Chapter 9: Are You Ever Going to Stop

Chapter 9: Are You Done Yet?

Shu Hanqing's finger froze mid-air, still pointing at Wang Meng. He looked at Rong Hua, who had suddenly turned into a tattletale, then at Wang Meng beside him, whose face was green with rage and totally stunned.

Under the distinctly different gazes of the others, his fingertip ultimately drifted just a fraction, halfheartedly pointing at Rong Hua.

"...Him, then."

He sounded a bit put out.

Rong Hua's eyes, which had been fixed intently on him the whole time, suddenly lit up. The corners of his mouth curved upward involuntarily, then quickly pressed together again, settling back into that look of quiet defiance.

Wang Meng beside him, apparently shocked speechless by Rong Hua's outburst, muttered a curse under his breath and suddenly lunged at Rong Hua, reaching out to shove his shoulder.

"You goddamn sissy, who the hell do you think you're talking to?!"

Sang Mai reacted quickly, stepping in to stop him, but Wang Meng was in a rage and had considerable momentum—he nearly broke free.

Shu Hanqing frowned slightly.

Arrogant and foul-mouthed. No class at all.

He looked back at Rong Hua, who was being cursed out to his face—lips pressed tight, eyelashes lowered, looking like a pitiful little thing too scared to talk back, full of grievance but afraid to speak up.

Rong Hua was pretty brash with him, but turned into a completely different person around others.

Shu Hanqing couldn't help but wonder—was this how Rong Hua usually got pushed around by this unreasonable roommate in the dorm?

To keep things from escalating, Sang Mai quickly grabbed Wang Meng, who was still trying to charge forward, and turned back to say to Rong Hua, "Xiao Rong, go pack your things quickly. Move your stuff over today."

He turned to Shu Hanqing: "Brother Shu, can you really live with Xiao Rong? If you're not comfortable or it's inconvenient, I'll think of other options and see if I can work something out..."

Anyway, there was no way they could keep living together now.

Shu Hanqing glanced at the pitiful, helpless Rong Hua beside him, then thought about Wang Meng—the one who smoked, drank, and brought women home. He quickly weighed his options.

Living with Rong Hua meant at worst dealing with some baffling behavior. Living with Wang Meng meant putting up with a smoky, noisy hell.

Shu Hanqing closed his eyes, resignedly. "...Forget it. I already chose. We'll live together."

He absolutely did not want to share a closed space with someone who was unhygienic and smoked and drank.

Rong Hua's belongings were pathetically few—just a worn suitcase with scuffed corners, plus a deflated backpack. He moved his stuff in, opened the suitcase, and unpacked a few worn clothes folded inside, along with two outfits that were noticeably newer, and their style looked familiar—they were the two outfits Shu Hanqing had lent him before, never expecting to see them again.

So this guy had already claimed them for himself.

Rong Hua carefully took those two outfits out separately and set them aside, keeping them separate from his old clothes.

Shu Hanqing shoved his own stuff further into his side of the cabinet and under the bed to make more room.

In contrast, Rong Hua's pitifully sparse luggage looked kind of shabby in all that empty space.

Rong Hua hung the last piece of clothing in the cabinet and said to Shu Hanqing, "Can I get a key?"

Only then did Shu Hanqing remember—his spare key was still with Mu Ye, and Mu Ye hadn't bothered to bring it back.

Rong Hua: "I used to forget my key, and my roommate would never let me in."

Shu Hanqing asked casually, "Oh, he wouldn't let you in? Where'd you stay?"

"I'd just find a place outside to sit for the night."

A scene flashed through Shu Hanqing's mind—that rainy night, Rong Hua sitting on the steps, soaked. He felt conflicted as he said, "The other key is with the captain. When I used to live with him, he kept one."

Rong Hua looked up at him. "Then I'll go pick it up myself."

Shu Hanqing nodded. "Alright, go ahead."

Shu Hanqing couldn't be bothered to get involved.

The voice of the plot in his head spoke up faintly: "...How the hell did you end up living with him?"

Shu Hanqing sighed. "Well... it's a long story."

He felt he'd been pretty cooperative, not wanting to trigger any kill conditions, just wanting to live a bit more comfortably in this messed-up world.

The plot: "Didn't I tell you to minimize contact with the protagonist? Stop meddling in other people's business?"

Shu Hanqing almost rolled his eyes. "You think I asked for this? I'm like a leaky bucket now—my Lightning Ability works sometimes and doesn't other times, and I don't know when it'll act up. Where else can I go if I leave the team? Just coast and wait to die? Besides, I'm the deputy captain—even if it's just a title, shouldn't I do my part for something as small as arranging roommates? Blame your plot for having bugs. I've been cooperative enough."

He flopped backward onto the bed. "Anyway, I've given up. I'm already staying eight hundred meters away from Mu Ye. Isn't that enough?"

The plot was silent for a few seconds. "...But what if Rong Hua finds the Thunder Mark on you?"

Shu Hanqing: "Shit, I forgot about that."

The plot: "Then don't walk around the room half-naked."

"Got it." Shu Hanqing said, annoyed. "I promise I'll just be the most normal roommate to him. Keep my distance, alright?"

The plot reminded him: "...Remember your place."

Shu Hanqing sneered inwardly.

Cannon fodder.

He was cannon fodder, and he remembered it well—wasn't he just supposed to be background, watching everyone else shine?

Having one more person in the room didn't make much difference to Shu Hanqing most of the time.

After the apocalypse, extreme weather was the new normal. These past few days, fierce winds had been howling, whipping up dust and sand—walking outside could plaster you against a wall, eyes squeezed shut.

Shu Hanqing had never liked going out anyway, and this weather gave him even more reason to stay holed up in bed. When awake, he'd play his game console; when tired, he'd watch old documentaries on loop on his computer; when hungry, he'd have Rong Hua go out to get food, or just gnaw on some dry rations himself.

The only real impact was that he couldn't be as relaxed as before.

He had to dress properly, even wearing a long-sleeved shirt to sleep, covering his back completely—terrified of accidentally revealing something he shouldn't.

Showering also required an extra lock on the door, and afterward he had to dry off and get dressed fast.

Rong Hua, on the other hand, was quite the homebody. He'd brave the fierce winds to go buy food, and when he came back, his hair and jacket folds would be full of fine sand. Standing at the door, he'd give a vigorous shake, sending a small pile of grit tumbling down—like a puppy that had been rolling in the mud, frantically trying to shake itself dry.

The dyed streaks in his hair had mostly faded by now, revealing the darker natural color underneath. Rong Hua had found a hair tie somewhere and would sometimes pull his slightly long bangs and side hair into a little knot, revealing a smooth forehead and sharp, clear features.

Rong Hua wasn't particularly picky either. Around the room, he'd often just wear a faded old tank top, showing off the smooth lines of his arms and a sliver of collarbone.

The plot said: "Can you tell him to put some clothes on?"

Shu Hanqing: "...I'm not into him. I'm a total bottom!"

The plot itself seemed to have rage-quit and gone offline.

Rong Hua didn't talk much. Most of the time, he just stayed quiet. When Shu Hanqing was playing games, he'd drag over a little stool, prop himself against the edge of Shu Hanqing's bed, rest his chin on his folded arms, and stare at him without blinking.

Shu Hanqing couldn't take the staring anymore. He finally paused the game and turned his head to look at him. "...You've never played this before?"

Rong Hua shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the paused game screen.

Shu Hanqing couldn't believe it. "No way. When the apocalypse hit, you were what, still in high school? Don't high schoolers play games?"

Rong Hua nodded. "I played PC games back then—online multiplayer stuff. I've never played anything like this."

He pointed at the handheld console in Shu Hanqing's hand. "Never played this kind of thing... farming, cows, fishing."

Shu Hanqing: "...Okay, fair enough. This is what us old folks play."

Rong Hua said quickly, "I didn't say you were old."

Shu Hanqing turned his head away, ignoring him. The pixel character in the game hoisted its hoe and went back to digging.

Rong Hua saw him turn away and looked a little lost. He stared at the back of Shu Hanqing's head for a few seconds, then suddenly reached out and tugged at the thin blanket over his legs.

Shu Hanqing jumped and turned to glare at him. "What are you doing?"

Rong Hua didn't say anything. He just plopped down on the edge of Shu Hanqing's bed with a sulky look, like a kid throwing a tantrum who didn't know how to say what he wanted.

Shu Hanqing looked at him and thought, Rong Hua really was like a dog.

Sometimes, after Shu Hanqing played a game for a while or finished an episode of a documentary, he'd look up and find Rong Hua still there, in the same position, staring at him without blinking.

The room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of the screen on his face. In that light, his features were so sharp they were almost fierce, but his gaze was pure, almost innocent.

For a split second, Shu Hanqing's mind would go completely blank. He'd forget who he was, forget where he was, just held by the weight of those eyes.

That was one of the bad things about the apocalypse—besides survival, everything fun and distracting had been destroyed. People were forced back into a more primitive, boring existence.

Some team members, when off duty, desperately chased fun—drinking, hooking up, using short-lived thrills to fight the long, hopeless routine. Living in a drunken haze.

Once, catching Rong Hua staring at him in a daze, Shu Hanqing said, "Don't you have any hobbies?"

Rong Hua shook his head. "No."

Then go find one. What's with hovering around him all day?

Shu Hanqing spent a few days lying around, watching Rong Hua come and go. He realized he didn't really mind Rong Hua that much. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter—this guy was like some stubborn vine, quietly creeping through the cracks, taking root in a corner, until you got used to him and couldn't be bothered to pull him out anymore.

Until one night.

Shu Hanqing woke up in the middle of the night, feeling something off with his body. His limbs were heavy, impossible to lift, like something invisible was pressing down on him. Even moving a finger was a struggle.

Something was coiling against his skin—cool and slippery. He tried to move, but his body wasn't his own. He could only feel something soft winding around his stomach, and then a warm, soft pressure covering his lips.

Shu Hanqing's body arched sharply. He tried to speak, but all his strength was gone, and only a broken whimper escaped from deep in his throat.

It felt like countless invisible, supple snakes coiling around him, from different angles, with different pressures, leaving tingles and faint stings across his skin.

The sensation traveled lower. He couldn't tell if it was a dream or something real.

Shu Hanqing curled his toes, his feet arching taut. His mind sank and floated in a hot, chaotic whirlpool, nearly blurring, leaving only his body's most primal instincts. He tilted his head back, his neck stretching into a vulnerable arc, gasping for breath.

Heat burned from the inside out, seeping into his bones. His whole body felt like it was melting into water—pleasure that made his scalp tingle, fear that chilled his fingertips.

The bed was shaking.

Outside, the sky slowly brightened through the relentless motion and chaotic sensations—from deep black to ink blue, then to gray-white.

Dawn had come.

Shu Hanqing's eyes snapped open. His chest heaved, his forehead covered in cold sweat. The sensation still lingered, refusing to fade—his stomach ached, his legs felt weak.

He turned his head stiffly to look at the bed across from him.

Rong Hua was sleeping peacefully, on his back, blanket pulled to his chest, hands folded over his stomach. His breathing was steady and deep, his profile soft and peaceful in the morning light, like some innocent kid.

Shu Hanqing pushed himself up on shaky legs and rushed into the bathroom like he was fleeing. He turned on the light, faced the mirror, and with trembling fingers pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt, checking his body inch by inch.

Aside from the Thunder Mark on his back, which was getting more visible and glowing with a dark purple light, everything else was clean—no suspicious marks anywhere.

So it really was just a dream. An absurd, insanely vivid erotic dream.

He got dressed and walked out. Rong Hua was already awake, sitting on the edge of his bed putting on shoes. Seeing him come out, Rong Hua looked up, no different from usual, and asked, "What do you want to eat? I'll go buy it."

Shu Hanqing wrapped himself in his blanket, only his head poking out, his voice still a bit hoarse. "Use my card. It's on the cabinet."

Rong Hua walked over to his bed and crouched down to look at him. "No need, I have money."

"That's yours." Shu Hanqing looked away.

"But I want to spend it on you." Rong Hua said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shu Hanqing turned to glance at him. Rong Hua's gaze was completely open, not a trace of aggression in it.

Shu Hanqing suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. He didn't say anything, just buried his face in the blanket, leaving only the fuzzy back of his head facing Rong Hua.

Under the blanket, he silently ground his teeth.

Over the next few days, the dream seemed to have a hold on him.

Several nights in a row, the second he fell asleep, those chaotic, damp images would come flooding back. When he woke, the lingering numbness and emptiness in his body felt more and more real—so real he started to wonder if it was really a dream at all.

One morning, Shu Hanqing's legs went weak when he got out of bed, his steps unsteady.

That day, Rong Hua came back from buying things. He pushed open the door and saw Shu Hanqing sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, muttering to himself with a serious look on his face.

Rong Hua put the things down and asked curiously, "What are you doing?"

Shu Hanqing didn't open his eyes, just kept muttering, speaking fast: "Exorcism."

"...Exorcising what?"

"Sex demons."

Rong Hua: "..."

His expression shifted slightly. Rong Hua pulled a roasted sausage, fragrant and dripping with oil, from the paper bag and held it under Shu Hanqing's nose. "Hungry? Eat something first. Take a break."

Shu Hanqing opened his eyes. "...Where did you buy that?"

Rong Hua named a place—a small market at the other end of the base, about a twenty-minute walk.

Shu Hanqing took the sausage and bit into it. It was still a bit hot, so he pressed his lips together, his tongue darting across his lower lip as he murmured, "...Hot."

Rong Hua's gaze landed on his lips, glistening with oil, and the tip of his pink tongue that darted out and retreated. His gaze darkened. "Yeah, I grabbed it right off the grill and drove straight back so it wouldn't get cold."

Shu Hanqing gave an "oh," and feeling it was about the right temperature now, held it out to Rong Hua. "You want a bite?"

Rong Hua fumbled, "It's... it's for you... go ahead and eat it."

Shu Hanqing glanced at him, didn't insist, and withdrew his hand to take another bite himself.

The casing was crispy, the inside firm and dense—pure meat sausage. Honestly, it was really good.

Rong Hua stood by the bed, watching Shu Hanqing's puffed-out cheeks and his lips smeared with grease, feeling like his heart was floating in the air, drifting with nowhere to settle.

Once the wind outside finally died down—the kind that could knock you off your feet—Shu Hanqing decided to head out for a walk.

The points he'd saved up weren't a fortune, but compared to those who were scrambling to survive, risking their lives for a single meal, he had a modest nest egg—enough to live a lazy life in the base.

In the apocalypse, you rarely saw anyone this laid-back. Everyone else hurried by, the urgency of survival carved into their faces. Only he moved at a leisurely pace, like he was out for a stroll in some pre-apocalypse park.

He wandered without a destination, cutting through a relatively busy street.

The street was a bit off the beaten path. The buildings on both sides were packed so tight they blocked out the sun completely. Even during the day, the alley was dim, and people passing through kept their voices low, with an unspoken intimacy hanging in the air. The air was thick with cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and other smells.

Every now and then, a woman's flirtatious laugh spilled out from a half-open door, only to be quickly muffled.

It lingered in the damp air—the sticky, decadent indulgence of the apocalypse.

Shu Hanqing kept his eyes forward, just wanting to get through this street and reach the residential area on the other side.

Suddenly, a hand with bright red nail polish reached out from the side—long, slender fingers, skin so pale it was almost blinding—and pressed lightly against his chest, blocking his path.

"Handsome," a woman's voice, dripping with amusement and soft enough to melt bones, purred, "looking for some company? Why the hurry?"

Shu Hanqing stopped and looked at the hand's owner.

She was gorgeous, in a bright red dress with a high slit that swayed as she moved, showing off a long, bare leg. Her hair reached her waist, and she had a small, perfectly placed beauty mark on her face. When she looked at you, her eyes shimmered—mature and sexy, like a perfectly ripe fruit, full of juice.

And Shu Hanqing could sense it—she had an energy fluctuation. She was a fire ability user, and not a weak one either.

Shu Hanqing had only wanted to pass through.

He hesitated, just looking for an excuse to get away, and blurted out without thinking, "You got any guys?"

The woman's beautiful phoenix eyes narrowed, then she covered her mouth and giggled, her whole body trembling with laughter. "Oh, so that's your thing? We've got that, sure. Come with me, I promise you won't be disappointed."

With that, she didn't wait for Shu Hanqing to agree and grabbed his wrist directly. Her grip was firm, carrying that particular strength of a superpowered individual. Shu Hanqing tried to pull away, but couldn't.

This was at least a Green-level ability user.

Shu Hanqing had only said it casually—he hadn't actually planned to go in.

Did this kind of place really need ability users working the door?

But the woman was already half-dragging him into a nearby building, pushing open a door and shoving him inside.

"Everyone here is looking for company," the woman said, leaning against the doorframe and winking at him. That beauty mark seemed almost alive, like it might take flight. Her tone was enthusiastic. "Too bad—you're totally my type, but I'm not yours. Still, I'm sure you'll find what you want in here."

She finished, didn't wait for Shu Hanqing to react, and waved in some direction.

Shu Hanqing was a bit dazed. It was a big space, with dim, moody lighting. The air was even thicker with smoke, alcohol, and all kinds of perfume.

There were no tables or chairs—just wide sofas arranged in circles. People sat in twos and threes, leaning on each other or whispering, their postures intimate. The light was too dim to make out faces—just vague silhouettes and the occasional flash of a hungry gaze.

He was just about to turn and pull the door open when the stabbing pain hit him again, out of nowhere.

And it was more intense than ever. The Thunder Mark on his back seemed to come alive, burning and squirming under his skin.

Shu Hanqing sucked in a sharp breath and glanced back. He saw a figure slowly approaching.

Even as just a silhouette, Shu Hanqing recognized him—the source of his ability's agitation: Lei Zheng.

No. He had to get out. Now.

Fighting through the stinging and numbness, his fingers just closed around the door handle, about to press down—

A hand with sharp knuckles, wearing a black leather half-finger glove, reached over and pressed down hard on the back of his hand, pinning it and the door handle together.

Before Shu Hanqing could react, he was yanked back.

In the darkest corner of the room, Lei Zheng stood. His fingers came up to grip Shu Hanqing's chin, forcing his head up. Those hawk-like eyes looked even darker in the dim light, appraising him with arrogant scrutiny.

"Hey, vice captain," Lei Zheng said, his voice not loud, yet it cut through the muffled music and slammed into Shu Hanqing's ears. "Fancy meeting you again."

Vice captain, my ass.

Shu Hanqing thought: Lei Zheng, that bastard—military or not, he was just as fond of messing around. What a degenerate.

Lei Zheng's thumb pressed against Shu Hanqing's lower lip, neither hard nor soft. "I've been meaning to ask you—you're a Water Ability User, so why do you have Lightning Ability on you, hm?"

"Mmph..."

Shu Hanqing's mind buzzed. The moment Lei Zheng's words landed, a numbing current shot out from the fingers gripping his chin. It didn't attack him—it seemed to pull and resonate with the same-source power. The lightning ability inside him grew even more restless.

Shu Hanqing couldn't stop the shudder that ran through him. His fingers twitched, cold sweat beading at his temples.

He looked at Lei Zheng, so close, his eyes full of nothing but disgust and defiance. "None of your business."

Lei Zheng met his disgusted, wary gaze. Instead of getting angry, he got more interested. He studied the face in front of him.

He really was good-looking—brows and eyes with an indescribable quality, a small mole under the eye that added a touch of wildness to an otherwise cool face. Especially those eyes, now glazed with a sheen of moisture from pain and anger, startlingly bright. He looked at most twenty-two, like a hedgehog with its quills up, ready to scratch anyone who came close.

Lei Zheng searched his memory and came up blank on this face.

The first time he'd properly seen him was outside that abandoned botanical garden, watching him and Rong Hua in a car in a suggestive position.

The second time was now, here.

"But you," Lei Zheng's fingers on his chin didn't loosen—they tightened. "Carry my ability. That makes this very much my business."

Shu Hanqing glared at him, fierce.

Lei Zheng didn't care. He pulled his arm in, drawing the man against his chest, planning to take him somewhere and interrogate him properly.

Shu Hanqing's body still tingled from the electric shock. He struggled, but couldn't break free. Lei Zheng lowered his head, leaning close to his ear. "Not a good place to talk. Let's go somewhere else."

Shu Hanqing would rather slam his head in a door than go with him. His free hand shot up, and in his palm, a translucent Water Blade instantly formed—razor-sharp, radiating cold—and slashed toward Lei Zheng's throat.

Lei Zheng hadn't expected this little hedgehog to strike so decisively and viciously. He reacted fast, jerking his head back, letting go of Shu Hanqing and sidestepping. The Water Blade whistled past his cheek with an icy chill, leaving a thin line of blood under his cheekbone.

A few drops of warm blood seeped out, trickling along the hard line of his jaw.

Lei Zheng raised his hand, casually wiping the blood from his face with the back of his black leather-gloved hand.

He looked at the stark red on his glove, then lifted his eyes to Shu Hanqing, a cold glint of menace creeping into his gaze.

He actually dared to draw blood—and managed to do it.

As Lei Zheng wiped the blood, several people among the surrounding guests—who had seemed to be ordinary patrons just having a good time—abruptly stood up, their movements swift and synchronized. Guns had materialized in their hands, dark muzzles all aimed squarely at Shu Hanqing.

So all these ordinary-looking people were Lei Zheng's men.

Shu Hanqing figured he was just unlucky; he must have skipped checking the calendar before going out today.

In that tense, standoff moment, a hand suddenly reached out from the side, steadying Shu Hanqing's slightly swaying body, and its owner subtly stepped in front of him, blocking him from view.

It was Rong Hua.

He'd materialized out of nowhere, standing before Shu Hanqing, staring coldly at Lei Zheng. "Tell your men to stand down."

Lei Zheng's gaze swept over the two of them several times. "He yours?"

Rong Hua snapped back, "None of your business. He's not your prisoner."

Lei Zheng raised a hand and made a gesture.

The armed men immediately holstered their guns and returned to their seats, and the frozen air in the room slowly began to thaw.

Rong Hua supported Shu Hanqing, half-dragging, half-carrying him to the door. Shu Hanqing's steps were unsteady, and he let himself be guided.

Just before stepping out, Shu Hanqing, for some reason, glanced back at Lei Zheng.

That look was complicated—revulsion mixed with lingering fear.

That single glance sparked an inexplicable blaze of irritation in Lei Zheng's chest. He couldn't quite say why. What was up with that little hedgehog? He hadn't even done anything to him, right? Why did it seem like the guy had some deep-seated grudge?

Rong Hua led Shu Hanqing out of the building, and Shu Hanqing leaned against him, his face still pale, his bangs stuck to his temples with cold sweat.

"How the hell did you run into Lei Zheng?" Rong Hua asked in a low voice, his brow furrowed tightly.

Shu Hanqing shook his head and said, sounding annoyed, his voice still weak, "I don't even know him."

That was the truth—at least, the current Shu Hanqing wasn't supposed to know Lei Zheng.

Rong Hua looked at him and asked, "Can you walk? I'll carry you home."

Shu Hanqing shook his head again, raised a finger, and pointed with some difficulty across the street. His voice was barely a whisper, but what he said left Rong Hua speechless: "I came out to eat in the first place."

Rong Hua: "..."

In the end, Shu Hanqing insisted on going across the street to eat, slowly polishing off every last bite of his order.

With warm food in his stomach and Lei Zheng no longer nearby, the stinging and numbness in his body slowly faded, and a bit of color returned to his face.

On the way back, Rong Hua asked him, "How did you end up in that place?"

Shu Hanqing sure as hell wasn't about to admit he'd been dragged in by some fire-wielding chick in a red dress—that sounded way too stupid. He casually made up an excuse: "I got lost and just walked in."

Rong Hua glanced at him and just said, "Oh."

Shu Hanqing also didn't ask Rong Hua why Lei Zheng had backed off so easily and pulled his men.

Once home, Shu Hanqing felt completely drained, like his bones had been pulled out. He collapsed onto the bed, too wiped to even move a finger.

He'd eaten a bit too much, and with the earlier tension gone, now that he was relaxed, he could feel a dull pressure building in his lower belly.

Rong Hua watched Shu Hanqing, whose eyes were half-closed and brows slightly furrowed, then reached out, holding his palm an inch above Shu Hanqing's stomach. "You ate a lot just now. Let me rub it for you, or you'll be uncomfortable tonight and won't sleep."

Shu Hanqing thought, what the hell does Rong Hua know? He'd been stress-eating.

Shu Hanqing said, "No need. I'll just lie here for a bit."

But the little brat Rong Hua, as if he didn't understand a word of human speech, had already slipped his hand under the loose hem of Shu Hanqing's sweatshirt without warning, pressing directly against his slightly cool stomach and kneading.

Shu Hanqing's whole body went stiff, as if scalded by the burning touch. He instinctively tried to curl up and grabbed Rong Hua's wrist, trying to pull the wandering hand out. "…No need!"

But Rong Hua kept his eyes down, not looking at him, his gaze fixed on the patch of skin under his palm. The stomach under his hand was firm, the skin smooth, and he could feel the muscles tensing slightly. He didn't stop; instead, he rubbed a few more times. "If you've got food stuck, your stomach will hurt more later. This is how my mom used to do it for me."

Rong Hua's fingers weren't particularly rough, but his palms and fingertips were callused from years of training and handling weapons, and the friction against Shu Hanqing's skin was especially noticeable.

What was worse, his rubbing motions were small, but his fingertips kept brushing, intentionally or not, against the waistband of Shu Hanqing's pants, occasionally even grazing a softer, deeper dip.

But after a while, it did feel more comfortable.

Shu Hanqing's resistance faded, his fingers resting loosely on Rong Hua's wrist. "Okay, okay, that's enough. Don't keep going."

When it came time to sleep that night, that familiar, annoying sensation came back, just as expected.

At first, it was just his limbs growing heavy, too heavy to move. Then a cold, slippery touch coiled around him, starting at his ankles and climbing up his calves, like countless silent snakes, slowly but relentlessly tightening and crawling upward.

Shu Hanqing struggled in the haze of sleep, trying to shout, but no sound came out. This time, the touch was even bolder—not just wrapping and caressing, but trying to burrow into deeper, hidden places.

Shu Hanqing's body went taut, unable to take it anymore: "Rong Hua!"

His voice rang out in the silent room.

The things wrapped around him froze for a moment, then receded like a tide, letting go and vanishing without a trace.

The room fell silent again.

Shu Hanqing lay in bed, cursing Rong Hua for being a lunatic, and for getting more and more brazen.

After a long moment.

A soft click.

The small nightlight by the bed clicked on.

Rong Hua stood by the bed, looking down at him. He was only wearing a tank top and shorts, his hair slightly mussed, his eyes bright in the lamplight, churning with heavy emotion.

He bent down, one hand braced on the pillow beside Shu Hanqing, leaning in. Then, before Shu Hanqing could snap out of his shock, he lowered his head, parted his lips, and bit down—not hard, but firm—on his slender neck.

Shu Hanqing's whole body trembled, like he'd been struck by lightning.

Rong Hua let go, then pinched Shu Hanqing's chin, forcing his face up, and kissed him deeply.

When the kiss ended, Rong Hua pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead to Shu Hanqing's, his breath scorching hot against his face. He looked into Shu Hanqing's dazed eyes and let out a low, husky laugh.

"I thought," he licked the corner of his mouth, his voice dropping to a near whisper, like a lover's murmur or a devil's low chant, "you were going to keep pretending you didn't know?"