Morning And Evening Chapter 19

Chang Ming’an had no pressing obligations that required his immediate attention. He simply went to his office in the traditional courtyard building, cleared a few minor tasks, ate a quick meal alone, returned to read for a while, and waited until the hour grew late before strolling home through the quiet night.

When he arrived, He Mu was already fast asleep, bundled under the covers. Reaching out gently to touch his forehead, Chang Ming’an found his temperature back to normal. Checking the remaining medication to gauge how much he had taken, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. After washing up, he wrapped himself in a blanket, turned off the light, and settled onto the sofa for the night.

His mind drifted back to seeing He Mu and He Jun chatting by the car earlier that day.

He Mu had changed significantly since they first met. His sharp edges had softened, and he no longer bristled with defense at the slightest provocation. Dressed in simple, casual clothes, he appeared far less cautious and reserved.

He looked striking when he smiled.

Chang Ming’an rolled over on the sofa, feeling a subtle, inexplicable knot of frustration rising within him. He tried to convince himself that this was a positive shift, that making new friends was a healthy step forward.

Flipping onto his side once more, he recalled the dinner where He Jun had asked for He Mu’s WeChat handle. Sitting right beside them, Chang Ming’an had picked up on He Mu’s initial reluctance and stepped in to smooth over the awkwardness. Why had He Mu given in so easily after just a few days?

A sudden sound interrupted his thoughts as the bedroom door clicked open behind him. Chang Ming’an closed his eyes, holding his breath, but heard no footsteps approaching. Opening his eyes, he saw that He Mu had not stepped out into the room. He had merely left the door slightly ajar, allowing a soft sliver of light from the desk lamp to spill across the floorboards.

Throwing back the blanket, Chang Ming’an slipped on his shoes and walked toward the bedroom. As he reached the threshold, the constant rustle of fabric reached his ears, accompanied by heavy, shallow gasps. His hand, poised to push the door wider, froze in midair.

He Mu was kneeling on the mattress with his back turned, his nightgown hitched up around his chest, the hem pulled taut between his teeth. From Chang Ming’an’s vantage point, he could see the curve of his fair back and the slender, taut line of his waist, while the fabric of his pulled-down undergarments dug snugly into his skin.

He Mu let out a low murmur, his hands moving with urgent intensity as he neared a crest, his toes curling against the sheets.

Chang Ming’an drew a sharp breath, his blood rushing to his head as his mind went entirely blank. Backing away by two hasty steps, unconcerned with whether he made noise, he practically fell back onto the sofa. The sound of He Mu’s rapid breathing echoed in his ears like a pounding rhythm.

Lying back down with his face turned away from the bedroom, he eventually heard He Mu tiptoe out to the sink, turn on the tap, and pad back softly on bare feet before switching off the lamp, plunging the apartment into complete darkness.

Chang Ming’an tossed and turned for the rest of the night, his mind in a chaotic blur, unsure if he ever truly drifted off.

In his fitful slumber, someone pressed down against him. Reaching out, his fingers brushed against smooth silk, tracing the raised texture of intricate embroidery. It was a black cheongsam adorned with bold, silver-red blossoms in full bloom. Following the tight cinched waist down to a high side slit, skin met skin, the intense warmth sending a shiver through his spine.

Is he running a fever again? Why is he so hot?

The figure above him shifted like a fluid wave, delicate hands gliding down his chest and torso with a touch lighter than a feather. A damp, ragged gasp sounded right beside his ear, thick with lingering warmth. Looking down, he watched those pale hands stand out against the dark silk, long fingers with painted crimson tips sliding down his skin to firmly grasp his hot, swollen length.

Chang Ming meandered into a deep sigh, raising his large hand to trace up the smooth arm until his palm cupped the back of the person’s neck. He stroked the nape twice, gently pinching the soft flesh like holding a sleepy cat. The body above him seemed to melt entirely into his embrace, letting out two soft, cat-like purrs, warm breath carrying a faint fragrance against his face.

Heat rushed through Chang Ming’an’s veins, yet the overwhelming pleasure only heightened his restlessness. He pulled the figure closer, holding and pressing tightly, yet the mounting frustration within him had nowhere to escape, surging like a restless spirit inside his chest.

The person leaning over him parted their lips to lightly trace his cheek.

“Chang… Ming’an…”

Each syllable fell softly into the air, laden with damp warmth.

Chang Ming’an snapped awake, his forehead slick with sweat. Morning light was already streaming in, revealing how late it had gotten. Sitting up abruptly, his gaze collided directly with He Mu, who was sitting on the opposite side of the sofa scrolling through his phone.

Startled by the sudden movement, He Mu hesitated for a brief second before offering a soft, “Good morning…”

Chang Ming’an rubbed his face vigorously to hide his flushed composure, his voice muffled behind his hands. “Morning. I overslept.”

He Mu studied his face attentively, his eyes lingering for a moment before he asked softly, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Chang Ming’an wanted to get up and head for the bathroom, but as he moved, he became acutely aware of the wet, hard press against his trousers, leaving him thoroughly embarrassed and frozen in place. Unaware of his predicament, He Mu watched him sit there in a daze and added, “I woke up early and brought back breakfast. I saved yours.”

Seeing that Chang Ming’an still made no move, He Mu tilted his head in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

Chang Ming’an blurted out, “Could you pass me my glasses?”

He Mu turned his head toward the entry table where the glasses rested. Though filled with curiosity, he stood up to retrieve them. The moment his back was turned, Chang Ming’an threw off the blanket and rushed into the bathroom. He Mu turned back only to catch a glimpse of his awkward, hurried stride before the door shut.

Aren’t you taking your glasses?

Standing there with the glasses in hand, a sudden realization seemed to dawn on He Mu. He blinked slowly, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

A considerable amount of time passed before Chang Ming’an finally emerged, radiating the warm vapor of a fresh shower. He took a seat at the dining table and quietly began eating the breakfast He Mu had fetched.

He Mu sat cross-legged on the sofa looking at his phone, his nightdress pulled up past his knees to expose his slender calves. Over the nightgown, he wore a robe tied securely around his waist. The image sparked a memory in Chang Ming’an’s mind of the small crimson mole resting on He Mu’s chest, like a solitary drop of blood.

Looking up from his screen, He Mu asked, “Are you free today?”

Taken off guard, Chang Ming’an quickly averted his gaze, staring intently down at his food. “No.”

It suddenly struck Chang Ming’an that He Mu had still never addressed him directly by name.

“It feels like you haven’t worn a cheongsam in a long time,” Chang Ming’an murmured aloud, voicing the thought before he could stop himself. The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how strange it sounded, but it was too late to retract them. The spoon in his hand tapped against the porcelain bowl with a quiet clink.

He Mu was caught completely unprepared by the remark. After a moment of thought, he replied softly, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Ever since their tense conversation weeks ago, He Mu had completely stopped his playful flirting and teasing around Chang Ming’an. Remembering how helpless and bewildered Chang Ming’an had looked whenever he used to push his boundaries, he had assumed the elder simply disapproved of it. As a teacher, Chang Ming’an surely preferred someone more reserved and composed.

“No,” Chang Ming’an blurted out, catching the awkwardness of his response instantly and scrambling to amend it. “I mean, it doesn’t bother me. You can wear whatever you like, you don’t need to alter your habits for me.”

In the past, going too long without dressing up would leave He Mu feeling stifled and downcast, but living alongside Chang Ming’an had brought a sense of ease, whether he dressed as a man or a woman.

Propping his chin on his palm, He Mu looked across at Chang Ming’an, a light spark in his eyes. “Does it look good on me, the cheongsam?”

Chang Ming’an found himself utterly at a loss for words. The vivid, intoxicating details of his morning dream flashed through his mind, leaving him feeling as though he had committed a secret transgression. Forcing all stray thoughts aside, he offered a sincere response: “Boys can be beautiful too, just as you said.”

He Mu stared in slight shock before the words registered. A sudden wave of shyness washed over him, and he bit his lip into a soft smile, his clear almond eyes curving into sweet crescents.