To meet the proof-of-concept deadline, Yan Yuchuan spent two grueling weeks in the lab, finally completing the first-generation prototype.
The initial test results were highly encouraging, marking a phased victory. To celebrate, the five-person team went to a nearby barbecue restaurant for a celebratory dinner, then found a quiet bar to hang out afterward.
They ordered two cases of beer. Yan Yuchuan lied that he had to work in the evening and couldn’t drink, ordering a sparkling water instead. The waiter brought them a set of the hottest card game of the moment.
Just as a round ended, Yan Yuchuan received a message from Ming Rao.
[Coming tonight?]
Yan Yuchuan replied with a single “1” with one hand and put down his phone to draw cards for a new round. Soon, his phone buzzed again.
[At a gathering?]
Yan Yuchuan figured Ming Rao must have seen the post he’d shared. He wasn’t one to share his life online, but he was in an especially good mood today, so he’d taken a group photo of the five of them and posted his first update in six months.
Yan Yuchuan set down his cards and replied: [Yeah. The project’s going well, just celebrating.]
Ming Rao sent a puppy emoji with sparkling eyes, then a cat bowing in congratulations, followed by a text.
[Then go have fun, no need to come]
Yan Yuchuan froze for a moment, put down his cards, told the others to keep playing without him, and went to a quiet corner piled with clutter near the restroom to call Ming Rao.
The call connected but there was silence on the other end. Yan Yuchuan leaned against a spare folding chair. “What’s wrong? Didn’t we agree?”
When Ming Rao spoke, his tone was hard to read. “I didn’t know you had a gathering.”
“Yeah, it was last-minute. I’ve been exhausted lately, wanted to unwind.”
“This counts as project-related, doesn’t it?”
They’d agreed before that if something project-related came up, Yan Yuchuan could cancel their meetings at any time. On this matter, Ming Rao was surprisingly reasonable after all, the project was the whole reason Yan Yuchuan had agreed to this arrangement in the first place.
Yan Yuchuan paused. “Not really.”
Ming Rao was silent, then coughed. “Forget it. I don’t like the smell of bars anyway.”
Yan Yuchuan quickly said, “I didn’t drink.”
Ming Rao thought to himself, you go to a bar and don’t drink, who are you trying to fool? But tonight, because he had plans with Yan Yuchuan, he’d turned down Lu Feiyang’s gathering, and now he was alone feeling a bit lonely, so he didn’t call him out. “It’s too late, let’s just forget it.”
Yan Yuchuan pressed, “How late is too late?”
“Eleven.”
After hanging up, Yan Yuchuan checked the time 10:30. He searched the navigation, which showed a twenty-minute bike ride, but he’d never taken this route before and was afraid of taking a detour and running over time, so he quickly said goodbye to the others and took a cab instead.
On the way, he opened his phone and scrolled through his chat history with Ming Rao, checking if there were any messages he’d missed replying to, so he wouldn’t get scolded by his patron later. The last message was from two weeks ago.
Back then, he’d told Ming Rao that he’d be very busy for a while and might not reply promptly. After that, Ming Rao indeed hadn’t sent him a single message.
Yan Yuchuan turned off the screen, thinking to himself that Ming Rao, as a patron, wasn’t as difficult to deal with as he’d imagined.
He arrived at Ming Rao’s place almost exactly on time, slightly out of breath from running the whole way.
Autumn had set in, and the weather was turning cold. Ming Rao was wearing a light blue coral fleece onesie, lying on the bed like a fluffy ball, with a glimpse of pale white ankles peeking out.
Hearing Yan Yuchuan come in, Ming Rao turned his head, blinking in surprise. “You actually came.”
“Yeah, I was nearby,” Yan Yuchuan sat down on the sofa in front of the bed, catching his breath before adding, “Did you see my post?”
Ming Rao nodded, swinging his legs as he looked at his phone.
“Things will slow down after this.”
Seeing no reaction from Ming Rao, he added, “You can reach out to me anytime you want to meet.”
Ming Rao said an absent-minded “Oh.”
Yan Yuchuan sat on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, leaning slightly forward. Ming Rao noticed his furtive glance and asked, confused, “What’s wrong?”
He looked away uncomfortably.
The previous times they’d done it, Ming Rao had been the one to initiate. Today, Ming Rao had arranged to meet him but hadn’t yet brought up whether they’d do it or not.
Since he hadn’t brought it up, Yan Yuchuan didn’t dare make a move either. He was too embarrassed to directly ask Ming Rao “Do you want to do it?” and even less willing to hear Ming Rao say “No,” so he simply went to take a shower without another word.
He showered faster than ever this time, didn’t even bother getting dressed, and came out wearing a loosely tied bathrobe. But in just those few short minutes, Ming Rao had already fallen asleep.
He stood by the head of the bed for a while, clumsily knocking over a lamp, then kicking the nightstand, making all sorts of small noises until he finally managed to wake Ming Rao up.
“Sleepy?”
“Mmm.” Ming Rao rubbed his bleary eyes and slowly sat up, clearly very drowsy.
Yan Yuchuan pressed his lips together, wrestling with himself for a moment before finally slipping off his bathrobe and saying with feigned nonchalance, “Then let’s hurry up.”
Ming Rao nodded groggily, turned over, and obediently lay down on his stomach.
The moment he entered, Yan Yuchuan had to finally admit that the reason he’d insisted on rushing over today even waking Ming Rao up when he saw he was asleep was because he truly, genuinely wanted to be with Ming Rao.
Having just gotten a taste of it and then being forced to abstain for two weeks had nearly driven him crazy.
This time felt even better than the last. When it was over, he lay beside Ming Rao, his heart wrapped in an unprecedented sense of satisfaction.
Ming Rao remained in his prone position, face buried in the crook of his arm, not yet realizing it was over.
Yan Yuchuan leaned over and patted his shoulder. Only then did Ming Rao stir as if waking from a dream, slowly getting up, his bare feet padding across the floor as he dragged himself heavily into the bathroom.
Yan Yuchuan went to the living room bathroom to shower. When he came back, he noticed the sheets were a bit dirty, so he stripped them off and put them in the washing machine only then remembering that the laundry detergent was still in the bathroom of Ming Rao’s room.
He knocked on the bathroom door and heard a weak “What” from inside.
“I’m coming in to get the laundry detergent.”
Without waiting for Ming Rao’s answer, he opened the door directly and saw Ming Rao squatting naked in the center of the bathtub, arms wrapped around his knees. He’d been in there for at least ten minutes, yet the tub was still dry, not a trace of water.
Yan Yuchuan walked around to face him. “Aren’t you going to turn on the water?”
Ming Rao looked up with hollow eyes, and when their gazes met, something seemed to scratch at Yan Yuchuan’s heart, a faint, dull ache.
“Your tub still has no water,” Yan Yuchuan said, crouching down, his voice soft. “Want me to turn it on for you?”
Ming Rao nodded. Yan Yuchuan reached out to turn the faucet when he suddenly heard him say, “Yan Yuchuan, do you have to use that much?”
Yan Yuchuan froze and saw Ming Rao staring down at his own palm.
Ming Rao’s hand was covered in a clear, translucent gel-like liquid, slowly dripping down his fingers. He just stared at it blankly, a hint of fear in his eyes, as if what was on his hand were blood.
Yan Yuchuan explained quietly, “It hurts less that way.”
Looking at Ming Rao’s dazed, lost expression, a terrifying thought suddenly flashed through his mind: Could it be that Ming Rao really hadn’t wanted to do it today?
Then what had he just done?
Coercion?
Seduction?
The more he thought about it, the colder his spine felt. He asked cautiously, “What’s wrong?”
Ming Rao’s voice was tiny, choked with tears. “…I don’t like the smell.”
Yan Yuchuan was taken aback. “Then we won’t use it anymore.”
After a brief pause, he pressed further, “What smell do you like? I’ll buy new ones.”
Ming Rao fell silent again. The water in the tub gradually rose, covering his feet. His big toe curled, his feet unconsciously drawing together, his body curling up even tighter, looking more pitiful than ever.
Yan Yuchuan felt like a thousand ants were crawling over his heart, yet he didn’t know what to say or do to stop Ming Rao from looking so miserable.
He touched the tip of his nose. “Let me wash you.”
Ming Rao shook his head, but Yan Yuchuan pretended not to see, picking up a towel and reaching his hand directly toward Ming Rao.
The moment he touched that spot, Ming Rao flinched as if electrocuted, jerking backward violently, splashing water everywhere in the tub.
“Who said you could touch me?!”
The courage Yan Yuchuan had barely mustered was shattered in an instant by Ming Rao’s shout. Now he felt like a pervert himself, not knowing where to put his hands.
Clutching at a shred of reckless desperation, he steeled himself and asked, “Is it uncomfortable?”
Ming Rao froze, then said with dripping sarcasm, “Comfortable. Really comfortable. You’re amazing.”
Yan Yuchuan carefully chose his words, struggling to speak. “Then why have you never…”
He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze falling unashamedly on Ming Rao’s limp member, silently completing the rest of the question.
Ming Rao’s face flushed crimson as he squeezed out, “I’m just not in the mood, alright? Are you satisfied now?”
Yan Yuchuan was thin-skinned about such matters to begin with, and hearing Ming Rao put it so bluntly made his own face burn.
“Actually, if you don’t like it, we could try other things,” he stammered, feeling for the first time like he was clumsy with words, as if every syllable scalded his mouth. “I’ve looked it up not everyone can finish that way. Or I could help you from the front ”
Ming Rao was so furious his face turned red, all composure lost. He grabbed the shampoo bottle beside him and hurled it at Yan Yuchuan, cursing, “Are you insane? What’s it to you whether I’m comfortable or not? If I’m not comfortable, does that mean you can’t do it or what?”
The bottle slammed hard into Yan Yuchuan’s shoulder blade. He winced, sucking in a sharp breath, and momentarily lost his temper. “So I’m wrong for wanting you to feel good? Can’t you tell the difference between someone being nice and someone being an asshole?!”
Ming Rao felt a surge of rage rising from his chest straight to his throat, nearly scorching his internal organs. Without a second thought, he grabbed the soap dish and body wash beside him and hurled them at Yan Yuchuan. “Get the hell out!”
Yan Yuchuan stood ramrod straight, facing Ming Rao’s bombardment without flinching, his fists clenched tightly.
Ming Rao, not bothering with the fact that he was still naked, scrambled out of the bathtub and desperately shoved Yan Yuchuan toward the door, then locked the bedroom door behind him.
Yan Yuchuan was still holding the towel. He had rushed over tonight in a hurry, clearly not intending to argue with Ming Rao, but a thousand tangled threads had wound together, impossible for him to sort out, leaving an inexplicable fire burning hotter and hotter in his chest.
In the end, he hurled the towel against the wall with force and threw a powerless threat at the closed door: “Fine, change the sheets yourself!” Then he left Ming Rao’s place.
Back in the bathtub, Ming Rao began to wash himself, rinsing off the chemical-scented liquid from his body with the showerhead.
He started to suspect he was an aging, worn-out mechanical part dirty, rusty, ready to be replaced and discarded at any moment, requiring an endless supply of industrial solvents before Yan Yuchuan would pinch his nose and reluctantly use him.
He lowered his head and looked at his bare limbs, never having felt so ugly in his life.
Since childhood, countless people had praised his looks, but now he couldn’t help wondering maybe those people just didn’t know him well enough?
He had only ever been that intimate with Yan Yuchuan. Did that mean Yan Yuchuan had more authority to judge than anyone else?
Did it mean that if Yan Yuchuan found him disgusting, then he truly was disgusting?
Ming Rao bent down, picked up his phone from the floor, opened Little Sweet Potato, and started watching the cats he loved again, reading the comments from his followers, trying to reclaim a little warmth and self-respect.
As the night deepened, the water level in the bathtub slowly rose, and the phone auto-played one video after another, until it plunged into the water with a splash, swallowing all sound.
Back in the apartment block, Yan Yuchuan was restless all night.
The moment he closed his eyes, the image of Ming Rao curled up in the bathtub, arms wrapped around his knees, immediately surfaced in his mind.
He couldn’t help but wonder: did Ming Rao actually enjoy sleeping with him?
He probably did, Yan Yuchuan thought optimistically. The first time they slept together, Ming Rao had been in such a good mood that he’d even taken a photo of the vase on the nightstand.
People only take photos to remember things when they’re in a good mood like how he’d posted the group photo of his team of five to celebrate passing the proof-of-concept.
At that thought, Yan Yuchuan tapped back into Ming Rao’s Little Sweet Potato, wanting to look at that photo of the bedside vase again, but he couldn’t find it anywhere.
Had he deleted it?
Yan Yuchuan felt a pang in his chest, his unease growing.
By morning, he sent Ming Rao a message asking if he wanted to go to the city park. Ming Rao didn’t reply, and his phone wouldn’t go through either.
Unable to shake his worry, he biked over to Ming Rao’s place.
The moment he stepped inside, Yan Yuchuan saw the towel he’d thrown on the floor last night, still lying exactly where it had fallen, and the bedroom door still locked from the inside.
A bad feeling surged in his chest. He pounded on the door, calling Ming Rao’s name.
After a long wait, the door finally opened. Before the boulder in Yan Yuchuan’s heart could even settle, he was met with the sight of Ming Rao wrapped in a bath towel, arms crossed over his chest, trembling all over.
His cheeks were flushed, but his lips were deathly pale. Yan Yuchuan’s heart clenched. He rushed forward, awkwardly grabbing Ming Rao’s shoulders.
“I.” Ming Rao’s teeth were chattering, his wet hair still dripping. “I’m a little cold.”