Qi Liangqin was too embarrassed to say a word. Clutching the thong in his hand, he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from behind. Both he and Yan Bozong instinctively took a step back.
Aunt Chun chuckled as she walked over. "Didn't play basketball today?"
"No, just ran a few laps," Yan Bozong replied.
Qi Liangqin tightened his grip on the thong, lowered his head, and quickly headed for the bedroom. Behind him, Aunt Chun continued chatting with Yan Bozong. "Go take a shower. Breakfast will be ready soon."
He shut the bedroom door behind him. Yan Songwei was still fast asleep. Sneakily, Qi Liangqin stuffed the underwear into the wardrobe, his face still burning with heat.
He never imagined he'd get his underwear back in such a mortifying way. This was exactly the kind of scene worth writing in a novel.
Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the window and looked toward the opposite side. A breeze from the slightly open window made the bathroom curtain sway ever so gently.
Right now, Yan Bozong was in the shower.
For some reason, just knowing this made Qi Liangqin too flustered to stand at the window any longer.
Maybe his skin was still too thin.
But he knew—far more shameless attempts at seduction awaited him in the future.
It Was a Sunny Weekend, and the Family Was About to Play Mahjong Together.
In the novel, Qi Liangqin was a skilled mahjong player. Although the story never detailed exactly how he played, there was one line that summed it up:
"It was with his impressive mahjong skills that he managed to get closer to the Yan family."
Everyone in the Yan family played mahjong. Madam Yan and Yan Yuan were regulars at the mahjong table, and the family even had a dedicated mahjong room. Even Yan Songwei and Yan Bozong would occasionally play a round or two to make up the numbers.
However, at the beginning of the story, Qi Liangqin never joined them. He only sat on the sidelines, watching attentively. It was through observing the mahjong games that he learned about the personalities and temperaments of the Yan family and some of their old friends.
Now that he had become Qi Liangqin, he had no choice but to continue watching from the sidelines—because he had absolutely no idea how to play mahjong.
His relatives back home were all mahjong enthusiasts too. During Chinese New Year, his family would often gather to play. His cousins all knew how to play—everyone except him. He would sit and watch for years, yet he still didn't even know how many tiles were in a set. The only ones he recognized were the red dragon, the little bird tile, and a few circles.
After breakfast, Aunt Chun set up the mahjong table. The mahjong room was located to the right of the living room, separated by a glass door. On the other side was a small garden, enclosed by floor-to-ceiling windows that provided excellent lighting and a pleasant view.
Since both Yan family brothers were home today, Madam Yan insisted that they stay and play with her. She forbade them from going anywhere else.
When parents get older, there are fewer opportunities to spend quality time with their children—other than eating meals together or watching TV. Everyone had their own lives and responsibilities. Besides, as children grow up, they often have fewer things to talk about with their parents. The silence could be awkward, so they might as well avoid it altogether.
But mahjong solved that problem.
It gave Madam Yan the chance to experience the joy of family bonding, so whenever she had time, she would half-force her two sons to play with her.
With four family members, they made a perfect table.
Aunt Chun prepared a few fruit platters and set them aside, though no one touched them. The Yan family took mahjong seriously.
Qi Liangqin pulled up a stool beside them and occasionally nibbled on some fruit.
Following the storyline, he sat between Yan Songwei and Yan Bozong, leaning slightly toward Yan Songwei—after all, he was Yan Songwei's "wife" in name. He had to maintain appearances.
As they played, Madam Yan casually asked while drawing a tile, "What time did you come home last night?"
Yan Songwei answered without missing a beat, "Around ten."
By ten o'clock, Madam Yan was already asleep. Even if he was lying, she wouldn't know.
"You're a married man now," she said. "You can't be out all the time. Otherwise, why did you even get married? Just to bring home someone to help eat your food?"
That remark was clearly a jab at Qi Liangqin.
Qi Liangqin forced a sheepish smile.
Yan Songwei turned to him and smirked. "Laugh. That's all you ever do—just sit there grinning like an idiot. Mom's saying you eat too much. You should have a smaller lunch."
Yan Yuan looked up from her tiles and chuckled. "Stop flirting at the table. Us single folks can't stand you flaunting your affection."
Yan Songwei raised an eyebrow. "You've been single for, what, half a year now? Still hung up on that bastard?"
Yan Yuan sneered. "If you know he's a bastard, then stop bringing him up."
Madam Yan, taking the opportunity, sighed, "Since your brother mentioned it, I'll say something too. You're not getting any younger. You should find someone new. Even if you don't get married, at least date someone. A woman without a man's love—she either ends up a tomboy or an ice queen like your sister-in-law."
At this, everyone instinctively glanced at Yan Bozong.
Yan Bozong remained silent, but Yan Songwei spoke up, "That's not a fair comparison. Big Bro treats his wife well."
"Mahjong!"
Yan Bozong leaned back in his chair and pushed his tiles forward.
"Damn, you won again?"
Yan Songwei was frustrated. "Bro, can't you go easy on us? We're family."
Yan Yuan sighed. "This is why I said we shouldn't play with Big Bro. He wins every time." She turned to Qi Liangqin and said, "You play. Take Big Bro's spot."
"I don't really know how to play…" Qi Liangqin waved his hands in protest.
But as soon as he said that, Yan Songwei and Yan Yuan's eyes lit up.
"That's even better!" Yan Songwei exclaimed. "You sit there, and if you don't know what to do, Big Bro can guide you. That way, the game is more balanced and fun."
Madam Yan had been about to win this round, only for Yan Bozong to snatch the victory from her at the last moment. Feeling slightly annoyed, she took the chance to chime in, "Yes, sit down and play. Treat it as a learning experience. As a member of the Yan family, you must know how to play mahjong. If word got out that my daughter-in-law, the wife of Zhang Qiuping's son, can't play, I'd lose face."
Zhang Qiuping was Madam Yan's name, but no one dared to call her that. Only she would occasionally mention it herself.
Since Qi Liangqin had to follow the storyline, he didn't refuse too much. He glanced at Yan Bozong, who stood up, switched seats with him, and moved his chair closer.
But before he could settle in, Yan Songwei stretched out his leg and nudged him. "Move closer to Liangqin. Don't look at my tiles."
So Yan Bozong shifted closer to Qi Liangqin, casually resting an arm on the back of his chair.
The moment Qi Liangqin entered Yan Bozong's line of sight, his mind felt like it was overheating. He could never remain calm around him. Yan Bozong sat slightly behind him, just to his side, and Qi Liangqin couldn't focus at all. He felt like the half of his face closest to Yan Bozong was burning, and sure enough, his ears had turned bright red again.
Yan Bozong stared at his red-tinted ears for a couple of seconds before looking away to focus on the game.
As expected, Qi Liangqin was completely clueless—not just "not very good," but absolutely terrible. He didn't even know how to arrange his tiles. Yan Bozong, still leaning casually against his chair, patiently guided him on how to place them.
Flustered, Qi Liangqin fumbled with his tiles, his face burning. The others assumed he was just nervous because he didn't know how to play.
But in reality, he wasn't even thinking about the game—he was just following Yan Bozong's instructions like a machine.
Yan Bozong was a naturally reserved person, not one to talk much. His voice was deep and steady, and now, speaking in a deliberately low tone, it became even softer—almost gentle, like the hushed murmurs of lovers. At times, when he was particularly baffled by Qi Liangqin's sheer lack of skill, there was even a trace of amusement in his voice as he chuckled, "Don't play that tile."
Yan Songwei grinned smugly. "Big Bro, don't coach him too much… Pung!"
Yan Bozong didn't guide him through every move, so Qi Liangqin played terribly. This round, Yan Songwei won.
"Hah! My luck's great today—purple air from the east!"
Madam Yan sighed in frustration. "I was so close to winning." She then turned her gaze toward Qi Liangqin, clearly unimpressed. "You're playing nonsense."
Feeling deeply embarrassed, Qi Liangqin mumbled, "I really don't know how to play…"
The person he felt most sorry for was Yan Bozong. He played so well, and he had been earnestly teaching him, yet Qi Liangqin still couldn't grasp the basics.
Unlike modern automatic mahjong tables, the Yan family's table required manual shuffling because Madam Yan preferred the feeling of washing the tiles herself—leisurely, ordinary, and relaxed.
As everyone shuffled the tiles, Qi Liangqin thought he should take the opportunity to apologize to Yan Bozong.
But he didn't realize that Yan Bozong had leaned forward slightly to help shuffle the tiles.
So when he turned his head—his lips brushed against Yan Bozong's cheek.
To say they "touched" wasn't quite accurate. It was more of a fleeting, barely-there graze.
"I'm sorr—"
Before he could finish saying "I'm sorry," he completely froze.
His entire body tingled, as if an electric current had just passed through him.
Lips, like certain other sensitive areas of the body, were packed with nerve endings. A firm touch might not be too noticeable, but a barely-there graze—just the faintest whisper of contact—could send a tingling sensation straight to the nerves.
His lips, unbearably sensitive, burned with a sensation that was both electric and ticklish.
Yan Bozong seemed to move slightly as well, but his expression remained unreadable.
All Qi Liangqin could see were his long eyelashes.
Yan Bozong had deep, intense eyes, and for the first time, Qi Liangqin noticed how thick his lashes were. Now, they lowered ever so slightly, casting faint shadows.
Without a hint of reaction, Yan Bozong calmly straightened up, putting some distance between them. His face remained composed, revealing his sharp and well-defined features—cold and unwavering.
It felt like a secret that belonged only to the two of them.
A moment that began and ended in an instant, unnoticed by anyone else.
Yet Qi Liangqin could still feel the lingering numbness on his lips.
He pressed them together, but the tingling sensation wouldn't fade. The messy clatter of mahjong tiles beneath his fingers couldn't drown out the pounding in his ears.
Qi Liangqin wanted to kiss Yan Bozong.
A kiss.
A kiss was the most intimate and lingering act in the world-more intimate than sex itself. The entwining of lips and tongues was filled with desire, yet carried a tenderness born of love- wet, soft, and warm, melding and tangling together.
Qi Liangqin had imagined kissing many times before, yet he had never actually kissed anyone.
He was pure, but his purity carried a hint of sorrow. To have reached this age without ever experiencing a kiss or intimacy-he couldn't say he had no regrets.
If his first kiss was with Yan Bozong, how happy would he be?
For the rest of the game, he absently rubbed the mahjong tiles between his fingers, lost in these feverish and secret fantasies.
He felt parched, like a wanderer who had been lost in the desert for too long. Every cell in his body was on the verge of dying from thirst. He needed Yan Bozong's salvation-just one drop of water.
But in The Male Pan Jinlian, this fleeting touch had never been mentioned.
In the novel, the real highlight of this mahjong scene was yet to come-"he accidentally knocked over a tile."