AVRL 18

Regarding this absurd dream, Meng Chi was utterly baffled.

He thought that his hand fetish should have been fixated on hands that held lidded cups—hands full of artistry—so how could it have turned out like this?

But when he thought about it more carefully, he realized that when Yu Tingzhi’s hands were painting on his body, they were indeed brimming with artistry.

Meng Chi let out a soft breath. After much deliberation, he could only attribute this unexpected dream to the fact that he hadn’t relieved himself in too long. The accumulated desire, combined with the stimulation from the shoot, made it hard for anyone not to have some romantic thoughts.

With that in mind, Meng Chi took care of things himself. Once he entered the state of post-nut clarity, everything returned to calm, as if the incident had left no trace in his heart.

After Meng Chi turned down Yu Tingzhi’s request to paint him, the two of them didn’t contact each other again. Their chat history remained at that last minute-long video call. However, when Meng Chi later scrolled through his Moments out of boredom, he noticed that Yu Tingzhi had posted an update that afternoon.

It was a photo of his own hand—those distinct, well-defined fingers, stained with pigment, hovering over the white cloth-covered sofa that Meng Chi had lain on. Amid the greens and whites, his fingertips also bore quite a bit of pink and red.

Meng Chi unconsciously tapped to open it and stared for two seconds longer, then, thinking of his own wandering thoughts, quickly backed out. Still, he noticed that in the background, on the white cloth, there was now a pink camellia.

It was still beautifully painted—just a few strokes capturing the essence of the bud.

But why paint on the cloth?

Did Yu Tingzhi have some peculiar habit? He wouldn’t paint on paper, always thinking of strange surfaces.

Realizing that he was paying too much attention to Yu Tingzhi, Meng Chi thought for a moment, reined in his thoughts, stopped himself from saving the photo, exited Moments, and turned off his phone.

That weekend, an aesthetics symposium was being held at the convention center, and Youran Teahouse, as one of the representatives of tea ceremony culture, was invited to attend.

Du Feng was heading to the countryside in a few days to source new tea leaves, so he wouldn’t be able to make it to any of the April events. Since this one happened to fall before his trip, Yang Zhengfeng decided to bring him along.

In addition to tea ceremony, this symposium also featured masters from woodworking, calligraphy, traditional Chinese painting, and other fields, with a small cocktail party afterward. It was Du Feng’s first time attending such an event as a guest. Though Yang Zhengfeng told him to relax and be himself—wear whatever he usually wore—Du Feng still took it seriously and asked Meng Chi to go with him to buy a formal suit for the party.

Meng Chi had participated in many such events before and had his own formal wear, but he still couldn’t resist the salesperson’s persuasion and ended up buying another set.

When Yang Zile came home and saw the black suit, and learned that Yang Zhengfeng wasn’t taking him to the weekend event either, he threw the clothes he’d just picked up from the dry cleaner onto the sofa in a huff.

“Tell me—am I really Old Yang’s biological son?” Yang Zile grumbled, flopping onto the sofa in frustration. “Not letting me take the tea master certification exam is one thing, but he never takes me to events either.”

Meng Chi smiled, walked over, and picked up the plastic-wrapped clothes to inspect them, while teasing Yang Zile with his own earlier words: “Didn’t someone once say, ‘What’s the point of these events? Either watching those old artists show off or listening to them brag’?”

“Those were just angry words!” Yang Zile said in a small voice. “Sure, those old artists might have their noses in the air, but they do have some skills in their bellies. Besides, isn’t there a cocktail party this time?”

Meng Chi glanced at him and snorted: “So you just want to go drink, don’t you.”

Though Yang Zile was young, he was a high schooler who loved drinking. Normally, Yang Zhengfeng kept a tight leash on him, so he could only sneak a little sip now and then, risking a scolding. How could he resist an event where he could openly drink all sorts of alcohol?

“That’s not it,” Yang Zile said, scrambling up from the sofa and moving next to Meng Chi to take his down jacket and fold it himself. “I’m doing this for you!”

“Oh?” Meng Chi looked at him with amusement.

Yang Zile: “With your alcohol tolerance, don’t you need someone to drink for you at an occasion like this?”

Meng Chi laughed and tapped him on the head with a hanger: “No matter how bad my tolerance is, I’m not at the point of needing a high schooler to drink for me. Besides, who am I? Who’s going to force me to drink?”

Yang Zile rolled his eyes dismissively: “That’s not necessarily true.”

Meng Chi didn’t argue. He looked at the handkerchief he’d pulled from his down jacket pocket and fell into thought.

Because of his professional habits, Meng Chi always carried a handkerchief and owned many, but the one in his hand—a silver-gray one that clearly wasn’t cheap—was definitely not his.

A moment later, he remembered that the last time he’d worn this down jacket was when he went to the porcelain factory. He’d given his own handkerchief to Yu Tingzhi. When he’d driven Yu Tingzhi home afterward, Yu Tingzhi seemed to have given it back.

Meng Chi suddenly realized—so he and Yu Tingzhi had swapped handkerchiefs.

Just as he was pondering whether to return it, Yang Zile suddenly exclaimed in delight, “Almost forgot! Let’s go soak in hot springs tomorrow!”

Meng Chi: “Hot springs?”

“Yeah.” Yang Zile nodded, waving the experience vouchers he’d just pulled from his own clothes in front of Meng Chi’s face. “The private kitchen restaurant we went to last time—the owner gave us a few complimentary hot spring hotel vouchers. Free. If we don’t use them soon, they’ll expire.”

Meng Chi tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket, took the vouchers, and looked them over: “Then let’s invite Master to come too. He’s been feeling a bit cold in his body lately anyway.”

Yang Zile instinctively wanted to refuse, but upon hearing the second half, he shut his mouth: “Fine, let’s all go together.”

Following the principle of “we can afford not to earn, but we can’t afford to lose—there’s no harm in fleecing a little extra when you can,” Yang Zhengfeng naturally agreed and even asked Du Feng to join them.

On Friday evening, Meng Chi drove the whole family to Wanxiang. The hot spring hotel was newly opened, just starting its trial operation, so there weren’t many people around.

Wanxiang was a fairly famous scenic spot in Zewu, with beautiful views—even at night, you could see the city lights in the distance. The hotel’s hot spring pools included both indoor and outdoor options.

Yang Zhengfeng and Du Feng preferred to avoid the cold, so they chose to stay indoors. Meng Chi soaked with them indoors for a while, chatting about the weekend event, before being dragged by Yang Zile to an outdoor pool to enjoy the night view.

Yang Zile picked a quiet corner surrounded by rocks and bamboo groves, quite private—aside from the two of them, there was no one else.

Leaning against the edge of the pool, Meng Chi replied to Chen Yan’s WeChat messages while enjoying the scenery.

Chen Yan had found a new target—a freshman in his department. The junior was about to leave school for Xichi to take a sketching class, and Chen Yan planned to follow along and play for a couple of days.

Xichi’s spring tea was very famous. Youran Teahouse went there every year to source new tea, and Meng Chi had been many times, which was why Chen Yan was asking if there were any particularly fun spots, and also whether Meng Chi would be the one going to source tea this time.

Meng Chi said it wasn’t him, and he didn’t know of any fun places anyway—every time he went, it was just to the tea markets or the tea mountains.

Chen Yan sent back a speechless emoji, gave up on relying on him, and went to look up travel guides himself.

Meng Chi exited the chat and turned around to find that Yang Zile had disappeared somewhere.

He sent Yang Zile a WeChat, asking where he’d gone and telling him to come back and give him a back rub.

Yang Zile replied: 【Wait.】

With nothing better to do, Meng Chi casually scrolled through Moments again. He saw that Yang Zile had posted a selfie with a location tag, and Yu Tingzhi had liked it.

He thought to himself, Wow—those two had dinner together once and already added each other on WeChat.

His hands kept moving as he scrolled down. After a while, he saw that She Shan had posted a nine-image grid at 2 PM, captioned “Exhausted to the point of death, but thankfully worth it.”

It showed preparations for a photography exhibition—many printed photos, large and small, all uniformly framed in silver metal frames.

Several frames were leaning against the wall, some sideways, some tilted, so you couldn’t see them all clearly. It was clearly just a casual shot to post on Moments.

Even so, Meng Chi clicked through each one. The retouched photos were even more artistic than the originals—even on a phone screen, Meng Chi could still feel the same impact he’d felt when he first saw them.

Still, knowing that the person in those photos was himself, and that they’d soon be viewed by many people, he felt a bit embarrassed.

As he swiped, his finger paused, and his gaze on the screen suddenly froze.

That photo was also casually taken, mostly showing black-and-white images, but Meng Chi immediately spotted a partial close-up on the right side of the frame. Unlike the simpler tones of the other photos, this one was strikingly colorful.

In it, only a section of Meng Chi’s waist was visible—honey-colored skin adorned with bright greens, deep dark greens, and a slender, well-defined hand.

He didn’t need to look twice to know it was Yu Tingzhi’s hand. He could even recall the moment it was taken—Yu Tingzhi was touching up the paint, and She Shan snapped a shot to see how it looked.

Meng Chi didn’t know why She Shan had kept that photo, but he didn’t say anything—he just zoomed in and stared for a few seconds before exiting Moments before his thoughts could wander.

But clearly, fate loved to play jokes. Two minutes later, Meng Chi saw those hands again—and their owner.

When he heard footsteps behind him, Meng Chi instinctively assumed it was Yang Zile. He glanced over casually and said, “You’re back? Come give me a massage.”

The footsteps drew nearer, and soon he heard the sound of water. As the person behind him approached, the hot spring water rippled gently, brushing right across the two pink points on Meng Chi’s chest.

He rested his folded arms lazily on the stone ledge, waiting for Yang Zile to attend to him. The person behind him was now close, but instead of a massage, Meng Chi received a voice—unfamiliar yet familiar—that sounded from behind: “Massage where?”

Meng Chi jolted in alarm and whipped his head around. He turned too quickly, slipping off the stone ledge, and almost instinctively, he reached out to grab the person in front of him. At the same time, Yu Tingzhi instinctively reached out to catch his sliding body.

In that split second, Meng Chi avoided the embarrassment of falling into the water—only to land in another kind of awkwardness.

Their half-naked bodies pressed completely together. In the moment he steadied himself, Meng Chi’s head even thudded against Yu Tingzhi’s bare chest—the soft-yet-firm pectoral muscle right by his lips. With each breath, he inhaled the damp warmth, mingled with the distinct scent of Yu Tingzhi’s skin.

After a full two seconds of stunned immobility, Meng Chi snapped back. He lifted his head, unconsciously licked his lips, and pushed against Yu Tingzhi’s arms to pull away.

Below the water, their lower bodies were also tangled together. Meng Chi’s knee happened to be jammed against the root of Yu Tingzhi’s thigh, and as he straightened up, it inevitably brushed against a certain bulge.

Meng Chi’s knee went numb instantly, and he nearly slipped again.

How does it seem a little hard?