed he had been sleepwalking, he didn’t have to bother with an explanation. He waved his hand lethargically. “Forget it, get up.”
Upon hearing this, the man did not rise. He remained in a kneeling position, slowly and cautiously extending his large hands. Held upright in his palm was a tube of metal ointment. He asked earnestly, “Master… do you want me to help you apply the medicine?”
Apply medicine? It was currently a necessity for Shen Yanzhou. Although the pain had subsided after the night, the swelling remained, and any slight movement caused friction. But, applying medicine meant he would have to lie on the bed again, buttocks raised, exposing his private parts to this man. He would look like an omega in heat, lewd and wanton, and he truly didn’t want to assume such a position.
“No need, I’m almost better.” He clutched the quilt and shrunk back into the bed, signaling for the man to leave.
Seeing Shen Yanzhou’s small face flush with pink and beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the man instantly understood what was happening. “Is Master… feeling shy?” he asked bluntly, tilting his head.
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
“Right, nonsense. Actually, I’m the one who is shy,” the man coaxed, following his lead. “Master, let me get on the bed and hold you while I apply it under the blanket, okay?”
Seeing that Shen Yanzhou did not refuse, the man climbed onto the bed, lifted the quilt, and skillfully applied the ointment to his hand.
“Master, you don’t actually have to lie on your stomach,” he whispered in Shen Yanzhou’s ear, his hot breath grazing the sensitive auricle. “If I hold you like this, you won’t have to see how I apply it. But you need to open your legs slightly so it’s easier for me.” He paused. “If you don’t know how to open them, you can also rest your legs on mine.”
While speaking, he held Shen Yanzhou in his arms with one hand, while the other expertly moved his slender legs to rest on his own, proceeding to apply the medication with practiced ease.
The man was experienced, but that did not mean Shen Yanzhou was. Even knowing the man wouldn’t hurt him, Shen Yanzhou’s body trembled, melting into the man’s embrace. The tip of his nose turned redder than before, and the corners of his eyes welled up with moisture. He bit his lower lip, his voice thin as a mosquito’s buzz.
“Master…”
The man felt the tremors beneath the skin he was touching, his breathing growing heavier. He rested his chin in the crook of Shen Yanzhou’s neck, nuzzling against him like a dog longing for affection, his voice dark and hoarse: “Master’s body temperature… is so high.”
Shen Yanzhou felt an itch on his neck from the rubbing. “Shut up… stop talking. Are you done yet?”
Darkness surged in the man’s eyes. “Not yet. It needs to be fully absorbed so you can heal faster.”
He lied smoothly, tightening his arms around Shen Yanzhou, pulling him even closer. “What should I do, Master?” He buried his face in Shen Yanzhou’s rose-scented silver hair, his voice muffled: “It’s so warm, I don’t want to let go.”
Suffocating slightly, Shen Yanzhou pushed against his chest. “The medicine is applied, let go. I have to go to the company.”
Only then did the man reluctantly loosen his grip, though he still tightly clutched the hem of Shen Yanzhou’s sleeve. He looked up, his black eyes filled with sincerity and a hint of nervousness, and asked a random, out-of-the-blue question:
“Am I ugly?”
Shen Yanzhou looked at him, bewildered. “What?”
“Am I ugly?” the man repeated.
Shen Yanzhou looked the man over. A high-bridged nose, deep-set brows, a sharp, defined jawline, and that untamable, wild temperament… honestly, this face would be considered top-tier even in the Hong Kong entertainment industry.
“No, you’re not ugly,” Shen Yanzhou shook his head.
The man’s eyes instantly lit up. He immediately pressed on: “Then am I handsome?”
“I suppose you’re passable.”
The man leaned in, his tone revealing a cautious sense of rivalry: “Master, between me and your younger brother, who is more handsome?”
“Shen Xici?” Shen Yanzhou asked. The man nodded.
You are.
“Shen Xici, I guess,” Shen Yanzhou replied. The man’s gaze fell.
“Master, then between me and Dr. Su, who is more handsome?”
You are.
“Su Muran,” Shen Yanzhou replied. This time, even the man’s ears drooped; he looked genuinely heartbroken.
“Then, what about the man who smelled like rum the other day?” he asked, unwilling to give up.
“Rum? Fu Sihan?” The man nodded, afraid to hear the answer.
“There is no comparison between you and him.”
The man’s heart sank completely, and he slowly released his hold on Shen Yanzhou.
“There is no comparison,” Shen Yanzhou repeated. “You are much more handsome than him.”
Hearing this, the dim light in the man’s eyes ignited with ecstasy. His drooping “dog ears” seemed to perk up again. He dove into the crook of Shen Yanzhou’s neck, sniffing deeply. “Master, what do you want to eat for dinner?”
At the mention of food, Shen Yanzhou’s interest peaked. “Can you make claypot rice? The kind from the Mong Kok street food stalls… with the premium wax sausage and liver sausage, sliced thin and layered over the rice. Most importantly, it needs the ‘scorched bottom’ (rice crust)—the kind that’s a solid, golden piece that crunches when you bite it. And the sweet soy sauce must be drizzled along the edge of the pot, sizzling with smoke.”
As he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed; he was genuinely craving it. The man looked at his vivid, expressive face, and his heart melted. He wanted to kiss him so badly. He traced the shape of Shen Yanzhou’s lips with his eyes, his own throat working violently.
I really want to kiss him.
Their eyes met. Shen Yanzhou seemed to sense the tangible aggression in the man’s gaze; his voice trailed off. The atmosphere became thick and dangerous. Their noses grazed each other so close that it felt as if whoever moved first would seal the kiss.
The man tried to turn his head away, his fingers digging deep into the bedsheets. He had fought people barehanded and stared down guns before without feeling this nervous, but he was terrified now. Even though they had already shared intimate physical contact, he feared that if Shen Yanzhou didn’t like it, he would push him away and ignore him.
In the end, he surrendered to the gaze of those silver-gray eyes. He forcibly suppressed the madness in his eyes into an inescapable tenderness. He pulled back, bowed his head, and brushed his face lightly against the back of Shen Yanzhou’s fair hand.
“Okay. Whatever you like, I will make.”