Half a year—not long to say, not short either—but enough for a lot to happen.
Together they made a racket renovating the little wooden house, planted fresh flowers in the yard, and Yan Yu’an even built a swing out there with Xie Ji.
Winter came. The three of them slept pressed close to Yan Yu’an, and even in the freezing winter Yan Yu’an felt his whole body burning hot.
The next day, Yan Yu’an emphatically told them to keep their distance when sleeping—but come nightfall he was shivering with cold again.
Helpless, he could only rely on himself and built a little stove with his own hands.
The warm flames made the whole wooden house toasty. Outside the snow fell thick and fast, while inside Yan Yu’an warmed himself by the fire and even buried two potatoes and two sweet potatoes in it.
“Can this even taste good?” Xie Ji couldn’t help saying.
Ning Bingque rolled his eyes at him. “When has anything our head chef An’an made ever tasted bad?”
Shen Yuanzhou took Yan Yu’an’s hand and carefully wiped it clean of the charcoal smudges from just now.
Yan Yu’an very much agreed with what Ning Bingque said. He gave a proud “mm” and took out the roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes.
“Hot… whoo, whoo.” He was just about to reach for them when a sweet potato burned him. Before long that fair, tender hand had gone red and a small blister had risen.
“Are you okay?” Xie Ji and Ning Bingque had already stood up. They crowded around Yan Yu’an, not knowing what to do. “Is this what a burn looks like? Does it hurt? What do we do?”
The string of questions left Yan Yu’an’s head a little muddled. He watched Shen Yuanzhou shoot to his feet, grab his other—uninjured—hand, and stride with him to the door.
The moment the door opened, a biting cold wind rushed in, and Yan Yu’an couldn’t help shivering.
Then Shen Yuanzhou plopped a handful of snow onto his hand.
Yan Yu’an felt himself snap awake instantly, and the fingers that had been burning with pain went numb at once.
“What are you doing?” Xie Ji was shocked. He hurriedly pulled Yan Yu’an back inside, looking at Shen Yuanzhou in utter astonishment.
Shen Yuanzhou didn’t want to talk to him. He just stared at Yan Yu’an, his brows knitting fiercely. “Not careful at all.” He glanced at the potatoes and sweet potatoes thrown on the ground and shook his head helplessly. “Really clumsy.”
He peeled the sweet potatoes there, while Ning Bingque peeled the potatoes beside him.
And Xie Ji, hearing Yan Yu’an say this would make him feel better, went out bare-armed to dig snow in the snowfield.
Only after filling a whole bucket did he lift his tail and look at Yan Yu’an, wanting to be praised.
“Great.” Yan Yu’an smiled faintly and stuck his fingers into the snow.
There was a lot of snow—it wouldn’t melt anytime soon. So he simply let the other two feed him while listening to Xie Ji tell stories of the forest.
He didn’t know how much more time passed before spring arrived, and A Xuan returned from its partner’s place.
It stood at the doorway and nearly didn’t recognize its master’s home.
If not for Yan Yu’an calling its name, it definitely would have thought someone had broken in again.
“You’re back?” Yan Yu’an jumped down from the bed. He patted A Xuan’s head, and A Xuan climbed up his arm onto his shoulder.
A Xuan looked around. “Where are those big idiots?”
Knowing who A Xuan meant, Yan Yu’an still couldn’t help smiling. “They’re smelting iron. And lately I’ve found rice on this mountain. They’re forging iron because they want to give me a pot for cooking rice.”
Yes—Yan Yu’an had discovered he quite liked making food, especially the process of creating something from nothing. It gave him the feeling of doing research.
A Xuan gave a sound of acknowledgment and hopped off to the backyard to watch them forge iron.
Though spring had come, the snow hadn’t fully melted. Three bare-armed men were hammering away at that thing, producing a clanging din.
It had never seen what this was, and its little black head tilted, its face written all over with curiosity.
The three of them had heard A Xuan return early on—but at this moment they were competing at forging iron, so who had time to care about it?
Their vigorous muscles, honey-colored skin, and a thin sheen of sweat made Yan Yu’an couldn’t help swallowing, and he involuntarily turned his head away.
Three men exploding with hormones stayed by his side—and every night they’d even ask to be petted and hugged.
Anyone would be unable to resist, okay?
Yan Yu’an rubbed his forehead helplessly. But his arrival only made these competitive men even more tense.
For a moment, the clanging of iron-forging rang out without end.
Yan Yu’an froze for two or three seconds, felt his ears couldn’t take it anymore, and turned and walked into the house.
The moment he left, naturally A Xuan followed at his heels.
“See, that’s you—you scared him off!” Xie Ji said discontentedly to Shen Yuanzhou, who stood to the side.
Actually, compared to Shen Yuanzhou, Xie Ji liked Ning Bingque more—at least Ning Bingque wouldn’t stare at him with those cold, creepy eyes.
“Tsk…”
Xie Ji pursed his lips—if not for his An’an being here, he’d definitely give this arrogant, conceited snake a good beating!
Ning Bingque pretended not to hear Xie Ji talking. He kept hammering the iron without a word.
Perhaps it was the spring, but Ning Bingque felt there’d been a fire burning in his heart, tormenting him.
It wasn’t like this before… Whenever it came to the nights when it was his turn to sleep with Yan Yu’an, it’d be like this.
Ning Bingque felt awful. He could only vent his anger onto this, and so he became the fastest to make a pot for Yan Yu’an.
As was only right, tonight Yan Yu’an would come sleep with him.
Xie Ji had remodeled the little wooden house into three rooms—after all, they didn’t want to sleep with the others. If not for An’an being here, they’d definitely have started fighting.
Ning Bingque, overjoyed, under the resentful gazes of Xie Ji and Shen Yuanzhou, presented the pot to Yan Yu’an.
“It’s beautiful!” Yan Yu’an’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t wait to taste whether the rice would be the same as what he’d eaten before.
He’d just been hulling the grain with A Xuan—now there was about enough for the few of them to eat.
Washing the rice, adding water, and steaming it—Yan Yu’an seemed to already vaguely smell the fragrance of rice.
That night, Yan Yu’an got to eat the rice he’d missed for so long, and Xie Ji and the other two became the first mutants to eat rice.
And tonight, Yan Yu’an was sleeping with Ning Bingque.
“Goodnight.” The youth said this with a yawn and lay down on Ning Bingque’s bed, squinting.
Ning Bingque swallowed, then reached out his hand and quietly acted spoiled at him—he’d learned this last night, eavesdropping on Xie Ji and Yan Yu’an sleeping.
Xie Ji liked to use this method to get Yan Yu’an to do things he didn’t want to do. Maybe he could use it too?
“I want a hug.”
Yan Yu’an’s eyes flew open. Perhaps because he’d gotten used to the darkness, he could clearly see Ning Bingque’s slightly trembling eyelashes and his high, straight nose bridge.
Ning Bingque’s appearance was a lot like the Germans of their era, yet Yan Yu’an could tell at a glance that he was from the same country as himself.
The pretty youth couldn’t help blinking. For a moment just now he’d almost thought he’d found the wrong person and gotten into the wrong bed.
“I want a hug.” Ning Bingque repeated unwillingly. He pursed his lips. “An’an, hug me, okay?”
His voice was very soft—seemingly to avoid waking the people sleeping in the other two rooms. He pressed close to Yan Yu’an’s ear, his breath a little scorching, carrying a touch of moisture.
It made Yan Yu’an’s ears a little ticklish, and a numb sensation rose in the hollow of his lower back too.
After thinking for a moment, he still reached out and pulled Ning Bingque into his arms.
The man’s muscles were burning hot. The moment Yan Yu’an touched them he nearly got burned. He couldn’t help trembling, then buried his head into the man’s shoulder.
“Okay. I’ll hug you.”
How could his voice sound this good? How could his arms be this soft? How could his body temperature be this cool?
Ning Bingque felt his brain had turned into a tangled mess, like yarn wound up in complete disarray.
He couldn’t help swallowing. Perhaps because they were so close, he could even smell the faint grassy scent emanating from Yan Yu’an.
Unconsciously he sniffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I—I also want to stick close.” His face unconsciously grew hot. He felt his throat was very dry, so he kept swallowing.
Yan Yu’an was a little puzzled. “Stick close?” He tilted his head up and saw Ning Bingque’s sharply defined chin. He took the initiative to press his own chin against it—but he was still a little puzzled. “Aren’t we already sticking close?”
In an instant, Ning Bingque felt like he was about to explode. His face flushed red at once, and he hemmed and hawed for a long while, not knowing what to say—he could only stare at him without speaking.
The youth’s hair had grown long, tickling where it brushed against him.
Their breaths kept mingling. In the end it was Ning Bingque who couldn’t hold back anymore.
Yan Yu’an looked up in surprise. His rosy lips moved, seeming to want to say something—but before his words could come out, they were all swallowed by Ning Bingque.
Ning Bingque didn’t know how to kiss. He could only instinctively use his teeth to bite those lips he’d longed for so long.
“Ah…”
Perhaps he’d bitten too hard, because Yan Yu’an couldn’t help letting out a pained sound. Tears instantly welled up in his eyes, and his whole person looked like a wilted little rabbit.
Ning Bingque hurriedly released him. “Does it hurt?”
Only after seeing Yan Yu’an shake his head did he relax slightly—but then he started blushing again.
He thought of the things he’d done back when Yan Yu’an was drunk, and couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.
“Do you still want to kiss?”
Yan Yu’an tilted his head, tears still clinging unwiped at the corners of his eyes, his whole person impossibly pitiful.
Ning Bingque’s raised hand paused, and his golden eyes couldn’t help blinking.
The two fell silent in the darkness—but perhaps because they’d grown used to the night, neither missed the slightest expression on the other’s face.
After a long while, Ning Bingque tentatively stuck out his tongue and licked Yan Yu’an’s lips.
That one lick was like the first horn being sounded.
Leave a Reply