Chapter 18: Tears

The touch on his lips was warm, soft, and moist—the first time Fu Yanzong had ever been kissed so boldly. He straightened up and leaned back a little, but Song Linyu stubbornly chased after him, propping his hands on the table. His tea-colored eyes were misted over with steam, making him look utterly pitiable.

Fu Yanzong tsked in dissatisfaction and pressed a hand to Song Linyu’s lips. His fingertip rubbed heavily from left to right, then slowly kneaded and pinched, making Song Linyu’s lips quiver while a flush of peach-pink spread across them.

“Did I say you could kiss me?”

Fu Yanzong drawled out the words slowly. The beauty mark at the corner of his eye caught the lamplight and lifted high, his gaze brimming with arrogance and allure.

Song Linyu couldn’t speak. He just looked up at him with those damp, pleading eyes. After a long moment, he murmured a fuzzy, coquettish apology.

But it still felt like he wasn’t really sorry at all.

Fu Yanzong lowered his eyes to the man before him. Because he’d pulled back, Song Linyu had to grip the edge of the table, his knee instinctively pressing against the chair as he leaned closer. The overhead light on the kitchen island scattered messily down, highlighting the soft curve of his waist beneath his thin skin in a way that was incredibly tempting.

He really is to my taste, Fu Yanzong thought slowly.

And he’s fairly obedient, too.

Obedient enough to call very good. Very clever. Very thoughtful.

…There didn’t seem to be any reason to refuse.

Fu Yanzong had never been interested in the kind of bed-hopping deals in his circle where mutual attraction and benefits were all it took. He wasn’t so lofty as to avoid them entirely, but he did despise those men and women who threw themselves at him.

Their intentions were written too plainly on their faces—disappointing and dull.

Song Linyu was different. There was nothing off-putting about his approach. Before he knew it, Fu Yanzong had tacitly allowed him to get close and had indulged him greatly.

But if he wanted more, the price would be different.

Fu Yanzong stared into Song Linyu’s eyes and warned him word by word: “Song Linyu, being my lover won’t necessarily get you more than being an assistant I like.”

“But what you’d have to give up would far exceed what you’re offering now.”

“I’ll give you time to think it over. You’d better come back with a smart answer.”

Fu Yanzong calmly laid out the risks and withdrew his hand from Song Linyu’s lips. He stood lazily at the edge of the island, looking ready to see him out.

But this time, unusually, Song Linyu didn’t take the hint and leave. Instead, he stood straight, lowered his eyes, and thought seriously for a moment, his hand tightening on the glossy black marble.

It was clear he was weighing Fu Yanzong’s words with gravity.

A moment later, he looked up and answered earnestly: “What if I don’t want anything else? Bro, I just want to stay by your side.”

Fu Yanzong’s life was just beginning, yet he’d already heard more confessions than most people did in a lifetime. He didn’t disbelieve in love at first sight—plenty of fans fell for him after a single meeting or a glimpse on screen.

And Song Linyu’s confession wasn’t just pretty words. Everything he did made it seem like he truly liked him.

To some extent, Fu Yanzong relied on his thoughtfulness. Even when he got too immersed in a role, only Song Linyu could pull him back from those deep, ocean-like thoughts.

But Fu Yanzong still found Song Linyu’s obedience too feigned, too self-sacrificing. Because he never pushed for more.

That kind of pliancy was like a duplicitous blanket, hiding whatever lay beneath Song Linyu’s surface.

…But that didn’t matter.

Fu Yanzong thought idly.

As long as he was pleasing for now.

So he nodded thoughtfully, then casually sat on the high stool by the island, his expression cool and languid. Next, as if it were the most ordinary thing, he reached out and beckoned with a finger.

Like he was hooking the chin of a small pet, he drawled:

“Fine then. Come here.”

Song Linyu froze for a second, thinking to walk around the edge of the island. But as he took a step, Fu Yanzong’s smiling shove of the food platters pinned him in place.

Struck by a sudden inspiration, Song Linyu seemed to understand.

He bit down gently on his reddened lip, then rose on tiptoe and knelt onto the cold marble island.

The black veins in the marble contrasted starkly with his pale skin. His hands trembled slightly from the chill as he braced them down. Song Linyu abruptly lowered his eyes, and his loose fuzzy slippers slipped off with a soft thud to the floor.

His ears flushed faintly.

Like a kitten that had sneaked home after its owner, he leaned toward Fu Yanzong with utter devotion.

To obey even to this extent—Fu Yanzong was immensely pleased.

Before Song Linyu could even grasp his hand, Fu Yanzong bent his arm around his waist and pulled him entirely into his embrace.

Song Linyu instinctively clutched his shoulders tightly. The space he had to move was so small that he was practically buried against Fu Yanzong.

Fu Yanzong chuckled softly, tilted his chin up, and leaned in slowly. He pinched Song Linyu’s cheek, then—before he could react—lowered his eyes and kissed him.

This kiss was utterly unlike the gentle brush Song Linyu had initiated earlier. Fu Yanzong pried open his teeth and conquered like storming a city, dominating the soft, wet territory with forceful ease, leaving Song Linyu utterly open.

Though it was their first real kiss, it felt perfectly natural.

Warm breaths ghosted over Song Linyu’s tense jaw, making his long lashes tremble nonstop.

Held in his arms, Song Linyu could clearly feel Fu Yanzong’s distinct knuckles pressing into the small of his back. Then, lazily, Fu Yanzong tugged up the hem of his shirt and slid his hand upward with expert grace.

Only when he was kissed to the brink of suffocation did Song Linyu plead for mercy. In the brief gaps for breath, he called Fu Yanzong’s name in a small, pitiable, quivering voice.

The culprit behind it all, Fu Yanzong, remained unmoved. So Song Linyu let out a string of soft “Brothers,” pecking coaxingly at the side of his face.

Fu Yanzong laughed, tickled by the kisses and utterly indulgent. He was about to say something when he felt Song Linyu’s arms tighten around him even more.

Then he paused and flicked out his tongue to lightly lick Fu Yanzong’s lip.

“Only puppies lick people randomly.”

Fu Yanzong turned his head with a low chuckle and dove back in for another kiss. This one was fierce, kissing a flush into the corners of Song Linyu’s eyes. Physiological tears welled up, hovering on the brink like clustered pearls.

The skin beneath his hand grew scorching hot. Fu Yanzong heard Song Linyu’s faint pants. In the instant they parted, he caught a timid whimper, black hair dripping with thin sweat.

Fu Yanzong touched his face, a muffled laugh rumbling in his throat: “Just one kiss and you’re like this?”

Song Linyu said nothing, just pressed his face into Fu Yanzong’s palm and nodded silently.

Seeing him like that, Fu Yanzong kindly let him rest a bit. He held him close and reached for the glass nearby to take a sip of water. But after just two sips, something pressed lightly through the thin fabric at his waist, circled by a hand.

Fu Yanzong paused, lowering his head with a half-smile. Song Linyu was obediently nestled against his side, working diligently on his own through the cloth. Even his palm shook a little from how impressively exaggerated it was.

Fu Yanzong gripped the glass and called his name with a heavier tone.

“Song Linyu.”

Song Linyu looked up in a daze. His reddened eyes stared blankly, lips pursed as he whispered: “What’s wrong?”

He even seemed a bit righteous about it.

Fu Yanzong paused, then pressed the cool glass side against his flushed, hot cheek and asked leisurely: “Do you want water… or something else?”

Song Linyu must have understood, his throat bobbing as he answered with action.

…But such actions weren’t enough to satisfy Fu Yanzong.

He set the glass down gently; it clinked crisply against the marble. The stark white light poured down, bringing a sense of inescapable shame.

Song Linyu’s back pressed against the pure black marble. His black hair stuck thickly to the surface, the cotton-linen fabric soaked through. Fu Yanzong unhurriedly pushed aside any obstacles, then covered Song Linyu’s eyes with his hand.

The blinding light vanished, replaced only by the dry, comfortable press of distinct knuckles. Song Linyu’s senses sharpened endlessly in that moment. The apartment was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, save for the faintest breaths.

Then, inevitably, he realized his damp lashes had wet Fu Yanzong’s palm.

For some reason, that fact filled him with profound embarrassment.

His unconsciously tensed knees brushed Fu Yanzong’s waist. They were swiftly caught in one hand. Like parting glossy shells on a beach, Fu Yanzong spread them slowly.

Song Linyu felt cool air touch his skin. He couldn’t help curling his fingertips, digging tense red marks into his palm.

And oddly, Fu Yanzong’s movements halted. Song Linyu heard him speak, amused yet helpless: “If you’re scared, stop squirming.”

Next, Fu Yanzong touched the palm of Song Linyu’s hand. He moved the hand that had been resting on Song Linyu’s knee and instead gently clasped his palm, which glistened with a thin sheen of sweat—a silent form of reassurance.

Going back decades, no one besides his mother had ever held Song Linyu’s hand when he was afraid. Even his mother had rarely offered such an intimate touch.

Song Linyu paused for a long moment before silently gripping Fu Yanzong’s hand tightly. When Fu Yanzong tilted his head in puzzlement, Song Linyu wound his fingers around it with utter dependence.

Fu Yanzong arched a brow lightly. He released the hand that had been shielding Song Linyu’s eyes from the light, urging him to close them while catching the waist that lifted toward him.

“So greedy?”

Fu Yanzong drew him closer into his embrace, his tone one of helpless indulgence. “I don’t have any lube here. It’ll hurt.”

Song Linyu shook his head stubbornly and leaned against his shoulder. “No need.”

“Enduring it will just make you uncomfortable…”

Song Linyu nuzzled Fu Yanzong’s cheek lightly, then turned his face away with quiet seriousness to gaze at the man’s smiling features.

Fu Yanzong really was so handsome, so gentle—gentle enough to make Song Linyu feel as though he had fallen into a gorgeous dream.

Had it not been for his own ulterior motives, that dream might never have ended.

Fu Yanzong glanced at him, struck by how much Song Linyu resembled one of those custom-made, obedient life-sized dolls—perfectly pliant, amenable to anything.

So compliant that it stirred a person’s baser instincts.

“I didn’t say you had to endure it.”

Fu Yanzong kissed his eye, then curved his knuckle to brush Song Linyu’s lip corner with a teasing friction, waiting idly for the man to lean in and kiss it lightly in return.

Song Linyu’s fingertips unconsciously clutched at the arm before him, his back tensing. Moments later, a warm, soft palm soothed him downward, yielding to the scorching heat that crept closer inch by inch, seeping into his very skin.

The overwhelming heat set Song Linyu’s entire body ablaze. Helplessly, he pressed himself against that searing skin, as if kneading the warmth into his bones and blood to ease Fu Yanzong’s quickening rhythm.

In that instant, Fu Yanzong claimed him utterly and without mercy, like waves lapping fiercely at unyielding rock—relentless, yet in no hurry to withdraw.

Skin ground repeatedly against skin, heat saturating muscle and sinew. Subtle sensations spread from points of contact, leaving untouched areas tingling with strange anticipation.

Song Linyu leaned against the marble countertop, breathing raggedly. His legs buckled before he could steady himself, and Fu Yanzong pulled him away, draining what little strength he had left. Instinctively, Song Linyu caught at Fu Yanzong’s fingertips. Their lips met in a haze, his thoughts scattering, his gaze unfocused, the world around him fading into distant noise.

Grinning wickedly, Fu Yanzong let out a playful whistle. He kissed Song Linyu’s cheek and offered his verdict on the man’s disheveled state.

“Already on the verge of tears… Baby, weren’t you a little too confident just now?”

Dazzling flecks of light flashed across his vision, stinging his eyes and sending the tears that had gathered there spilling over at last.

Song Linyu squeezed his eyes shut, desperately holding back the droplets. He shook his head with a reflexive jerk, as if terrified of breaking down in front of Fu Yanzong.

Yet he longed to see the man’s face, so he forced his eyelids open with effort. The thick layer of tears turned his pale irises a watery red, lending him an air of heartbreaking vulnerability.

Seeing him like this, Fu Yanzong paused his movements. He pinched Song Linyu’s chin, drawing him close, and asked softly, “Does it hurt? If it hurts, why hold back the tears?”

Song Linyu shook his head emphatically. He met Fu Yanzong’s gaze and fell silent for a long while before whispering, “Crying won’t change anything.”

Fu Yanzong stilled for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. He kissed Song Linyu’s damp lips and scooped him up, carrying him toward the bedroom.

“Crying works on me.”

As the words left his mouth, Fu Yanzong felt hot tears splash into his palm.