Chapter 50

It was hot. So hot.

Why was it so damn hot?

Lin Zao lay in bed under the thick quilt, his sleep restless and fitful.

Sweat drenched the strands of hair scattered across his forehead, and an inexplicable heat had him writhing involuntarily.

He tried to move his hands and feet, desperate to shove the covers off.

But the quilt weighed on him like it had been soaked through—heavy and unyielding.

Forget kicking it off; he couldn’t even wriggle a hand or foot out for a breath of air.

Why was this happening?

Wasn’t it only March?

Wasn’t it still winter? Even if spring was on its way, it shouldn’t be this sweltering.

In Lin Zao’s dream, he turned into a chick with its wings pinned down, a little fish trapped in a net, and—

A cockroach squashed under a slipper!

Unable to break free or fully wake, Lin Zao squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head furiously.

So hot! So heavy! So…

In the next instant, Lin Zao’s eyes snapped open.

The quilt still pressed down on him like something was pinning it in place.

He panted for a couple of breaths, gathered his wits, and twisted his head to look.

In the darkness, his gaze met Fu Cheng’s face.

Looking further down—

Holy crap! No wonder!

That Dead Ghost Fu Cheng had wriggled out from under the covers!

If it had just been him going uncovered, Lin Zao might have let it slide.

But no—he wasn’t just uncovered; he was lying on top of the quilt, pinning the corner down tight!

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. While pinning the quilt, he had stretched out his long arms, wrapping them around both Lin Zao and Little Bao through the fabric!

Little Bao slept on the inside, smaller in size. When he got too hot, he had crawled out on his own—lucky him.

Lin Zao was different. He lay right beside Fu Cheng, held fast in those arms.

No wonder!

No wonder it felt like something was crushing him, heavy as lead.

No wonder a simple night’s sleep had left him sweating buckets.

It was all because—

Lin Zao twisted his head, staring fixedly at Fu Cheng as he ground his molars.

He drew in two deep breaths, clenched his fists under the covers, and gathered his strength.

Three—

No time for two or one. He wasn’t giving Fu Cheng another chance!

Lin Zao raised his fist and shoved the quilt and Fu Cheng’s arm off him with all his might.

In one explosive burst, he flipped over, sat up, and before Fu Cheng could fully wake, he yanked the quilt over the zombie’s head. Straddling him, Lin Zao raised his hand and smacked down.

It was you! You Dead Ghost!

All for your own selfish desires, you nearly suffocated me!

Unforgivable!

The sudden commotion jolted Fu Cheng awake.

His eyes flew open, a flash of red light streaking through them as he raised a hand to block.

In the next moment, a familiar sweet scent washed over him.

A familiar soft touch landed on his arm.

Fu Cheng came back to himself, lowered his arm, lay back on the bed, and gave up resisting.

Then came the gentle palms brushing over his shoulders.

Once, twice, three times.

It was Little Zao.

Little Zao must have slept well last night. No sooner had he woken than he started acting spoiled.

Little Zao always got like this when he was playful. Even a cold-blooded zombie like Fu Cheng found it hard to resist.

Heh…

Just then, Lin Zao twisted on the bedside lamp.

A dim, warm yellow glow sprang to life, shining right on Fu Cheng’s face.

He leaned against the headboard, the bite guard strapped on, his mouth obscured.

But his eyes, fixed on Lin Zao, brimmed with laughter.

Clearly delighted—maybe even a little thrilled.

Seeing that infuriating look, Lin Zao’s temper flared. He raised his hand to strike again.

Fu Cheng sat up a bit, relaxing his muscles, ready to take the hit on his shoulder or chest.

—Here it comes! Little Zao, I’m ready!

This way, it was easier on Lin Zao!

Lin Zao’s hand hovered in midair, wavering. He clenched it, then opened it, back and forth, before finally letting it drop.

Fu Cheng frowned, puzzled.

—What’s wrong? Little Zao, why stop?

Lin Zao turned his head, glanced at Lin Xiaobao, then grabbed Fu Cheng’s pajama collar and yanked him close.

He glared fiercely at Fu Cheng, lowering his voice to a vicious hiss. “I’m not playing around.”

Fu Cheng nodded, letting out a low, rumbling purr from his throat, laced with amusement.

Lin Zao figured he hadn’t gotten the message. Leaning in, he bumped his forehead against Fu Cheng’s.

“No grinning like an idiot. Be serious!”

Fu Cheng cleared his throat and schooled his features into a stern expression.

Lin Zao still wasn’t convinced he’d understood. After a moment’s thought, he let go and shoved Fu Cheng back against the headboard.

If he couldn’t comprehend words, maybe he’d get the visual?

Still straddling Fu Cheng, Lin Zao raised a hand, swept back his sweat-dampened bangs, and showed him.

—See? My forehead’s soaked with sweat. All your fault!

Lin Zao dropped his hair, grabbed the hem of his pajama top, and lifted it, twisting left and right to display more.

—Look! I’m drenched all over. Thanks to you!

Fu Cheng’s gaze dropped, fixating on Lin Zao’s pale, slender waist. His eyes darkened, throat tightening.

Yeah, and it looked… good.

Okay, not just good—great. Amazing!

Unthinkingly, Fu Cheng reached out, wanting to touch, to feel.

But before his hand made contact, Lin Zao slapped it away.

“You Dead… pervert! I said look at the sweat, not ogle me!”

Lin Zao was about to lose it.

Talking didn’t work. Showing didn’t work.

Zombies were the dumbest species on earth!

Lin Zao dropped his shirt, balled his fist, and thumped Fu Cheng’s chest twice with solid smacks.

Whatever. Venting came first.

“Reflect on that.”

With those words, Lin Zao turned to get off the bed.

Fu Cheng rolled over at once, instinctively reaching after him.

But as his fingers brushed Lin Zao’s hem, Lin Zao lurched forward and escaped.

He darted to the wardrobe, pulling out a thinner, clean set of pajamas.

Fu Cheng followed. Lin Zao swished away like a tail flick, dodging him and slipping into the bathroom.

Like a nimble little cat.

Lin Zao shut the bathroom door, leaving Fu Cheng outside.

“Go reflect. Don’t bother me.”

A rumbling purr came from beyond the door. Lin Zao took it as agreement.

He turned, set the clean pajamas on the rack, and stripped off his sweat-soaked ones.

All Fu Cheng’s fault—these were thick, fluffy winter pajamas!

Lin Zao grabbed the showerhead and twisted the faucet.

Warm water cascaded over his shoulders, washing away the sticky sweat.

Instant relief washed over him.

Thinking about it, it made sense.

It was mid-March now; the weather had been warming steadily. Time to switch to lighter pajamas and quilts.

But that didn’t excuse Fu Cheng nearly smothering him!

Lin Zao picked up the bath puff, squirted on some body wash, and worked up a lather.

Damn it. He needed to teach that zombie a lesson.

His puff was pink; the foam, white.

The right colors, right?

Lin Zao showered on, grinding his teeth one moment, humming cheerfully the next.

With the foam mostly rinsed, he reached to adjust the shower.

That’s when a loud bang echoed from the door.

Lin Zao jumped, whipping his head around.

Through the frosted glass, a tall, broad shadow loomed.

It stood right outside, pressed close.

Forehead against the door. Palm flat on the glass.

A large, strong hand, fingers splayed clearly.

No need to guess—Lin Zao knew exactly who it was.

He hadn’t gone! He’d been standing guard the whole time!

Like a cat, hovering while he showered, afraid he’d drown.

No—a dog, posted outside lest an intruder slip in.

And he was the biggest intruder of all!

Knowing Fu Cheng wouldn’t barge in, Lin Zao ignored him, cranked the shower to full blast, and silently sped up his rinse.

Three minutes later, Lin Zao finished, dried off, changed into fresh pajamas, and yanked open the door.

Sure enough, Fu Cheng waited right there.

The door swung wide, and his eyes lit up at the sight of Lin Zao.

Fu Cheng grinned, arms opening wide for a hug.

—Little Zao, welcome back!

But the next second, Lin Zao was chasing him down with swings.

“Pervert! Creep! Spying on my shower!”

It was still early, just past four.

The sky hadn’t lightened yet, and Lin Zao had no habit of starting chores at dawn.

He tossed his dirty clothes into the hamper, climbed back into bed, and stroked Lin Xiaobao’s neck and back.

Little Bao was clever; he’d crawled out of the stifling nest ages ago.

He sprawled on the pillow, sleeping soundly, his back dry and sweat-free.

Their current quilt was a hefty ten pounds of thick cotton—nice and toasty.

Lin Zao had considered swapping it out, but the other quilts in the wardrobe had sat through the whole winter without airing. Dust mites might itch, so he held off.

One more night under the heavy quilt; they’d change tomorrow.

Lin Zao pulled out a small blanket, wrapped Little Bao in it, then tugged a corner of the big quilt over the kid’s belly.

He himself draped the other corner over his own stomach and settled in.

Both he and Little Bao had their limbs free, only bellies covered.

That should keep the heat at bay.

Seeing him lie down, Fu Cheng climbed back onto the bed and settled beside him.

Lin Zao rolled over, eyes wide, cheeks puffed in annoyance. “Go away.”

Fu Cheng met his gaze innocently and rumbled twice.

—No.

Lin Zao puffed his cheeks harder, then couldn’t hold back a laugh. He pounced, wrapping his arms around Fu Cheng and nestling into his chest.

Fu Cheng paused, looking down at him. He raised a hand and huffed out a breath, mimicking Lin Zao’s earlier gesture.

His body was cold; it’d freeze Little Zao.

“I’ve got the quilt.” Lin Zao patted the fabric bundled over his belly. “Covering head to toe would be too hot.”

Lin Zao opened his mouth and huffed too.

This time, it meant hot, not cold.

Fu Cheng looked skeptical.

Lin Zao burrowed deeper into his arms, adjusting position.

“Don’t worry about it. Just hold me while I sleep.”

After such a short nap, Lin Zao was nowhere near rested.

He closed his eyes, drifting off again.

Fu Cheng gazed at his face, hesitated, then gently rested an arm over Lin Zao’s waist.

Fine. If Little Zao insisted.

The wall clock ticked steadily; faint light crept in from the window.

Lin Xiaobao slept wildly, free from Dad’s restraint, twisting every which way in a 360-degree Thomas spin breakdance routine on the bed, having the time of his life.

The sun rose slowly, sunlight spilling in, warming the room once more.

Lin Zao nestled in Fu Cheng’s arms, clutching his arm, head pillowed on his chest.

His own body was warm where the quilt covered it.

But Fu Cheng was cold—where they touched, it was cold.

Hot and cold intertwined.

As dawn neared, Lin Zao slept deeply but restlessly.

He dreamed again.

This time, though, he didn’t become a chick, fish, or cockroach.

He was still himself—Lin Zao.

He dreamed Fu Cheng was back in the utility room, and he was bringing him food.

Carrying the meal box, he pushed open the iron door.

The utility room was pitch-black and silent. He couldn’t see Fu Cheng, couldn’t hear him.

He called out “Brother Cheng” and stepped inside, one foot after another.

Then disaster struck!

A tiger, a wolf, a leopard—Lin Zao couldn’t tell what beast it was.

It lunged from the shadows, tackling him to the ground. They rolled twice, locked in its grip.

The beast’s powerful paws clamped his waist. Its rough lips and tongue lapped at his cheek; sharp fangs nipped his lips.

Pinned beneath, Lin Zao flailed—punching with fists, kicking with feet, even biting—but struggled in vain.

The beast looked up, and Lin Zao froze, staring.

Not a beast. Fu Cheng.

Lin Zao blanked for a second. Fu Cheng leaned down, kissing his eye corner, nose tip, and lips.

Then cheeks, chin, throat.

Neck, collarbone, chest.

Before Lin Zao could react, Fu Cheng’s kisses trailed downward toward his waist.

Lin Zao choked, hands weakening as he tried to push Fu Cheng’s head away.

Not a strange sensation.

He and Fu Cheng had known each other over twenty years, dated nearly ten, been married almost five, with a three-year-old kid.

Of course this wasn’t strange—just a while since he’d felt it.

It felt good. Blissful.

He nearly turned into a little beast like Fu Cheng, rumbling with pleasure.

Fu Cheng kissed him everywhere, finally gripping his ankle, lifting his leg for one more peck.

Like a beast in rut, Fu Cheng pounced again, eyes blazing as he closed in.

Lin Zao knew what came next. He raised his hands, looping them around Fu Cheng’s neck.

Then, incongruously, he thought—

Brother Cheng’s a zombie now.

Can zombies even do this?

Would he pass on the virus?

Would a zombie’s… equipment be different?

Zombie…

“Zao?”

Fu Cheng’s low, raspy voice broke through.

Lin Zao’s eyes flew open. He was still clutching Fu Cheng’s arm, lying in their bed.

It had been a dream…

He—he—he’d been dreaming!

A dream like that!

Lin Zao’s face flushed scarlet. He scrambled to flee, but Fu Cheng snagged his waist and hauled him back.

The quilt corner between them had somehow been flung aside.

Fu Cheng wrapped his arms around Lin Zao’s waist, pulling him close.

Lin Zao lifted his own arms, hugging Fu Cheng’s shoulders, burying his flushed face in the zombie’s chest—burying himself entirely.

Early morning, and Brother Cheng, that zombie, was just as worked up as him.

They held each other close, the thin fabric of their pajamas the only barrier between them as they listened to the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing and felt the warmth radiating from their bodies.

Neither dared to make any other movements.

Lin Zao hugged Fu Cheng tightly, shaking his head vigorously.

No! No, no, no!

How could he possibly be with a zombie…

But this zombie was Brother Cheng.