Month: September 2025

       Qin Mu had stared blankly at the brass alarm clock for a long time, only snapping back to his senses when Shen Liu, wrapped in a bath towel, stood in front of him. Their gazes collided, and he immediately looked away. “I’ll go wash up.”

       “Need any help?” Shen Liu asked with a smile.

       Qin Mu ignored him, not even lifting his head as he walked into the bathroom.

       The man’s lips curved faintly, but when his eyes shifted to that alarm clock, his gaze gradually turned cold and deep lines etched between his brows.

       Time flowed on, the hands drawing faithful circles again and again, yet he had lost the π hidden in his heart, never to be whole again. Even now, the crushing helplessness of those days still seemed to linger within him, a sinister shadow that refused to disperse. Keeping this thing by his side was to constantly remind himself never to repeat the same mistake.

       Back then, he had been too young, thinking with reckless courage that he could force Shen Lan to give in—until the day he saw those photos in Shen Yan’s hands.

       They were all close-up shots, every detail captured with stark clarity.

       “Where did these come from?” He frowned, unease rising within.

       “On your dad’s desk,” Shen Yan answered.

       “What does he want to do?” His voice flared with anger as he braced against the edge of the bed to get up, but Shen Yan pushed him back down. The movement tugged at his injured leg, and pain drained the colour from his face.

       One of the photos slipped to the floor. Frozen in the frame, Qin Mu was standing on the dormitory balcony, the angle suggesting it had been secretly taken from the opposite building. Shen Yan picked it up and asked, “Do you think you can beat him?”

       Shen Liu stayed silent.

       “You don’t understand him,” Shen Yan said leisurely. “Your youthful rebellion, leaving home to study at K University, making low-class friends, even fooling around with someone of the same sex—he can tolerate all that. Because on the track he has laid for you, those are nothing more than minor detours, unable to change your future’s main course. But he cannot tolerate you derailing completely. As a father, he cannot be harsh with his own child. Breaking your leg was merely an accident in a fit of rage. But with Qin Mu, he will not be so lenient. Qin Mu’s studies, future, life—even his very survival—are all cards in his hand. Any single one of them, you cannot afford to lose. You have no chips in hand, yet you revealed your hidden card too early. So this game was doomed to fail from the start.”

       He tossed the photo into Shen Liu’s hands.

       “It was you who put Qin Mu in front of the lens. The distance between him and the camera is the distance between him and danger. If you keep clinging to your misguided stubbornness, in the end, you will be the one to harm him.”

       Those words landed like a stinging slap across Shen Liu’s face, leaving him dazed. Emotions surged like crashing waves, and he felt as though he were a lone boat adrift in a pitch-dark sea, helpless before a distant lighthouse that was about to go dark. Unconsciously, he clenched the photo tightly, as though trying to hold onto that faint spark in the darkness. “He… he wouldn’t go that far.” His voice was very soft, so soft that it betrayed his wavering and doubt.

       “A Shen family son should not be so naive.” Shen Yan’s face was expressionless. “The obstinacy of the weak is meaningless. Before you have the power to fight back, don’t make decisions that will leave you with regret. This is advice—whether you heed it or not is up to you.”

       When he finished, he took the envelope of photos and left, leaving only that one photo for Shen Liu.

       In the picture, Qin Mu looked slightly thin, his gaze drawn upward as if captivated by a passing bird. He was looking toward the distant sky, and at his collar there was a glimpse of a red string.

       Shen Liu knew that at the hidden end of that string was a silver ring, engraved with the digits of π, ending with the initials of their names.

       It was their one-year anniversary memento.

       They had agreed that when the day came, they would be strong enough not to care about the opinions of others, and they would wear it on their ring fingers.

       They had agreed to buy a small house, raise a few cats, and live together.

       They had agreed to hold hands and walk through countless years, until the very end of life.

       They had agreed…

       Daylight spilt through the side window, casting a shadow of gloom across Shen Liu’s features. Half his brows and eyes were lost in the dark, making his expression unreadable. But at the edge of his eyes, caught in the light, a faint redness slowly spread—like a trace of blood suppressed in the depths. Tears broke free despite him, scalding hot as they fell onto the photograph.

       He closed his eyes.

       The world sank into a dark, silent void. Ancient stars fell one after another, taking with them the last light.

       Shen Yan had been right—he could not protect him.

       That night, Shen Liu went to see Shen Lan.

       The elder sat on the sofa, glanced at his leg, and with a stern face said, “My time is limited. If you’re here to talk about so-called ‘freedom and independence,’ then save it. I’m not interested.”

       “I came to make peace.” Shen Liu seemed calm, his tone stripped of its usual aggressiveness, carrying instead a rare sincerity. “Even though we’re father and son, we rarely talk without fighting. We can’t get through two sentences before it turns into an argument, and in the end, we can’t even speak properly. At this point, I don’t expect you to understand me fully, but I also don’t want our relationship as father and son to rot so badly. Today, I want to tell you something from the heart.”

       He paused for a moment, unconsciously touching the pendant on his chest through his shirt, as if weighing his words—or perhaps giving himself courage. “I like Qin Mu. I really like him. I like him so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with him. In all my years, I’ve never liked anyone this much. He is my bottom line. If anyone touches that line… I don’t know what I might do. Maybe I’d collapse, maybe I’d go mad, maybe I’d even die.”

       Shen Lan’s eyelid twitched, his face darkening. “Are you threatening me?”

       “No. Like I said, I came to make peace.” Shen Liu met his eyes and spoke slowly. “He’s just an outsider—simple, innocent. He doesn’t even know what the Shen family really is. He just happened to meet me, and happened to fall in love with me. Other than that, he has no ulterior motives. You must have investigated him—you should know his hardships, the grievances he had endured. He’s suffered enough. I may not be able to give him happiness, but at the very least, I shouldn’t let him be hurt. So I’ll let him go. I ask you to let him go too. Dad, this is your son’s request to you.”

       Shen Lan gave a low and dismissive hum, his expression easing slightly. Coldly, he asked, “And how do you plan to handle this?”

       “I need two months. After that, whether it’s studying abroad, marrying whoever you choose, or taking over the family business, I’ll do whatever you say. From then on…” Shen Liu’s lips moved; it took him all his strength to force out the words, “…I’ll have nothing to do with him again.”

       Shen Lan frowned. “Two months?”

       “Two months in exchange for a lifetime of obedience—surely that’s a fair bargain?” Shen Liu countered.

       Shen Lan stared at him for a moment before loosening his stance. “Fine. I’ll give you two months. But if you go back on your word, then I won’t guarantee what might happen.”

       Shen Liu tugged the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry. I never break a promise lightly.”

       The next morning, the imprisoned youth was finally allowed to leave the house.

       After so many days, when Shen Liu saw the gaunt, broken Qin Mu searching anxiously for him outside the school gates, his chest felt as though it were being torn apart.

       But he couldn’t let it show.

       He clenched his teeth, forcing every ounce of sorrow, pain, and unwillingness deep down into his heart. Those emotions raged like wild beasts, screaming and thrashing, and holding them back nearly drained him completely.

       He said, “Log, let’s run away together. Forget everything else—let’s just go.”

       Yet inside his body, another voice was shouting—Hit me, Log. Slap me. Drive me away.

       He saw Qin Mu’s confusion. But only for an instant. Then, the man said, “Okay.”

       Side by side on horseback, not asking about the future.

       To have someone who shared the same heart, what more could he ask for in this life?

       Shen Liu’s tears almost spilt out. He could only lower his head awkwardly, avoiding Qin Mu’s gaze.

       They went to Tingyun Town, a place that was so beautiful it felt like a paradise untouched by the world.

       Before the farewell he had long planned arrived, every moment they spent together was all the more precious. The wind over the river, the clouds at the edge of the sky, the person before his eyes, even that pile of fish waiting to be cleaned in the pond — all of them made Shen Liu reluctant to let go. Sometimes, when he looked at Qin Mu’s back, he would wonder—what would happen after he left? Would he cry? Who would comfort him, who would take care of him? Would he meet someone better than him? Would he love that person the way he loved him?

       When the thoughts became unbearable, he would turn to the window and pretend to watch the television in the building opposite.

       Time was a thief of exquisite craft, stealing away youth and slipping soundlessly past the front and back of the house. Shen Yan arrived as promised to bring down the curtain on this self-directed and self-performed play.

       Shen Yan asked, “Why must you force him to be the one to propose breaking up?”

       Shen Liu answered, “So that he won’t cling to me. Qin Mu is very fragile, and that fragility comes from the inferiority he felt in his youth. If I were the one to abandon him, he would continue to question whether he wasn’t good enough, and spiral endlessly into self-denial. Yet at the same time, he possesses a resilience that ordinary people don’t. When he believes something is worthwhile, he will give it everything, sparing no effort and paying any price. If you give him a clear reason, letting him choose to break up ‘for my sake’, then he won’t bear such a heavy sense of guilt, and he’ll be able to adjust faster and step into a new life. And also…” Shen Liu tossed the leaf in his hand into the pond, lowered his gaze, and said, “If he were the one who left me, then he would remember me for the rest of his life.”

       The leaf spun on the water, swaying with the ripples.

       Shen Yan sighed. “I truly don’t know if you’re merciful or cruel.”

       Later, Shen Liu saw Qin Mu’s lost and broken figure in the heavy rain. He saw the struggle and reluctance in Qin Mu’s eyes, and he also saw the redness rimmed around Qin Mu’s eyes after drinking. His heart felt as if it had been pierced through, a blunt blade pulling back and forth through the wound, tearing flesh and blood. Yet he insisted on pretending to know nothing, watching with open eyes as Qin Mu suffered in pain.

       He said, ‘May my Little Log eat plenty of good food from now on and always be happy.’

       He said, ‘All right, you’ve grown up, I won’t care for you anymore.’

       He said, ‘Eat more, don’t always endure hunger.’

       He said, ‘Kiss me.’

       He said many things, but the one thing he never dared to say was “I love you.” Those three words were carved into his heart, yet could never again be spoken aloud.

       Shen Liu finally got his wish—he heard that sentence, “Let’s break up.”

       He closed his eyes and thought, perhaps this heart-rending pain would only come once in this lifetime. From now on, his heart would be dead and would never hurt again.

       When they parted, the rain poured down in torrents. Qin Mu’s figure disappeared in the rearview mirror. At last, Shen Liu clutched the ring hanging over his chest and silently began to cry.

       You were the gentleness in my gaze, you were the immortality in my heart, you were nearly the whole reason I loved this world.*

       But I had no strength to keep you. All I had left was what once was. May you have everything from here on.

Author’s Note:
*Quoted from Milan Kundera’s Immortality

T/N:
I hope you guys are happy with the updates for now
There are only around 23 chapters until the series ends, and hopefully, I can do more updates more often ^^

Support the author by buying the author’s works and/or giving some kisses here~
(It’s very easy to buy from myrics.com because they support Paypal payment in small amounts~)

We have a discord server for those who want to receive an update ping and various announcements~
Join here ^^

And please buy me some kofi if you like the translation~

Also leave some ratings if you like this series here~

       “Sorry.” He stopped and forced a faint tug at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. Most families in this town are surnamed Bai.”

       The man glanced at him. “Are you from here?”

       “Don’t I look like one?” Qin Mu asked in return.

       “No accent.”

       “My Mandarin is just better,” he said, and then naturally greeted a fellow townsman they passed in the local dialect, “Ai, have you eaten?”

       “Yeah, I have,” the other person drawled in reply.

       Qin Mu’s Tingyun dialect was flawless. He had suspected that Shen Liu might have debts outside, or perhaps had offended someone and needed to hide. So he fabricated a backstory for the two of them as college students returning to their hometown, and secretly picked up common local phrases from Chef Fang to keep up the pretence. What he hadn’t expected was that the pursuers would come so quickly.

       Sweat broke out across his back as he anxiously tried to think of a countermeasure. As the two of them walked side by side, the man suddenly stopped and asked, “Aren’t you going to talk about it?”

       Qin Mu’s heart gave a violent jolt. On guard, he asked, “…About what?”

       The man lifted the rim of his umbrella. His deep, dark eyes gazed through the curtain of rain toward the cluster of stone archways not far away. “These.”

       Only then did Qin Mu realise, and he exhaled in relief. Pointing to the nearest one, he began reciting, “The Ming Emperor Shenzong granted the largest archway to Bai Wanshan. Bai Wanshan was a top scholar in the imperial exams, served as imperial tutor, Vice Minister of Rites, and Grand Academician of Wenchang Pavilion, attaining the rank of a third-grade official. To honour his loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and love, the emperor ordered this archway erected for his mother, praising her for her exemplary upbringing. The Bai family flourished in the Ming dynasty, with more than thirty archways, but later declined after being implicated in an exam cheating scandal, and most were destroyed. Half of those standing now are reconstructions based on historical records. This road is the ancient path into town. Up ahead is a small pavilion called the Official’s Hat Pavilion, where Bai descendants would dismount when returning home. The rain’s getting heavy, let’s take shelter there.”

       “All right,” the man agreed.

       Raindrops pattered densely on the tiles, rolling down into a fine net of water. Mist rose over the distant green mountains, veiling them in ethereal vapour, hazy and indistinct.

       “The scenery here is beautiful. Even rain has its own kind of beauty too.” Qin Mu deliberately tried to draw him out. “Where did you come from?”

       “J City.”

       “A big city in the north.” Qin Mu’s gaze furtively roved over him. “Here to visit a friend? Someone you met online?”

       “He’s my younger brother,” the man said.

       Qin Mu’s breath hitched. He masked his suspicion and wariness with a smile, forcing his tone to sound casual. “He came here to travel?”

       “No. He ran away from home.” The man’s right hand rested on the umbrella handle, his left in his trouser pocket, his posture straight as a rod. “He’s always been stubborn and strong-willed, unwilling to follow the family’s arrangements. Unfortunately, his father is also a stubborn man. Their arguments escalated, shaking the house with turmoil. In a fit of rage, his father struck him and broke his leg, then locked him up. When he was able to get out of bed, he ran.”

       Qin Mu gripped his umbrella tighter, his lips pressed into a rigid line. He told himself this was just a stranger, not someone he could trust. But deep inside, some unconscious part of him believed every word.

       So this was why Shen Liu had left him, why he had taken him along in his flight. It wasn’t because of debts, nor because he had offended anyone. It was simply because he wanted to be with him.

       In that instant of truth, Qin Mu felt as if a herd of wild horses had stampeded across his chest, shattering the fence he had painstakingly built, trampling the untouched ground he had tried so hard to protect into a desolate mire. And he could not stop them, could not chase them, could not save it—he could only watch helplessly as they thundered past, his heart twisting with pain. He knew he ought to say something, but nothing would come.

       “I watched him grow up. In the family, I might be the one closest to him.” The man looked at the towering archways in the rain and spoke slowly. “Sometimes, family can be a cruel thing. It turns its members into interlocking gears, grinding away individuality until only the ability to move toward a common goal remains. Being inside it means much is beyond your control. But sometimes, it does bring benefits—promising prospects, a bright future. His path has long been paved by many others. As long as he walks it, he can easily gain things others could never obtain, stand taller, and see farther. He can give that up, but what he exchanges it for must hold greater value.” He turned his face then, looking calmly at the person beside him. “That could be something else. But it cannot be you, Qin Mu.”

       Qin Mu’s pupils contracted sharply. His eyes flew open wide in panic as he stared at him.

       “Let’s reintroduce ourselves. I’m Shen Yan, Shen Liu’s cousin.” When this man met someone’s gaze, there was a hard and icy aura about him, like a glacier that had never melted. “Shen Liu is an only child. The family has high expectations for him. He once promised that after graduating from university, he would study abroad, then take over the family’s overseas business. Now he’s broken that promise.” He paused. “To the family, he can be an idle good-for-nothing, he can be a frivolous libertine, he can even have odd little quirks. But what he cannot be is a homosexual—let alone abandon his family and future for the sake of another man.”

       “You want to drag him back?” Qin Mu heard his own voice trembling.

       “I’m here to ask a favour of you,” Shen Yan said. “Given Shen Liu’s temperament, the only way he might let go is if you leave him of your own accord.”

       “I won’t leave him.” The words burst from Qin Mu’s lips. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles whitening with the force.

       The man seemed unsurprised, his expression flat, his tone cool. “Do you mean for him to gut fish here for the rest of his life?”

       Qin Mu froze.

       “I heard he’s done many things for you. And what about you—what are you prepared to do for him?” Shen Yan’s voice was unhurried, even mild, yet every question cut like a sharp blade, impossible to withstand.

       “Have you thought about his future? His ambitions? The things he still has to accomplish?”

       “He told you he liked this life, and you just believed it?”

       “With the two of you starting from where you are now, what kind of future can you possibly have?”

       “Can such a future really lead to happiness?”

       Qin Mu couldn’t answer. He felt like a criminal bound to an execution rack, suffering hundreds of slow cuts, until he hurt too much even to breathe. The bitterness in his chest corroded away his stubborn resolve, his defences collapsing piece by piece until all that remained was ruin.

       “Have you considered that one day he might regret it? Regret leaving home, regret choosing such a meagre life, regret being with you. When that day comes, what will you do?”

       Shen Yan was putting aside family, elders, and the weight of tradition. What he spoke of was only the two of them and the relationship between them. And that was what made it fatal, each word striking straight at the heart.

       Like the final flake of snow before an avalanche. Like the last straw laid on a weary camel’s back. Like the final thrust of a knife into Qin Mu’s chest.

       A chill rose over Qin Mu’s body, his blood seeming to freeze in an instant.

       He had dreamt of such a nightmare before. In it, Shen Liu walked into the downpour without a backward glance, never returning.

       Now, Shen Yan’s brooding eyes seemed like that endless darkness in his dreams, extinguishing every light. And the fear buried deep inside Qin Mu clawed its way out like brittle white bones, gripping his legs, climbing his chest, dragging him into a bottomless abyss.

       “Qin Mu, as someone who’s been through this, let me give you a piece of advice. Love is like two people walking together—you never know when the other might stop, turn back, or take another path.” Shen Yan opened his umbrella. “I’ve said all I came to say. I’ll be staying in town for three days. I hope you’ll make your decision soon.”

       The black umbrella vanished into the rain.

       Qin Mu stood with his head bowed, unmoving for a long time.

       Rain poured down from all directions. Gusts of wind blew the water in, soaking the last dry patch of ground beneath his feet. Everything that had just happened felt like a damp, sorrowful dream, one that had seeped through and left a long, lingering ache.

       He walked a long way before realising he hadn’t opened his umbrella. His entire body was drenched, and the rain running down his face tasted salty and bitter.

       This was a familiar road. At the alley’s end stood Chef Fang’s restaurant. Entering and crossing the small dining hall led to the kitchen. At the sink, Shen Liu was bent over, washing fish. When water from a flicked tail spattered his face, he brushed it away with his shoulder.

       Qin Mu’s nose stung, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He wanted to rush forward and embrace the man in front of him, but he didn’t move. Only when Shen Liu turned his head did he hurriedly look aside, wiping at his eyes.

       “How did you get so soaked? Where’s your umbrella?” That voice was familiar, gentle.

       “It got torn apart by the wind.” Qin Mu lifted his face, forcing a difficult smile. “Are you done? Do you need me to help?”

       “Go home and change clothes,” Shen Liu frowned. “You’ll catch a cold in the rain.”

       “All right.” Qin Mu turned quickly, striding out in haste.

       In the afternoon the rain stopped. By dinnertime, the little restaurant was lively. Qin Mu got through the busiest hours, left Shen Liu behind to wait for the last two tables to settle the bill, and went home to cook a few dishes.

       Stir-fried eggplant with soy paste, scrambled eggs with tomato, braised pork with preserved vegetables, plus some fish ball soup he’d packed from the restaurant. The little table was filled to the brim, and he and Shen Liu sat cross-legged on the floor.

       “Why such a feast today?” Shen Liu asked.

       “Been holding back for so long, I’ve been craving. Today I just want to have a good meal.” Qin Mu twisted open a bottle of Red Star Erguotou¹a well-known strong Chinese liquor, and poured a little into a disposable paper cup for him.

       “Greedy cat.” Shen Liu laughed, clinking his cup against his. “I wish my Little Log would always have plenty of good food, and always be happy.”

       Qin Mu’s eyes reddened; he hurriedly drained the cup in one go.

       “Don’t drink so much. Eat some food first, or you’ll be drunk soon.” Shen Liu pressed down the bottle to stop him.

       Qin Mu smiled. “You’re still looking after me?”

       “All right, you’ve grown up, I won’t mind you anymore.” Shen Liu’s gaze, under the warm yellow lamp, was unusually gentle. He picked a piece of meat for Qin Mu and said, “Eat more, don’t always go hungry.”

       The meat was a bit tough. Qin Mu chewed hard, but he couldn’t taste a thing.

       After dinner, when he cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, he found Shen Liu gazing out the window. Across the street, on the second floor of a teahouse, a large screen TV was hanging. From their window, one could see it, though at a distance and not very clearly. A basketball game was on; players in white and red jerseys feinted and struggled fiercely for the ball.

       Qin Mu sat down beside him. Shen Liu, out of habit, slipped an arm around his waist.

       Neither of them spoke. They watched the entire game in silence.

       Qin Mu asked, “Which team won?”

       “The white team,” Shen Liu replied. “I worked up a sweat today. I need to take a shower.”

       “Mm.” Qin Mu helped him up.

       Shen Liu’s right leg was in a cast and couldn’t touch water. He needed help bathing. Qin Mu always ended up soaking wet, so later he simply stripped down and washed with him.

       Qin Mu ran his fingers through Shen Liu’s hair, gently working the shampoo into a lather. The man kept his eyes closed, yielding to his touch like a lazy, contented cat—perfectly obedient.

       Unknowingly, Qin Mu’s nose burned again, and he turned his face away in a panic to grab the showerhead and rinse Shen Liu off.

       Suddenly, a clap of thunder exploded outside. The sound was so close it seemed to be right overhead. The power cut out instantly, plunging the bathroom into darkness.

       Qin Mu flinched, but Shen Liu caught his hand quickly, comforting him, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

       “We’d better turn off the water; there could be a leak.” His voice steadied.

       “Okay.” Shen Liu shut off the tap and asked, “Where’s the towel?”

       Qin Mu fumbled around, couldn’t find it, and knocked something over with a clatter.

       “Don’t look.” Shen Liu’s fingers slid from his neck up to his cheek, stroked across his lips, and in a hoarse voice said, “Kiss me.”

       Thunder roared. In the cramped darkness of the bathroom, they clung to each other.

       Wet skin pressed and rubbed together; fierce desire sparked a blazing fire. Qin Mu lifted Shen Liu’s injured leg and thrust in savagely, like a beast driven to the brink, leaving bite marks deep and shallow across the man’s body, demanding his kiss again and again. Shen Liu softened his waist, offering no resistance, yielding wholly to his ravaging. He was like a spring of water—gentle, clear.

       The darkness concealed the tear tracks, erased sincerity, and blurred their expressions. Words that could never be spoken dissolved into sighs of grief-laden breath, vanishing into the night.

       The rain pounded furiously against the windows. Wind slipped through the cracks, howling like someone’s helpless, grieving cry.

       The next morning, Qin Mu sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “Shen Liu, let’s break up.”

Author Note:
All historical references in the chapter are purely fictional.

Support the author by buying the author’s works and/or giving some kisses here~
(It’s very easy to buy from myrics.com because they support Paypal payment in small amounts~)

We have a discord server for those who want to receive an update ping and various announcements~
Join here ^^

And please buy me some kofi if you like the translation~

Also leave some ratings if you like this series here~

       Nestled between mountains and rivers, Tingyun Town, with its lush green tiles and whitewashed walls, exudes the exquisite beauty typical of Jiangnan towns. During the Ming and Qing dynasties, the prominent Bai family of this place produced many scholars and wealthy merchants. Unfortunately, the wheel of history crushed its former glory, and the few cultural relics that had managed to survive were turned into a grotesque mess after repeated restorations. Only a few stone archways standing at the entrance of the town remained, silently bearing witness to the rise and fall, honour and disgrace of that once-mighty family.

       In recent years, the government had busied itself with tourism development. Yet, lacking both funds and proper planning, the attractions were scattered and low in quality, and visitor numbers remained unimpressive. As the saying went, “Flowers you deliberately plant may not bloom, but willows you never intended to grow thrive into shade.” While Tingyun Town’s vibrant artificial landscapes did not make much of a name for themselves, but the town’s pristine natural scenery attracted visitors instead. Young artists came to capture it with their cameras, old folks who yearned for country life lingered, and middle-aged families escaping the fast pace of big cities arrived in droves. The town grew lively, and sharp-eyed entrepreneurs integrated a few scattered attractions into a scenic area. Thanks to that, the surrounding homestay business also flourished.

       The little money Qin Mu had left, after renting a place and buying daily necessities, was already stretched thin. Introduced by the landlady, he found a job as a tour guide in the scenic area. The manager who interviewed him heard his fluent English and agreed on the spot. In truth, hardly any foreign visitors ever came here, but having someone who knew English sounded more upscale. The job was essentially that of a guide, without a formal contract. Most days, the work was done by idle farmwives from the town. The task was simple: memorize the lines and lead tourists on a walk around the town, earning fifteen yuan each time. Whether there was work or not depended on luck, so the income was unstable. Because of that, Qin Mu also found a side job helping in the small restaurant across from his lodging.

       Tingyun Town, close to water, was rich in fish, and its residents loved to eat it. Fresh bighead carp here were called ‘baotou¹wrapped head, because of it’s rounded head‘, and they grew to remarkable size. They were chopped in half, with the gills removed and the innards cleaned. The fish head was stewed with tofu into soup, while the body was cut into chunks and braised in soy sauce—this was the classic ‘one fish, two dishes’. Tingyun Town was not short of skilled hands at cooking fish, but among them, Master Fang of ‘Old Fang’s Fish Restaurant’ was regarded as the best.

       Chef Fang had been cooking fish for more than thirty years. Not only was his fish head stewed with tofu famous for its milky broth and tender flesh, but dishes like sizzling iron-plate fish head, braised white fish, steamed grouper, and mixed-fish hotpot were all part of his repertoire.

       His restaurant was so small that its two floors could only fit six tables in total, yet it was packed every single day, requiring reservations in advance. The patrons were not only locals but also many visitors who came for its reputation. Now that Chef Fang had passed the age of sixty, his hands were no longer as nimble as before. His wife’s health was not good, and his children were all working hard in the big cities, leaving him no choice but to hire extra help. The old man was stubborn. No matter how much food prices rose outside, the restaurant’s menu had remained unchanged for more than a decade, and the portions were never reduced. Because of this, profits were quite limited. The kitchen help worked hard yet received low pay, so they rarely lasted long. The previous auntie had quit before even two months had passed, which left Qin Mu with the opportunity to step in.

       Qin Mu was diligent—wiping tables, sweeping the floor, washing vegetables, even handling the cash and keeping the accounts. The only thing he couldn’t do was kill fish. He didn’t know why, but the moment he looked into a fish’s eyes, he froze. If the creature started thrashing its tail, Qin Mu could just about leap straight onto the rafters and sit shoulder-to-shoulder with the rows of cured meat hanging there.

       Old Chef Fang once gave him a demonstration with knife flashing in his hand, every movement sharp and swift, and within minutes the half-meter-long fish was neatly cleaned. But when he turned around, the student who was supposed to be observing had already darted two meters away, his forced composure about as fake as the knockoff ‘Mister Kang²Originally written in Kang Shuaifu is a knockoff / parody brand of Kang Shifu (Master Kong), a famous instant noodle brand in China. People often use it online as a metaphor for something obviously fake, low-quality, or pretending to be real‘ soft drinks in the shops.

       “Come here and try one yourself,” Master Fang barked.

       “I still have a few tables to wipe down,” Qin Mu muttered, slipping away as fast as oil on the soles of his feet.

       “You brat, stop right there.” The old man was quick; he grabbed Qin Mu by the back of his collar. “A strapping young fellow like you, afraid of live fish—what a disgrace! Start small. Clean these whitefish first.”

       Qin Mu turned his head and saw a pool packed tight with fish, bulging eyes glaring up at him. A chill ran from the soles of his feet all the way up his spine.

       Just then, a leisurely voice floated in.

       “Chef Fang, even at your age you’ve still got such strength. Truly old but vigorous.” Shen Liu hobbled in, leaning on a bamboo cane.

       Qin Mu frowned. “Why aren’t you at home resting? What are you doing here?”

       “Got tired of lying down. Came to see you.” He limped over to the pool, peered in, set his cane aside, and rolled up his sleeves. “Come on then, darlings. I’ll take care of you.”

       Chef Fang raised a brow. “You know how?”

       “No,” Shen Liu admitted with a smile, “but I’m smarter than him. Teach me.”

       The old man tossed him a pair of rubber gloves, half doubtful. “Fine. But let me make it clear—I’m only paying for one worker.”

       “Of course.” Shen Liu agreed cheerfully, then winked at Qin Mu. “Silly boy, fetch a tall chair for your gege.”

       Heat rushed to Qin Mu’s ears. He turned away quickly to find a chair.

       And so, Shen Liu took over the job of cleaning fish. He had always been a man with a taste for refinement, particular about cleanliness; he used to carry the scent of aftershave or cologne wherever he went. Now he reeked only of fish, the smell clinging stubbornly even after washing. When he showered, fish scales still slid from his hair. Watching Shen Liu’s hunched back as he worked in an apron, limping and bent over the sink, Qin Mu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

       Their lives were poor and difficult. The attic they rented barely fit a double bed. Every meal had to be counted carefully; sometimes they even packed up customers’ leftovers to stretch things out. They had abandoned their studies and their bright futures to take on menial jobs with little reward, bowing and smiling to every kind of customer, ending each day sore and exhausted, worrying about next month’s rent and electricity.

       But they were together.

       Each morning they woke in each other’s arms. Each night they drifted off in the softness of a kiss. The day’s fatigue melted under shared massages. At every meal, looking up, they saw each other’s faces. In rare moments of leisure, they leaned on the railing outside the restaurant, watching the flow of people, the shifting clouds.

       At night they made love, with abandon and urgency, twining around each other, demanding, surrendering. Desire surged through them like a rushing river, crashing against their young bodies. Stifled moans and low, ragged breaths spilled out of the little attic that was never soundproof, like a wild hymn sung into the vast night.

       Even at the height of passion, Qin Mu was careful, afraid of hurting Shen Liu’s injured leg. But Shen Liu only held him tighter, whispering against his ear, “It’s fine. Come inside.” Sometimes he indulged Qin Mu’s fierceness; other times he used his injury to tease and provoke, luring Qin Mu into shameful positions, coaxing him to take him deeper, rougher.

       They had nothing, and yet it felt as if they had everything. They told each other everything, except for two things they both avoided:

       One was the cause. The other, the future.

       Shen Liu never explained what had happened during his disappearance. And since leaving K City, Qin Mu had never again spoken of his dreams for the days to come. He had once imagined graduating, taking the bar exam, the two of them struggling together in K City, saving for the down payment on a tiny apartment, making a home of their own. He had even planned the decor: a massive sofa, and maybe two little pets. But he never spoke of it again.

       After another night’s storm had ebbed away and starlight poured through the attic’s small skylight as they lay side by side. Suddenly, Shen Liu asked, “Log, what kind of life do you want?”

       Qin Mu froze for a moment, then said slowly, “A pastoral life. Planting a little vegetable patch, living off what we grow, storing up in autumn and winter. A life where we don’t have to bother with other people, where if we want greens we just go out and pick them. What about you?”

       It was probably because the moonlight was too bright that Shen Liu closed his eyes. “I want to live the kind of life you wanted to live.”

       He laughed. “So cheesy.”

       The weather gradually grew hotter. Qin Mu received his first month’s salary and took Shen Liu to the county hospital for an X-ray on his leg. The doctor said the recovery looked good, but it still needed more rest.

       On the way home, Qin Mu deliberately stopped by the market to buy two pig trotters, saying he wanted to borrow Chef Fang’s pressure cooker to stew soybeans with pig’s feet for Shen Liu to nourish his body.

       The county market was bustling. The crowd was noisy and lively, hawkers’ cries rose and fell, and the air was thick with the mingled aromas of fried stinky tofu, stir-fried rice cakes, egg pancakes, and oden. It had a clamor that was also full of warmth and closeness, the scent of everyday life. Qin Mu paused at a stall selling fried radish cakes. Just as he was about to leave, Shen Liu called him back.

       “What is it?” Qin Mu asked.

       Shen Liu pursed his lips toward the stall. “I want to eat that.”

       Qin Mu was surprised. “Don’t you not like these? Back then whenever I bought them you never…” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing the truth. It wasn’t that Shen Liu was craving it—he just wanted to buy it for him. A warmth spread in Qin Mu’s chest, and he smiled. “Forget it, I don’t feel like eating.” Their finances were tight; they saved wherever they could.

       “Just buy one. We’ll share it,” Shen Liu said.

       Qin Mu looked at him, then at the radish cakes, and sighed before stepping forward. “Boss, one please.”

       The hot fried cake sizzled with oil when bitten into, the fragrance so rich it felt like it opened every pore in the body. When Qin Mu handed it over, Shen Liu didn’t eat it. Instead, he leaned over just as Qin Mu took a bite and bit into it himself, their lips brushing at the corners. Qin Mu was so startled he nearly dropped the cake.

       “…Are you crazy!” He lowered his voice and scolded, “We’re on the street.”

       “You’re my boyfriend. What’s wrong with a kiss?” That rogue, stealing fragrance and jade, smiled with his eyes bent. “Your greasy mouth looks so appetizing.”

       Qin Mu’s face flushed red as he gritted his teeth. “Do you not want your other leg either?”

       “Go on, hit me. If you break it, then tonight you’ll have to do the full set all by yourself.” Shen Liu could be shameless anywhere, anytime.

       “I should just break your third leg too,” Qin Mu bit into the cake and strode off.

       “Murdering your husband is a serious crime. You can’t break the law,” Shen Liu leaned on his bamboo pole, following at a leisurely pace.

       Qin Mu had only taken a few steps before coming back to support him, stuffing the last bite of fried cake into his mouth. “Shut up.”

       “Yes, sir.” Shen Liu’s eyes brimmed with laughter.

       In Jiangnan, when summer approached, rain became frequent. The sky was like a creditor who could not collect his debt, keeping a gloomy, sullen face for days on end. Qin Mu received a job guiding a tour, and hurried through the rain from the restaurant to the ticket office.

       The tourist was a man, about thirty years old, holding a black umbrella.

       “Please come with me.” Qin Mu led him toward the archways, explaining the history of Tingyun Town along the way. When there was nothing more to say, he made small talk as usual. “There aren’t many visitors on rainy days. You came here alone?”

       “I came to find someone.” The man’s figure was tall and upright, carrying a stern and imposing presence. His steps were measured, not fast or slow, like the precise swing of a pendulum.

       “Find someone?” Qin Mu carefully avoided a puddle on the ground. “Someone living in this town? What’s the name? Maybe I can help.”

       “Shen Liu.”

       Qin Mu stepped straight into a puddle, soaking his shoe.

Support the author by buying the author’s works and/or giving some kisses here~
(It’s very easy to buy from myrics.com because they support Paypal payment in small amounts~)

We have a discord server for those who want to receive an update ping and various announcements~
Join here ^^

And please buy me some kofi if you like the translation~

Also leave some ratings if you like this series here~

       When Shen Liu was young, he was very high-profile, one of the most prominent figures at K University. Yet in matters of love, he was very discreet; aside from a small handful of people in the know, he never mentioned his relationship with Qin Mu to outsiders, nor did he ever display affection in public.

       This was not because he deliberately wanted to hide anything.

       Although Shen Liu seemed approachable, deep down, he carried an arrogance that looked down on the world. He was like a lion lazily basking on a rock, indifferent to the herbivores frolicking before him, baring his fangs and only revealing his wild dominance when provoked. A man like that did not care about the opinions of others.

       Qin Mu knew that Shen Liu’s discretion was to protect him.

       The broader society was still not tolerant enough toward homosexuality. Many people, at the mere mention of it, would blurt out the word ‘disgusting’. Even in the relatively open environment of a university campus, hostility toward homosexuals was not uncommon. Shen Liu was unafraid of these things, but he feared Qin Mu might be affected. He knew the hardships Qin Mu had suffered, the pain he had endured, and how difficult his journey had been. He did not want Qin Mu to once again face cold stares, reproach, or silent hurt. So he used a hard shell to wrap Qin Mu securely, allowing him to dwell peacefully in a safe and fitting little world, much like a snail.

       Qin Mu, in turn, loved Shen Liu with unwavering devotion. He was ready to put on a suit and go before God himself to vow never to part for the rest of his life. But sometimes he deliberately restrained his feelings, not wanting Shen Liu to feel pressure or burden. Everyone, when facing the one they loved, would be anxious and uncertain. All the more so since Qin Mu’s nature still carried the inferiority planted in his childhood. Even though he tried to restrain and adjust himself, he could not help but imagine what would happen if one day Shen Liu no longer loved him.

       He believed in the freedom of love and did not wish to shackle their relationship with chains. However, he did not know if he could let go with grace and offer blessings when the time truly came to part. After all, that was far too difficult.

       But Qin Mu’s worry never came to pass. Shen Liu, hand in hand with him, withstood the test of time. Their love, like wine buried beneath a tree, grew ever more pure and mellow. They had fallen into the habit of caring for one another, looking after each other. Sometimes, without a word, just a glance could make the other understand completely. Feiyan jokingly said the two of them had ‘already stepped into the old married couple stage ahead of time’. Between the two ‘old husbands’ there were still many little intimacies that could not be spoken of, weaving everyday life into something tender, romantic, and poetic.

       In the blink of an eye, Shen Liu reached his senior year, arriving at another crossroads in life. After much thought, he decided to stay on and be directly admitted into K University’s graduate program. When Qin Mu heard the news, he was overjoyed. That night, he wrapped himself around Shen Liu, chattering on and on about their future, until he was thoroughly worn out twice before finally falling asleep, exhausted.

       Just as this little boat of love was cutting through the waves toward hope, a strange current drifted in with the wind.

       That year, during the Spring Festival, Shen Liu went home, only returning just before the new semester began. After that, the phone calls started to increase. Qin Mu noticed that sometimes he would deliberately avoid him when answering. Once, when Qin Mu went to collect the laundry, he overheard Shen Liu on the balcony, clutching his phone and arguing with someone. His tone was so cold and hard that it was frightening. Qin Mu worried that he had encountered a complicated matter, but Shen Liu deflected the topic with just a few words.

       Qin Mu trusted him completely. He thought that since Shen Liu said nothing, it meant he was capable of handling it properly, and he should not dig deeper. Yet after being together for so long, they could read the subtlest changes in each other’s emotions. Qin Mu sensed the anxiety that Shen Liu was straining to suppress. He tried to gently confide to his lover that no matter what happened, he was willing to shoulder it with him, but Shen Liu still said nothing.

       Not only that, he even disappeared.

       That evening, the two had agreed to meet at the library. Shen Liu never came, and when Qin Mu called, his phone was switched off. The longer he waited, the more panicked he became. He hurried back home, only to find the room empty.

       Shen Liu did not come back that night, and Qin Mu did not sleep a wink. Through the registration number on Shen Liu’s student record, he managed to contact his family, but the person on the other end said coldly that Shen Liu had gone home. Not only that, he was not feeling well and could not take calls before hanging up. Within two days, news came from the academic office: Shen Liu had requested a month of medical leave. The whole situation was far too strange. Qin Mu did not know why he had left without a word. On the one hand, he reassured himself that if Shen Liu was home then he must be safe; on the other hand, he worried whether he had truly fallen seriously ill. He even had the thought of flying to J City to look for him, only to discover that the address in the student record—’No. 512 Wang Hai Road, Wushan District, J City’—did not exist at all.

       And just like that, Shen Liu disappeared from Qin Mu’s world.

       During that period, Qin Mu was like a soul lost. He was plagued by nightmares, consumed by worry, unable to sleep at night, counting the days like a child waiting for the New Year. But when the sick leave expired, he still had not returned. He called that number again, but no matter how many times, it never connected.

       The bottomless waiting hollowed Qin Mu out. In a month and a half, he lost ten pounds. He felt as if he had been cast into a barren wilderness, surrounded by desolation on all sides, with no way out and no hope in sight.

       Just as he was on the verge of breaking, that person finally came back.

       On a rainy afternoon, Qin Mu forced himself to sit for an exam. After leaving the hall, when he turned on his phone, he saw a text notification of a missed call from an unfamiliar number. He called back and heard a long-lost voice.

       “Log.”

       Qin Mu froze, suspecting he was hallucinating. Cautiously, he asked, “Shen Liu?”

       The other gave a quiet hum.

       Qin Mu’s hand gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He was trembling, his breath uneven. “Where are you? How are you? You…” His vision blurred, and scalding tears welled up, spilling down his cheeks.

       “I’m at the south gate.” Perhaps the signal was poor, because Shen Liu’s voice faded in and out.

       “Don’t hang up!” Qin Mu said urgently. He broke into a run toward the south, nearly crashing into people along the way. When he burst through the south gate of the campus, his heart pounded as if it would leap out of his chest. He looked around frantically, panting, and asked, “Where are you?”

       “To your right.”

       Qin Mu turned his head and saw a black unlicensed car that ferried passengers slowly lower its rear window. From within emerged the face he had longed for day and night. Shen Liu looked somewhat haggard, with messy stubble on his chin. He spoke: “Get in, we’ll talk inside.”

       Opening the back door, Qin Mu immediately noticed the glaringly obvious cast on his right leg. Shocked and distressed, he asked, “What happened to your leg?”

       “It’s nothing.” Shen Liu patted the seat, signalling him to sit, then raised his hand to touch Qin Mu’s gaunt cheek. He asked softly, “You haven’t been eating properly, have you?”

       Qin Mu could not hold back any longer. He seized his hand, eyes reddened, and asked, “What on earth happened? What did you run into? No matter what it is, you can tell me. I am… the closest person to you.”

       Shen Liu gazed at him, his eyes gentle yet profound, like a sea drenched in moonlight. Qin Mu sensed the emotions hidden within—too complex, too intense, impossible to untangle, like a volcanic eruption in the deep ocean, mountain-shaking and earth-splitting, yet known to no one. Just as Qin Mu tried to discern it, he heard him speak.

       “Log, let’s run away together. Leave everything behind, just go with me.”

       Shen Liu’s words were soft and slow, like smoke that would scatter with the faintest breeze.

       Qin Mu was stunned. For a moment, the sudden shock and confusion in his eyes gradually faded, like a lake revealed after the mist had lifted, showing its clear essence.

       He understood.

       This was, in fact, a question.

       Academics, life, friends, family, their little apartment… I am going to abandon it all, to go to the ends of the earth, to places unknown. Will you go with me?

       “Yes.”

       He took less than a minute to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life.

       Hearing this answer, Shen Liu’s gaze trembled, the corners of his eyes tinged with a restrained redness. He pulled his lips into a faint smile, carrying both the comfort of long-held certainty and an unspoken sorrow.

       “Driver, take us to the bus terminal,” he said to the driver.

       Qin Mu understood Shen Liu. He was a man of meticulous thought, thorough and careful in all things, always leaving room in his dealings with others, seldom taking reckless risks. When confronted with problems, he dared to take responsibility, never shirking, and his mind was always full of solutions. Even with the enemy at the gates, he could dig out a way to live from layers of encirclement. He would not have come to this step unless he had been driven into a dead end.

       “Let’s run away together” was his final choice.

       At such a time, even if what lay ahead was a bottomless abyss, Qin Mu still wanted to stand at his side.

       Qin Mu felt that his life was like a tree. Before meeting Shen Liu, he had grown muddle-headed and aimless, trimmed and cut at others’ will, battered by storm and gale. It was this man who had saved him from the mire, who had protected him with care, shielding him from the wind and rain, who had given him the courage to face both past and future, who had taught him how to love and be loved. The name ‘Shen Liu’ had long been carved stroke by stroke into his heart, fused into his very bones and blood. He could leave everything behind and go with him, without asking for a reason.

       As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

       When they boarded the long-distance bus, Qin Mu asked, “Does this count as a spur-of-the-moment trip?”

       Shen Liu smiled, turned his head over to rest against his own shoulder, and said, “Sleep. Get a proper rest.”

       They rode the bus for two days and one night, and stopped in a small town.

       The town had been built along a river, and the scenery was beautiful.

       Shen Liu had no money on him, and Qin Mu had only a little more than five hundred yuan left from his work-study savings. They found a small inn to settle in temporarily. After taking a good hot shower and resting for a night, they began planning the days ahead. Sixty yuan a day for the inn was too expensive—they had to find another place to live. Fortunately, the inn’s landlady was kind-hearted. When she heard that they wanted to rent a place, she cleared out the attic above her own small building and rented it to them for three hundred and fifty a month.

       Since Shen Liu was inconvenienced by his leg, Qin Mu cleaned up the place, then went to a small supermarket to buy necessities like toothbrushes and cups. When he came back, Shen Liu looked at the bedspread with dragons and phoenixes embroidered in celebration and burst into laughter. “So festive.”

       Qin Mu’s ears turned red, and he muttered in embarrassment, “This one was cheaper.”

       Shen Liu nodded in agreement. “It looks good. It has a beauty unique to traditional Chinese culture, making you want to do something on it.”

       Qin Mu sneered, “You’d better focus on healing your leg first.”

       “How can you discriminate against the disabled?” Shen Liu patted the spot beside him. “Stop fussing, Little Log, come sit with your gege for a while.”

       Qin Mu kicked his uninjured foot lightly. “If you won’t help, fine, but don’t drag me down.” Though his words were sharp, he still poured him a glass of water before sitting down.

       The wind drifted in from the river. Shen Liu held him close, leaned back against the window, and looked up at the drifting clouds in the sky. Like a big cat, he narrowed his eyes and sighed, “The weather is so nice.”

Support the author by buying the author’s works and/or giving some kisses here~
(It’s very easy to buy from myrics.com because they support Paypal payment in small amounts~)

We have a discord server for those who want to receive an update ping and various announcements~
Join here ^^

And please buy me some kofi if you like the translation~

Also leave some ratings if you like this series here~

       Qin Mu’s heart trembled.

       In the past, Shen Liu had called him this way when he was aroused. It was like a bewitching spell that drove one to madness, constantly stirring an irrepressible fervour within him.

       Time had fled with memories, yet the curse that person left on his body lingered, and his body responded with the most honest reaction. Qin Mu’s breathing grew increasingly erratic. Sweat trickled down his heaving chest, and his c0ck, which had softened during the invasion, was now erect again.

       “Why are you clenching so tightly? Eager for me to feed you?” Shen Liu’s low voice carried a triumphant smile.

       Qin Mu’s ears were sensitive, and the warm breath grazing his earlobe instantly sent shivers across his skin. Yet, the man intensified the sensation. He teasingly nibbled at his earlobe with his tongue. The tingling and itching feeling scurried like a startled mouse down his entire spine, and Qin Mu, unable to bear it, turned his face slightly to evade. In the next moment, the beast that had lain dormant within him roared and crashed fiercely. The pleasure of his gland being squeezed forced a low and involuntary cry from his lips.

       “You’ve forgotten what I just taught you so quickly,” Shen Liu said, biting down hard on Qin Mu’s neck in punishment. He then buried his head to kiss a trail along his body like a beast claiming its territory, leaving ambiguous marks that belonged solely to him. He paused just before touching Qin Mu’s lips, the lust swirling in his eyes like a ravenous glutton, eagerly roaring, as if ready to break free from its shackles and pounce upon the person before him in one gulp.

       Before Qin Mu, whose vision had been taken away, Shen Liu finally shed his pretence, restraint, and disguise, revealing his most genuine longing. He gazed boldly and obsessively, his fingertips repeatedly tracing the soft lips, and said in a hoarse voice, “You are mine.”

       It was as if he spoke to the other person, yet also to himself. Before Qin Mu could respond, the beast buried between his thighs could no longer restrain its ferocity. It withdrew, invaded, thrust, and collided repeatedly. The crude and primal rhythm followed the human instinct to chase desire.

       It was not enough, far from enough.

       He wanted everything from the person before him, from the inside out, from body to heart. At that moment, Shen Liu was controlled by a frenzied possessiveness, abandoning all technique and restraint, letting himself sink into the sea of ultimate pleasure.

       Pride was a sin. It trapped one in a self-drawn prison, blinding the eyes with empty resolve, forgetting the true heart.

       Greed was a sin. It drove one to demand the unattainable, pushing them into an abyss of possessive desire, yearning yet never obtaining.

       Lust was a sin. It stripped away reason, ensnaring one in the ecstasy of carnal pleasure and entwining them together.

       Yet even with the weight of such sins and punishments, he still wanted him.

       Knowing it was forbidden, improper, impossible, he insisted on pursuing it.

       Even if only for one night.

       The person he had once lost was right before his eyes, like a bright and tempting fruit hanging high in the Garden of Eden, enchanting him, making him unable to resist, willingly plunging into hell for a single bite.

       Qin Mu was the cause and effect of his fate, the sin he bore, the demon he could not escape.

       He accepted it.

       This obsession was buried too deep, held on for too long. Once the ashes reignited, they blazed into a towering inferno.

       His heart pounded as if it would burst, his chest burning. Shen Liu hooked Qin Mu’s legs into the crook of his arms, relentlessly ravaging the tight passage, each thrust heavier and deeper than the last, as if to meld their bodies into one.

       Qin Mu was so shaken by this brutal assault that his soul seemed to scatter. Pain and pleasure, like spilt paint cans, blended into a vibrant chaos amidst the darkness. Overwhelming ecstasy flashed like lightning through every inch of his flesh and bone, his body trembling, his breath quivering. The moans he struggled to suppress spilt from his gasps, the restrained throat sounds carrying a unique, ascetic undertone, making them all the more alluring in the tangled tide of passion, driving the intruder nearly mad.

       Their skin touched, their lower bodies were connected, and they were both very hot. It was hard to tell who ignited whose desire, and who satisfied whose needs.

       Shen Liu thrust deeply into him again, whispering in his ear, “Is it better with the whip or with your legs spread? Do you like me taking you like this?”

       The usually cold and proud man was now swept into the vortex of desire by a tempest, flushed and disarmed. “…I like it.”

       Shen Liu refused to let him off, teasing as he moved in and out, “No sincerity. Say something I want to hear.”

       Qin Mu tightly pursed his lips, refusing to speak. However, unable to withstand the deliberate torment, he arched his neck and let out a moan tinged with a sob. Shen Liu knew Qin Mu’s endurance in such matters and slowed down, removing the obstructive blindfold and kissing his damp eyes.

       Qin Mu leaned against the wall, dazed, his eyes rimmed red, lashes wet with fine tears. At that moment, he was a mess. His legs were spread wide, his lascivious rear still filled, his engorged member tightly bound at the base. He resembled an angel in a painting, defiled by a demon and tainted with impure desire.

       “Want it released?” Shen Liu teased, stroking Qin Mu’s member. “Beg me.” It was both a temptation and a coaxing.

       Awkwardly, Qin Mu averted his gaze and said with difficulty, “Please… Let me cum…”

       “Look at me and say it again,” Shen Liu demanded, his touch growing firmer.

       Qin Mu’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and he pleaded, “Please, let me cum…”

       Shen Liu, like a forest spirit emerging from the mist to steal souls, whispered seductively, “Say you belong to me.”

       Qin Mu, unable to endure further, lowered his lashes in submission and complied, “…I belong to you, Master.”

       Yet the man greedily pressed further. “Say you love me.”

       At those words, Qin Mu’s gaze flickered, his lips tightly sealed. Shen Liu grazed the tip of his member playfully, narrowing his eyes in warning. “Disobedience won’t feel good.”

       Qin Mu’s chest heaved violently, his eyes growing redder. He closed them in despair, then, like a martyr facing sacrifice. He leaned forward and brushed a fleeting kiss on Shen Liu’s lips.

       Was that an answer?

       The man paused, then laughed, delivering a sharp slap to Qin Mu’s buttocks. “So naughty, should I spank you?” He unlocked the handcuffs, scooped him up by the waist, and tossed him onto the large bed. He immediately pressed himself over him, kissing him deeply while releasing the chastity ring.

       “Don’t cum until I allow it.”

       Before the command fully registered, their lips and tongues entwined again. As Shen Liu invaded his mouth, he claimed his back hole once more. He thrust powerfully, slicing through the soft, wet passage like a blade. This time, instead of going deep, he quickened the pace with shallow thrusts.

       This method intensified the pressure on the gland, sending pleasure bursting like fireworks in the mind. Qin Mu’s body surrendered completely, whimpering amidst the tangle of lips and saliva, his body tensing, toes curling, unable to hold back as he cum. The passage tightened with climax, sucking the intruding shaft like an eager mouth, driving Shen Liu to the edge until he, too, cum with a low groan.

       In the moment, their overwhelming desire was sated. All barriers and grudges vanished as their souls and bodies communed, sensing true affection.

       The afterglow of climax washed over their entwined bodies like waves on a shore, receding layer by layer. Neither moved, nor did either break the silence first. They both knew in their hearts that this reckless night of unspoken understanding would not happen again. The carnal indulgence borrowed from a game, the veiled confessions, the unguarded truths—all would vanish in the dawn’s first light. When their naked bodies donned clothes again, they would also don their roles, status, and distance. Like stars returning to their places, the constellations shifting, this fiery liquor of passion would simmer into tasteless water, used to brew two cups of tea called gentlemanly acquaintance.

       To meet you is joy, yet I can only blame the moon and stars.

       Through this long, absurd night, whose heart will be stirred?

       The room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the bedside clock. Qin Mu’s legs felt numb, and he shifted slightly. Shen Liu’s hand grazed his lower back. “Want more?”

       Qin Mu’s expression stiffened, his face wooden as he replied, “You still up for it?”

       Shen Liu tossed the condom into the trash, sat on the bed’s edge with legs spread, and grinned. “Serving the people, how could I not be?”

       Qin Mu sat up, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “At your age, better watch your health.” He moved to get a cigarette, but the earlier exertion left his legs weak, and he stumbled back onto the bed.

       Shen Liu laughed, retorting, “You’re not young either. Watch yourself.”

       Qin Mu’s ears reddened.

       “What do you want?” the man asked.

       “Cigarette.”

       Shen Liu fetched one from Qin Mu’s pocket on the coat rack, lit it between his own lips, and passed it over. “Just one. Too many’s bad for you. At our age, we need to cherish life.”

       The age jab lingered.

       Qin Mu ignored him, took a drag, and mused that cigarettes really do feel good after sex.

       “Shower together?” Shen Liu invited enthusiastically.

       Qin Mu glimpsed the sticky mess on his abdomen and turned away. “You first.”

       “Okay.” Shen Liu smiled and went into the bathroom.

       Qin Mu leaned against the headboard, smoking. His desire-clouded mind now asserting itself in the clarity of post-coital reflection, belatedly pondering deeply.

       What now, after this?

       Where should he place this man?

       What was Shen Liu thinking?

       How would he handle this case?

       The cigarette burned to its end, and no answers came. He considered lighting another but stopped, recalling Shen Liu’s words. With a helpless sigh, he stared at the bedside lamp.

       Moments later, his attention shifted to the small clock nearby.

       Many Doms placed timers or ticking clocks in playrooms, partly to count during punishments, partly to track time. This was an old brass clock.

       Qin Mu recognised it; it was one they had used.

       In Tingyun Town.

Support the author by buying the author’s works and/or giving some kisses here~
(It’s very easy to buy from myrics.com because they support Paypal payment in small amounts~)

We have a discord server for those who want to receive an update ping and various announcements~
Join here ^^

And please buy me some kofi if you like the translation~

Also leave some ratings if you like this series here~