Chapter 12: Have One for Me

Chapter 12: Give Me a Baby

A virgin who had just tasted flesh knew nothing of technique, like a newly forged sword not yet sharpened, clumsily relying on his endowment.

Brutal and completely lacking in finesse, yet because that endowment was indeed too substantial, it forcibly carved into a forbidden land no one had ever visited, learning the ropes as he went.

Shu Hanqing felt like he was falling apart. A terrifying shudder exploded through him, crashing over him like a wave that threatened to swallow him whole.

For Rong Hua, it was like stumbling onto a whole new world. This body, utterly incapable of resisting him, had become a land waiting to be conquered.

He'd found his most thrilling conquest yet.

But a first time was, after all, a first time.

It ended somewhat hastily, like a grand symphony whose strings snapped at its most passionate crescendo.

Shu Hanqing sensed that Rong Hua's invisible ears had drooped in shame, limp and deflated.

What a joke.

Shu Hanqing's entire body had gone limp, as if his bones had been pulled out, leaving only his sweat-soaked body sprawled there. That abrupt stop felt like being tossed onto a soft cloud by an invisible hand—and before he could see the view, he was slammed back down.

For a beat, neither of them said a word.

Shu Hanqing's soul settled back into his body, and he thought, this is so awkward. He felt he ought to say something, so he cleared his throat and scrambled for some harmless comfort, like "this is totally normal."

But Rong Hua spoke first, his lips pressed into a tight line: "That didn't happen—forget it, forget all of it!"

Shu Hanqing almost laughed at the nonsensical demand. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he said softly, "This is normal."

His voice was still a little hoarse and soft, like calming a kid having a tantrum.

It hit Rong Hua right in the heart. How could this guy be like this? Even now, he was still oozing charm, and Rong Hua was already so infatuated with him.

But Rong Hua immediately turned it around, bold as brass, muttering grumpily: "It's 'cause you're too tight, that's why I wasn't impressive at all."

Shu Hanqing: "..."

He blinked, eyes wide, sure he'd misheard.

God above, there was no reasoning with this guy.

Rong Hua thought his logic was rock solid and repeated it, his voice lower this time, muttering: "So much water—fitting for a Water Ability user, alright."

Shu Hanqing gave up on any thoughts of consolation, shyly clapping a hand over his mouth, his palm pressing against those lips that wouldn't stop spouting nonsense.

This damn kid—he'll say anything!

Rong Hua didn't dodge. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, and he opened his mouth and sucked Shu Hanqing's fingers in, bold as anything.

After a while, Shu Hanqing's own voice turned muffled and slurred. He heard himself, in broken fragments, as if possessed, change his tune and say Rong Hua was amazing.

What came after was all about making up for that clumsy, rushed first time.

The ceiling spun in Shu Hanqing's vision. The white surface, the gray shadows, the crack in the ceiling, the sliver of light from the window—all of it blurred together until he couldn't tell up from down.

The whole room seemed to turn into a huge, slow-spinning vortex, and he lay at its center, swept along by the current, powerless to resist.

He tilted his head back, his fingers gripping Rong Hua's hair, the strands coarse and scratchy against his palm. The words spilling from his lips were completely jumbled and broken, like a broken radio spitting out only garbled, incoherent syllables.

The last time was against the wall. Shu Hanqing's back scraped against the cold wall with each thrust, helpless to do anything about it, the skin touching it breaking out in goosebumps, while inside, his body burned with the exact opposite—molten, lava-like heat.

Shu Hanqing felt like he was becoming a mural, pinned to the wall, a permanent fixture of the room.

Rong Hua just used him whenever he felt like it.

It was driving him crazy.

His mind was blank, every thought and shred of reason swallowed whole. Rong Hua's face—those handsome features—blurred in his unsteady vision.

Rong Hua's sweat-damp forehead pressed against his, then his temple, then his neck, and his lips found his too, clinging with a stubborn, relentless heat.

The next day, Shu Hanqing woke up in a daze.

He was lying on his stomach, face buried in a soft pillow, greeted by a dim haze. It took him a while to realize it wasn't that the sun hadn't risen—it was that it was almost dark outside.

Orange-purple sunset light squeezed through the gap in the curtains, painting a thin line of light on the floor. He was naked, and Rong Hua was pressed up against him, one arm heavy across his waist, dead asleep.

He tried to move, but his body felt like it wasn't his own. His limbs felt like they'd been taken apart and put back together wrong, every muscle screaming with soreness.

This was more tiring than fighting zombies.

After last night's madness had finally wound down, Rong Hua had carried him to the bathroom, supposedly to get cleaned up. But Rong Hua turned on the hot water, and white steam spread like fog, filling half the room.

Shu Hanqing couldn't stand steady, one hand braced against the cold tile wall, his whole body propped up by Rong Hua.

The shower water roared like a tropical downpour, soaking them both. As they washed, Rong Hua turned him around.

He asked something, his voice muffled between Shu Hanqing's shoulder blades—but Shu Hanqing had no breath to answer. His fingers curled, his mind hazy, his soul shattered into pieces, floating in the steam, unable to come back together.

Eventually, they returned to bed. The sheets had been hastily straightened out. Shu Hanqing pushed at Rong Hua, his hand pressing weakly against his chest, soft and limp: "Go sleep in your own bed... don't squish me..."

Rong Hua wouldn't listen. One arm swept across, heavy on his waist, pulling him close, holding on tight like a kid clutching a stuffed animal it won't let go.

He buried his face in the hollow of Shu Hanqing's neck, damp and tender, instinctively nuzzling into the warm body closest to him: "No way. I wanna hold you while I sleep."

Shu Hanqing had no strength left to push him away.

Shu Hanqing hadn't slept in this late in ages. He wrestled into a pair of pants, hanging loose on his hips, the waistband gaping like it might slide off any second.

He walked into the bathroom and glanced at himself in the mirror—just one glance. The marks on his body—purple and blue, deep and shallow—scattered across his collarbones, chest, waist...

Hard to even look at.

Shu Hanqing twitched the corner of his mouth, thinking even a full day of fighting zombies wouldn't leave him this wrecked.

He felt completely hollowed out, leaning on the sink, head tilted, fingers brushing the bitten corner of his lip.

Rong Hua really had a vicious bite.

The Plot God chimed in: "...If you don't listen to me, you'll regret it one day."

Shu Hanqing said, all innocent: "I didn't force him. He came at me on his own. I said no like a million times."

"You're cannon fodder. You can't have any ties with him."

"Of course." Shu Hanqing was being extremely cooperative, extremely reasonable. "I'm being super compliant. Have you ever seen me make the first move? His feet are his own, his hands are his own too. If you want, go haunt him instead."

The Plot God was quiet for a second, then asked out of nowhere: "...Does he love you?"

Shu Hanqing said, "...You'd have to ask him about that. Just sharing a bed to sleep, that should be okay, right?"

The plot voice got even more flustered: "It seems to be going off track again... Why does it keep..."

Then it trailed off like it had hit something it couldn't say, and just went silent.

Shu Hanqing shrugged—the motion pulled at the muscles in his shoulder blades. He'd really overdone it last night.

Shu Hanqing really didn't mean to overstep. He'd been keeping his head down as the cannon fodder, but where the hell had things gone wrong? Rong Hua just had to come along and love him. He reached out, idly flicking at the stream of water—maybe he was just too damn charming.

Only someone as blind as Mu Ye could miss it.

Why couldn't he be the protagonist? Shu Hanqing only let himself think about it for a second—four guys would be way too exhausting.

The plot voice piped up one last time: "You absolutely cannot tell him you love him."

Shu Hanqing turned off the faucet and said, "Got it, got it."

After coming out of the bathroom, Shu Hanqing really didn't feel like dealing with Rong Hua.

That guy was basically a wild animal.

He slumped against the headboard, pulled open the nightstand drawer, and rummaged through the random junk inside. He fished out a cigarette, held it between two fingers, but couldn't find a lighter anywhere. Shu Hanqing gave up and just bit down on the cigarette, his teeth working the filter, catching a faint bitter taste of tobacco.

Rong Hua had snuck over at some point without him noticing.

Like a big dog that had caught its owner's scent, he crept up quietly, then pressed his face against Shu Hanqing's hand instead of his cheek. His lashes brushed Shu Hanqing's skin, tickling just a little.

It was exactly like a puppy that, after marking its territory, sat there wagging its tail contentedly against the floor.

Even though Rong Hua was a beast in bed, some of his behavior was totally innocent. How could one person be both an angel and a demon?

Shu Hanqing looked down, watching the head buried against the back of his hand. His hair was jet black and a little messy.

He didn't pull his hand back.

Rong Hua looked up: "Are you hungry?"

Shu Hanqing was at a loss for words: "...You've been going at me all day."

Rong Hua was Superman. Shu Hanqing definitely wasn't.

Rong Hua wanted to laugh but didn't dare, like a dog that had just gotten a command. He immediately scrambled up, washed his face, and came back holding a hair tie. He walked up to Shu Hanqing, turned around, crouched down with his back to him, and held the hair tie back over his shoulder: "Help me tie it up. I'll go get you something to eat."

Shu Hanqing took it.

He had no idea how. He clumsily gathered the hair—too loose and strands slipped out the sides, too tight and he was afraid of yanking Rong Hua's hair. In the end, he barely got the tie around twice, making a crooked, saggy bun that flopped limply at the back of Rong Hua's head, like a chrysanthemum about to wilt and keel over.

Shu Hanqing said, "What's with this emo look? Such a pain."

Rong Hua turned his head, reached up to touch the bun, and looked totally satisfied—not because it was tied well, but just because Shu Hanqing had done it for him. He stood up, holding his head high without even realizing it, like he was wearing a crown he was proud of.

Rong Hua said, "I'll get it cut short."

He headed out to get food.

Rong Hua came back pretty fast—he'd probably run the whole way. In one hand, he had a plastic bag from the convenience store with rice balls, sandwiches, and a carton of milk in it.

None of that was cheap in the apocalypse.

In his other hand, he was clutching a bunch of flowers—red, blue, with tiny petals—squeezed tight in his palm.

He shoved the flowers into Shu Hanqing's hand, showing them off like they were a treasure.

Shu Hanqing thought they looked vaguely familiar.

"Where did you pick these?" Shu Hanqing asked.

Rong Hua looked guilty: "...There's nowhere to buy flowers, so I snuck in and picked them."

Shu Hanqing got it then—this little criminal dog must have snuck into the church to steal them. There was a small, neglected patch of wildflowers in the church's backyard.

Shu Hanqing glanced around the room and spotted an empty water bottle left over from yesterday. He took it to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, filled it with a little water, and then stuck the flowers in. Crammed together in that cheap plastic bottle, they sat on the windowsill and actually lasted a week.

Anyway, after they'd slept together, Rong Hua refused to sleep in his own bed again.

Shu Hanqing naturally refused to share—his bed was too small.

Rejected, Rong Hua would rather curl up on the floor beside Shu Hanqing's bed than go back to his own. Watching him camp out on the floor by the bed, Shu Hanqing felt like he was training a newly adopted dog. He laid down rules with him.

The first rule was that the master's bed was off-limits.

Unfortunately, dogs don't understand human language.

He said his piece while Rong Hua lay there, half his face buried in his folded arms, only his eyes visible, staring at him without blinking.

Whether he took it in or not—probably not.

They rested for half a month, and Shu Hanqing spent all that time messing around with Rong Hua.

Shu Hanqing couldn't think of a more fitting word for it.

No promises, no confessions. Shu Hanqing could never tell Rong Hua he loved him—that was a word strictly forbidden by the plot voice. The most he ever said was "get lost."

But Rong Hua would still press close, even treating it as a kind of playfulness. Every time, after being pushed away with a cold face, he would still come back, saying with utter confidence: "Shu Hanqing, I'm not leaving. If you leave, you're going to go find Mu Ye, aren't you?"

Rong Hua's face, his hands, his warm body—no matter what, they had to be close to Shu Hanqing.

In just half a month, they had used up most of the condoms Rong Hua had bought. In the apocalypse, those were pretty expensive too, since the population was scarce and reproduction was being encouraged.

Shu Hanqing clicked his tongue, saying how fast they were going through them.

Rong Hua said with a mischievous grin: "...Then don't use them. Give me one instead."

Shu Hanqing: "Go to hell!"