Luo Wenzhou startled awake in the middle of the night, heart beating like a drum, reaching out nearly in a panic. Touching Fei Du's hand lying outside the covers, the breath caught in his throat at last eased.
Luo Wenzhou wiped away cold sweat and looked down at the source of his nightmare—the bald cat Luo Yiguo.
Though this year's heating supply was about to come to an end, its strength was still unusually abundant. The warmth indoors was excessive, so they hadn't closed the door to the room at night. Anyway, given Fei Du's physical condition, they couldn't do anything "unsuitable for cats." Therefore, Comrade Luo Yiguo had not only overtly "entered the inner chamber," it had also sprawled over Luo Wenzhou's chest with half its body.
Luo Wenzhou first carefully stuck Fei Du's hand back under the covers, then picked up Luo Yiguo, inviting it to remove to the bedside cabinet, or else sooner or later President Guo would give him a heart attack.
He half sat up and glared at Luo Yiguo with an interrogating expression, but President Guo was awesomely unafraid. Claws catching on the surface of the bedside cabinet, it stretched hugely, yawned enormously towards Luo Wenzhou, and happily nestled down, indifferent to the guilt it still carried.
Yes, Luo Yiguo really had gotten into trouble today.
When Luo Wenzhou had been cooking dinner the night before, after putting the food in the pot, he'd found that there was no more cooking wine in the house and had had to open the liquor cabinet and take out a small jar of high-quality Shaoxing wine to make do with. Because he'd been rushed with the trivial details of the cooking process, he'd forgotten about the detail of locking the liquor cabinet.
He'd been worried about Fei Du during the day at lunch and had called home as usual. He'd said hardly two sentences when he'd heard a bang and the sound of something heavy falling—this was a very familiar noise to Luo Wenzhou. When he'd first started taking care of the cat and hadn't been on his guard, he'd on average heard a twice daily live broadcast of "Luo Yiguo knocking over plates."
This time, what Luo Yiguo had knocked over hadn't been plates; it had been wine.
It had somehow managed to open the liquor cabinet. A tall and slender bottle placed closest to the outside had been standing unsteadily and had died a tragic death at the cat's paws. Though Fei Du had quickly cleaned up the scene, a good deal of evidence of the crime had still remained in the kitchen—a small quantity of red liquid in the cracks in the floor, half a red wine-scented cat's paw print by the fridge that Fei Du hadn't noticed…and the decisive evidence of the suspect cat Luo Yiguo's tail.
While the above suspect had been shaved bald, there were still tufts of hair remaining at its head and the end of its tail; the long hair at the end of its tail had been dyed red.
But so what if the evidence was conclusive? So what if it had a lengthy criminal record?
Luo Yiguo had already been shaved and neutered; aware that for the rest of its life, the sensuous world would be an illusion, it had nothing left to recollect fondly. Right in front of Luo Wenzhou's face, it brazenly licked its tail, totally disregarding the litter box attendant's threats.
There was nothing Luo Wenzhou could do to it. He could only put it out of sight and out of mind, lying down once more and looking at Fei Du in the faint light.
Fei Du's breathing was shallow and slow, half his face buried against the pillow. When his eyes were closed, their shape became only more clear to see. His soft hair fell down, idly curling over his chin. He seemed neither mighty nor crafty, only a quietly sleeping beautiful man.
Looking only at his sleeping countenance, it was impossible to imagine what he had experienced, what he had done.
Suddenly, Luo Wenzhou wasn't sleepy anymore. He reached out to move the strands of hair away from Fei Du's neck and saw that the frightening bruises had nearly vanished; there were only a few shallow marks left. He looked fixedly at the shallow marks for a while and couldn't resist gently stroking them with the pads of his fingers.
But Fei Du's neck was too sensitive; he unconsciously dodged, then rolled over. Luo Wenzhou was afraid he would accidentally press down on his still not fully healed ankle and quickly reached out to embrace him, pressing him into his arms.
Fei Du seemed to have been disturbed, but he didn't fully wake up, only blearily patted the back of his hand, turned his head, and kissed his neck.
He didn't move again.
Fei Du was a nuisance; he had all kinds of intimate little gestures at his disposal, ready to muddle a person up at any time; even half-asleep he could still put on the moves. Luo Wenzhou was hot and bothered at his kiss, all the blood in his body whirling up to escape velocity, howling to break free of gravity.
Unfortunately, at this moment, he could only hold Fei Du and stare at the ceiling, pondering the meaning of life, unilaterally burning.
When he was about to come up with a philosophical system out of frustration, Luo Wenzhou suddenly noticed a problem—he turned his head and looked at the little alarm clock on the bedside cabinet. The fluorescent display said that it was past 5:00 AM. Reasonably speaking, at this time, Fei Du would already be about to wake up naturally, his never especially deep sleep becoming very shallow. Why was he sleeping so soundly today?
Under normal circumstances, unless Fei Du was sick, it could only mean…
He'd had alcohol or coffee during the day.
Fei Du's constitution was very particular. Drinking an appropriate amount of alcohol or coffee could invigorate him, but once that bit of vitality was past, if he didn't have another cup, his earlier energy would seem like an overdraft; he'd usually get sleepy rather early in the evening, and his sleep would be comparatively sound.
Luo Wenzhou turned his head to look at Luo Yiguo and thought there was something suspicious about this. So he carefully moved Fei Du's hands away from his waist, went to the living room, and opened the glass cabinet containing the wineglasses. In all, there were nine wineglasses of different sizes, arranged in three rows. Luo Wenzhou took them out one by one to investigate. Finally, in an innermost corner, he found one with a ring of dried up water stains.
Luo Wenzhou: "…"
He'd seized the opportunity of the unlocked liquor cabinet to secretly drink wine, and when he'd finished drinking, he'd not only destroyed the evidence, he'd also put on a show and shifted the blame onto a cat!
President Fei's talents were increasing.
So that morning, the wronged Luo Yiguo received compensation for its injury from the "government"—a can of Whiskas—while the "mastermind behind the scenes" met with a household interrogation.
Luo Wenzhou said, "Tell me the truth."
Fei Du unhurriedly put a small lettuce leaf into a strip of smoked bacon and rolled it up. "I haven't not told the truth."
Luo Wenzhou was speechless.
That was true; hearing the noise over the phone, he himself had asked, "What did the damn cat knock over?" Fei Du's answer had been, "You seem to have forgotten to lock the liquor cabinet."—One sentence, nothing wrong with it.
Fei Du picked up the rolled-up bacon with his chopsticks and put it into Luo Wenzhou's mouth. "Just half a cup. I needed to deal with something at work."
Luo Wenzhou said, "No smoking, no alcohol, no egg custards. What did you promise me?"
"I was wrong," Fei Du said obligingly.
"Home is no place to argue" was one of President Fei's basic principles of behavior. Whenever there was any trifle, he was always in a hurry to admit his fault, lay on the honeyed words, and patch it up…and whether he regretted it or not would depend on his mood.
Luo Wenzhou thought expressionlessly that the next sentence would certainly be, "Shixiong, I love you."
Fei Du said glibly, "You can make me do anything in punishment, but half a glass of wine is only two-hundred milliliters. I don't think it deserves as serious a penalty as you being angry."
Luo Wenzhou: "…"
Even this routine could periodically update and go up a grade!
Fei Du's gaze swept over the wide collar of Luo Wenzhou's pajamas, admiring the clearly outlined collarbones and muscles and looking inward. He licked his lips. "I can provide special services, too, beauty."
Luo Wenzhou refused him with an iron will. "Scram!"
In his capacity as a man who had thrown off vulgar interests, Luo Wenzhou drank a glass of cold water and came up with an "ideal" plan, the inspiration coming from the shadow of his own childhood—writing a self-reflection.
"At least a thousand characters, handwritten," Luo Wenzhou said as he changed his shoes and prepared to go to work. "Read it aloud before dinner."
"…A thousand characters for two-hundred milliliters?" Fei Du asked uncomprehendingly.
"It's not only the two-hundred milliliters." Luo Wenzhou paused slightly, becoming stern, and turned his head to look deeply at Fei Du.—He wanted to say, there's also that you hid things from me; that you deliberately enraged Fan Siyuan; that you got yourself beaten black and blue; that I almost never saw you again; and also…that you'll only answer me digging my heart out with impertinent remarks.
He simply couldn't think carefully about these things. Luo Wenzhou thought he still wasn't ready to remember it clearly, so he hastily swallowed down what he'd been about to say and quickly left.
Fei Du acutely sensed what he had left unsaid, stared, then, leaning on his crutch, wounded ankle held high, he slowly strolled to the study.
Luo Wenzhou had blurted something out and had already forgotten about it by the time he got home from work…until he saw Fei Du take out two sheets of writing paper.
"Fei Du" and "writing a self-reflection" were two entirely unrelated notions. The regular script covering the writing paper had a slightly threatening depth; at a glance, the total character count definitely exceeded a thousand. Luo Wenzhou reached out to grab it. "Did you really…"
Fei Du turned, avoiding him. "Didn't you tell me to read it aloud? Sit down."
Luo Wenzhou and Luo Yiguo sat side by side on the couch, looking at him in bewilderment.
Fei Du put one hand behind his back and half rose out of his chair as though preparing to appear on stage. The fact that he was standing on one leg didn't even effect his display; it was very free and easy. Then he took out the hand hidden behind his back; he was holding a half-opened red rose. He reached out and put it into Luo Wenzhou's collar.
Luo Wenzhou: "…"
He had a premonition of what the contents of the "self-reflection" were, but he still didn't dare to believe that Fei could be shameless enough to read it aloud himself.
But President Fei really was that shameless.
Fei Du cleared his throat and, right in front of the perplexed Luo Yiguo, without a trace of shyness, read out his love letter called a "self-reflection": "In my heart, a cluster of flowers lifts their faces to the burning sun…"
"Fei Du, how nauseating are you, what's your problem!"
"…more sweet-smelling than all fine wines…"
"Little bastard, I told you to write a self-reflection, and you're making sport of me. You must really think I can't govern you!"
"The boiling… Hey, gentlemen use their words, not their hands…"
Covered in gooseflesh, Luo Wenzhou transplanted the maudlin diseased seedling Fei Du to the bedroom. Luo Yiguo, hugging the remaining fur on its tail, gnawed at it for a while, pricking up its ears to listen to the laughter and pleas for forgiveness, continuing its abstention from sensuous pleasures with its tail fur as its companion.
In my heart, a cluster of flowers lifts their faces to the burning sun,
More sweet-smelling than all fine wines.
The boiling fragrance has engulfed the scarecrow's chest,
The straw spirt henceforth enjoying boundless longevity.