AVRL 22

“You can’t give birth anyway.”

These five words echoed in Meng Chi’s mind like a thunderbolt. He stared wide-eyed at Yu Tingzhi, wondering if he had been possessed by some ghost.

“Do you know what you just said?” Meng Chi’s mouth twitched.

Yu Tingzhi’s expression did not change much, but there was a little more amusement in his eyes: “If you were a girl, saying that would make me think you wanted to have a child with me.”

He paused there, raised an eyebrow slightly, and asked in return, “Isn’t that so?”

Meng Chi: “…”

That seemed to make some sense, yet also no sense at all.

Meng Chi looked at him for a long while, couldn’t figure it out, and hadn’t even remembered to call him a “narcissist,” but he could tell from the smile in Yu Tingzhi’s eyes—Yu Tingzhi was teasing him.

After a moment of silence, Meng Chi raised his chin slightly, narrowed his eyes at Yu Tingzhi, and drawled out “Teacher Yu”: “Why are you so vindictive?”

He had taken a little advantage of him just now, and now at the first opportunity he had to get even.

This reproachful remark, carrying a hint of playful petulance, stirred Yu Tingzhi’s heart. He looked at Meng Chi under the dim lighting and suddenly felt a strong urge to kiss him. To tell him that not only was he vindictive, but he was also very much a scoundrel.

“What were you two chatting about? Laughing non-stop.” She Shan rolled up his sleeves and walked over. “Come help me! Those bastards—loud and eager when it comes to asking for more pay, but when it’s time to work, they drag their feet. Damn it, I have to do it myself.”

She Shan was quite irritated. After directing those workers for a long time, they had only hung a small portion of the photographs, and he had no choice but to seek help from reliable people.

Meng Chi and Yu Tingzhi stopped their idle chat and helped him hang the last few photographs in their designated spots. Knowing that Meng Chi had been drinking and afraid he might not be steady on a ladder, Yu Tingzhi had him stand to the side and take on the role of director. However, Meng Chi did not appreciate the gesture and, as if to prove himself, helped hang quite a few anyway.

After finishing with those photographs, Meng Chi’s body, which had just cooled down, heated up again. A thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead, and his mouth was parched. Seeing She Shan bring over two glasses of water, he tipped his head back and downed one—only upon swallowing did he realize it was not water, but alcohol.

“Why is this alcohol?”

“What, did you drive here?” She Shan said nonchalantly. “Just get a designated driver.”

“I didn’t drive,” Meng Chi said.

She Shan: “Then there you go.”

Meng Chi could drink, but he could not mix different types of alcohol. He had already been dizzy enough, and after that glass of some unknown liquor went down, his body began to stir again.

Sensing that he was not far from being completely drunk, Meng Chi did not linger. He went upstairs to say goodbye to Mr. Chen and then planned to head back to sleep. Mr. Chen was chatting with a “new tea-scene upstart” and, seeing that Meng Chi was leaving, did not try to keep him.

Meng Chi retrieved his coat from an attendant, went downstairs, and as he walked out of the convention center, he happened to see She Shan and Yu Tingzhi waiting for the designated driver.

Yu Tingzhi then called Meng Chi to get in the car, saying it was on the way to take him home. It was already quite late, and hailing a cab was not easy, so Meng Chi did not decline. He opened the back door and sat down. The effects of the alcohol were rising, and his head was spinning badly. Shortly after getting in, he closed his eyes and pretended to doze.

She Shan, sitting in the front passenger seat, was still talking across the space to Yu Tingzhi about the opening day arrangements. Yu Tingzhi listened absentmindedly, his gaze constantly drifting toward the swaying Meng Chi. When he saw Meng Chi nearly hit the car window glass during a bump, he reached out to block it. Meng Chi’s forehead rested against his palm and stabilized, and Yu Tingzhi did not withdraw his hand, instead holding it in a protective, half-embracing posture.

Meng Chi was uncomfortable, his brows slightly furrowed. His eyebrows and lashes brushed against Yu Tingzhi’s palm, itching and stirring heat. The car’s heater was on, and Meng Chi’s forehead was not sweating, but Yu Tingzhi’s palm grew moist from the transfer of body heat.

The two maintained this position for only a short while. When they passed over a speed bump, Meng Chi toppled sideways into Yu Tingzhi’s arm amid the jolt.

In truth, he had not been asleep; he had even noticed when Yu Tingzhi reached out. But his head was so dizzy that he did not want to move, allowing himself to indulge in this brief moment of consideration. Yet when that consideration became too intimate, he could no longer enjoy it with an easy conscience.

So the moment he leaned against Yu Tingzhi’s shoulder, he opened his eyes, shook his head, and sat up straight.

“Sorry,” Meng Chi said to Yu Tingzhi. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Yu Tingzhi withdrew his arm, which had been behind his head, and said, “I’m not that fragile.”

Meng Chi smiled, shifted closer to the car door, and then rested his head against the headrest of the back seat.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Yu Tingzhi glanced sideways at the distance between them and asked in a gentle voice.

“A bit carsick,” Meng Chi said, then reached out to crack the window open a sliver. As the cold wind blew in, he remembered something and turned to ask Yu Tingzhi, “Are you cold?”

Yu Tingzhi shook his head, so Meng Chi contentedly let the cold air blow on him. However, the cold wind did not clear his mind; instead, it made him even more groggy and lightheaded. He squinted to make out the surroundings outside the car and, upon recognizing the area near his home, let out a sigh of relief.

“Tingzhi, what do you think?” She Shan asked from the front.

Yu Tingzhi had not heard what he had said just now and replied offhandedly, “If you think it’s fine, then it’s fine.”

She Shan: “I do think it’s fine, but—”

“Turn right at the intersection ahead,” Yu Tingzhi interrupted before She Shan could finish his “but.”

“We’re here already,” She Shan said, dropping his own train of thought. He turned back to look at Meng Chi. “Your place is pretty close to Tingzhi’s, huh.”

Meng Chi did not quite catch that and merely mumbled a vague response.

Before long, the car stopped at the entrance of Jingya Residential Community. Meng Chi said goodbye to them and, as he opened the door to get out, he did not see where the car’s footrest was and nearly fell straight down.

“Are you okay?” Yu Tingzhi instinctively reached out to catch him, but only managed to grab the hem of Meng Chi’s suit jacket.

Stumbling a few steps before steadying himself, Meng Chi waved his hand with a silly grin: “It’s fine, it’s fine. You two go to sleep. I’m leaving.”

Watching Meng Chi walk toward the community with somewhat unsteady steps, She Shan muttered, “His tolerance really is terrible.”

No sooner had he spoken than Yu Tingzhi grabbed the coat Meng Chi had forgotten, opened the door, and followed: “I’ll go check on him. You head back first.”

In the quiet night breeze came the faint fragrance of flowers and grass, along with the low chirping of insects. The dew was heavy and the night wind chilly. Meng Chi was only wearing a thin suit jacket; he had not felt cold in the car, but now, exposed to the cold air, he began to shiver.

Just as he hunched his shoulders, he felt a weight settle on them—a coat had been draped over him. He turned to look at Yu Tingzhi, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. By the light of the streetlamp, he squinted for a couple of seconds before saying, “Teacher Yu, why are you here?”

“Taking you home,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi laughed. “Do you know where I live? You’re going to take me home.”

Yu Tingzhi: “Don’t you know?”

Meng Chi laughed, letting Yu Tingzhi half-hold his shoulders as they walked forward together. He nodded and said, “You’re right.”

When they reached the entrance to the elevator lobby of his building, Meng Chi suddenly stopped, looked around, and spotted a small black cat under an osmanthus tree.

“There’s a cat over there,” Meng Chi said.

Yu Tingzhi pressed the elevator button and followed his gaze. Sure enough, he saw a thin little black cat staring at them warily with round eyes.

“Really fierce. Bites, too,” Meng Chi said, then turned toward the cat’s spot and said viciously, “What are you looking at? I don’t have any food.”

Yu Tingzhi chuckled, and as the elevator doors opened, he guided Meng Chi inside, not letting him continue bickering with a cat.

“Has it bitten you?” Yu Tingzhi asked.

Meng Chi: “No, but it bit Yang Zile.”

Though Meng Chi was quite drunk, he still remembered which unit he lived in and the door code.

It was just past ten, and Yang Zile had not yet finished his evening self-study session, so the room was pitch dark and silent.

As soon as the motion-sensor light in the entryway came on, Meng Chi broke free from Yu Tingzhi’s arm and stumbled forward hurriedly.

“What are you doing?” Yu Tingzhi asked.

“Peeing, I’m about to burst,” Meng Chi said as he had already dashed into the bathroom without even turning on the light, relying on memory to reach the toilet.

Then came a clatter of miscellaneous sounds. Yu Tingzhi was about to change his shoes when he heard the commotion and immediately hurried over.

By the faint moonlight coming through the window, Yu Tingzhi found the light switch. With a click, the light blazed on. He squinted instinctively, then took in the sight of Meng Chi bracing himself against the sink to steady his body, along with the basin and toiletries scattered at his feet.

A jar of face cream, its lid off, had been knocked over and smeared everywhere. In the sink, on Meng Chi’s hands, and on the front of his suit jacket, there were patches of creamy white liquid.

“That Yang Zile, always putting things in the wrong damn place,” Meng Chi muttered with narrowed eyes as he walked to the toilet and bent down to undo his belt.

Seeing his movement, Yu Tingzhi instinctively prepared to step out, but just as he turned, he heard Meng Chi mutter, “Why won’t it come undone?”

Meng Chi’s hands were covered in face cream, slippery and greasy, making it impossible to work the cleverly designed belt buckle.

After watching for two seconds, Yu Tingzhi walked over to Meng Chi, reached out, and pressed open his belt buckle. He even considerately unzipped his fly, revealing the black underwear beneath.

From the moment Yu Tingzhi came back and stepped close behind him, Meng Chi had stopped moving, simply looking down at that jade-white hand working in front of his crotch.

When the zipper was pulled down and Yu Tingzhi withdrew his hand, Meng Chi suddenly turned his head and said, “Why stop now?”

As he moved, Meng Chi’s moist, burning lips brushed past Yu Tingzhi’s cheek. The scent of alcohol on his breath made Yu Tingzhi pause, his hand stopping two centimeters from Meng Chi’s crotch.

After a two-second silence, Yu Tingzhi asked in return, “Continue?”

Meng Chi nodded: “My hands are dirty.”

Looking at Meng Chi’s calm, flushed face, Yu Tingzhi hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand again and helped him release his member.

The instant his fingers touched that softness, Meng Chi’s breath stopped. But still he made no move, only looking down as if admiring some peerless masterpiece.

After he had finished relieving himself, Yu Tingzhi tidied his pants for him and turned to wash his hands.

As the sound of running water filled the air, Meng Chi, still standing in front of the toilet, finally snapped back to his senses and also turned to wash the white cream off his hands.

After washing his hands, Meng Chi left the bathroom. Yu Tingzhi stood in front of the mirror, silent for a long time. Only after his emotions had settled somewhat did he tidy up the mess on the floor.

Returning to the living room and seeing the figure lying on the sofa, Yu Tingzhi’s composure, which had just begun to calm, suddenly became unsettled again.

===Chapter 20 section===

Probably feeling uncomfortable, Meng Chi had stripped down to just his shirt, with three or four buttons undone, and a pair of black briefs. He had tossed himself casually onto the sofa, his two long legs splayed out carelessly, and above the firm curve of his buttocks, the shirt failed to cover the dimples of his lower back.

This half-covered, half-exposed state made Yu Tingzhi even harder to restrain than if he had been completely naked.

Sleeping uncomfortably, Meng Chi shifted slightly to change position, and his long leg dropped with a thud to the floor. Yu Tingzhi took a few deep breaths before walking over and calling out “Meng Chi” twice.

Meng Chi mumbled a response, forcing his already heavy eyelids open a crack. “Teacher Yu.”

“Go sleep in your room,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi let out a refusal from his throat—a long, drawn-out “mm” that tickled Yu Tingzhi’s heart like a feather, nearly shattering his composure.

“I don’t like cats,” Meng Chi suddenly muttered, just as Yu Tingzhi was at a loss.

“Song Min likes cats. He has a little black cat,” Meng Chi continued, peeling his eyelids open to look at Yu Tingzhi. “The cat in your profile picture is his.”

Yu Tingzhi said nothing, only looked at him quietly.

“Song Min likes you,” Meng Chi said, his tone tinged with sourness.

After a moment of silence, Yu Tingzhi asked, “Do you like him?”

Meng Chi did not answer. A few strands of his hair, fixed with gel at the front, had fallen over his forehead, covering his eyes and hiding his emotions. He asked in return, “What about you?”

Yu Tingzhi walked up to him, crouched down, and reached out to brush those strands aside so he could see and look directly into Meng Chi’s eyes.

“I don’t like him.”

“Why?” Meng Chi did not dodge, allowing Yu Tingzhi to make such an intimate gesture. After thinking for a moment, he asked again, “Can he not arouse you?”

Yu Tingzhi did not answer, only gazed at him deeply. His hand, resting on Meng Chi’s hair, traced down along his temple.

It seemed that this answer needed no words; they both understood it in their hearts.

Under that gaze, Meng Chi suddenly laughed. He grabbed Yu Tingzhi’s hand and called out, somewhat helplessly, “Teacher Yu.”

“Don’t tempt me. I don’t want to be your model.”

Yu Tingzhi asked, “Why?”

Meng Chi: “What if I can’t control myself and turn into a beast?”

Yu Tingzhi’s eyes narrowed slightly at the corners, and he asked with great patience, “How would you turn into one?”

Meng Chi’s expression froze for a moment, then he raised Yu Tingzhi’s hand and held it in midair.

His unfocused gaze roamed over their two clasped hands, and a faint, subtle stir arose in his heart. After a moment, he shifted his gaze back to Yu Tingzhi’s face, meeting those deep, dark eyes.

Meng Chi let go, then suddenly grabbed Yu Tingzhi’s tie and pulled him close, narrowing his eyes and saying softly, “Pin you down beneath me and fuck you senseless.”

Yu Tingzhi’s pupils instantly darkened. Just as a storm seemed about to break, Meng Chi suddenly laughed again, released his grip, and pushed him back in the opposite direction, saying with regret, “Too bad I’m drunk and can’t get it up. I’ll let you off this once.”