When Zou Yang crashed down into the kiss, he brought with him his usual flair and a trace of domineering intensity—it was almost ferocious, so much so that Fan Jun felt his lip catch against Zou Yang’s teeth.

It stung a bit; it was likely cut.

But before he could even process the sensation, Zou Yang gently flicked his tongue over the split skin.

The subtle touch was like a passing breeze, sweeping over his lip with the faint saltiness of tears and the metallic tang of blood.

There were so many people around them—on the opposite bank, and right beside their campsite—and every single one of them was bearing witness to this exact scene.

Fan Jun felt his entire body go rigid. He felt awkward, self-conscious, and thoroughly flustered.

Yet all the visual details in his periphery were quickly consumed by Zou Yang’s overwhelming presence, gradually fading into nothingness.

Fan Jun tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and slowly raised his hands from his sides to wrap them securely around Zou Yang’s waist.

Immersed in a profound stillness where the only remaining sounds were the chirping of crickets and the gentle rush of water, he simply felt the intricate, deep weight of Zou Yang’s embrace…

It wasn’t until a distant round of whistling and applause cut through the heavy breathing beside his ear that his deeply submerged consciousness began to resurface piece by piece. The surrounding people, the warm glow of the lanterns, the rich aroma of grilled meat, and the drifting smoke all snapped back into clear focus.

The moment Zou Yang’s lips finally pulled away, Fan Jun barely dared to open his eyes, his heart hammering even more violently than before.

“Don’t…” He tightened his grip on Zou Yang’s arms slightly, his voice incredibly low. “Don’t stand up just yet.”

Zou Yang didn’t say a word; he simply leaned back down, resting his arms across Fan Jun’s shoulders and pressing his forehead gently against Fan Jun’s chin.

“Did you catch that on camera?” Liu Wenrui’s voice drifted over from behind them.

“I’m recording right now,” Li Zhiyue confirmed.

“That’s plenty of footage. Let’s pan the lens toward the creek, then tilt up to capture a shot of the starry sky…” Liu Wenrui directed. “Longlong, shield that overhead light next to you a bit.”

“Got it,” Zhang Chuanlong complied.

After a brief pause, Li Zhiyue announced, “Alright, all set.”

“And cut!” Liu Wenrui barked. “That’s a wrap, let’s pack it up.”

Zou Yang remained quiet, tilting his head to let out a soft breath. “Can I get up now?”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun murmured.

Zou Yang used Fan Jun’s shoulders for leverage to push himself up to a standing position, which instantly triggered another round of whistles and cheers from the crowd across the creek.

Too self-conscious to even glance in that direction, Zou Yang pulled his chair over and sat straight down, staring intently at the iron mask still held in his hands.

Every single ridge, etched line, and contoured edge bore the distinct, unmistakable marks of manual labor—the kind of texture that could only be achieved through countless, individual strikes of a tool. The sheer volume of intricate detail was staggering.

In that split second, the tears he had managed to fight back came rushing to the surface once more, splashing directly onto the surface of the mask.

“Hey, give me a tissue…” He wiped at his eyes, extending an open hand. Before he could even look to locate the tissue box, Fan Jun had already smoothly pressed a handful of tissues into his palm.

He pressed the tissues tightly against his eyes, only pulling them away after a long moment to wipe down his face. He turned his head to look at Fan Jun.

He noticed that Fan Jun’s face bore distinct tear tracks as well.

“Why are you…” He blinked, startled. “Why are you crying too?”

“…Because of you,” Fan Jun said, raising a hand to casually wipe at his cheek.

“Oh.” At the same time, Zou Yang noticed that Fan Jun’s lip looked slightly split.

Even though his vision was somewhat blurry without his glasses, he still hurriedly dropped his gaze, feeling too embarrassed to continue staring.

It was definitely split. When he had crashed down earlier, he hadn’t controlled his momentum properly, and his teeth had slammed right into Fan Jun’s mouth. He had distinctly tasted blood during the kiss…

“Let’s put it away for now,” Fan Jun said, handing the iron box over to him.

When Zou Yang tried to place the mask back inside, it wouldn’t sit flat after two attempts. It was only then that he noticed a small wooden stand resting at the bottom of the box.

“What’s this?” He lifted the stand out to inspect it.

“A display stand for the mask,” Fan Jun smiled. “I didn’t forge this part myself; I actually snagged it from He Chuan. It’s a stand originally meant for holding pressed tea cakes, but the dimensions happened to be an absolute perfect fit.”

Zou Yang burst into laughter, though as he set the stand and the mask back into the box, he felt a sudden, ridiculous urge to cry all over again.

What on earth was wrong with him tonight? It was completely endless!

“Here,” Liu Wenrui said, sliding a plate over to them. “You’ve worked hard. Eat up to replenish your energy.”

Hearing those words, the urge to cry vanished in an instant.

Zou Yang picked up two meat skewers and handed them over to Fan Jun before grabbing two for himself.

“You…” Liu Wenrui cast a quick glance toward the opposite bank, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I’ve known you were an absolute badass since we were kids, but I seriously had no idea you were this legendary.”

As he finished speaking, he gave Zou Yang a massive thumbs-up.

“Just eat your food,” Zou Yang countered, taking a solid bite of his meat.

“Are you going to handle the editing for that footage we just shot?” Li Zhiyue asked Liu Wenrui. “It looks like we caught the crowd across the creek cheering for them; it adds an incredible layer of atmosphere…”

Oh boy…

Zou Yang felt too embarrassed to even listen to them anymore.

“I’ll edit it. This sequence can absolutely be cut to look exactly like a cinematic movie shot,” Liu Wenrui nodded confidently. “In any case, I’ve officially become entirely immune to their public displays of affection.”

“Is there any fried rice left?” Fan Jun asked.

“Yeah,” Zhang Chuanlong said, handing over the insulated thermos container.

Fan Jun scooped a generous portion of fried rice into his bowl, lowered his head, and shoveled it down in a few massive bites.

“Weren’t you full earlier?” Zou Yang asked in a hushed tone.

“I got hungry all over again,” Fan Jun whispered back.

“Did you get startled hungry?” Zou Yang teased.

Fan Jun couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Are we eating the cake now?” Zhang Chuanlong asked.

“Absolutely!” Liu Wenrui smacked his leg. “If we don’t eat it right now, it’s going to melt into mush in a bit.”

“The birthday boy should do the honors of cutting it,” Li Zhiyue said, fishing out the plastic cake knife.

Fan Jun took the knife and stood up, hovering it over the cake as he debated exactly where to make the first incision.

“Slice out the central strip with the ram horns and the sword separately first,” Zou Yang directed. “Then you can just divide the remaining portions into three pieces.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun carefully carved out the center section, then made another swift cut across the remainder, splitting it into three reasonably even portions.

“Perfect,” Li Zhiyue said, picking up the small plates. “We can handle distributing the rest of the cake ourselves.”

“Thank you,” Fan Jun said sincerely.

“Hmm?” Caught off guard, Li Zhiyue looked up at him.

“Thank you guys,” Fan Jun repeated. “Today… I’ve been incredibly happy.”

“Aiya, we’re family, there’s absolutely no need for formal thanks,” Zhang Chuanlong said with a wave of his hand.

Fan Jun smiled warmly, sinking back into his chair.

“I want the half with the sword,” Zou Yang designated. “You eat the ram horns.”

“Okay,” Fan Jun split the central piece right down the middle, handing the section featuring the tiny sword over to Zou Yang.

As he was preparing to dig in, he stared down at the ram horns resting on his plate. After a moment of thought, he turned to look at Zou Yang. “Did you draw these two designs yourself?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t draw them directly onto the frosting myself,” Zou Yang chuckled. “I sketched out a reference design on a piece of paper and had the bakery replicate it.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun smiled as he stared at the cake for another moment, then lowered his head and ate the entire ram horn piece.

“Man…” Liu Wenrui leaned back heavily into his chair, taking a bite of cake as he let out a massive, theatrical sigh. “Getting subjected to this kind of sickening sweetness day in and day out… our lives are truly perilous.”

“Aren’t you a staunch advocate for a lifelong single lifestyle?” Li Zhiyue noted. “And yet here you are, getting completely bent out of shape watching people navigate a relationship.”

“There’s actually zero reason to be jealous,” Zhang Chuanlong reasoned, casually chewing his cake. “The relationship they’re navigating is between two guys. Even if you wanted to navigate one yourself, you couldn’t pull it off, so there’s no point trying to compare yourself to them.”

“You shut your mouth right now!” Liu Wenrui glared at him.

“Li Zhiyue is the one who initiated this topic; tell him to shut his mouth first,” Zhang Chuanlong countered.

“Mouth shut, completely shut,” Li Zhiyue laughed.

Once they finished the cake, the group suddenly craved something savory again. Consequently, they threw the remaining meat skewers onto the grill, piling a massive assortment onto a central platter.

Between chatting, drinking, and eating, the entire plate was wiped clean within minutes.

Every single scrap of meat they had brought along—including the extra portions they had ordered from the campsite vendor—was entirely gone. Even the staple items like the cake, the steamed buns, and the fried rice were completely cleared out.

It was a strange phenomenon; despite having done nothing particularly strenuous all day besides riding in a vehicle and sitting around chatting, going on a trip like this somehow made everyone feel like they had engaged in heavy manual labor, turning their stomachs into bottomless pits.

“What are we having for breakfast tomorrow morning?” Zhang Chuanlong inquired.

“The owner mentioned that his main building serves a morning spread with congee, fried dough sticks, and things of that nature,” Liu Wenrui said, sprawling back in his chair as he rubbed his stomach. “It’s ten yuan per person.”

“That works out perfectly,” Zhang Chuanlong nodded.

After conducting a brief, superficial cleanup of their gear, the group began a leisurely stroll back toward the main parking area.

The parking lot was equipped with communal shower blocks and restrooms, which was exceptionally convenient.

However, for their group—having already crossed over to the opposite bank of the creek—it presented a bit of a logistical hassle.

They would have to take off their shoes, wade across the water, walk barefoot all the way to the parking lot to wash up, walk back, cross the water a second time, dry their feet, and put their shoes back on…

As the guys stood huddled on the bank trying to muster up the resolve to make the trek, someone from the opposite side called out to them: “Are you guys trying to cross over?”

“Yeah,” Liu Wenrui called back.

“Head upriver a little ways,” the stranger directed. “About thirty meters or so, the site owner laid down a proper wooden plank walkway.”

“Holy crap, thank you so much, brother!” Liu Wenrui called out, thoroughly ecstatic.

The wooden plank construction was a bit rudimentary, but it was perfectly functional.

Once they finished washing up, Zou Yang let out a massive stretch, giving Fan Jun a firm pat on the back. “Let’s go for a little stroll.”

Fan Jun froze, a sudden, unspeakable wave of awkwardness washing over him. He honestly wasn’t sure if he should respond with a compliant “Mmhmm” or a bewildered “Huh?”.

“Right now?” Zhang Chuanlong stared at them. “Aren’t you two freezing?”

Even though July was right around the corner, the nighttime temperature in the countryside dropped drastically, forcing everyone to bundle up in jackets.

For Zou Yang to abruptly suggest going for a walk at this hour would not only lead people to assume they wanted to get up to something private, but it would likely make them think the two of them were so incredibly desperate to get up to something that they were willing to ignore the freezing cold just to avoid returning to the tent…

“I ate a bit too much,” Zou Yang explained with absolute nonchalance, already strolling leisurely upriver without a care in the world. “If I don’t walk it off for a bit, I won’t be able to fall asleep.”

“Then…” Fan Jun had no choice but to keep pace with him, turning back to call out to Liu Wenrui and the others, “You guys head back to the tent first.”

“Alright then,” Liu Wenrui said, pointing a finger at Zou Yang’s retreating figure. “He definitely didn’t drink a small amount just now.”

“I’m keeping an eye on him,” Fan Jun smiled.

“I barely drank anything,” Zou Yang countered, stretching his arms over his head before letting out a massive yawn. “Liu Wenrui simply possesses an incredibly poor tolerance himself, so he constantly assumes everyone else operates on his exact level.”

Fan Jun didn’t say a word, naturally extending an arm to rest his hand against Zou Yang’s waist.

Zou Yang’s speech patterns sounded entirely lucid, but it was clear that his footing was a little looser than usual.

“Are you holding onto me for support,” Zou Yang turned his head to look at him, “or are you just trying to feel me up?”

Fine, perhaps his speech wasn’t entirely normal after all.

“…A bit of both,” Fan Jun replied, tightening his fingers slightly against his waist. He truly did adore Zou Yang’s waist—it was firm, lean, and incredibly responsive…

He cleared his throat.

“I like feeling up your backside,” Zou Yang stated plainly.

Even though Fan Jun knew for a fact that the surrounding area was completely deserted, he still instinctively cast a quick glance around them.

“What are you looking for?” Zou Yang asked with a chuckle, leaning his weight slightly closer against him.

“Just checking,” Fan Jun said, tightening his arm around his shoulders.

“Are you terrified someone might overhear?” Zou Yang scanned their surroundings as well. “There’s no one out here. Besides, even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. After what happened earlier… everyone on the opposite bank saw it plain as day. If they see that the two of us haven’t headed back to the tent together by now, they’ll all know exactly what we’re…”

Fan Jun firmly clapped a hand over his mouth, letting out a heavy sigh.

“…definitely getting up to,” Zou Yang determinedly muffled out through the gaps between Fan Jun’s fingers.

“I get it,” Fan Jun said, thoroughly helpless.

“But I genuinely did eat way too much food…” Zou Yang continued relentlessly. “After eating savory stuff I craved sweet stuff, and after finishing the sweet stuff I wanted savory stuff all over again…”

Zou Yang’s breath filtered through the spaces between his fingers, the small, warm currents of air delivering a subtle, tingling sensation that drifted from the palm of his hand straight into his chest.

“Normally, I…”

Fan Jun abruptly released his grip on Zou Yang’s mouth, yanked his arm around Zou Yang’s shoulder to pull him fiercely against his chest, and crashed his lips down into a solid kiss.

Immediately following the contact, he grabbed Zou Yang’s hand just as it was starting to rise, pinning it firmly behind his back as he pulled him into a crushing embrace.

He didn’t dare allow Zou Yang’s hand to touch him; any trace of active initiation on Zou Yang’s part right now would likely shatter the very last remnants of his self-restraint…

It wasn’t until a sharp gust of night wind swept across the grass, scattering the sounds of their ragged breathing, that Fan Jun finally loosened his grip.

“And you have the nerve to call me out?” Zou Yang said, sliding his glasses off his nose and lowering his head to casually wipe the lenses against the hem of his T-shirt.

“…Are you cold?” Fan Jun asked.

“I’m alright,” Zou Yang replied, sliding his glasses back into place. “Let’s walk a bit longer and head back; it’s definitely going to turn freezing during the latter half of the night.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun agreed, wrapping his arm around him once more.

The landscape surrounding the barbecue area wasn’t particularly suited for a leisurely stroll. Aside from the reinforced terrain around the parking lot, the rest of the site consisted of open grassland dotted with uneven, rolling mounds of dirt. Navigating the terrain required a constant effort to avoid stumbling, and they occasionally kicked against protruding grass roots.

After wandering around for approximately twenty minutes, the two of them finally made their way back to the tents.

Liu Wenrui and the other two had already crawled inside their tent, leaving a single lantern illuminated as they played a lively round of Fight the Landlord.

“You guys…” Zou Yang bent down, unzipping the tent flap to poke his head inside. Before he could even finish his sentence, his momentum carried him forward, and he plunged straight down onto the sleeping mat, effectively delivering a massive, accidental bow to his three roommates.

Fan Jun, standing right behind him, didn’t manage to grab him in time.

“What on earth is the meaning of this grand gesture?” Liu Wenrui spun around instantly, dropping to his knees to match Zou Yang’s posture on the mat as he stared down at him.

“Damn it,” Zou Yang grunted, pushing himself up using his arms. “Am I actually drunk?”

“Do you seriously need us to answer that for you?” Liu Wenrui countered.

“I didn’t feel a single thing while I was actively drinking…” Zou Yang muttered.

“The delayed effects are kicking in,” Li Zhiyue sighed. “Hurry up and get some sleep.”

Fan Jun reached in from behind, wrapping his arms around Zou Yang’s torso to haul him back up to his feet.

“Goodnight,” Zou Yang slurred, waving a hand toward the interior of the tent.

“Goodnight!” the three inside called back in unison.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Zou Yang said, patting Fan Jun’s hand. “I can walk.”

Fan Jun released his grip. “You…”

Without warning, Zou Yang spun around and snagged the collar of Fan Jun’s jacket, dragging him directly toward their own tent.

“What are you doing?” Dragged off-balance for a couple of steps, Fan Jun asked in a hushed whisper.

“We can’t exactly get up to anything that makes a ton of noise anyway,” Zou Yang murmured, his voice dropping low. “Don’t be scared.”

The two of them kicked off their shoes and scrambled into the tent. Just as Fan Jun was about to ask if they should bring a lantern inside, Zou Yang had already lunged across the space, pressing a hand firmly against his chest to pin him flat onto the sleeping mat.

Immediately following the impact, he yanked at Fan Jun’s shirt to pull it upward, smoothly straddling his waist.

The interior of the tent was incredibly dark, illuminated only by the faint shafts of moonlight filtering through a small, transparent skylight cut into the ceiling canvas. Zou Yang kept his head lowered; Fan Jun couldn’t make out the details of his face, only catching the glint of light reflecting off the frames of his glasses, which had slid down to the very tip of his nose.

He could also clearly discern the elegant lines of his neck and shoulders, sharply outlined by the silver moonlight.

And his waistline.

He raised his hands, wanting to trace it.

But both of his wrists were instantly pinned flat against his sides by Zou Yang’s grip.

Zou Yang leaned down to press a soft, brief kiss against his lips, then shifted his leg to apply a firm, deliberate knee pressure directly over Fan Jun’s left wrist. Once the weight was securely anchored, he asked in a low whisper, “Does your wrist hurt like this?”

“No,” Fan Jun heard his own voice waiver slightly.

Zou Yang didn’t say a word, executing the exact same maneuver to securely anchor Fan Jun’s right wrist beneath his other leg.

Following that, he gave his head a sharp, quick toss, sending the glasses balanced on the tip of his nose flying off to the side.

The sudden movement generated a brief rush of air that swept across Fan Jun’s face. Amid a sudden, violent spike in his heart rate, he instinctively tried to raise his hands, only to realize after a small shift that he was completely immobilized.

Zou Yang lowered his head, pressing a kiss directly against his chin.

The soft, intense warmth began a slow, deliberate descent—tracing along the jawline, over the throat, and leaving a lingering, cool sensation in its wake that extended all the way down to his chest.

Zou Yang slowly straightened his torso, reaching up to peel his own shirt off and discard it.

The silver moonlight draped over his bare shoulders like a silken cloak, coating his entire silhouette in a delicate, ethereal aura.

“Right here,” Zou Yang murmured, looking down at him as he tapped a single finger against the side of his own neck, his voice incredibly quiet. “Do you like it?”

“…I love it,” Fan Jun answered in a matching whisper.

Zou Yang’s fingertip slid further downward, tracing past the collarbone to come to a halt directly over the center of his chest. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Fan Jun’s voice dropped even lower. He gave his wrists another experimental twist, but failed to generate any leverage.

Zou Yang’s finger continued its descent, slowly tracing a path toward the side of his waist.

“What about right here?” Zou Yang’s voice was heavily wrapped in his shallow breathing, drifting into his ear as a bare whisper. “Gege.”

“I love it…” Fan Jun’s voice trembled violently, dropping to a register that was nearly completely silent.

He made another futile attempt to rotate his wrists, but Zou Yang’s thighs were anchoring him with absolute precision, leaving him zero room to break the hold.

Zou Yang’s hand traced a quick circle against the side of his own hip, then swiftly hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers, tugging them downward in a single, fluid motion.

In that exact fraction of a second, Fan Jun felt his entire consciousness plunge into a state of sheer vertigo. Every single movement Zou Yang made seemed to carry a dizzying, hypnotic afterimage…

Zou Yang threw his head back, angling his face toward the sky. Amid the absolute stillness of the silver moonlight, every microscopic shift of Zou Yang’s body felt like a massive, crashing tidal wave slamming directly into the deepest recesses of Fan Jun’s heart.

In the absolute darkness, he could distinctly hear the rushing sound of his own blood coursing through his veins, completely intertwined with the frantic thumping of his heart—and then came that single, incredibly faint, low whimper from Zou Yang…

It acted like a sudden clarion call, piercing straight through into the core of his physical being.

He abruptly thrust his leg upward, planting his knee firmly against Zou Yang’s back.

The exact instant Zou Yang’s momentum carried him forward, Fan Jun managed to wrench his hands free from the pinned hold, wrapping his arms fiercely around Zou Yang’s waist. His fingertips tightened with a sudden, intense grip as he forcefully rolled them over, pinning Zou Yang flat onto the mat beneath him.

Zou Yang let out a sharp, low grunt.

In a night so silent that even the chirping of the crickets seemed to have vanished entirely, that solitary sound echoed with absolute clarity.

Fan Jun flipped his weight completely over him, firmly clapping a hand over Zou Yang’s mouth. Driven by a surging, frantic desperation to find a release, he lowered his head and bit down fiercely into Zou Yang’s shoulder…