AVRL 48

The West Town Lake wound around the mountains, covering a catchment area of over twenty square kilometers. Because of the fireworks display, the number of flower boats on the lake had doubled compared to usual, but even so, it was still far from enough to completely cover the lake’s surface.

All kinds of flower boats were scattered sparsely across the water, like bright floating lanterns dotting the lake. Some were adjacent to the streets, some near the mountains, and others were hidden within the sprawling lotus thickets.

Far away from the fireworks area, within the lotus thickets, ripples swayed the water and the lotuses gently rocked. A simple, rustic wupeng boat anchored here, softly swaying with the motion.

Meng Chi was leaning back on the deck at the bow, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other resting on the gunwale. His slightly parted lips continuously let out heavy gasps that blended into the humming of the insects.

He narrowed his eyes, gazing up at the vast night sky and enjoying the sprawling evening view. Meanwhile, Yu Tingzhi, half-kneeling in front of him, raised his eyes to admire him instead.

The sound of fireworks exploding by the shore became distant and ethereal. Inside the wupeng boat, insects hummed softly, human voices echoed in rhythm, and Yu Tingzhi’s figure rose and fell.

Fireworks burst across the horizon, lighting up the pitch-black night sky for an instant before it dissolved back into darkness. As the light flickered, Meng Chi’s arched neck was also dyed with color; his Adam’s apple slid up and down, letting slip a few unbearable, labored breaths.

The five fingers he had resting on the gunwale suddenly tightened as the light and shadows shifted, the lines of his bones protruding clearly as if he were trying his absolute best to restrain something. A moment later, he suddenly relaxed, then raised his hand to rest it on top of Yu Tingzhi’s head.

Meng Chi tightened his grip, his ink-black hair threading through his fingers, trembling gently in the breeze.

The rhythm of breathing floating over the lake shifted once again—at times heavy, at times long and drawn out—overpowering the quiet humming of the insects and drowning out the squelching water sounds.

Another brilliant firework exploded before his eyes. As if startled, Meng Chi lifted his upper body; his arched neck was like a fully drawn bow, primed and ready to release. A moment later, a streak of white light flashed past the side of Yu Tingzhi’s face. The fully drawn bowstring slowly eased its tension, and Meng Chi collapsed back down as if drained of all strength, indulging in a moment of peace and pleasure.

His eyes blurred as he looked at Yu Tingzhi, who was still kneeling on the deck. The usually refined and elegant Teacher Yu now had messy hair and crimson, moistly glistening lips dotted with a trace of white.

“I couldn’t hold it in,” Meng Chi said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He sat up, reaching out his hand to help wipe it clean for him.

Yu Tingzhi merely let out a soft laugh and used his thumb to wipe away the moisture at the corner of his mouth. “Tastes pretty good.”

“Teacher Yu, don’t be like this,” Meng Chi said, his face burning with bashfulness. The hand he had raised dropped back down, covering his eyes.

He couldn’t look at this scene for too long, or he would lose control and want to do something more.

Yu Tingzhi raised an eyebrow, leaned down to move his hand away, and looked into his eyes, asking, “Don’t be like what? You don’t like it?”

Gazing into Yu Tingzhi’s eyes, where desire had not yet faded, Meng Chi suddenly realized that the sense of contradiction about Yu Tingzhi no longer felt out of place. It only filled him with thrill and excitement, easily igniting his entire desire.

“No,” Meng Chi said. He reached out and touched the point between Yu Tingzhi’s eyebrows, moving down along his straight bridge, and finally stopping on his still-crimson upper lip. “It’s just that if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to want to do something more again.”

Hearing this, the corners of Yu Tingzhi’s mouth curved up slightly. “Then continue,” he said, opening his mouth to bite Meng Chi’s finger, grinding down neither too hard nor too softly.

The faint pain on the pad of his finger made Meng Chi narrow his eyes slightly. The warm, moist sensation inside Yu Tingzhi’s mouth made him instinctively crave more. He inserted a second finger, hooking and playing with Yu Tingzhi’s soft tongue, making sticky, wet sounds.

“Teacher Yu, didn’t you say you didn’t know what a cherry stem was? Your tongue seems pretty nimble to me,” Meng Chi teased with a smile.

Yu Tingzhi gave a noncommittal laugh and bit down lightly on his fingertip as a punishment, sending a surge through Meng Chi that threw his breathing out of sync once again.

After all, they were outside. Meng Chi didn’t push things any further; he and Yu Tingzhi cleaned themselves up briefly and returned the boat—tonight was still very long, anyway.

On the way back, the two didn’t forget to stop by a discreet adult self-service store on the street to buy supplies.

Thinking of the fragile wooden bed in Yu Tingzhi’s room, Meng Chi brought Yu Tingzhi straight to his own room instead.

Meng Chi’s room was located on the second floor toward the inside—very quiet and private. Jiang Hong had specially reserved it for him to take afternoon naps. Even if they made a racket all night, it wouldn’t matter.

When the two returned, Jiang Hong was watching a TV drama in the teahouse. Seeing the main characters parting in a matter of life and death, she was crying her eyes out. Seeing them return so early, she pulled out tissues to wipe her tears while asking why they were back so soon and why they didn’t stay out longer.

“Too tired, so we came back to rest.” Meng Chi hid the items in his hand behind his back. Although there was no shop name on the tote bag, it was made of frosted white material; looking closely, one could still see what was inside.

Noticing that Meng Chi’s skin still carried a faint flush, Jiang Hong chuckled and said, “Looks to me like you got annoyed by all the young girls pestering you. Did a bunch of girls invite you for tea again this year?”

Meng Chi hadn’t visited the Tea Street this year, so no one had actually given him tea.

Just as he said, “No,” Jiang Hong had already lost interest in him and turned to ask Yu Tingzhi, “Teacher Yu is so handsome, I’m sure plenty of young girls offered you tea, right? You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Yu Tingzhi glanced at Meng Chi out of the corner of his eye. “There were some. I drank it.”

Jiang Hong opened her eyes wide, let out a regretful sigh, and then smiled. “Well, looks like you’ve met your sweetheart.”

Yu Tingzhi nodded. “Mm.”

Jiang Hong sighed in her heart, thinking that her cousin probably stood no chance now. Catching a glimpse of the upturned corners of Meng Chi’s lips out of the corner of her eye, Jiang Hong asked in confusion, “Teacher Yu met his sweetheart, why are you smiling so happily?”

“Because,” Meng Chi raised an eyebrow, “I met mine, too.”

Without waiting for Jiang Hong to gossip any further, he pulled Yu Tingzhi up the stairs, leaving behind a quick, “We won’t disturb your TV time. Good night, sleep early.”

Jiang Hong stood dazed in place for a long while before muttering to herself, “I knew my peach blossom wine attracts romance, tsk tsk.”

Once inside the room, Yu Tingzhi pinned him behind the door and began kissing him impatiently. Meng Chi accepted his forceful kiss on his lips, but his hands were gently pushing him back.

“Shower first,” Meng Chi said.

Yu Tingzhi bit his lip, stripping his clothes while leading him toward the bathroom.

“Together, then.”

Meng Chi laughed helplessly. “Teacher Yu, why are you in such a rush?”

Yu Tingzhi grabbed his hand and pressed it against his own scalding body, his voice raspy: “I’ve been holding back the entire way back. You tell me if I’m in a rush.”

Back on the boat, it was actually Meng Chi who had lost control first. It was likely because the atmosphere was just right, or perhaps because he had been holding back for a long time. Those subtle, flirtatious testings and seductive taunts had plucked at Meng Chi’s heartstrings every single time. Thus, once their feelings were confirmed, a single kiss from Yu Tingzhi threw him into complete disarray, leaving him exceptionally aroused.

Although Yu Tingzhi had helped him take care of it, he hadn’t relieved himself much. Knowing he had gotten the better end of the deal earlier, Meng Chi didn’t argue further. Stripping away the lingering clothes on Yu Tingzhi, he pushed him under the showerhead, kissing him while crouching down to turn on the shower faucet.

Warm water trickled out from the showerhead, soaking both of them completely. As if thirsty, Meng Chi opened his mouth, sealing another spout that was oozing tiny drops of water.

Although this water source wasn’t as rushing or eager as the showerhead, its temperature was scorching hot. As Meng Chi swallowed, he felt his throat go numb from the heat, instinctively letting out a muffled groan.

White steam filled the small bathroom, blurring everything inside, where two faint silhouettes—one taller, one shorter—were vaguely visible.

As the steam condensed, the two blurred silhouettes began to shift—at times embracing face-to-face with legs lifted high, at other times wrapped around from behind, leaning forward and arching the hips. Sometimes like a bow, sometimes like a crescent moon, swaying endlessly within the mist.

The sound of running water trickled, and their breathing rose and fell. Water droplets condensed on the walls and mirror, sliding down and gathering in sync with their rhythm, at times tracing the shape of palms and fingers, at times outlining broad shoulders and a narrow waist—a series of beautifully lined human paintings.

Apart from the rushing water and heavy breathing, rhythmic sounds of impact joined in as accompaniment, composing a symphony of love.

No telling how much time had passed; by the time the moon climbed high outside the window, this feast for the senses finally neared its end.

Meng Chi felt like a mermaid that had just taken human form, completely forgetting how to use his legs. He could only cling to Yu Tingzhi, letting him carry him out of the bathroom.

“Teacher Yu, isn’t your stamina a bit too good?” Meng Chi begged for mercy feebly in Yu Tingzhi’s ear. “Have some pity on me, I’m so exhausted.”

Yu Tingzhi said, “There are still a lot of condoms you bought left.”

Meng Chi: “…”

After a moment of silence, he added, “You don’t have to use them all in one go. We need to follow a path of sustainable development.”

Yu Tingzhi was amused by him. Seeing that he was truly exhausted after a busy day, he stopped teasing him and carried him back to bed, tucking him under the covers. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they fell asleep and enjoyed a good night’s dream.

The next day, when Meng Chi woke up, the sun was already high in the sky, illuminating even the dark curtains until they glowed bright.

Perhaps due to his wonderful mood, Meng Chi slept extremely well that night, though his legs were still somewhat sore and heavy. Yu Tingzhi was already awake, lying on his side and staring at him.

“Morning, Teacher Yu.” Meng Chi’s voice still carried the low rasp of someone who had just woken up, giving it a somewhat spoiled tone.

“Not early anymore, the sun is burning your butt.” Yu Tingzhi pulled his hand around Meng Chi’s lower waist.

Meng Chi gave a low laugh. Seeing that Yu Tingzhi looked in great spirits, he guessed he had slept well too—and his lower half was looking lively as well.

However, due to a timely knock at the door, Meng Chi didn’t end up helping him deal with it. Getting out of bed to put on his clothes, he looked through the peephole and saw Song Min standing outside.

Meng Chi looked back at Yu Tingzhi, saw that he had put on clothes and walked into the bathroom, and then opened the door.

“Teacher Meng, you just woke up?” Seeing a trace of sleepiness still lingering on Meng Chi’s face, Song Min felt a bit embarrassed.

“You didn’t wake me up, I was already awake, just hadn’t gotten up yet.” Meng Chi tugged at his shirt to cover the marks on his chest, then asked, “What do you need?”

“Nothing much, just wanted to ask if you know where Tingzhi-gege went. Weren’t you two together last night?” Song Min said. “I went to his room to look for him just now, knocked for ages with no answer, and his phone isn’t…”

At this point, Song Min’s words ground to a sudden halt. His slightly furrowed brows abruptly relaxed, his pupils dilated, and he looked with utter shock past Meng Chi’s shoulder at Yu Tingzhi, who was walking out of the bathroom.

“Tingzhi-gege, why are you here?” Song Min asked in astonishment. Soon, his gaze shifted from Yu Tingzhi’s face down to his body, taking in the clothes he wore—which clearly didn’t belong to him—as well as the ambiguous red mark on the small patch of exposed skin on his chest.

The question “Did you sleep together last night?” on the tip of Song Min’s tongue immediately took a turn, transforming into: “Did you guys… sleep together?”

“Uh…” The corners of Meng Chi’s mouth twitched. He let out an awkward cough and parted his lips, momentarily at a total loss for words.

How came Song Min, who usually acted like a naive little block of wood, was suddenly so sharp-eyed today?

Unlike Meng Chi’s awkwardness, Yu Tingzhi let out a completely unbothered “Mm,” adding, “Is there a problem?”