Qi Liangqin had no way of knowing how Yan Bozong would react to the thing he had left in the bathroom. The novel never mentioned it.
As the protagonist of a yaoi novel, he was rarely privy to Yan Bozong's true thoughts.
Back in his room, Qi Liangqin towel-dried his damp hair. Standing before the bathroom mirror, he gazed at himself.
He loosened his bathrobe, letting it slip open. Standing there completely bare, his slender fingers traced over his skin inch by inch. His
hands were just as fair and delicate-not all that different from Yan Bozong's. He brought a
finger to his lips, sucking on it lightly. Pale skin, flushed lips-still carrying the dewy warmth of a fresh shower.
But deep down, a thought gnawed at him.
Unfair. So unfair.
Whoever said all men were born equal was lying. The truth was, people were born into inequality. Some entered the world blessed with wealth and beauty, while others were given nothing but poverty and mediocrity. The privileged might spend their entire lives in
effortless luxury, while the less fortunate could toil endlessly, only to remain ordinary.
Once upon a time, he had thought that only by making an enormous fortune, only by achieving unparalleled fame, could he ever be on the same level as someone like Qi Liangqin- someone blessed with such an extraordinary appearance.
Was there really no possibility between him and Yan Bozong?
"Straight men are poison." Every gay man
seemed to know this truth. And yet, desire had a way of blinding reason, making it all too easy to fall, to willingly drink from a poisoned chalice.
"There are no straight men who can't be turned -only those who haven't been pursued hard enough." That, too, was a belief many clung to.
The man in the mirror looked like a seductress- no, a demon. Even as a man himself, he couldn't deny his own beauty.
If he gave his whole heart, if he loved with
everything he had-could he possibly move Yan Bozong?
He got dressed and stepped out of the bathroom. Glancing at the floor, then at the large bed, he thought to himself—if Yan Songwei didn't come back to sleep, that would be perfect.
This bed was unbelievably warm and soft. Even the dreams he had while sleeping on it were sweet. So, he picked up his phone and called Yan Songwei.
The call went through, but it was Tan Qingqing who answered.
"He's drinking. No idea when he'll be back. We'll see. Gotta go."
Through the phone, Qi Liangqin could hear the rowdy background noise—Yan Songwei was playing drinking games with his buddies. He had never been good at holding his liquor, and once he started drinking, he almost always drank too much. The odds of him coming home tonight were slim.
Without hesitation, Qi Liangqin climbed onto the bed, burrowed under the blankets, propped a pillow behind his back, and started playing on his phone.
By around ten in the evening, drowsiness crept in. He sat up and glanced across the way—somehow, at some point, the lights had turned on. Yan Bozong was back.
He jolted upright, scrambling toward the window. Peering out, he looked toward the opposite building, but to his surprise, the bathroom that was usually left half-open had its curtains drawn shut.
His heart pounded wildly.
Did Yan Bozong realize he had been watching?
Did he see the thong he left in the bathroom?
What was he thinking?
The curiosity gnawed at Qi Liangqin like an itch he couldn't scratch. He desperately wanted to see Yan Bozong's reaction. But after staring at the window for a while and seeing nothing, his excitement waned. Just as he was about to close the window, he suddenly saw Yan Bozong standing by the floor-to-ceiling window across the way, holding a glass in his hand.
Drinking water. Looking in this direction.
Startled, Qi Liangqin immediately shrank back, pressing himself flat against the bed, not daring to move. Then, inch by inch, he crawled toward the wall, fumbling for the light switch.
With a soft click, the room plunged into darkness.
Now, Yan Bozong wouldn't be able to see him.
Feeling a bit more secure, Qi Liangqin cautiously peeked out again. Yan Bozong was still looking this way—or perhaps he wasn't. He seemed lost in thought.
A moment later, Yan Bozong disappeared from the window.
The living room on the other side now stood empty.
Soon after, the lights over there went out as well.
Qi Liangqin let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the bed, sinking deep into the blankets. Lying there, he stretched out his legs and kicked a few times in the air.
With all sorts of thoughts swirling in his mind, he eventually drifted into a deep sleep. And just as expected, the night was filled with sweet dreams.
The next morning, sunlight poured in, warm and gentle. He yawned lazily, but the moment he moved his hand, it landed on something warm—something alive.
Startled, he bolted upright and whipped his head around.
It was Yan Songwei.
He had no idea when the man had returned, but there he was, sprawled across the bed in the most careless manner. Dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers, his clothes were scattered all over the floor, from the doorway to the bed. One of his shoes was still dangling off his ankle.
Qi Liangqin scrambled off the bed, landing on the blanket he had laid out on the floor.
Hearing the noise, Yan Songwei groggily opened his eyes and looked at him.
Still pretending to have just woken up, Qi Liangqin asked, "When did you get back?"
Yan Songwei mumbled, "Don't remember."
Qi Liangqin thought to himself—thankfully, Yan Songwei was always well-behaved when he got drunk. At least he didn't try to force himself on him. Otherwise, what would he even do? Scream?
If he stayed silent, he'd suffer a loss for sure. But if he screamed, would it even help? More likely than not, the Yan family would rush in, only to scold him instead:
"Oh, what's the matter? Your husband kissed you, touched you, and you're upset about that? Why are you making a fuss?"
The mere thought sent a chill down Qi Liangqin's spine, making his hair stand on end. He eyed Yan Songwei warily, relieved beyond words that the man was straight as a ruler.
But to be honest, between the Yan brothers, if either of them were likely to sleep with a man, it would definitely be Yan Songwei. He was the wilder one.
Qi Liangqin quickly lifted the blanket and covered Yan Songwei's half-naked body.
To be fair, Yan Songwei had a decent physique too—long legs and all.
He got up to wash up, but the noise disturbed Yan Songwei, who grumbled in irritation. Not wanting to annoy him further, Qi Liangqin turned the faucet down to a trickle and quickly splashed his face.
After freshening up, he headed to the kitchen to help Aunt Chun with breakfast. She had just woken up and glanced at him in surprise.
"I can handle this by myself. Why are you up so early? Don't young people love to sleep in? Go get some more rest."
"I go to bed early, so I wake up early. It's a habit now—I just wake up at this time," he replied.
Aunt Chun gave him a doubtful look. "When you first got here, you slept until noon every day. You're only waking up early now because you're afraid Madam Yan will scold you, aren't you?" She chuckled. "She does get annoyed if you sleep too late, but there's no need to be up this early. As long as you're up before breakfast is ready, it's fine."
Qi Liangqin just smiled. Breakfast was steamed buns and millet porridge, all handmade by Aunt Chun, whose cooking skills were exceptional. Realizing there wasn't much for him to help with, he stepped out of the kitchen for some fresh air.
But as soon as he reached the living room, he saw Yan Bozong pushing the door open.
He was dressed in sportswear, with a black wristband wrapped around his wrist. His entire body was drenched in sweat. Maybe it was the exertion, but his honey-toned skin was flushed, his chest was damp, and every breath outlined the defined muscles beneath his shirt. Sweat dripped from his chin.
This version of Yan Bozong was different—less severe, less composed, and instead burning with energy.
When he saw Qi Liangqin, he wiped his face with his wristband, his eyes shining unnaturally bright.
Qi Liangqin called out, "Big Brother."
Yan Bozong simply responded with a low "Mhm" before striding toward his bedroom.
Qi Liangqin stood frozen in place, feeling the heat radiating from Yan Bozong as he walked past. The scent of sweat mixed with something uniquely masculine, making him involuntarily take a deeper breath.
Realizing what he had just done, he pressed his lips together, embarrassed. Just as he was about to turn and leave, Yan Bozong suddenly called out, "Wait a moment."
Qi Liangqin's heart started racing. He turned back and saw Yan Bozong disappear into his room for a moment before emerging again.
The moment he saw what Yan Bozong was holding, his face instantly flushed red.
He didn't know where to look and quickly averted his gaze in embarrassment.
"You left this behind, didn't you?" Yan Bozong handed it to him. "Don't forget it next time."
Qi Liangqin's face burned so hot it felt like it could drip blood. He took it with trembling hands, still not daring to lift his head.
Then he heard Yan Bozong ask, "Isn't it uncomfortable to wear something like this?"