Qi Yang thought he was hearing things. He never expected Mu Yicong to come to his neighborhood at eleven thirty at night on the same day he got home, just to look at the lights outside his building.
How did this guy even know which building he lived in?
He glanced out the window, grabbed Mu Yicong’s clothes from his suitcase, and hurried downstairs.
As he approached the neighborhood entrance, he realized he might have come down a bit too fast. He slowed his pace, strolling out at a leisurely walk.
Mu Yicong hadn’t gotten out of the car this time. The warm yellow light from inside the cabin spilled out. Qi Yang walked over and knocked on the window.
The driver’s side window rolled down. Mu Yicong was on the phone, giving a slight “mm” into it to signal Qi Yang to wait.
Qi Yang tossed the paper bag of clothes directly into the passenger seat. After watching Mu Yicong hang up, he asked, “Why are you here at this hour?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Mu Yicong looked at him while tapping on his phone. “You don’t contact me, so I can’t come find you?”
After seeing Mu Yicong off at the villa garage last time, the two of them had indeed barely been in touch the past couple of days.
Qi Yang mentally reinforced the “trial relationship” status between him and Mu Yicong, then switched the question. “How do you know which window is mine?”
“I know you better than you know yourself.” Mu Yicong put away his phone, opened the door, and got out.
Instead of walking toward Qi Yang, he opened the trunk and pulled out two boxes of strawberries, gesturing for Qi Yang to take them.
He drove all the way here late at night just to deliver strawberries?
Qi Yang’s feelings about Mu Yicong were getting more and more complicated. He’d been receiving too many things lately, and it made him uncomfortable.
“No need.” He kept his hands in his pockets. “You take them back and eat them yourself.”
“My family gave them to me. I don’t like them.” Mu Yicong didn’t waste words with Qi Yang. He shoved the strawberries directly into Qi Yang’s arms. “Take them back for Xingxing.”
Arguing over two boxes of strawberries and pushing them back and forth on the street wasn’t Qi Yang’s style.
What a family gives their child is usually something good. The huge strawberries were plump and glossy, radiating a high-quality shine through the transparent packaging. At this time of year, strawberries of this appearance and packaging weren’t cheap.
“Thanks, on her behalf.” Qi Yang remembered Zou Meizhu’s urging, pursed his lips, then said, “When are you free? Let me treat you to a meal.”
Mu Yicong didn’t agree right away.
He shoved both hands into his jacket pockets, stepped closer to Qi Yang, and asked softly, “Are you treating me to a meal, or inviting me on a date?”
A car roared past on the road, blaring its horn.
Every reflexive retort Qi Yang wanted to shoot back swirled around in his throat over and over again, only to be swallowed down forcefully under the look in Mu Yicong’s laughing eyes.
“Suit yourself.” He turned and walked away.
“I’m free tomorrow,” Mu Yicong raised his voice slightly from behind. “Feeling like hot pot. You buy the ingredients and we’ll cook at my place.”
Zou Meizhu had been exhausted from sitting in the car all day. Tonight, even when her mahjong buddies called her to fill a seat, she rarely turned them down.
Seeing Qi Yang come back late at night carrying two boxes of strawberries, she happily came over to take a look. “Ooh, strawberries! I was just thinking I wanted some strawberries.”
You want to eat everything.
To prevent her from scheming again about setting up Mu Yicong with someone, Qi Yang didn’t explain where the strawberries came from and went straight to his room.
After closing the door, he came back out to tell Zou Meizhu, “I won’t eat at home tomorrow night. I’m treating Mu Yicong to a meal.”
Usually, if he told Zou Meizhu to spend more time watching Xingxing and less time playing cards, she would grumble and complain for ages. But now, hearing it was about having dinner with Mu Yicong, she tore open the strawberry box and cheerfully replied, “Great! Find a nice restaurant.”
There was no need for a restaurant.
Qi Yang closed the door, stood by the window, and looked out. Mu Yicong’s car had already driven off.
Hot pot.
Go to his place for hot pot.
Zou Meizhu loved hot pot, but ever since Xingxing was born, she had almost never gone to an actual restaurant. They always bought soup packets and cooked at home.
Qi Yang had become quite skilled at making hot pot. But since the other party was Mu Yicong, and it was at Mu Yicong’s home, he couldn’t help overthinking — wondering if Mu Yicong was planning something at home.
He couldn’t dwell on this kind of question, especially before bed. Once the lights were off, all kinds of images flooded his mind.
His memories of their kiss spread unchecked. Even though they had agreed in advance not to go to bed, his imagination was beyond his control. If two men went to bed, was it really that… backdoor kind of thing?
Qi Yang turned over in bed. He inexplicably grabbed his phone, thinking of finding a video to study.
He opened a website, stared at the screen full of flesh tones, and suddenly felt irritated.
Boring.
Cursing himself inwardly, he tossed his phone beside the pillow and forced himself to sleep.
The car rental business wasn’t booming every day; it had its off and peak seasons.
The time around New Year’s was the busiest. After working hard all afternoon, right before clocking out, a big client showed up. By the time Qi Yang sent the guy off, it was already past six.
Today happened to be a coincidence. Qi Yang had just grabbed his phone to call Mu Yicong when it buzzed — Cui Wu’s name popped up.
“What’s up, Yangzi?” Cui Wu’s voice sounded down, dragging his words half-dead.
“Just got off work.” Qi Yang shrugged on his jacket and walked out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing much. Can’t I call you if there’s nothing?” The sound of a lighter clicked on Cui Wu’s end, and it was clear he was annoyed today. “Free tonight? Let’s grab some drinks.”
Cui Wu was different from Liu Dameng. Although the few of them had kept in touch well since graduation, the gap in their lives and circles was there, and they had gradually drifted apart. Unlike Liu Dameng, who called Qi Yang whenever he was free to kill time, Cui Wu proactively reaching out to drink meant he was probably dealing with something crappy.
“Feeling down?” Qi Yang asked.
“Fuck, so frustrated.” Cui Wu took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Me and my girl were planning to get married after New Year’s, but from the decoration to the wedding, nothing’s working out. Both families are egging it on like crazy… Let’s talk in person. What do you want to eat, bro?”
Qi Yang switched the phone to his other ear, lit a cigarette, and stood at the entrance of Che Li, biting down on the filter.
“Not today.” He hesitated for a moment, but still chose to turn Cui Wu down. “I’ve got something tonight.”
“Something?” Cui Wu sounded intrigued, with a teasing tone of “Qi Yang, you finally have a life.” “Are you keeping a girlfriend secret from your buddy? That girl from Dameng’s dinner last time?”
“Piss off.” Qi Yang didn’t want to go into detail. The concept of “dating” felt really awkward when applied to him and Mu Yicong. “Call Liu Dameng to drink with you. You two have common ground on marriage stuff.”
Cui Wu didn’t mind his friend’s refusal. They agreed to hang out another day, and he hung up cheerfully.
Before Qi Yang could exit the call log, Mu Yicong’s call came in.
“Who were you talking to?” He’d gotten a busy signal earlier and asked directly.
“Cui Wu.” Qi Yang didn’t hide anything, flicking his ash. “Asked me out for drinks.”
“Go ahead,” Mu Yicong said, feigning nonchalance. “I’m in no rush.”
“Cut the crap.” Qi Yang pulled out his car keys to unlock the door. “Same neighborhood I dropped you off last time? Send me the unit number.”
Mu Yicong chuckled. “I’ll send it to you on WeChat.”
Qi Yang went to buy ingredients first. There was a big shopping mall near Mu Yicong’s neighborhood.
He didn’t skimp on money. At the supermarket, he loaded half a cart with meat and vegetables, picked out two flavors of hot pot base — enough for two more people, let alone just the two of them — and then chose some fruit and two big bottles of drinks.
Mu Yicong’s neighborhood had a gate with a guard standing like a sentry. Seeing an unfamiliar car, he immediately stopped it and demanded a registration.
Qi Yang rolled down the window, about to make a call, when the guard checked his license plate and suddenly raised the barrier, signaling he could enter.
“No registration needed?” Qi Yang raised an eyebrow.
“Apologies, Manager Mu called earlier and said you could go straight in.” The guard apologized politely and even gave him directions — where to drive inside the neighborhood and where to enter the underground garage.
Mu Yicong lived on the twelfth floor, one apartment per floor, direct entrance.
As Qi Yang stepped out of the elevator carrying his bags, Mu Yicong was already waiting in the outer entrance hall. He was wearing casual home clothes, apparently just out of the shower. His half-dried hair wasn’t as neatly styled as usual, falling loosely over his forehead.
From here, he had fully entered Mu Yicong’s territory.
That realization made Qi Yang oddly reluctant to meet Mu Yicong’s eyes.
He glanced past Mu Yicong’s shoulder. The open door revealed the interior decoration — still the typical Mu-style. Just like the old rental apartment back then, the space was dominated by large areas of minimalist white. The living room had nothing except a sofa; no extra furniture or decoration.
This kind of room, devoid of any trace of life, would look like a high-end showroom on TV. But appearing behind Mu Yicong, it gave off that familiar dead vibe.
“You haven’t changed your decorating style,” Qi Yang said, forcing a conversation.
Mu Yicong stepped forward, took the bags from Qi Yang, and carelessly set them down on the floor inside.
Qi Yang changed his shoes outside and followed him in. He was about to say something else when Mu Yicong used the motion of closing the door behind him to pin Qi Yang against the wall.
A second formal kiss. This time, even though the location and setting were different, Qi Yang still felt the same sudden stiffness all over his body.
Without worrying about someone hearing through the walls, Mu Yicong was even more assertive than he’d been at the villa. Qi Yang’s back slammed heavily against the wall. He expected his head to get banged up, but instead it landed in Mu Yicong’s dry palm.
Qi Yang tried to turn his head and shake him off, but Mu Yicong’s fingers threaded through his hair, firmly gripping the back of his skull and deepening the kiss.
The air between their breaths was compressed until it was almost a vacuum. Feeling his teeth being pried apart, Qi Yang’s throat tightened. He instinctively leaned back, but Mu Yicong pulled his hair even harder.
The moment their tongues touched, Mu Yicong lifted his knee, pressing in more tightly. White static exploded in front of Qi Yang’s eyes, and his temples buzzed.
He seized Mu Yicong’s hand, which was resting on his waist, yanked it aside, and shoved him away to create distance.
The struggle was too violent, and his tongue was scraped by Mu Yicong’s teeth.
Qi Yang closed his mouth, frowning, and glared at Mu Yicong. “The hell are you, a dog?”
“What are you dodging for?” Mu Yicong wiped the corner of Qi Yang’s mouth with his thumb, his voice hoarse. “You agreed to come, so you should have guessed what I’d do to you.”
