AVRL 57

Switching between an impeccably dressed, celestial being and a refined, perverted rogue required nothing more than Meng Chi.

Even if Meng Chi did absolutely nothing, he would still love him fiercely, wanting to take him.

So when Meng Chi began to deliberately entice him, whatever self-control Yu Tingzhi had managed to maintain proved as fragile as paper—shattering into a thousand snowflakes at a single, seductive glance from Meng Chi.

Kisses turned into gnawing, and caresses turned into tearing; Meng Chi melted beneath his hands, feeling pain and exhilaration all at once.

The atmosphere in the bedroom lost all its calm as the two entangled fiercely, eyes holding only each other. The projector remained on, its visuals accompanied by a wave of rising gasps and breathless cries. The noise terrified the little cat so much that it arched its back, glaring at the red-eyed Yu Tingzhi as if furious at how harshly he was pressing down on Meng Chi.

With a high-pitched, muffled groan from the bed, the startled cat leapt into the air and dashed out of the bedroom like lightning.

Truth be told, Meng Chi regretted being so wildly provocative; it had driven Yu Tingzhi out of control, making his every move intensely aggressive. As a result, his rear end suffered immensely—not only left a flushed, fiery red from the heavy impacts, but also bearing two distinct palm prints left by Yu Tingzhi as punishment for trying to escape.

Looking at the video playing on the projection screen, Meng Chi couldn’t tell for a moment whether the himself in the video was worse off, or the himself on the bed.

He had thought it was perverted enough that Yu Tingzhi kept that accidentally recorded surveillance footage to watch on loop, but he never expected him to keep the soft whip as well. When the mood struck, Yu Tingzhi used it to walk him down memory lane of that wild night.

The scenes from that night seemed to replay themselves, except this time Meng Chi didn’t dodge. Instead, through yielding cooperation, he found a way to derive pleasure for himself.

Tightening his arms around Yu Tingzhi, he buried his head into the side of his neck and whispered raspily, “Teacher Yu, how are you so perverted?”

Yu Tingzhi held him close, using the soft whip to brush against his lower back in a manner that was equal parts soothing and teasing: “Don’t you like it?”

“I… if I said I didn’t like it, would you let me off?” With his sensitive spots treated like this, Meng Chi’s scalp went completely numb. Unable to utter a single “no,” he could only turn his head and bite down on Yu Tingzhi’s Adam’s apple—half enduring, half striking back.

Yu Tingzhi chuckled: “You’re the one refusing to let me go, biting me so tightly.”

Meng Chi was speechless. He could only lift his eyelids to glare at him fiercely. Yet, eyes steeped in passion, with damp lashes and shimmering ripples, possessed no intimidating power whatsoever—only sheer provocation and temptation.

Once he confirmed that Meng Chi could accept those paintings and the saved video, the line Yu Tingzhi held in his heart snapped completely. All that remained was a surging tide of passion, relentlessly invading Meng Chi without restraint or care.

Yu Tingzhi held him tight, pressing their bodies seamlessly together, stimulating Meng Chi time and time again.

The video playing on the projector had long since reached its end, and the hanging screen had rolled back up after a prolonged period of standby. The view before Meng Chi’s eyes shifted from blurry to clear, from dazzling to lucid. Looking at the photo occupying the entire wall, he suddenly began to imagine how Yu Tingzhi—in his absence—must have relieved himself in front of this photo, and with what sort of emotions he had painted those artworks.

Meng Chi didn’t know how to critique a masterpiece, but looking at that room full of paintings and recognizing his own shadow within them, he felt as though he could sense the painter’s emotions at the moment of creation. He could feel every stroke saturated with a marvelous desire, seeping through with every repeated depiction.

Accumulated and intertwined, those emotions surged over him the moment he faced them directly—as if revealing a side of Yu Tingzhi he had never known.

He was an artist, but he was also an ordinary man. He possessed poetic romance, yet harbored worldly lusts.

Falling in love was precisely this process of opening up to one another. They would come to understand each other’s hidden sides, recognize each other’s ordinary nature, and while repeatedly getting to know one another, they would fall in love again and again—loving each other’s plainness and ordinary humanity.

“I actually like it a lot,” Meng Chi said out of the blue.

As a low, questioning sound escaped Yu Tingzhi’s throat, Meng Chi turned his head, shifting his gentle gaze from the photo on the wall to Yu Tingzhi’s eyes, where passion had yet to fade.

“Whether it’s those paintings, or the photos and videos… even though they are indeed a bit perverted,” Meng Chi’s voice was exceptionally soft, every word carrying deep emotion, “I was really happy when I saw them, and I really like them.”

Because these were all proof of Yu Tingzhi’s devotion and deep love.

After Meng Chi spoke, Yu Tingzhi slowed his movements, holding him almost tenderly as he ground against him.

Meng Chi sat up straight, straddling Yu Tingzhi. Cupping Yu Tingzhi’s face with both hands, a rogue smile played on his lips as he continued: “So you see, I’m no saint either. We’re a match made in heaven.”

The light in Yu Tingzhi’s eyes darkened abruptly. The churning passion surged once again because of this confession of affection. He held him tight, kissing him, possessing him both masterfully and gently. It wasn’t until the intimacy reached its final end and Meng Chi entered his refractory period, gasping for air, that Yu Tingzhi finally relaxed, holding him quietly to savor the lingering afterglow.

The departure date for the shoot in Fuzhou was set for two days later, which happened to coincide with Yu Tingzhi’s exam period at school. Even though Yu Tingzhi wanted to come along, he couldn’t, and had no choice but to let Meng Chi go with She Shan.

“Relax, it’s only for three days,” She Shan said impatiently in front of the Youran Teahouse, watching Yu Tingzhi gaze affectionately at Meng Chi. “Your wife isn’t going to run away.”

Meng Chi: “…”

Yu Tingzhi cast a sideways glance at She Shan and spoke on Meng Chi’s behalf: “He’s a guy.”

Meng Chi froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. She Shan’s eyebrow twitched as he let out a “Hey!” and added, “Then he’s your husband, alright?”

After saying this, She Shan’s expression suddenly turned a bit odd. His gaze darted back and forth between Meng Chi and Yu Tingzhi. Seeing their calm expressions, She Shan raised an eyebrow and gasped: “Damn, impressive! You actually took the bottom role for love.”

Loading luggage nearby, Meng Chi choked on his breath at those words. Although the reality was indeed that he took the bottom role for love, She Shan was clearly directing this at Yu Tingzhi.

Yu Tingzhi, the pseudo “bottom-for-love,” didn’t bother to pay him any mind. He walked over to Meng Chi’s side to help load his luggage into She Shan’s SUV.

Once the luggage was secured, Yang Zhengfeng called Meng Chi over and offered a few more words of advice, telling him to stay safe.

Perhaps the soul-nourishing advice Meng Chi had offered Yang Zile last time had worked; Yang Zile no longer insisted on coming along, staying home obediently to read and study. However, he didn’t forget to remind Meng Chi to steal a few tricks from the team so they could exchange notes when he returned.

Because it was an location shoot, She Shan needed a helper in addition to his two assistants. Meng Chi had originally intended to pick someone from the teahouse, but business at Youran Teahouse had been quite good lately, leaving no spare hands to send away. He could only let She Shan handle it himself.

However, Meng Chi hadn’t expected the helper She Shan brought along to be Song Min—and the person driving him over was Song Chen.

By the time he finished listening to Yang Zhengfeng’s advice and turned around, he saw the two Song brothers stepping out of a black Mercedes and walking over to Yu Tingzhi.

“Song Min? Why are you here too?” Meng Chi walked over and asked.

“Short on hands. Song Min happens to major in directing, so he can lend a hand along the way,” She Shan said.

Song Min nodded: “Brother Meng, you don’t mind me coming, do you?”

Meng Chi laughed softly: “Of course not.”

Song Min breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him.

Yu Tingzhi’s gaze shifted between him and Meng Chi before speaking: “This isn’t a leisure trip; it will be very exhausting. Can you handle it?”

“Mm-hmm,” Song Min nodded firmly.

Song Chen glanced at his younger brother: “It’s not his first time traveling. He’ll be fine—besides, She Shan is here.”

Standing to the side watching the scene, She Shan’s eyes darted among the four of them. Letting out a chuckle of ambiguous meaning, he turned around to load Song Min’s luggage onto the car, removing himself from this troublesome spot.

Song Min asked: “Brother Tingzhi, are you going too?”

Yu Tingzhi shook his head: “No, I came to send Meng Chi off.”

The word “send” carried a very subtle connotation; after all, as far as the Youran Teahouse was concerned, Yu Tingzhi was an outsider.

Seeing Yu Tingzhi’s car parked right beside them, Song Chen realized in a flash that the “send off” Yu Tingzhi referred to meant driving Meng Chi over from his own home.

Song Min, however, failed to realize this, simply smiling without asking further.

The realization that they were already living together caused the expression on Song Chen’s face to freeze for a moment, though he quickly masked it, restoring his polite and detached composure.

After all, Yu Tingzhi had already made things clear enough to him.

Song Chen brought up the matter of Meng Chi teaching Song Min tea preparation to express his gratitude, adding politely, “I’ll have to trouble you to look after Xiao Min along the way.”

Meng Chi naturally agreed without hesitation.

With time running short, they didn’t linger in small talk. Before getting into the car to leave, Meng Chi noticed two strands of cat hair clinging to Yu Tingzhi’s shoulder. Reaching out to pick them off, he paused for a moment and reminded him, “I left a box of fruit tea packets in the fridge. Drink less coffee; if you need something to refresh your mind, drink tea instead.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the two Song brothers and She Shan all watching them—their expressions either filled with complex emotions, or impatience and disgust.

The corners of Yu Tingzhi’s mouth curled up slightly. Reaching out, he took Meng Chi’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze: “What if tea doesn’t work either?”

Meng Chi raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice: “Then call me, and I’ll refresh your mind.”