Chapter 50
“Dumplings!”
The news of Song Muqing’s marriage had been circulating among the students for a while, his wedding ring a constant reminder. They would often catch a glimpse of it during lectures or lab sessions, commenting on its unique and beautiful design, until recently, when they saw a matching ring on Lu Xuefeng’s finger during his lecture at the dance department. They had been curious about his spouse, and after seeing Lu Xuefeng’s photos, they were impressed by how well-matched they were. Many regretted missing his lecture, having only seen the photos online.
Many had taken photos and videos during the lecture, and the thread on the forum had quickly become a hot topic. Someone even recognized Lu Xuefeng in the audience during Song Muqing’s badminton match a while back. He had been wearing a cap, trying to be discreet, but his striking appearance and proximity to the court had made him noticeable. They hadn’t known him then, but now, they knew he was Professor Song’s beloved.
The female students were ecstatic, clamoring for more details about their relationship.
Song Muqing had also noticed his students’ increased interest in Lu Xuefeng, their casual conversations often drifting towards their relationship. He would occasionally tease them, refusing to answer their questions.
“He’s more popular than me now,” he told Lu Xuefeng.
That afternoon, Lu Xuefeng had driven to pick him up from the university, and a student had recognized him and approached him at the gate.
Lu Xuefeng, putting away the groceries, raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, then added playfully, “Sorry, Professor Song, seems like I’ve stolen your spotlight.” He pretended to be contemplative, his tone teasing. Song Muqing chuckled, amused by his unusual playfulness. He put his arm around Lu Xuefeng’s waist, nuzzling his ear. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to steal it back from you.”
Lu Xuefeng’s ears tingled from his warm breath. He pulled away slightly, saying seriously, “I’m putting away groceries.” So, Song Muqing helped him, quickly filling the refrigerator.
“The students keep asking me about you,” Song Muqing said.
“And did you tell them?” Lu Xuefeng asked, taking a container of yogurt from the refrigerator.
“No,” Song Muqing closed the refrigerator door, taking the yogurt from him, peeling off the lid, and handing it back. “I didn’t tell them anything about you.” He hadn’t shared any personal details about Lu Xuefeng with his students, but he hadn’t been shy about showing his affection either.
Lu Xuefeng smiled faintly. “It’s up to you.” He took a spoonful of yogurt, offering some to Song Muqing, who declined. “It’s cold. Don’t eat too much,” Song Muqing said gently.
“Okay.”
They had bought dumpling wrappers and filling, planning to make dumplings for dinner. A warm bowl of dumplings was perfect for a winter evening. They had enjoyed his grandmother’s homemade dumplings a few days ago, and Song Muqing hadn’t had enough.
They sat at the table, preparing the filling and the wrappers. They folded the dumplings, their movements similar, yet the finished products looked distinctly different. They exchanged amused glances, realizing neither of them was particularly skilled at making dumplings. Song Muqing said he rarely ate dumplings, let alone made them. Lu Xuefeng recalled making dumplings with his family during the New Year, a large, lively gathering, not paying much attention to the shape of the dumplings.
“As long as they don’t fall apart, they’re good dumplings,” Lu Xuefeng quoted his grandmother.
Song Muqing agreed. Since they were making them for themselves, as long as they tasted good, it didn’t matter how they looked.
After a while, Lu Xuefeng paused, looking at Song Muqing, who had a smudge of flour on his glasses. He had been adjusting them earlier and had forgotten about it. He chuckled, pointing it out. “You have flour on your glasses.” As he tried to wipe it off, it smudged even more. Song Muqing chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll wash it off later.” He had a high nose bridge, which made him look even better in glasses.
They finished making the dumplings, more than enough for one meal, storing the rest in the freezer for breakfast.
Song Muqing washed his hands and went to prepare the dipping sauce while the water boiled. He also made honey-glazed chicken wings and smashed cucumbers as side dishes.
“Xuefeng, come here,” he called. Lu Xuefeng walked over, and Song Muqing held out a chicken wing. “A special taste for my husband.” Lu Xuefeng ate it; it was delicious, the sauce savory and flavorful, the meat tender and juicy. His appetite increased.
The dumplings were ready, served in steaming hot bowls. “Let me try one first,” Lu Xuefeng said. “Careful, it’s hot,” Song Muqing warned. Lu Xuefeng took a dumpling, recognizing it as one Song Muqing had made, and ate it, the warmth spreading through his mouth. “Delicious,” he said. Song Muqing’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “I’m glad you like it.” Lu Xuefeng looked at him, feeling content.
It was a cold winter night, and they were enjoying a simple meal together, the warm light from the dining room chandelier illuminating the room. The tablecloth was new, a pattern they had chosen together, a vase of fresh flowers in the center.
“I couldn’t ask for more.”
Yin Xiaoyu had invited Lu Xuefeng for a drink on Friday afternoon, sending him the location after work: a small bar. They didn’t order much food, just a platter of snacks. Yin Xiaoyu, not having any performances scheduled, ordered a beer, while Lu Xuefeng, not hungry or particularly thirsty, ordered a non-alcoholic cocktail. A singer was performing on stage, the music slow and mellow, the dim lighting creating a cozy atmosphere.
They chatted idly.
“I’m in a relationship,” Yin Xiaoyu announced.
Lu Xuefeng paused. “Who is he?”
Yin Xiaoyu explained that she had met a handsome doctor during her follow-up appointment at the orthopedics clinic. They had exchanged WeChat contacts and chatted occasionally, then had dinner together a few times, getting to know each other. They had officially started dating in the spring.
“Who confessed?” Lu Xuefeng asked.
“He did. He seemed sincere, so I agreed.”
She showed Lu Xuefeng a photo; the doctor, wearing a white coat, looked handsome and mature, a reliable type. Yin Xiaoyu had dated before, mostly for the excitement, but the relationships had been short-lived. She had also been pursued by wealthy men but hadn’t been interested. This was her first serious relationship in years. Lu Xuefeng thought they seemed well-matched, the doctor more reliable than her previous partners. “That’s good. I wish you happiness.” Yin Xiaoyu’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Of course.” She had only told Lu Xuefeng; it was still a new relationship.
She clinked her glass against his, her mood cheerful.
“Being a doctor must be tiring,” Lu Xuefeng commented.
“Yes, he’s quite busy,” Yin Xiaoyu agreed. “He works late, and I have rehearsals, so we don’t have much time together. But it’s fine; we don’t need to be together constantly.”
Lu Xuefeng nodded, then, remembering something, looked down at his phone, searching for a specific message. He found it and forwarded it to Yin Xiaoyu.
Her phone buzzed, and she looked down, seeing a link from Lu Xuefeng.
“What is this?” she asked, clicking on the link. She saw the familiar title: “How to Treat Asexuality…”
She looked up at Lu Xuefeng.
Lu Xuefeng, his expression calm, put down his phone, his tone casual. “Now that you’re in a relationship, you might need this.”
Yin Xiaoyu burst out laughing, pointing at him. “Lu Xuefeng, you’re terrible!”
He had actually remembered that and had deliberately sent it to her.
She asked about his life.
But she didn’t need to ask; his happy and content demeanor was evident.
Lu Xuefeng and Song Muqing’s relationship was truly enviable.
During the New Year, they had taken a trip to a southern coastal city, enjoying a warm winter vacation.
Lu Xuefeng, not usually one for social media, had even shared a few photos, Song Muqing appearing in some of them.
Family gatherings, his beloved by his side.
Their happiness was evident even through the photos.
They didn’t chat for long; Yin Xiaoyu’s boyfriend came to pick her up.
A while later, Song Muqing also arrived, leaning close to Lu Xuefeng’s ear in the dimly lit bar. “Is your drink good?”
Lu Xuefeng smiled. “Yes, it is.” He offered Song Muqing a sip of his cocktail.
Song Muqing didn’t drink it, but leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of lemon, soda water, and alcohol on his lips.
The dim, flickering lights of the bar created a romantic atmosphere, the singer on stage performing a love song.
Song Muqing, seizing the moment, said softly, “Mr. Lu, can I buy you another drink?”
It was a classic pick-up line, a playful tease.
Lu Xuefeng smiled, showing him his wedding ring. “Sorry, I’m taken.”
Song Muqing chuckled softly, amused by the rejection.
Lu Xuefeng leaned closer, his hand on Song Muqing’s shirt, his voice low, only for him to hear. “But I can go home with you.”
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes bright in the dim light, his words a subtle invitation.
As if saying he would do anything with him.
Song Muqing felt a surge of desire.
He smiled, his voice husky. “I couldn’t ask for more.”
“A Date”
They went on a date this weekend.
Song Muqing had bought tickets to an art exhibition beforehand. They slept in, enjoying the warmth of their bed.
Song Muqing got up first to make breakfast, going to the bathroom to wash up.
Hearing the sounds of running water and brushing teeth, Lu Xuefeng also got up, joining him in the bathroom.
Their hair was slightly messy from sleeping, a few strands sticking up at odd angles.
Song Muqing, freshly washed and looking refreshed, stood by the sink.
Lu Xuefeng stood beside him, yawning, still sleepy, his eyelashes slightly damp.
Song Muqing cupped his face in his hands, kissing his lips softly.
“Morning, Xuefeng,” his voice was gentle as always.
Lu Xuefeng, still half-asleep, was startled by the sudden kiss.
But Song Muqing had already turned away to prepare breakfast, his movements efficient and practiced.
Lu Xuefeng looked at himself in the mirror, murmuring a belated “Morning.”
After breakfast, they changed clothes.
The weather was warmer now, no need for thick coats.
The air was filled with the scent of spring.
Lu Xuefeng wore a beret and a black and gray outfit, his slender frame and artistic style making him look incredibly attractive.
He adjusted his clothes in front of the mirror, Song Muqing embracing him from behind, his gaze fixed on him.
“Why do you look so good, hmm?”
Lu Xuefeng smiled. “Isn’t it our date?”
Song Muqing nuzzled his ear, unable to take his eyes off him.
Lu Xuefeng waited for a moment, then, seeing he wasn’t letting go, urged him gently, “Hurry up and get dressed. We’re going to be late.”
Song Muqing turned him around, kissing him deeply.
“I’d rather stay here with you.”
Lu Xuefeng, unable to resist, told him not to mess up his clothes.
They lingered for a while longer before finally leaving.
The art exhibition had already started. It was the weekend, and the gallery was crowded. They walked together, admiring the artwork, their voices low, exchanging occasional comments. Their tastes in art were similar, and even when they disagreed, they respected each other’s opinions. They always found common ground. Having a partner who shared your interests was a precious thing. They were not only legally married but also kindred spirits. Song Muqing always understood the message behind his dance dramas. They enjoyed the same movies, the same music, and were moved by the same art. Lu Xuefeng cherished these moments of connection, every second precious. Song Muqing felt the same.
After seeing the exhibition, they visited a nearby museum.
It was late afternoon when they finished.
The air outside was warm and pleasant, the afternoon sun soft and gentle, a hint of spring in the air.
They walked hand in hand under the trees, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.
“Shall we go home now?” Song Muqing asked.
Lu Xuefeng shook his head. “I have another plan.”
“What plan?”
Lu Xuefeng showed him his phone. “We’re going here.”
It was a music restaurant, a popular spot for couples, with a romantic ambiance, good food, live music, and a beautiful view of the city.
Lu Xuefeng had made the reservation without telling him.
“Dinner with me, Professor Song?”
“Okay,” Song Muqing agreed readily.
They also went to the gym together.
The weather was pleasant, the temperature ideal. They changed into their workout clothes and went to the indoor sports complex, often playing badminton together.
Lu Xuefeng was also a decent badminton player, their rallies lasting a long time, the rhythmic thud of the shuttlecock and the exertion creating a pleasant, exhilarating feeling. Sometimes, on weekends, they would invite Jin Hong to join them.
One day, while playing badminton, they ran into Song Muqing’s colleagues, Zhou Xinhai and Zhao Qi. Song Muqing introduced them. “I’ve heard so much about you,” Zhou Xinhai said, finally meeting him. The news of Lu Xuefeng’s visit to Z University had spread quickly, and everyone had seen his photos. This was their first time meeting him in person. Since they were all there to play badminton, they decided to form teams for doubles matches.
Lu Xuefeng and Song Muqing were on the same team, their teamwork seamless, and they easily defeated Lao Zhou and Zhao Qi, who complained about their skills. During a break, Lao Zhou suggested switching teams, saying it was impossible to win against a married couple. So, Lao Zhou teamed up with Lu Xuefeng, and Song Muqing with Zhao Qi. They played a few more games until they were all tired. They sat down, wiping their sweat and drinking water. Zhao Qi, panting, commented, “You guys are amazing.” Song Muqing, not being modest, replied, “Lao Zhao, you need more practice.” Zhao Qi scoffed playfully. Lao Zhou remarked that Lu Xuefeng, despite his slender build, was quite strong and had good stamina. Lu Xuefeng smiled, saying it was thanks to Song Muqing, who glanced at him, a questioning look in his eyes, wondering what he meant. Lu Xuefeng, understanding his unspoken question, smiled back. Seeing their silent exchange, Lao Zhou, feeling like a third wheel, suggested they have dinner together.
Song Muqing readily agreed. “I’ll treat.”
“No, we’ll treat,” Lao Zhou insisted. “We lost; it’s only fair.”
“No need.”
“Of course. We kept score; there has to be a consequence for losing.”
They insisted, and Song Muqing and Lu Xuefeng couldn’t refuse, so they had dinner together. They were all easygoing and got along well, the meal enjoyable. They even made plans to play badminton or tennis together again. Lu Xuefeng would have to learn tennis, but they assured him it wasn’t difficult. He agreed. On their way back, Song Muqing told him there was no pressure to join them if he didn’t want to. “Of course I want to,” Lu Xuefeng replied, holding his hand. “I enjoy being with you.” Whether it was playing badminton, taking a walk, or having dinner, as long as they were together, it felt like a date.
“The Mirror”
While working on his new choreography, Lu Xuefeng had spent most of his time in the dance studio at home. Now that he was back at the theater, rehearsing for upcoming performances, the studio wasn’t being used as much. But he still practiced there after work and on weekends, to stay in shape. Song Muqing never disturbed him, focusing on his own work or reading in the study, giving him space.
One day, Song Muqing went to the theater to pick him up and found him alone in the rehearsal studio, practicing. He was sitting down, resting, wearing a thin shirt, and smiled faintly when he saw Song Muqing.
“Waiting for me?”
“Yes,” Lu Xuefeng nodded, standing up. They left together.
Back at the apartment, Lu Xuefeng changed into his white practice clothes, the loose-fitting shirt and pants giving him an air of elegant detachment. Song Muqing had never seen him wear them before; he only wore them when he was practicing. He assumed he was going to the dance studio, but Lu Xuefeng walked towards him.
“I choreographed a new piece. Would you like to see it?” he asked softly. It was clearly an invitation.
“Can I?” Song Muqing asked, his gaze fixed on him.
Lu Xuefeng smiled. “It’s for you.”
Song Muqing’s breath hitched.
Lu Xuefeng extended his hand, and Song Muqing took it, following him into the dance studio, into his private sanctuary. The floor was covered in special dance flooring, a large mirror covering one wall, a barre for stretching nearby. Song Muqing leaned against the barre, watching as Lu Xuefeng warmed up, then started the music on his phone.
As the soft melody filled the room, Lu Xuefeng began to dance.
Song Muqing had never imagined Lu Xuefeng would dance for him; it was a dream come true. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, his heart pounding.
Lu Xuefeng, lost in the music and the movement, danced gracefully, his body flowing like water, each movement precise and fluid, yet powerful. The music intensified, and his movements became more dynamic, his body flexible and agile. The long sleeves of his shirt billowed around him, his long legs extending, his feet pointed, each step a testament to years of training and dedication. He glanced at Song Muqing, his eyes conveying the emotion of the dance, and Song Muqing felt a shiver run down his spine, captivated. The mirror reflected his graceful movements, the white outfit enhancing his ethereal beauty. As the music slowed, the dance ended, a sense of peace settling over the room.
Song Muqing was still mesmerized. The room felt warm, his heart pounding. He looked at Lu Xuefeng, his gaze intense.
Lu Xuefeng walked towards him, his chest rising and falling slightly, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Song Muqing felt a strange tension in his own body, as if he had danced with him.
“Was it good?” Lu Xuefeng asked softly. He was a professional and didn’t need anyone’s validation, but this dance had been for Song Muqing. He wanted to know his opinion.
“It was good,” Song Muqing replied, his voice slightly breathless. “Beautiful.” Breathtakingly beautiful.
Lu Xuefeng looked at him. “That was the first time I’ve danced for someone like that.”
Song Muqing felt a surge of warmth, his hand reaching out to pull Lu Xuefeng closer, his palm warm against his waist. Their foreheads touched. “The first time?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Yes,” Lu Xuefeng replied, the implication clear: this was a privilege only for Song Muqing.
Song Muqing leaned down, his lips brushing against his, his voice a soft murmur, a gentle possessiveness. “Only for me from now on, okay, Xuefeng?”
Lu Xuefeng, swayed by his gentle tone and the promise of a kiss, agreed. “Only for you.”
Song Muqing, receiving his promise, deepened the kiss, their bodies pressed close together. Lu Xuefeng’s arms were around his neck, but after a while, he pulled away slightly, unable to ignore Song Muqing’s obvious arousal. A smile played on his lips as he met Song Muqing’s gaze. “Song Muqing, what’s wrong?”
Song Muqing didn’t hide his desire, his nose touching Lu Xuefeng’s. “Since you started dancing,” he whispered.
“You…” Lu Xuefeng started to say, but Song Muqing silenced him with a kiss. He chuckled softly, surrendering to the kiss, which deepened, Song Muqing’s warmth and his breath against his skin. They were both losing control. Song Muqing whispered in his ear, “Can we do it here?” His voice was a seductive murmur. Lu Xuefeng, too embarrassed to refuse, moaned softly in response.
Song Muqing embraced him from behind. The mirror reflected their figures, Lu Xuefeng’s flushed face and the passionate intensity in Song Muqing’s eyes. As Lu Xuefeng’s legs weakened, he slid down the mirror, Song Muqing holding him close, their bodies pressed together. His touch was gentle yet firm, possessive, leaving Lu Xuefeng no room to retreat. Lu Xuefeng couldn’t bear to watch, his gaze averted, but Song Muqing tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at their reflection, their bodies intertwined.
“You’re so beautiful, Xuefeng,” Song Muqing whispered, his lips leaving a trail of marks on his skin. Everything was a blur of warmth and dampness, their hearts beating against each other, a symphony of love and desire. Tears welled up in Lu Xuefeng’s eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming pleasure, his moans escaping his lips. Being with Song Muqing always made him feel this way, a confusing mixture of emotions, losing himself in the moment. His breath came in short gasps, his hands clenching, his body yielding, inviting Song Muqing deeper. After a while, he tried to push him away, but his strength failed him. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Song Muqing kissed him deeply, his lips on his ear, whispering his name, each syllable filled with love, his movements relentless, pulling Lu Xuefeng into a wave of pleasure.
The mirror was smudged.
For a long time afterwards, Lu Xuefeng couldn’t look at that mirror without remembering their passionate encounter.
“Birthday”
Lu Xuefeng was born on a cold, snowy winter day, just like his name suggested.
But he didn’t like celebrating his birthday.
If it weren’t for his grandmother, he wouldn’t even remember the date.
After starting his career in Wu City, he had become too busy to care.
Only when his grandmother called in the evenings, wishing him a happy birthday, did he realize another year had passed. His colleagues and friends at the theater had wanted to celebrate with him, but he had always declined.
His first birthday with Song Muqing had been a quiet, simple affair, his twenty-ninth.
This year, he would be turning thirty.
He didn’t feel any different; age wasn’t a big deal to him. He could accept growing older; it was a natural process.
Song Muqing knew he didn’t like extravagant celebrations, so this year, he suggested a trip, to celebrate his thirtieth birthday in a different city. Lu Xuefeng agreed, leaving the arrangements to him.
They both took time off work.
It rarely snowed in Wu City during the winter, only the cold air announcing its arrival.
They flew north, arriving early in the morning.
After landing and checking into their hotel, they were greeted by a world covered in white. The roads had been cleared, but thick piles of snow lined the streets.
The winter atmosphere was palpable.
The air was biting cold, and as they stepped out of the car, the wind whipped against their faces. Their clothes weren’t warm enough, but they had packed winter gear.
They hurried inside their hotel suite.
Song Muqing brushed the snow off Lu Xuefeng’s hair.
It was still snowing outside.
Lu Xuefeng stood by the window, lost in thought.
Song Muqing, after unpacking, embraced him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Lu Xuefeng paused, then asked, “Why did you want to come north?”
He had been surprised by Song Muqing’s choice of destination when he saw the plane tickets.
The snow here was heavier than he had expected.
Song Muqing, his arms around him, said softly, “I thought you didn’t like celebrating your birthday, or winter.”
Lu Xuefeng rarely expressed his preferences; Song Muqing had simply observed him.
He had had this thought since their quiet birthday celebration last year.
“It’s fine,” Lu Xuefeng replied softly.
Song Muqing turned him around, looking into his eyes. “You’re lying.”
Lu Xuefeng looked away.
Song Muqing cupped his face, kissing his forehead. “I brought you here to give you a different kind of birthday, a happy winter experience. We can soak in hot springs, go skiing, hike in the snow, or just stay inside and watch the snow fall. Anything you want.”
He looked at him tenderly. “I just want you to remember this birthday, that I was here with you.”
“Happy birthday, Xuefeng.”
Lu Xuefeng felt a lump in his throat.
Song Muqing caressed his eyes, his voice and his expression as gentle as the falling snow, melting the winter chill.
“I want to be a part of all your birthday memories.”
Lu Xuefeng smiled, his eyes slightly reddened. He wanted to tell Song Muqing how possessive he was, but he couldn’t speak. He hugged him tightly.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He hadn’t told Song Muqing that last winter, in the dim light of their apartment, as Song Muqing lit the candles on his cake and sang “Happy Birthday,” he had made his first wish in years:
That Song Muqing would be with him for every birthday to come.
They had been married for a while then but hadn’t fully confessed their feelings.
But his wish had already come true.
For many years to come, his birthday wish would continue to come true.
