AVRL 59

The moment the message was sent, Meng Chi’s immediate instinct was to recall it. It wasn’t that he was afraid Yu Tingzhi would misunderstand; he was simply accustomed to recalling and correcting mistaken messages. However, just as he long-pressed the message bar, a knock sounded at the door.

“Someone’s here.” Song Min was about to climb up from the bed to open the door, but seeing that the ointment on his back hadn’t been rubbed in evenly yet, how could Meng Chi let him get up? Putting his phone down, Meng Chi went to open the door himself.

“Don’t move, I’ll get it.”

“Song Min, you… Huh? Why are you here?” As the door opened, She Shan stood outside holding a tube of ointment in his hand.

“Helping him apply ointment,” Meng Chi said, stepping aside to let She Shan inside.

Hearing this, She Shan peeked into the room. Seeing Song Min lying on the bed with his clothes disheveled and his fair back fully exposed, his expression instantly turned odd.

“Applying ointment requires taking off your clothes?”

Meng Chi: “…”

Meng Chi cast a sideways glance at him: “His back is covered in it.”

She Shan curled his lip and stopped dwelling on the matter, walking over to inspect the red rash on Song Min’s body. Half-pitying, half-gloating, he tutted, “Tsk, this delicate skin really can’t take any harsh conditions, huh? Well, the humidity here is way too heavy anyway. Good thing we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow?” Song Min turned his head to look at She Shan.

She Shan chuckled: “There’s a concert in the city tomorrow, let me take you guys to check it out.”

Song Min didn’t have much enthusiasm for the concert, letting out a simple “Oh” without saying more, though he was still quite glad to be leaving this place.

“Alright, since I’m here, I’ll take over this ointment duty,” She Shan turned to glance at Meng Chi. “Two single guys alone in a room—it wouldn’t be good if some misunderstanding happened.”

Song Min was likely made a bit embarrassed by his words, casting a guilty glance at Meng Chi before burying his head like an ostrich.

Meng Chi, on the other hand, gave She Shan a speechless look, instructed him on how to use the ointment he had bought, and handed the task over to him.

Before She Shan arrived, Meng Chi had already applied most of it, so She Shan finished the job in less than a minute.

After telling Song Min to get a good rest, the two of them walked out of Song Min’s room.

“You used to pursue Song Min before, right?” In the hallway, She Shan asked out of nowhere.

Meng Chi glanced sideways at him, puzzled as to why he would suddenly bring this up.

“So you need to mind your boundaries,” She Shan said. “Be careful, or Tingzhi might storm right over here to catch you in the act.”

Meng Chi let out a helpless laugh: “Catch what in the act? Leaving aside the fact that I’m completely innocent, Teacher Yu isn’t that petty.”

She Shan let out a “Heh” and said leisurely, “To others he might not be petty, but with you—humph, you have no idea how petty he is. A photo from who knows how many years ago, and he bought the exclusive rights to it from me.”

The smile on Meng Chi’s face faded as he asked, “What photo?”

The voice message accidentally sent to Yu Tingzhi wasn’t recalled. After listening to it, Yu Tingzhi replied with a two-second voice note, asking: “What are you doing?”

His tone was exceptionally cold, laced with a hint of interrogation.

Returning to his room, Meng Chi explained that Song Min had gotten eczema. Yu Tingzhi didn’t reply right away; only after about ten minutes did he initiate a video call.

Yu Tingzhi had just finished taking a shower, a bathrobe loosely draped over his body, leaving his chest and abs completely exposed to view. Droplets of water glistened across his porcelain-white skin, shining bright.

Catching sight of this sexy, magnificent body, Meng Chi let out a soft gasp, his voice raspy: “Teacher Yu, what are you doing?”

Yu Tingzhi lowered his eyes, looking at the half of Meng Chi’s face showing on the phone screen and his slightly narrowed eyes wearing an appreciative expression. He spoke coldly: “Didn’t you want to see the artist’s handiwork?”

Meng Chi let out a laugh, reclining half-upright on the bed as he looked at the phone screen: “So how is the artist going to show me?”

On the other end, the corners of Yu Tingzhi’s mouth curled up slightly. He first extended his right hand, spreading his five fingers slightly toward the camera, rotating them twice as if on display before withdrawing his hand. Then, the video frame suddenly shifted and blurred.

After a bout of rustling noises, the picture regained its clarity. Seeing the marble-patterned tabletop at the very bottom of the frame and half a kettle entering the view on the right, Meng Chi realized he had walked over to the kitchen wet bar.

Yu Tingzhi secured his phone on the bar, positioning the camera so it captured only his eight-pack abs and the mermaid line winding down into his underwear.

Yu Tingzhi’s slender fingers flashed before the lens. Meng Chi watched him hold a glass and brew tea using the fruit tea packet he had left behind.

“You’re showing off your handiwork by brewing tea?” Meng Chi found it a little funny.

Yu Tingzhi hummed a response, his hands moving continuously.

Amid his movements, those eight-pack abs appeared and vanished intermittently. Further down, one could even see the bulging, sinewy blue veins beneath the skin, with water droplets clinging to them and drawing wet trails down—both sexy and erotic.

How could Meng Chi still have the mind to look at hands? His eyes were fixed entirely on the muscles of his waist and abdomen, imagining the tactile sensation of his palm sliding over them.

Yu Tingzhi picked up the kettle. Amid the sound of hot water pouring into the glass, he picked out the sounds of Meng Chi shifting his posture.

Looking at Meng Chi’s visibly heaving chest on the phone screen, the corners of Yu Tingzhi’s eyes crinkled with a smile. Holding the glass up against the lens, he blocked most of the view.

“Does my tea-brewing look good?” he asked.

It looked good, but Meng Chi didn’t want to watch hands brew tea right now.

“Move it away, I want to look at you,” Meng Chi’s voice grew heavy and thick.

Yu Tingzhi understood him well; one listen to that voice and he knew his lower half was getting excited. So, holding the glass of gradually reddening fruit tea in his right hand and gently swirling it, he picked up the phone with his left hand, bringing his face and upper body into frame: “Where do you want to look?”

Perhaps because the water had been filled too high, the dark red tea splashed onto the web of his hand during the swirling. Yu Tingzhi lowered his eyes to look at the steaming tea on his hand. Setting the glass down, he brought his right hand to his mouth, licking the tea clean bit by bit.

Watching Yu Tingzhi’s tongue sweep over those distinct knuckles, Meng Chi completely forgot to respond. His mind was filled entirely with dirty bedroom thoughts, causing him to let out a restless, heavy gasp.

Yu Tingzhi paused his movements and lowered his eyes to stare at the phone screen, every inch of his features dripping with alluring charm. He asked: “Meng Chi, are you hard?”

“Seducing me like this—if I weren’t hard, would I still be a man?” Meng Chi felt not an ounce of bashfulness, speaking with utter confidence.

Yu Tingzhi let out a chuckle, put down the tea glass, and covered his own Adam’s apple and collarbone with the glistened right hand he had just licked.

“Show me. Watch yourself do it,” Yu Tingzhi said, while using his slender, water-sheened fingers to slide slowly downward, kneading over his firm chest and abs before slipping inside the edge of his underwear.

Meng Chi felt the tightly wound string in his brain begin to vibrate. Unable to hold back any longer, he reached out to unbutton his clothes and began letting loose the dirty thoughts in his mind.

The rustling sound of fabric rubbing together intertwined with the man’s heavy breathing. Yu Tingzhi watched with satisfaction as Meng Chi stood proud and erect on screen, his protruding Adam’s apple and chest muscles rising and falling with his breathing, sliding up and down while continuously beading with glistening sweat.

“Are you close?”

Meng Chi, gripping the bedsheet tightly, trembled uncontrollably, his breathing ragged as he spoke intermittently: “Mm… Teacher Yu… groan a couple of times for me to hear.”

Yu Tingzhi’s passion-laced voice sounded from the phone speaker: “What do you want to hear me groan? Meng Chi.”

For Meng Chi, terms like “husband” or “wife” couldn’t compare to Yu Tingzhi calling his name when lost in passion.

A name was his symbol of life. Just like the Latin translation of “lovely”: it was him, truly him.

The instant he heard his name, Meng Chi’s pleasure point was struck, yet it was still just a touch away—making him desperately crave a real, tangible touch belonging to Yu Tingzhi.

A low, unbearable groan spilled from his throat, transmitting clearly into Yu Tingzhi’s ear. Yu Tingzhi suddenly let out a low chuckle, then suppressed his voice to emit a few sexy, heavy gasps.

That deep, magnetic sound was like the low hum emitted by a string suspended over the source of Meng Chi’s desire, vibrating bit by bit, tugging at his desire. Meng Chi craved for it to grow even stronger.

Yet Yu Tingzhi refused to indulge him, stopping that string abruptly just as he was about to reach the peak.

“That’s all for today,” Yu Tingzhi’s voice said with a smile. “If you want to hear more, I’ll groan it to your face.”

With that sentence, the video call suddenly disconnected.

All the restless heat driving Meng Chi forward ceased along with it. Staring at the phone screen that had reverted to the chat page, he sent three question marks in a row. Yu Tingzhi merely replied with a “Goodnight.”

Meng Chi stared at those two words for a long time before letting out a helpless laugh, his surging mood nearly deflating on the spot.

This guy really was petty, getting jealous over even this.

A moment later, unable to endure the itching in his heart, Meng Chi had no choice but to open his photo gallery and, using the screen recording from earlier, complete the solo handiwork performance himself.

Early the next morning, everyone began packing their things to leave Xiqiao Town and head into the city for the concert.

On the way, Meng Chi checked the concert introduction, only then realizing it was the outdoor activity from the variety show Yang Youran was participating in. No wonder She Shan had suddenly felt the urge.

Meng Chi hadn’t really felt much reality regarding She Shan’s status as the young prince of an entertainment company. But upon arriving at the venue, She Shan made one phone call to summon the chief director, who arranged a luxurious reception room for them—only then did Meng Chi truly learn what having “connections” meant.

Since they were already here, they naturally had to see Yang Youran. However, Meng Chi hadn’t expected his elder sister to be so spirited: when the director sent a floor manager to invite her over, she rejected him outright, saying she didn’t know She Shan and wouldn’t come to meet him since she had to prepare for the show.

This left the director with an awkward and somewhat angry expression. She Shan, however, wasn’t annoyed in the slightest, bursting into a hearty laugh.

“You were right, she really is a wild little thing,” She Shan said to Meng Chi before telling the director, “Miss Yang has a rather direct personality, just let her be.”

Meng Chi: “…”

Though the concert was organized on short notice, fans of the guests had insider information, so there were quite a few people present at the venue.

While the show director was talking with She Shan, Meng Chi didn’t linger, walking out on his own to stroll around. Before long, he received a call from Yang Youran.

Meng Chi told her his location, and shortly after, he met the fully dressed-up Yang Youran outside another waiting room. She still kept her long, straight black hair, but had styled it into a princess cut with peekaboo highlights, wearing subtle smoky makeup and a black lace dress, looking like a fallen Barbie doll.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Meng Chi teased her playfully.

Yang Youran glanced sideways at him: “It’s not like I’m refusing to see you.”

“Oh, so you just didn’t want to see She Shan,” Meng Chi smiled.

Yang Youran tutted: “Meeting him is too much trouble. I don’t want people thinking he and I have a thing going on and mistaking me for someone who relies on connections.”

Meng Chi: “…”

After a moment’s thought, Meng Chi said, “But Sister Ran, have you considered that as a minor guest, refusing when the director sends someone to get you might seem a bit ungrateful?”

“Seems that way,” Yang Youran froze, then wrinkled her nose in annoyance and frustration, complaining, “People in this circle are all slick schemers, annoying as hell.”

While Meng Chi and Yang Youran were meeting, She Shan had already sent the director away. Just as he was contemplating whether to go find Yang Youran himself, his phone rang.

“Tingzhi?” She Shan answered the call.

“Is the filming in Xiqiao Town finished?” Yu Tingzhi asked.

“Yeah, should be heading back tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, currently at the City Cultural Center. Meng Chi’s sister is recording a show here,” She Shan said.

“Understood,” Yu Tingzhi said, preparing to hang up. “Gotta go.”

“Hey, wait a sec, you’re not actually coming over, are you?” She Shan quickly asked, his tone filled with gossip and teasing. “What’s this, coming to check up on him? You trust Meng Chi that little?”

After a two-second silence, Yu Tingzhi spoke calmly: “There’s nothing to worry about. Hanging up.”

Staring at the call-ended screen, She Shan let out a “Heh” and cursed under his breath: “Closet-jealous vinegar jar.”

Yang Youran didn’t stay long before returning to prepare for the show.

The place was crawling with people holding cameras or phones to shoot videos. After walking for a short while, Meng Chi ran into several fans asking which company’s artist he was, with some even asking for photos with him.

Meng Chi awkwardly declined and returned to the waiting room. She Shan was no longer here; only Song Min was curled up on the sofa alone, his complexion looking a bit unwell.

“Song Min?” Meng Chi walked over, calling out softly twice.

Song Min lifted his eyelids, his voice weak: “Brother Meng? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong with you? Your complexion looks so pale,” Meng Chi knitted his brows, his face showing concern.

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night,” Song Min rubbed his eyes. “My body’s itching.”

Thinking of his eczema, Meng Chi felt uneasy and asked him to lift his shirt so he could check.

At the exact same time, outside the waiting room.

Holding the staff pass he had snagged from the director, She Shan casually fanned himself while raising an eyebrow at Yu Tingzhi—who had just been stopped at the door by security guard—and said: “Didn’t you say there was nothing to worry about? What are you running over here for?”