Morning and Chapter 36

Yang Xiaozhen lowered her head and poked at the shrimp dumplings in her bowl with her chopsticks, answering only with a soft “Mmm.”

“He is a man.”

Chang Ming’an looked up at her. She was still staring down, chopsticks held loosely. After a moment her shoulders began to tremble. He rose at once and sat beside her. Mother and son had always lived independently of each other. The son, long since grown, no longer knew how to be intimate with his mother. He could only rest an arm loosely around her shoulders.

Yang Xiaozhen had never been one to back down. Even after her husband died she had never shed a tear in front of anyone. She was decisive and efficient, and in recent years she had grown even more striking, seeming younger with each passing year. She permed her hair, did her nails, and wore lipstick. Yet when Chang Ming’an drew close he could see the white roots she could no longer hide.

She sniffed, lowered her head to wipe her eyes as if to cover the tears, then looked up at her son and asked in a hoarse voice, “Can’t you change? You used to like girls.”

“But I really like him now. I really like him.”

Yang Xiaozhen could hold the tears back no longer. She bent her head and asked, “Are you happy, son…?”

Chang Ming’an answered with quiet solemnity, “Happy. Very happy.”

She choked on the words. “How could this happen? Is it because your father passed away early? Was I too strict with you when you were little? This…”

She had indeed been strict. She had held her breath and steeled herself to raise this fatherless child, not merely to raise him but to make him outstanding, so that others would see that neither mother nor son was easy to bully. For a moment Chang Ming’an could find no words. Yang Xiaozhen had been strict, yet she had also loved him deeply. When he was in middle school and did poorly on an exam because he had been too playful, a beating waited for him at home. But after he fell asleep he knew she sat in her own room looking at his father’s photograph and wiping away tears.

He pressed his lips together and gave his mother a hug, something he had not done in a very long time.

“Mom, this isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”

Yang Xiaozhen buried her face against her son’s chest, sniffed once more, then finally sat up straight with red eyes. “Go away, go away. I don’t want to see you anymore. I’ll eat by myself. Don’t take it from me.”

Chang Ming’an frowned. “Mom, I’ll take you home after we finish eating.”

She felt deeply ashamed to have cried in front of him and waved him off. “Go on, go on. I’ll think about it myself. Are you free Monday morning?”

“What’s wrong? We have a meeting Monday morning.”

“Never mind then.”

At last he gave in to her urging, picked up his coat, and left. Before closing the door he glanced back and saw her eating her favorite shrimp dumplings with determination. A pang of guilt went through him, yet he knew he had to tell her. Keeping the secret would have been unfair to everyone.

He felt a sense of relief, yet it also felt as though he were carrying a sweet burden.

When he got home he bent to change his shoes in the entryway. He Mu jumped onto his back from behind. The heating was turned up high. Whenever Chang Ming’an was out He Mu raised the temperature a little more than usual. He walked about barefoot, happy, wearing a nightgown he had not put on in a long time. Now he clung to Chang Ming’an’s back, arms around his neck, bare legs wrapped around his waist.

Chang Ming’an supported him with one hand under his bottom and the other around his thigh, then scratched lightly along his spine. He Mu laughed and jumped down. “Where did you go?”

Chang Ming’an did not want to tell him, afraid he would overthink it, so he said only, “To the office to get some documents.”

He Mu bent and picked up Mu Mu, who had been rubbing against his ankles. The straps of the nightgown had slipped down his arms. With both hands occupied he could not pull them up, so they hung halfway, revealing the straight line of his shoulders and a small stretch of chest. A little lower and the light-colored areolas would have shown.

Chang Ming’an rubbed his nose, dry from the heating, and reached out to hold He Mu’s waist. His hands met the smooth silk of the nightgown. He lowered his head and kissed the prominent collarbone, gently grinding his teeth the way a dog works at a bone.

At last He Mu slumped against the wall. Chang Ming’an leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, murmuring, “Mu Mu…”

He Mu answered with a soft snort through his nose.

Mu Mu meowed, wriggled free from between them, landed lightly on the floor, and walked away with her tail high.

He Mu was held very tightly and instinctively tried to push him back. Chang Ming’an only bent and lifted him onto the shoe cabinet in the entryway, spreading his legs. Then he sucked at the slightly raised nipples through the thin fabric of the nightgown.

“Hmm—”

He Mu’s legs tried to close, but Chang Ming’an kept them open with both hands. Slowly he stroked upward along the inner thighs, caressing the tender skin again and again. His mouth stayed busy, wetting the small patch of cloth until it clung to the erect nipples. He Mu liked to wear larger women’s underwear beneath the nightgown, yet now that he was hard the fabric could not contain him. It was pushed aside and felt constricting.

He groaned in discomfort a few times, caught Chang Ming’an’s hand, and guided it under the skirt to the place that ached, pleading, “Do it here…”

Chang Ming’an stroked him gently, using his index finger to tease the sensitive ridge and the head until He Mu was moaning, chest rising and falling. Then he drew the straps of the nightgown down so that it slipped free, baring the flushed chest and the swollen, tight nipples.

He Mu’s feet were restless too. His toes found the hard shape beneath Chang Ming’an’s suit trousers and pressed and stroked through the cloth.

Chang Ming’an unzipped his pants just enough to free himself. He Mu continued to work him with his feet while Chang Ming’an’s one hand gripped a thigh and the other stroked him in return. Desire rose sharp and hungry, as if he wanted to devour him. He bit down on a nipple hard enough to make He Mu gasp and plead softly, “It hurts… don’t bite… don’t bite me…”

Chang Ming’an changed the bite to a slow suck and said in a low voice, “No complaining.”

In the end both of them finished. Chang Ming’an came so heavily that He Mu’s instep and sole were coated in sticky white, which dripped from his toes onto the floor.

Chang Ming’an kissed his lips and said between kisses, “Teach me how to cook.”

He Mu hugged him. “Pay the tuition.”

Chang Ming’an hooked a finger around the soft length that had just spent itself and laughed. “It’s paid.”

Chang Ming’an probably had little natural talent for cooking. He tried hard yet produced only a bland dish. Still He Mu ate it happily and promised, “I’ll teach you something else tomorrow.”

On Monday Chang Ming’an went to the college for a final-exam meeting. He Mu was alone at home, watering the plants, changing the cat litter, adding food. The doorbell rang. He thought Chang Ming’an had forgotten something. Looking through the peephole he saw Yang Xiaozhen standing outside with packages in her hands.

He Mu was startled. He had not known she had a key. He rushed into the bedroom, quickly changed into ordinary pajamas, wrapped himself tightly, then hurried to open the door, nervously clutching the hem of his clothes. “Auntie, are you looking for Teacher Chang? He’s in a meeting.”