Yan Yuchuan froze in place.
His instinct was to take off his jacket and drape it over Ming Rao his hand was already reaching out before he realized he wasn’t wearing one. So instead, he pulled Ming Rao’s icy body into his arms, his long-sleeved shirt dampened by the other man’s wet hair.
He helped Ming Rao into the bathroom, intending to give him a hot shower, but when he looked down and saw the phone submerged in the bathwater, a pang of anguish shot through him.
Given the state Ming Rao had been in last night, how could he have left him alone like that?
The phone was waterlogged there was no way to reach him. If he hadn’t been woken by the knocking, how much longer would Ming Rao have soaked alone in that cold bathwater?
After the hot shower, some color returned to Ming Rao’s face, but he couldn’t stop shivering. Yan Yuchuan planned to take him to the hospital, but Ming Rao adamantly refused. So, he fetched fever reducers from the medicine kit and had Ming Rao take them, then boiled a bowl of ginger soup to warm him up. Afterward, he carried Ming Rao into bed, and the two huddled together.
Too sick and weak to muster his usual protests like “Who said you could hold me?”, Ming Rao finding Yan Yuchuan’s embrace genuinely warm stopped resisting. He docilely wrapped his arms around Yan Yuchuan’s waist and rested his head against his chest, then suddenly remembered to ask about the fate of his unfortunate, waterlogged phone.
Yan Yuchuan said, “Soaked all night. It’s dead.”
“Ah well,” Ming Rao offered a symbolic second of mourning for the phone, then flipped his mood faster than turning a page, his tone instantly brightening. “Sweet time to buy a new one.”
Yan Yuchuan couldn’t help but smile helplessly at him.
A moment later, Ming Rao tugged at his sleeve again. “Nightstand. Your side.”
“What?”
“Open it. Middle drawer.”
Yan Yuchuan pulled out a gift box tied with a ribbon. Seeing the label reading “Artisan Whiskey Chocolates,” he handed it to Ming Rao. “This?”
Ming Rao reached out from under the covers, lifted the lid, took out a chocolate, unwrapped the layers of foil, and brought it to Yan Yuchuan’s lips.
“Try it, it’s filled with whiskey. Really good.”
Yan Yuchuan looked down and saw Ming Rao’s cheeks flushed pink, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. He found himself momentarily lost.
“How is it?” Ming Rao asked.
“Delicious.”
Ming Rao’s dimples appeared as his eyes curved into crescents. “I bought another box. You can take it home.”
Yan Yuchuan suspected the whiskey content was too high it was making his head feel hot, and he had an inexplicable urge to taste those dimples. He imagined they’d be just like the whiskey chocolates: sweet and intoxicating.
He fought the impulse, his throat dry as he managed a “Thank you.”
Ming Rao smiled with satisfaction, but in the next instant, he sank into a deep melancholy.
Nearly a month had passed since he’d proposed the arrangement with Yan Yuchuan, yet only now did he realize that this wasn’t what he wanted at all.
What he wanted was simply this sharing chocolates with Yan Yuchuan, or anything else, and hearing him say “delicious,” then “thank you,” just like… just like they were good friends.
Ming Rao admitted it: he regretted it.
If only he hadn’t proposed the arrangement.
If only he hadn’t pushed him into bed.
Then Yan Yuchuan wouldn’t find him disgusting. Maybe one day, he could have been the kind of friend who took photos with Yan Yuchuan, who appeared in his posts, witnessing and sharing in the successes and joys of his life not this, not being a repulsive, lifeless, broken part that required endless lubrication before it could even function.
Just before he was swallowed by grief, he turned over, his back to Yan Yuchuan.
Yan Yuchuan propped himself up alertly. “What’s wrong?”
“Tired,” Ming Rao lied in a muffled voice.
“Okay,” Yan Yuchuan wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Sleep.”
Ming Rao was utterly spent he’d slept in the bathtub all night, his neck was sore, and he was running a fever. He had no strength left to pretend to be strong. So he didn’t push Yan Yuchuan away, allowing himself to steal a little rare warmth from him.
Late September, Yan Yuchuan received a call from Ming Rao, asking if he had plans for Golden Week. He’d booked a getaway to Dawn Bay and planned to photograph the sunrise there.
The Lin siblings had arranged to travel to a neighboring city for the holiday, and Pan Jing was going away with his partner. That left only him and Jiang Ge in Platinum Harbor. He’d originally planned to stay at the lab for duty shifts, organize data, and knock out some simple tasks.
Ming Rao didn’t push after hearing this, only saying, “Then forget it. You’re busy.”
“Maybe I can work out a rotation with my colleagues.”
“No need, right? Your project matters.”
Yan Yuchuan didn’t want to let it go. He could sense that Ming Rao had been reaching out less and less lately no longer flooding his chat box all day like he had at the beginning.
It was only natural, really. A month had passed. For someone like him a rich kid his novelty for a person didn’t last longer than an autumn grasshopper’s hop.
This time, Ming Rao’s willingness to go out with him was completely unexpected. If he didn’t go, who knew if there would ever be another chance.
In the end, Yan Yuchuan managed to bribe Jiang Ge into covering his shifts for the first three days of the holiday, using “saying a few good words for him in front of Lin Zhimiao” as the bargaining chip. After his repeated insistence, Ming Rao finally agreed to let him come along.
Dawn Bay was a three-hour drive from Platinum Harbor, with beautiful scenery along the way a perfect spot for a road trip. They arrived at noon. While autumn was creeping into the city, the sun here still carried the fierce heat of summer, stretching their shadows long across the sand, occasionally overlapping with each other.
They walked from one end of the coastline to the other, pausing now and then to photograph the seagulls circling overhead, the coconut trees standing in the distance, or a uniquely shaped seashell buried in the sand, until they inadvertently wandered into a fishing village near the bay.
The village was home to indigenous people of an ethnic minority. In recent years, as Dawn Bay had become a popular tourist destination, the once-isolated village had opened its arms to visitors. Despite the unexpected arrival of two outsiders, they were still greeted with great warmth.
Yan Yuchuan kept looking down to reply to messages every few minutes. Ming Rao figured he must be really busy and asked him several times if he should head back to the vacation house to handle work, but he said it wasn’t necessary. Ming Rao pursed his lips and said nothing, thinking to himself, If you’re going to be polite with me, I’m not going to coddle you either.
As night was about to fall, they returned to their lodging.
A few years ago, when Dawn Bay first became popular, Ming Rao’s parents had bought a vacation house here. It sat right by the beach, with a white exterior and pale blue-tinted glass windows. Standing on the porch, you could hear the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore.
The cottage’s decor precisely fulfilled every expectation of “romance”: soft wool rugs, elegant wooden furniture, all bathed in dim, intimate lighting, accompanied by the sweet scent of rose aromatherapy. The atmosphere was so hazy it invited all sorts of fantasies, making going to bed feel like a natural, inevitable next step.
Perhaps the mood tonight was simply too good, Yan Yuchuan asked on a whim, “Want to try a different position?”
Ming Rao had already turned over and was lying face-down on the bed, properly positioned. He raised an eyebrow at the question. “Why?”
Yan Yuchuan shrugged. “No reason. Just thought we could switch things up.”
Ming Rao lowered his eyelids and muttered softly, “Then can’t you see it yourself?”
Yan Yuchuan frowned in confusion, but before he could say anything, Ming Rao quickly spoke up: “No need. This is fine.”
Yan Yuchuan wanted to say more, but faced with the back of Ming Rao’s head, which radiated rejection, he couldn’t find the words.
Ming Rao was still the same as always most of his face buried in the pillow, brows tightly furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, as if enduring immense pain, or perhaps trapped in fear.
Something pricked at Yan Yuchuan’s heart.
He looks like this.
Does it really hurt that much?
Is he really not doing well?
Looking at Ming Rao’s trembling lips, Yan Yuchuan, for reasons he couldn’t explain, leaned in at an awkward angle and kissed him.
The moment he felt that softness, Yan Yuchuan’s brain seemed to short-circuit. After a brief pause, he realized what he had just done.
His heart was pounding, with no idea how Ming Rao would react, when at that very moment, he clearly felt it: Ming Rao was kissing him back.
A faint whimper escaped Ming Rao’s mouth, and his dry lips grew moist as he gave a very, very light suck.
Yan Yuchuan’s heartbeat surged. Just as he was about to press his advantage and deepen the kiss, Ming Rao sprang up from the bed as if waking from a dream.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Ming Rao exploded. “Who said you could kiss me?”
“I” Yan Yuchuan wondered if it had all been a one-sided illusion. He tried to explain calmly, “I just thought it might make you feel better, less pain.”
“What does my pain have to do with you?” Ming Rao scoffed, his sharp gaze piercing straight through him. “Pervert!!”
Both of them were disheveled. Yan Yuchuan felt utterly ashamed at the accusation. He rubbed the back of his head, let out a heavy breath, and made up his mind. “If there’s something I’m not doing well enough, you can tell me. No matter what, we need to solve the problem.”
Yan Yuchuan’s practical experience in that area was practically a blank slate. Even his theoretical knowledge had mostly been crammed in after meeting Ming Rao. But no matter how clueless he was, he could tell that Ming Rao didn’t enjoy sleeping with him had never gotten any pleasure from it, and could even be said to fear and resist it.
Sometimes he wished he didn’t know, that he could keep playing dumb. At least he himself enjoyed it; he wouldn’t be the one losing out.
But lately, he’d found it harder and harder to play dumb. The negative emotions brought on by “Ming Rao doesn’t enjoy sex with him” had far outweighed whatever pleasure he could derive from Ming Rao.
He wanted to bring Ming Rao happiness, wanted to see his eyes stir with emotion for him. If he couldn’t achieve that, then his own happiness meant nothing.
But Ming Rao looked as if he’d seen a ghost: “Why would I need to resolve it? What’s there to resolve?”
“What did you mean earlier when you said ‘you’d see’?” Yan Yuchuan abruptly changed the subject.
“What?”
“I asked if you wanted to change positions, and you said, ‘Then wouldn’t you see?’ What did you mean by that?”
“…”
“Is it because of what I said?”
“What did you say?” Ming Rao asked dryly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yan Yuchuan cleared his throat. “The part about not knowing how to take care of you.”
In truth, Yan Yuchuan didn’t want to bring up that night again. He was unwilling to admit to himself that the Ming Rao who had stripped in front of him, looked at him with expectant eyes, and touched him first that Ming Rao might never come back.
Even more unwilling was he to admit that he himself had been the one to lose him.
As long as he didn’t think about it, as long as he pretended nothing had happened, he could fool himself into believing he hadn’t lost anything.
Yan Yuchuan mustered his courage and began to explain: “Actually, I didn’t mean it like that”
Ming Rao cut him off sharply: “Yan Yuchuan, who do you think you are? You think I’m dying for you to take care of me? Let me tell you, I’ve got plenty of people in my bed to take care of me I don’t need you. I only kept you around because you’re cheap to feed and pathetically pitiful. I’d be thrilled if you never touched me again!”
Yan Yuchuan froze, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Good, as long as that’s the case. I just didn’t want you to misunderstand”
For the first time, Ming Rao found Yan Yuchuan’s behavior absurd to the point of disbelief. On one hand, he found him disgusting; on the other, he was upset that his lack of reaction had bruised his pride. He’d never seen someone so greedy, wanting it both ways.
Burning with rage, Ming Rao nearly became hysterical: “Aren’t you curious why I didn’t react? I’ll tell you straight I just don’t feel anything for you. You’re not my type. Do you even know what my type is?”
“Let’s drop it.” Yan Yuchuan’s voice rose involuntarily; he instinctively didn’t want to hear him continue.
Ming Rao ignored him. “I like the skinny ones, pale and tender, those fresh-faced young guys, you know? If you really want me to react, why don’t you go scout out a few for me? I guarantee I’ll react even more than you’d expect. What do you think”
“Alright, I get it.” The veins on Yan Yuchuan’s forehead bulged, but his voice grew low and hoarse, as if someone had stabbed him in the heart and he hadn’t yet recovered from the pain. “You don’t have to go that far.”
But Ming Rao pressed on relentlessly, abandoning all decorum and grace, aiming only for the most humiliating spot: “No need? I think there’s every need. Might as well get it all out in the open today. Kindly remember your place I’m your patron. Since when do you get to tell me what to do? You like setting rules, don’t you? Then listen up and remember: from now on, in bed, I call the shots. Don’t you dare take liberties with things I don’t like. If you ever force yourself on me again, I’ll report you for harassment. Understood?”
When Yan Yuchuan spoke again, his voice carried no discernible emotion only overwhelming exhaustion: “Understood.”
Ming Rao raised his voice: “Understood what?”
“No kissing you, no doing things you don’t like, no feelings for me,” Yan Yuchuan repeated mechanically, his voice rough as sandpaper. “Let’s drop it.”
“Good, as long as you know.” Watching Yan Yuchuan cave, Ming Rao felt no joy in victory only greater irritation. He just wanted to leave this place, to go somewhere he couldn’t see Yan Yuchuan and get some air.
He was about to stand when Yan Yuchuan grabbed him: “Where are you going?”
“To a hotel.”
“It’s this late, where are you going to find a hotel?” Yan Yuchuan lowered his voice, coaxing gently. “Stop making a scene. Let’s go to sleep.”
Ming Rao’s eyes were full of disgust: “I’m not staying at a hotel, I’m staying here to be harassed by you?”
Obvious hurt flickered across Yan Yuchuan’s face. Ming Rao refused to look at him, threw on his clothes in a few quick motions, and made to leave, only to have Yan Yuchuan grab the hem of his shirt. “Don’t go. I’ll sleep outside.”
After what had happened last time, Yan Yuchuan would never let Ming Rao spend the night alone again. Fortunately, Ming Rao didn’t resist further. Yan Yuchuan led him to the bathtub, bathed him, and tucked him into bed.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Yan Yuchuan stood by his bedside after covering him with the blanket. “I’ll make it for you.”
Ming Rao burrowed his head into the covers and turned his back to him. “Who wants to eat anything you make? It’s disgusting.”
“How about toast? That shouldn’t turn out too badly.”
“…”
“There’s plenty of jam in the fridge.”
“Why do you have so much damn talk?!”
“Sleep. I’ll wake you in the morning.”
Yan Yuchuan switched off the ceiling light, plunging the bedroom into soft dimness, leaving only the faint glow of the bedside lamp. He slipped out of the room silently and carefully closed the door behind him.