The hands clutching the little seal plush wouldn’t stop trembling, fingertips digging deep into its soft belly. Qin Shu’s face twisted slightly from the pain and discomfort. Xie Lanzhi was following exactly as instructed, and through this slow process, Qin Shu never once cried out.
Xie Lanzhi withdrew his hand, voice hoarse: “What’s the next step?”
Half-opening his eyes, Qin Shu drifted in a daze for a long while, then forced himself up, leaning close to whisper something by Xie Lanzhi’s ear.
Xie Lanzhi’s breath caught. He suddenly pressed Qin Shu back onto the bed. “You really want to kill me…”
From beginning to end, Qin Shu could see his face.
That usually cool, aloof face was dyed with an unusual color. His lashes were damp, sweat dripping onto Qin Shu’s body as their breaths slowly merged.
The curtains whipped noisily in the wind; even the sea breeze felt hot.
Qin Shu couldn’t bear it. Each passing second felt like breaking through the limits of his body. The baby seal in his arms had been crushed out of shape. Xie Lanzhi’s shoulder was right in front of him, but like he said—he couldn’t bear to bite him. He could only bite himself.
Xie Lanzhi paused. “I told you—you’re not allowed to bite yourself.”
Qin Shu shook his head, and with the hand not holding the plush, wrapped around Xie Lanzhi’s neck, voice breaking: “Then… kiss me…”
Xie Lanzhi kissed him. His lips were salty. He really was crying.
Just before the final moment came, Xie Lanzhi suddenly snatched the seal from his arms and tossed it aside. With no outlet for his pain, Qin Shu panicked. “G-give it back!”
Panting lightly, Xie Lanzhi said, “Don’t hold it. Hold me.”
The poor little seal, abandoned after being used, lay pitifully on the floor. It could only watch as Xie Lanzhi tore open umbrella after umbrella, until an entire box was gone and the sky outside had turned fully dark.
When it was over, Qin Shu fell asleep. He didn’t pass out, but had no strength left at all—not even enough to move a finger. He was like a ragdoll, left to Xie Lanzhi’s care. Fortunately, Xie Lanzhi had enough humanity not to continue. He checked his body, confirmed there was no real issue, and cleaned him up carefully.
Afterward, he got into bed, holding Qin Shu close. He drifted into a deep sleep, but woke again not long after. Checking his phone, he realized dinner had long passed. Qin Shu still slept, brows faintly knitted, lips parted, obviously worn out.
Xie Lanzhi got up quietly, picked the baby seal off the floor, brushed away the dust, and tucked it back into Qin Shu’s arms.
Qin Shu let out a murmur in his sleep, hugged the seal, rolled over, and even rubbed his cheek against its belly.
Watching for a while, Xie Lanzhi took out his phone, snapped a photo of Qin Shu’s sleeping profile with the plush, set it as his wallpaper, then opened the food delivery app to order seafood congee.
His WeChat chimed endlessly. Without looking, he knew it was Lu Rulu making a racket. Sure enough, bored out of his mind, Lu Rulu was asking in the group if anyone wanted to queue up for King of Glory.
Chu Cheng immediately posted two movie tickets: 【We’re at the theater, about to watch a movie. (sunglasses)】
Normally, Lu Rulu would throw shade. But after all his hardships, he wasn’t the same Lu Jingyun anymore. This kind of jab was just scratching an itch—didn’t even sting. Instead, he used the chance to tease Xie Lanzhi and Qin Shu, who were still doing long-distance.
【Unbendingly Straight: @Xie @XieLoveLetter, jealous? Some people get same-city dates during winter break. (smirk)】
【Xie: Oh?】
【Unbendingly Straight: Unlike you two, glued to your phones all day, life hijacked, suffering the pain of longing.】
【Unbendingly Straight: (So tragic, but what’s it to me.jpg)】
【Unbendingly Straight: I’m laughing so hard (not really)】
【Xie: .】
Xie Lanzhi sent a location share.
Curious, Lu Rulu tapped it open.
Half a minute later: 【Unbendingly Straight has left the group chat】
By the time Xie Lanzhi returned with the food, Qin Shu was just waking. Their eyes met, and Xie Lanzhi watched the red spread over his face and ears at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He’d long noticed it—though Qin Shu was bold and proactive, often daring to act shameless, he blushed easily in front of him. A word, a handhold, a kiss, even after sleeping together—always blushing. It felt like being back to when they’d just gotten together, where the intimacy was laced with awkwardness.
Qin Shu felt it too. He tugged the blanket over his head.
D*mn it, wasn’t sex supposed to advance things straight to “old married couple mode”?! Why did the progress bar drop instead? Just thinking about what he and Xie Lanzhi had done a few hours ago made his head heat up, more bashful than a blushing bride.
Xie Lanzhi almost laughed. “Get up and eat.”
Qin Shu pulled the blanket down just enough to show a pair of dark eyes. “I want to eat in bed.”
“Okay.”
Xie Lanzhi called the front desk for a small bed-table. Qin Shu drank his congee while checking WeChat. His mom had messaged in the【Happy Family】 group, saying they had dinner plans and would be back late, telling him to handle his own meal. Qin Shu replied, then opened 【Is Brother Yun Bent Today】 and was stunned to see the main character had left.
“Brother, why did Brother Yun leave the group?”
Xie Lanzhi said casually: “Guess he got traumatized.”
After reading the chat log, Qin Shu spared two seconds of sympathy for Lu Rulu: “So tragic, but what’s it to me.”
His bowl half-empty, Xie Lanzhi refilled it. “You burned a lot of energy. Eat more.”
…Here it comes, here it comes—the post-game analysis may be late, but it never fails to arrive!
Qin Shu wasn’t sure if he even wanted to talk about it. No matter how politely phrased, it felt like driving straight back onto the highway—though they already had, and for hours at that.
He couldn’t help saying: “You used more energy, Brother. I was covered in your sweat.”
Xie Lanzhi said: “That wasn’t from exertion. That was from holding back.”
“Oh. But I hardly moved or held back, so why am I still so exhausted?”
Something crossed Xie Lanzhi’s mind, and he chuckled lightly.
“Brother, what are you trying to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
Peeling shrimp, Xie Lanzhi lifted his eyes. “You’re the one asking me to say it.”
Qin Shu had a bad feeling. “…Say it then.”
Xie Lanzhi murmured: “Maybe… sucking and squeezing burn a lot of energy too.”
Qin Shu: “!!!”
“Especially when it’s that tight.”
Qin Shu was mortified. “Shut up already!” He finally saw through it—Xie Lanzhi was nothing but a salted duck egg: pristine white on the outside, but inside, so yellow it oozed.
Placing the peeled shrimp into his bowl, Xie Lanzhi said: “Just one more thing.”
Qin Shu eyed him warily. “What?”
“Was I good enough?”
Qin Shu choked on his congee.
Xie Lanzhi calmly grabbed a tissue and wiped his mouth. “Give me a rating, little junior.”
Blushing to the roots, Qin Shu raised a hand: “F-five stars. Full marks.”
Xie Lanzhi smiled. “Then I look forward to your next visit.”
Author’s note: I tried my best. (collapses)
So… is it about time to wrap this up? (scratches head)
