Chapter 51
Thank goodness for well-stocked guesthouses.
The once clumsy and clueless Xie Zhang had learned a few things.
It still hurt, but the slow, gentle approach was a vast improvement over his previous… enthusiasm.
But the embarrassment was overwhelming.
This wasn’t like reading manga.
Or like… taking care of himself.
It was… different.
Mortifyingly different.
It hurt, but…
Song Jingmo lay under the covers, his fingers tingling, his body warm.
He remembered the way sweat had trickled down Xie Zhang’s chest, landing on him, burning his skin.
No, even hotter than that.
He buried his face in the pillow.
He finally understood the meaning of “once you’ve tasted it, you can’t forget it.”
He unilaterally declared that seven years ago hadn’t counted as his first time.
This was his first time.
It would have been perfect if Xie Zhang hadn’t kept asking if it hurt.
“Momo?”
Xie Zhang’s voice brought him back to reality. He peeked out from under the pillow, then quickly hid again, as if burned by the sight of Xie Zhang, who was only wearing a towel.
Xie Zhang knelt beside the bed: “Are you asleep?”
“No,” Song Jingmo’s voice was muffled, slightly hoarse.
Xie Zhang chuckled, pulling him out of the covers and carrying him into the bathroom.
He’d carefully cleaned the bathtub and filled it with warm water, the room steamy.
Song Jingmo blushed, his arms tightening around Xie Zhang’s neck, his gaze darting around the room.
Xie Zhang looked down at him.
The old Xie Zhang would have thought he was simply shy, but the new Xie Zhang…
He glanced at the steaming bathtub, then back at Song Jingmo: “Want to try the bathtub?”
His tone was calm, direct.
“No!” Song Jingmo, his fantasies exposed, clung to him. “Don’t say such things in that tone of voice!”
Xie Zhang, seemingly unaware of having said anything unusual, decided a simple bath was fine too.
He gently placed Song Jingmo in the water, then retrieved shampoo and conditioner.
Song Jingmo relaxed, the warm water soothing his aching muscles, then he noticed the marks on his body.
Xie Zhang might have seemed reserved and innocent, but he’d clearly been a quick study, his newfound skills… impressive… but also…
…a bit rough?
That seemed like the right word.
It didn’t quite fit Xie Zhang’s persona, but it was strangely… appealing.
A controlled man losing control, a reserved man giving in to his desires.
That’s what he loved about him.
Song Jingmo lay back in the tub, letting Xie Zhang wash his hair. Xie Zhang, observing his expression, bent down and kissed his cheek.
“Thinking about it?”
Song Jingmo almost slid under the water.
“Thinking about what? I wasn’t!” He glared at Xie Zhang. “You’ve changed!”
“You’re always thinking about these things now!”
“Go back to being the stoic Xie Zhang I knew!”
He’d thought Xie Zhang’s “blooming” would be a subtle transformation, but he’d become a force of nature.
Xie Zhang, unfazed, continued washing his hair: “I haven’t changed.”
Song Jingmo, lulled by the gentle massage, closed his eyes, then quickly snapped them open, his senses heightened.
As soon as Xie Zhang rinsed the shampoo from his hair, he turned around, leaning against the edge of the tub, watching him intently.
His body was covered in marks, and so was Xie Zhang’s.
And since Song Jingmo hadn’t quite mastered his newfound strength, the marks on Xie Zhang were… more pronounced.
As if he’d been… tied up… and…
Xie Zhang turned off the water, closing his eyes: “Momo, don’t look at me like that.”
Song Jingmo clicked his tongue, his earlier pain forgotten: “You said you haven’t changed? You used to be so reserved, not… like this…”
Xie Zhang replied calmly: “I was always like this.”
Song Jingmo: “?”
Xie Zhang: “But I could control myself.”
Song Jingmo: “…”
Touché.
He lay back in the tub, watching Xie Zhang rinse off, the water occasionally splashing into his eyes.
Xie Zhang, noticing this, adjusted the showerhead.
Song Jingmo continued to watch him.
The old Xie Zhang would have been flustered by such a gaze, but the new Xie Zhang, having been trained by his shadow, could now shower under intense scrutiny without flinching.
“Can I ask you something?” Song Jingmo said suddenly.
Xie Zhang turned off the water: “Hm?”
Song Jingmo, trying to maintain his composure, asked calmly: “Could you please stop asking if it hurts? Do you really think I can answer you at that moment?”
“Besides, I’m stronger than you now. If it hurt, I would have pushed you away!”
Xie Zhang’s hand tightened on the faucet, then he turned the water back on, his movements still calm and controlled.
Song Jingmo, having won this round, poked Xie Zhang’s knee, then pinched it playfully.
His shadow boldness returning, he felt Xie Zhang’s muscles tense beneath his fingers, his skin tingling.
Whoa.
The sexual tension was palpable.
Sniff.
Song Jingmo, enjoying himself, watched as Xie Zhang quickly washed his hair, then turned up the water temperature.
Hm? It was getting warmer.
He looked up.
And met the gaze of a very… aroused… Xie Zhang.
Song Jingmo: “…”
Suddenly remembering he was no longer a shadow, but a very sensitive, easily flustered human, he slowly retreated into the water.
Xie Zhang stepped into the tub, pulling him into his arms.
…
“Momo… does it hurt? Like this… does this hurt? How about here… does it hurt?”
“Don’t… ah… stop asking!!!”
“Mo—mm…”
“Shut up!”
…
An hour later.
Xie Zhang, carrying the now clean and dry Song Jingmo, placed him gently on the bed in the other bedroom.
Even Xie Zhang, with his impressive stamina, was feeling the effects of their… activities.
He lay down beside Song Jingmo, then, as he closed his eyes, he saw a faint red glow flickering in the room.
A figure dressed in black appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
He looked at the two mortals on the bed, his gaze lingering on the red string slowly connecting their wrists, his brow furrowed as he watched the names on his ledger flickering.
The master from the wishing tree temple appeared beside him, smiling: “Why are you here? Don’t be such a spoilsport.”
“Let it go.”
He patted the figure’s shoulder.
“It’s already done. You missed your chance. The red string is mended, the ghost has become a living soul. You can’t drag a living soul to the underworld.”
The figure in black, his face expressionless, remained silent, the hand on his shoulder feeling incredibly heavy.
The master continued to smile: “Besides, you can’t defeat me, can you?”
The figure could only watch as the two red strings, glowing brightly, finally connected, the light fading as the connection solidified.
On the ledger, the name “Song Jingmo,” which should have been marked for collection, flickered, then dimmed, returning to the list of the living.
The master whistled, then vanished.
The figure in black, after a moment of silence, put away his ledger and disappeared as well.
Song Jingmo stirred slightly, as if sensing something, but he was too sleepy to wake up. He nuzzled against Xie Zhang, seeking his warmth.
He grabbed Xie Zhang’s hand, placed it over his eyes, and drifted back to sleep.
Song Jingmo woke up to sunlight streaming through the window.
He opened his eyes, feeling Xie Zhang’s presence beside him.
Then he saw it.
A bright red string tied around his wrist.
He sat up abruptly, examining it closely.
When he’d first regained his physical form, they’d checked him thoroughly. He’d been wearing only his pajamas, no accessories, no red string.
But now—
It had appeared, silently, mysteriously.
He took a deep breath, tugging on the seemingly fragile string.
Xie Zhang, who had just woken up, caught his wrist.
“Don’t pull yours; you’re too sensitive now.”
“Pull mine.”
He offered his own wrist, also adorned with a red string.
Song Jingmo tugged, but it didn’t break.
He examined both strings, murmuring: “It’s different from before. There’s no knot.”
The previous red strings had been tied by them.
But these strings were seamlessly connected, a continuous loop.
He looked at Xie Zhang, his lips parting slightly.
Xie Zhang pulled him into a tight embrace.
Even the most composed and reserved person, when in love, could be reduced to a puddle of emotions.
Song Jingmo hugged him back, resting his forehead against his shoulder.
It was a beautiful, sunny day in Yunnan, the colorful clouds gone, the sunlight golden.
A warm glow enveloped them.
Xie Zhang whispered in his ear: “Momo, let’s go home, okay?”
He didn’t want to wait any longer.
He was afraid of change, of something going wrong.
He wanted to hold his lover, whole and complete, walk with him in the sunlight.
Walk with him in the world of the living.
He held his breath, waiting for Song Jingmo’s answer.
He knew he’d agree, but he still felt a flicker of anxiety, thinking about the challenges that awaited them.
Their initial encounter had been so perfect, so carefree, but real life was messy and complicated.
After a moment, Song Jingmo said softly: “Xie Zhang, you’re being… clingy.”
Xie Zhang: “…No.”
Song Jingmo: “If you say no, I won’t agree. We can stay here a bit longer…”
Xie Zhang: “Mm.”
“Mm what?” Song Jingmo teased.
Xie Zhang, after a long pause, his face buried in Song Jingmo’s neck, mumbled: “…Being clingy with Momo.”
Song Jingmo: “!”
Hiss!
A blooming flower could be… terrifying.
Having overcome his earlier trauma, and having… acquired a taste for… certain activities, Song Jingmo was no longer afraid.
He traced Xie Zhang’s spine with his finger, meeting his gaze, a mischievous smile on his face: “If you keep being clingy, Mr. Xie, we won’t have any… relationship problems… even after we go back.”
Problems solved in bed weren’t real problems.
He continued his ministrations, kissing the now rigid Xie Zhang.
“I guarantee it.”
