HL 69

The next morning, Xu Nanxiao was roused by the glaring sunlight. Cursing under his breath, he sat up, a stubborn tuft of sleep-mussed hair sticking straight up on his head.

He touched his forehead—his fever was gone, and his body felt clean and refreshed. He could even say he hadn’t slept this well in far, far too long.

“You’re awake?” At the sound of Ying Yusheng’s voice, Xu Nanxiao’s whole body jolted. He turned his head and saw the other man carrying two plates over to the dining table.

The ingredients in Xu Nanxiao’s fridge were limited, so the breakfast Ying Yusheng had made was spam toast and a creamy pumpkin soup with milk.

“Come eat.”

“Oh.” Xu Nanxiao shuffled over slowly, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He stirred the pumpkin soup with his spoon—it was thick and creamy. He took a sip; it was sweet and smooth, and a strange warmth bloomed in his stomach.

Fuck. He cursed inwardly—he wasn’t sure if he was cursing the soup, the person who made it, or himself for actually drinking it.

Ying Yusheng was washing dishes in the kitchen, the sounds quiet and unhurried. Xu Nanxiao could hear the flow of water, the faint scrape of a rag against ceramic. Everything was so ordinary—so mundanely domestic—that it made his scalp prickle.

He should have thrown the bowl and walked out, like last night, or at least sat there cold and silent. But instead, he stayed, wearing the clean T-shirt Ying Yusheng had found for him, carrying that familiar tea scent that clung to him like a second skin he couldn’t peel off.

Ying Yusheng finished washing the dishes and came over to join him for breakfast.

The two sat across from each other in silence, the only sound in the air being their chewing.

Xu Nanxiao looked up and suddenly noticed a deep red bite mark on Ying Yusheng’s neck, bruised and dark. He remembered how Ying Yusheng’s fingers had dug into the hollow of his tailbone last night, and how he himself had bitten down on the other man’s shoulder to stifle his moans at the final moment.

Now, fully awake, Xu Nanxiao began to think last night had been absurd.

What were they now? Enemies? Bed partners? Or some kind of twisted, symbiotic relationship? He didn’t know. He only felt that tangled knot in his chest tightening further, with no loose end to pull.

He regretted it.

He wanted Ying Yusheng to get lost again.

Before he could speak, Ying Yusheng spoke first: “I’ll go now. Get some rest.”

“…Oh.”

Ying Yusheng put on his trench coat and scarf and pushed open the door. The spilled congee outside had already been cleaned up, leaving only a dark stain.

Then Ying Yusheng suddenly turned around and asked the very question that had been circling in Xu Nanxiao’s mind—

“Nanxiao, what are we now?”

Xu Nanxiao was silent for a moment, then looked at him and answered coldly: “The relationship between a person and their dildo.”

Ying Yusheng paused, but didn’t get angry. He thought for a moment, then smiled and said, “Then before I leave, could the dildo give you a kiss?”

“No.” Xu Nanxiao slammed the door shut in Ying Yusheng’s face.

After that, the two didn’t see each other again.

Gradually, Xu Nanxiao became less unable to accept the fact that he’d slept with Ying Yusheng again. He made peace with it—it was just sex, something that used to be completely ordinary for him. There was no need to attach any special meaning to it.

Life went on as usual. One day after work, Liang Sihua took Xu Nanxiao to a tea house.

It was the only tea house in this small town—not big, seating only four tables. But the owner was a tea fanatic who knew how to buy good tea and wasn’t afraid to spend money, so business had always been steady.

By the time they arrived, only one table was left. The two ordered a pot of Fuding white tea, along with some melon seeds, peanuts, and pastries.

As they drank, it started to rain. The raindrops slapped against the windowsill, leaving coin-sized marks.

Xu Nanxiao stared at the rain outside, took a sip of tea, and suddenly his eyes lit up. He looked at the cup in his hand. “This tea is good—strong mouthfeel, really saliva-inducing.”

Liang Sihua said, “I didn’t expect you to know your tea.”

“Why not?”

Liang Sihua was blunt: “You seem more like a liquor guy.”

“I like liquor too,” Xu Nanxiao said with a snort.

“Then who did you used to drink tea with? Your dad?”

Xu Nanxiao suddenly fell silent. He gripped his teacup tighter, took another sip, and muttered, “None of your business.”

Just then, the wind chime by the door rang.

The owner immediately said, “Welcome… oh, Teacher Ying, you’re here?”

Ying Yusheng walked in and, upon seeing Xu Nanxiao and the others, they all froze for a moment.

Ying Yusheng hadn’t brought an umbrella—he was soaked through, carrying a cool, travel-worn chill.

He took off his trench coat, blinked, and smiled. “Came for some tea and to get out of the rain.”

The owner glanced around. “Sorry, Teacher Ying, all four tables are full today. How about I ask if someone’s willing to share a table with you?”

He then looked over at Xu Nanxiao and Liang Sihua, walked over with a smile, and asked: “Sihua, how about you share a table with Teacher Ying? You’re both regulars—do me a favor. Besides, don’t you two know each other?”

“Well…” Liang Sihua couldn’t decide, so he glanced quietly at Xu Nanxiao.

Xu Nanxiao knew Ying Yusheng was looking at him, but he kept his mouth shut, only sipping his tea with a cold expression. The owner got no reply and just stood there, and soon the atmosphere grew awkward.

Luckily, an older man at the table behind them stepped in to ease the tension. He waved and said, “Boss, let Teacher Ying sit with us. My daughter’s in his tutoring class—we know him.”

“Alright, alright, thanks a lot, big bro.”

“Thank you.” Ying Yusheng smiled and gave a slight nod, then walked over.

In any case, the issue was resolved. Liang Sihua relaxed again and started making small talk with Xu Nanxiao.

“Hey, let me tell you, the other day I actually saw Ye Qiaozi—”

For some reason, even though Liang Sihua was closer, Xu Nanxiao oddly felt that he could hear the conversation at the table behind him more clearly.

“Teacher Ying, can you still add a few more spots to your Chinese class? A relative’s kid wants to join too.”

“Sorry, if there are too many students, it’ll affect the quality of teaching.”

“Please, just one more spot—just one. We’re willing to pay extra.”

“Heh, alright, no need to pay extra—consider it thanks for treating me to tea.”

Ying Yusheng’s seat happened to be right behind Xu Nanxiao. Their backs were only a few centimeters apart; if either of them leaned back even slightly, they’d accidentally touch.

Maybe because he’d been caught in the rain, Ying Yusheng’s shirt carried a dampness. Xu Nanxiao could feel that moisture seeping through the skin where they almost touched, vibrating in every pore. He immediately pulled away, leaning forward.

“Will you still run the English class in your senior year? My daughter says she wants to keep studying with you.”

Ying Yusheng thought for a moment. “As for the future… hard to say. Maybe I won’t be here by then.”

Xu Nanxiao’s movements suddenly halted.

“You’re going back to Beijing? That makes sense—with your level of education, coming here to teach on a whim was never going to last forever.”

“Going back is good, going back is good.”

The middle-aged men’s voices were loud enough that Xu Nanxiao and Liang Sihua couldn’t help but overhear. At that, Liang Sihua suddenly thought of something and lowered his voice curiously: “When are you going back?”

“Why would I go back?” Xu Nanxiao said, displeased.

“You said it yourself—you came here to take care of something. Once it’s done, you’ll have to go back eventually.”

“I changed my mind.” Xu Nanxiao’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for Ying Yusheng behind him to hear clearly. “I suddenly think this place isn’t bad. Maybe I’ll stay here forever.”

With that, he suddenly stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked outside.

“What are you doing?” Liang Sihua called after him.

“The rain stopped. I’m going out for a smoke. You keep drinking,” Xu Nanxiao said without looking back.

After Xu Nanxiao left, Liang Sihua wondered to himself. It had been two years, and he still didn’t know what exactly Xu Nanxiao had come here to do.

About fifteen minutes later, Ying Yusheng also stood up to take his leave. The men at his table tried to persuade him to stay.

“Teacher Ying, don’t go yet—chat a little longer. It’s rare to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah—boss, bring another plate of salty peach crisps.”

“No need.” Ying Yusheng smiled and politely declined. “I want to buy some fruit at the market. It’ll close if I’m any later.”

So they reluctantly said goodbye.

Xu Nanxiao was standing in a small alley not far from the tea house, smoking.

The wall was soaked through, the dark bricks saturated with water, much darker than usual. The air was heavy, thick with the rank smell of wet grass and earth.

He pulled out a cigarette—the filter was already a little soft and damp. The lighter flame jumped up, then sank down into a steady, dark ember.

He put the cigarette between his lips but hadn’t even taken a drag when it was suddenly snatched from behind.

“Don’t smoke when you’re taking sleeping pills,” Ying Yusheng said gently, then smoothly put it into his own mouth. “It affects the efficacy.”

Xu Nanxiao froze, instinctively clenching the cigarette pack. He wanted to ask how Ying Yusheng knew he was taking sleeping pills, but he figured it was pointless. In the end, he just spat out four words: “None of your damn business.”

Ying Yusheng had taken the first cigarette, so Xu Nanxiao impatiently lit a second one for himself.

The two leaned against the wall, saying nothing more.

At such close range, the other’s presence was acutely felt—every breath, every rustle of clothing was magnified through the senses.

Xu Nanxiao couldn’t stand it anymore before he’d even finished his cigarette. He dropped the butt, ground it out with his foot, and turned to leave.

Just then, Ying Yusheng suddenly grabbed his shoulder, pinned him hard against the wall, and with a mouthful of smoke, breathed it directly into Xu Nanxiao’s mouth.

Xu Nanxiao choked violently on the smoke, and anger surged up instantly. He didn’t back down—he kissed back just as fiercely, the bitter taste of tobacco charging between their mouths.

They wrestled, bit, and tore at each other, neither able to conquer the other. Until Xu Nanxiao finally tore Ying Yusheng away, tilted his head back, and gasped for air, admitting defeat.

Ying Yusheng stared at that beautifully arched neck, ground his teeth, and bit down again—like a chew toy, working that small patch of skin between his teeth.

“Get lost!” Xu Nanxiao snarled viciously.

Ying Yusheng didn’t let go, only pulled back for a breath, and whispered near Xu Nanxiao’s ear: “It’s been so long. Can I use your toy now?”

Xu Nanxiao let out a cold laugh and deliberately said, “Getting older. My needs aren’t what they used to be. I could go months or even a year without it and not care.”

Ying Yusheng pursed his lips, a slightly aggrieved look on his face.

But in the end, he said nothing more and kissed him again, fanning the flames across Xu Nanxiao’s body as he did.

Xu Nanxiao talked tough, but his waist went weak after just a few touches from Ying Yusheng. The cold air, the burning palms—the contrast of hot and cold made Xu Nanxiao shiver involuntarily.

When Ying Yusheng took his hand and slipped it under the hem of his own shirt, Xu Nanxiao was about to curse, but his fingers suddenly brushed against a deep scar on Ying Yusheng’s abdomen—the very wound he’d inflicted with a knife before he left.

Xu Nanxiao froze. He unconsciously traced the length of the scar with his fingertips. Old skin and new skin met there, forming a slightly sunken boundary. The surface wasn’t entirely smooth—there were minute, cracked lines like those of parched earth.

The new skin was sensitive. Ying Yusheng’s breathing grew ragged against Xu Nanxiao’s neck, as if he were touching not a scar, but something far more secret and forbidden.

Xu Nanxiao’s face grew hot from Ying Yusheng’s panting. Just as he was about to pull his hand back, he let out a stifled gasp—Ying Yusheng had returned the favor, licking the scar on his neck from that car accident.

These were the marks they had left on each other—permanent, indelible.

Liang Sihua drank pot after pot of tea, nearly pissing himself, but Xu Nanxiao still hadn’t come back.

With no other choice, Liang Sihua paid the bill himself and went out to look for Xu Nanxiao, muttering about how the bastard had gotten him to pay again.

Based on past experience, Xu Nanxiao should be in one of the nearby alleys, smoking. He walked over and was about to call out his name when he suddenly heard wet, smacking sounds and the rustle of fabric coming from around the corner.