AVRL 25

She Shan hadn’t stayed long at the bar—he didn’t even wait for Yu Tingzhi to finish the martini he’d ordered.

The exhibition hall had called; it seemed some issue had come up that required his attention. Yu Tingzhi had initially wanted to go along and check it out, but She Shan could tell he was in a bad mood and told him not to bother. He only asked if Yu Tingzhi would be home the next day and if he could bring over the props stored at his apartment to the exhibition hall.

When She Shan had first arrived in Zewu, he’d stayed directly in Yu Tingzhi’s apartment at Chaomuli. But later, finding it too far from the convention center, he’d moved to a hotel.

He had arrived with almost nothing—besides his precious photography equipment, he’d brought nothing at all. But over the following three days, a steady stream of packages had been delivered to Yu Tingzhi’s apartment in Chaomuli Phase 2. Most were props She Shan had prepared for this shoot, including crafts like a guqin, wooden carvings, and handmade whips.

Some had been used in the shoot and She Shan had taken them away. Others were meant to be displayed alongside the photographs, so they stayed at Yu Tingzhi’s place. With the exhibition setup nearing completion, all of these needed to be brought to the hall.

Yu Tingzhi had no classes the next day, so he said he would deliver them directly to the venue. She Shan agreed and then hurriedly left the bar.

After finishing his martini, Yu Tingzhi ordered a whiskey. Halfway through, he noticed his head was spinning badly. He didn’t linger; called She Shan to ask him to come back and pick him up; then prepared to wait in his car.

As he reached the parking lot, he ran into the suited man who had hit on him earlier. No questions were needed—just one look at the triumphant smirk on the man’s face was enough for Yu Tingzhi to know he’d been drugged.

But the effects hadn’t fully kicked in yet, so Yu Tingzhi only felt a bit dizzy. Though his limbs were weak, he could still defend himself, and he didn’t let the man easily take him away.

After Yu Tingzhi shouted “Get lost,” the suited man didn’t retreat but instead stepped forward with a sinister grin, cornering him between two cars: “Still got some fight in you? Let’s see how much longer you can hold out.”

With that, the man lunged forward and grabbed Yu Tingzhi’s arm, trying to pull him into an embrace.

Yu Tingzhi’s face darkened. He twisted his wrist and kicked out, but the man dodged.

The suited man rolled his wrist slowly and laughed again: “Not bad. Pretty wild. Hope you’re still this spirited when you get into my bed later.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a sharp pain struck his lower back, sending him stumbling into an SUV beside him. Meng Chi didn’t give him time to react, landing another kick and simultaneously grabbing his wrist, pinning him in a hold.

“Who? Who the hell are you? How dare you hit me!” the suited man snarled.

“I’m hitting exactly the kind of scum you are—a lowlife piece of trash.” Meng Chi smacked the back of his head, then pulled out his phone to call the police.

Catching a glimpse of the 110 on the screen, the man struggled fiercely, slapped the phone out of Meng Chi’s hand, and ran off without looking back.

Meng Chi swore, picked up his now-black-screened phone, and turned back to Yu Tingzhi, who was leaning against the car door: “How are you feeling?”

Yu Tingzhi’s shirt collar had been pulled open, revealing the distinct lines of his collarbones. A few strands of his neatly combed hair had fallen loose, adding a roguish charm. He lifted his eyelids slightly, and there was a hint of vulnerability in the way he looked at Meng Chi.

Seeing Yu Tingzhi reach out toward him, Meng Chi raised his own hand to meet it—and then caught him fully in his arms. Yu Tingzhi’s scorching breath spilled against Meng Chi’s ear, enveloping him in the smell of alcohol and that oceanic fragrance. Meng Chi dropped his gaze, noticed the flush at the corners of Yu Tingzhi’s eyes, and his Adam’s apple moved involuntarily: “Are you drunk?”

Yu Tingzhi made a sound of assent, and whispered in his ear, “Take me home.”

Just from those few words from the suited man, Meng Chi could guess that Yu Tingzhi’s condition was more than just drunkenness. Naturally, he couldn’t refuse. He half-carried, half-supported Yu Tingzhi into the car, then called the designated driver he’d summoned to come to this spot.

While Meng Chi went to find the driver, Yu Tingzhi received a call from She Shan, who was frantic on the other end, asking where he was and whether he’d been picked up by anyone.

Yu Tingzhi made a low sound of acknowledgment from his throat.

“Fuck, just hold on a little longer—I’ll be right there—”

“No, you don’t need to come.” Yu Tingzhi cut off She Shan’s frantic words. Squinting through the car window, he watched Meng Chi walking toward him. “The one who picked me up is Meng Chi.”

She Shan: “…”

“Alright. Have a pleasant night.”

With that, She Shan hung up with a click.

The effects of the alcohol and the drug hit together, making Yu Tingzhi feel unbearably restless. His brows were furrowed, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He thought: perhaps he and Meng Chi really were fated.

After handing the keys to the designated driver, Meng Chi also got into the back seat. Yu Tingzhi half-closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest with a frown, clearly very uncomfortable.

Dim streetlight filtered through the car window, outlining the curves of his profile, the lines tracing down to his long neck. It wasn’t just the corners of his eyes—his cheeks, his neck, even his collarbones were tinged with a layer of pink. His lips were the deepest shade, like the most brilliant spring blossom, far too eye-catching. Meng Chi looked for a moment longer, and then noticed the wound on his lower lip.

His brow furrowed immediately. He cursed inwardly, regretting not having landed a few more punches on that bastard.

“How are you feeling?”

“Very hot.” Yu Tingzhi tilted his chin up slightly and unbuttoned two more buttons on his shirt, revealing his chest rising and falling with each breath.

The car started moving, and the lights swept over him, allowing Meng Chi to catch a full view of the pink beneath the shirt. He immediately averted his gaze back to Yu Tingzhi’s face.

“Let’s go to the hospital first,” he said.

“No need,” Yu Tingzhi shook his head. “Just go home, take care of it once, and sleep it off.”

Hearing this, Meng Chi looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost for a few seconds. He thought to himself: this man looks refined and noble, but when it comes to speaking dirty, he doesn’t hold back at all.

Of course, it could be the drug’s effect. But still, Yu Tingzhi saying that was undeniably a bit sexy.

Meng Chi thought.

Yu Tingzhi shot him a sidelong glance and said again, “No hospital. Just take me home.”

Seeing his insistence, Meng Chi said nothing more.

The designated driver was a newbie, alternating between brake and gas. In just three kilometers, he’d slammed the brakes three times. The car’s speed kept jerking up and down, making Meng Chi dizzy again.

Yu Tingzhi was even worse off. The drug was surging, leaving his whole body hot and restless, his throat parched. Rolling down the window for cold air did nothing to help. Even with his coat fully open, the buttons on his shirt were nearly all undone.

The cool breeze brushed against his heated skin, carrying a faint tingling sensation that made him let out a long sigh. Meng Chi noticed, immediately startled, and quickly grabbed his hand, pulling his open shirt back together.

When Yu Tingzhi had said he was hot, Meng Chi had already turned off the car’s air conditioning. The night air was cold—if he kept blowing like this, he’d definitely catch a chill.

“What are you doing?” Yu Tingzhi opened his eyes, leaned his head toward Meng Chi’s face, and his burning breath once again fell against Meng Chi’s ear.

“What are you doing?” Meng Chi replied irritably. “Aren’t you cold? What if you get sick?”

Yu Tingzhi let out a soft laugh. “But I’m so hot.”

With that, he took Meng Chi’s hand in return and pressed his palm against his own chest. “Isn’t it burning?”

This sudden skin-to-skin contact made Meng Chi’s brow twitch violently. He tried to pull his hand back, but Yu Tingzhi’s grip was strong, and he couldn’t free it. In the friction, his palm brushed against something beneath the shirt, and a low, deep sound escaped Yu Tingzhi’s throat. Meng Chi was completely rattled, but he didn’t dare move his hand any further.

His palm felt the rise and fall of Yu Tingzhi’s chest muscles and temperature, and even the rapid beating of the heart beneath them.

“Let go,” Meng Chi said.

Yu Tingzhi shook his head, his hair brushing against Meng Chi’s cheek: “Your hand is cold. It feels nice.”

Those two words inexplicably made Meng Chi’s ears burn red. He glanced at Yu Tingzhi, whose consciousness was fading, and let out a resigned breath: “Teacher Yu, do you know who I am?”

“Meng Chi,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Alright—he wasn’t completely out of it yet.

“Then do you know what you’re doing?” Meng Chi asked again. As he finished, he felt the question was oddly familiar. Before he could place it, he heard Yu Tingzhi respond softly and say, “Take me home.”

Fine.

With the young designated driver occasionally sneaking glances from the front, Meng Chi could only pull Yu Tingzhi into his arms, holding him in a half-embrace to conceal the hand that was being forced to take liberties with Yu Tingzhi.

The car began to run smoothly. Yu Tingzhi didn’t cause any more trouble, but he still held Meng Chi’s hand. The heat from his palm remained, transferring warmth; Meng Chi’s hand was no longer cold. While suppressing his own dizziness, Meng Chi found himself thinking irrelevantly that the feel of Yu Tingzhi’s chest muscles was really quite good.

With that thought, his hand unconsciously gave a couple of squeezes. Yu Tingzhi, eyes closed, flickered the corners of his eyes, a faint smile curving at the edge of his mouth.

Previously, Meng Chi had taken Yu Tingzhi home before, but he’d only gone as far as the parking lot and hadn’t gone upstairs. Now, with Yu Tingzhi’s unsteady steps, naturally he couldn’t let him go up alone. Fortunately, Yu Tingzhi still remembered which building and floor he lived on.

Meng Chi half-supported him into the elevator and used the electronic card to activate it.

Almost all the apartments in Chaomuli Phase 2 had one elevator per household, so there was no chance of going to the wrong unit. Meng Chi pulled Yu Tingzhi’s finger to unlock the fingerprint lock. Though both their heads weren’t entirely clear, they both still remembered to change shoes.

As they entered the living room and neared the sofa, Meng Chi tripped over a pile of scattered things. Yu Tingzhi fell on top of him, and the two of them tumbled onto the sofa together.

Falling abruptly, Meng Chi took two dizzy seconds to recover, and then felt something soft and scalding against his neck—Yu Tingzhi’s lips, brushing against his skin again and again with his rapid, shallow breaths.

Meng Chi’s Adam’s apple moved. Ignited by that breath, his whole body began to stir.

Yu Tingzhi seemed to have reached his limit of endurance; his breathing grew heavier and more ragged. He lay atop Meng Chi, writhing restlessly. He probably tried to push himself up with his hands, but his limbs were too weak to succeed. His long legs bent and straightened, brushing against the area below Meng Chi’s abs.

Meng Chi let out a soft gasp, and that restless heat gathered below his waist—his second self showed signs of waking.

“Yu, Teacher Yu.” Meng Chi pushed at the person on top of him. Yu Tingzhi seemed to come back to his senses slightly, glanced at Meng Chi’s resisting hands, and rolled off to the other side.

Meng Chi immediately sat up and took in the mess scattered across the living room.

Beside the coffee table sat two or three large cardboard boxes, some fully open, some half-open, spilling out wooden carvings of various sizes, along with brambles and a few leather whips.

Meng Chi didn’t know what these things were for. He tidied up a little, then looked up to see Yu Tingzhi had already taken off his coat and was unbuckling his belt.

Anticipating what he was about to do, Meng Chi tore his gaze away from Yu Tingzhi’s bare chest and turned toward the bathroom.

He closed the door, leaned against the wall, and took deep breaths, trying to suppress the rising desire. But the rustling sounds from the living room tugged at his nerves. Hearing Yu Tingzhi’s labored breathing, Meng Chi couldn’t calm down.

He held back and held back again, and was just about to take care of things in a small way when the noises outside suddenly stopped. Meng Chi stopped his hand, took a few deep breaths, and abandoned the ridiculous notion.

When he returned to the living room, Meng Chi had considerately brought a glass of water for Yu Tingzhi.

But as he reached the sofa and saw Yu Tingzhi sitting on the floor, the desire he’d just managed to suppress erupted in an instant, surging downward and freezing him in place.

Yu Tingzhi wore nothing but a pair of black briefs, half-covering, half-exposing, revealing a tantalizing V-line. He leaned his head back against the sofa seat, one long leg bent, the other stretched out, with nothing hidden from view.

He wasn’t finished—his right hand was still moving.

Meng Chi was stunned by the sight and even forgot to look away. He stood there quietly watching, his gaze traveling from Yu Tingzhi’s heaving chest downward, taking in the movements of that hand and the tattoo he hadn’t been able to see clearly last time.

Part of it was hidden by the briefs, but Meng Chi filled in the missing pieces in his mind.

It was a bramble, like a parasitic vine winding upward from the root of his thigh, clinging to his right waist. Meng Chi suddenly thought of the celestial beings in TV dramas being corrupted by demonic energy—that was exactly how Yu Tingzhi looked now. He was no longer the cold, untouchable flower on a high peak, but a stunning, alluring beauty of the worldly kind.

Yu Tingzhi opened his eyes, casting a shimmering glance from the upturned corners of his eyes, then reached out his left hand, which had been hanging at his side, toward Meng Chi.

“Come here.”

Meng Chi snapped back to attention, and then heard Yu Tingzhi say, “Weren’t you going to give me water? I’m thirsty.”

Meng Chi’s gaze fell on his red, moving thin lips. He narrowed his eyes, and as if possessed, obediently walked over.

Yu Tingzhi, sitting on the floor, tilted his head up slightly. Instead of taking the glass, he grabbed Meng Chi’s wrist with force and pulled—Meng Chi dropped to one knee between Yu Tingzhi’s legs.

Water splashed from the glass as it shook, some spilling over their clasped wrists, some splashing onto the side of Meng Chi’s face.

“Why didn’t you leave?” Yu Tingzhi asked him.

The droplets clinging to Meng Chi’s hair slid down, landing right on the small mole beneath his brow bone. His brow twitched. Looking at Yu Tingzhi’s flushed face and deep eyes, he remained silent.

“Meng Chi,” Yu Tingzhi’s voice was hoarse and low, as if he were fighting something with great effort, “if you leave now, you still can.”

Meng Chi suddenly laughed. He lowered his head slightly, leaning in closer to Yu Tingzhi, raised an eyebrow, and asked softly, “Teacher Yu, do you want me to leave?”