Chapter 54: N. Lingering Warmth

They had kissed.

Su Hui’s vision was obscured by the gray mist of cigarette smoke. His mind felt fogged over, his reason hijacked by alcohol, leaving him disoriented and believing he had truly returned to the past.

Only the Ning Yixiao of the past would have kissed him.

He had said he was 27, but Su Hui felt he was lying; only the 21-year-old Ning Yixiao would kiss him.

Was it a dream? An illusion? Had my illness worsened again…

Confusion and desire intertwined, flooding every nerve. Perhaps Ning Yixiao truly possessed something hallucinogenic—his scent, his saliva—Su Hui wasn’t sure. But in that moment, he felt as if he were lying in a vast, expansive lawn, shrouded in heavy rain and thick fog. The grass tips brushed against his skin, teasing, itching, making him yearn. And Ning Yixiao was right there.

Su Hui braced his palms on the floor, sat up, and reached out to touch Ning Yixiao’s face.

His eyes drooped, his features translucent with alcohol and desire. Like a glistening snake, he climbed up, his senses rushing into his mind like a tidal wave, blurring the boundary between reality and dream.

It must be a dream, Su Hui thought, feeling a flicker of fear.

He was terrified that if he got too close, Ning Yixiao would vanish, turning into a butterfly or a shadow, never to appear again. That was how his dreams always ended.

So, he was cautious. His eyes brimmed with wet mist as he asked softly, “Can I… kiss you?”

The Ning Yixiao before him didn’t vanish, nor did he answer. He just watched him, looking very much like the past.

Suddenly, a tear fell from Su Hui’s eye. Under the weight of heavy, rapid breathing, he leaned in and kissed Ning Yixiao’s lips. To be precise, he caught Ning Yixiao’s lower lip with a delicate, trembling motion. Panic and fear were like a thin veil between them.

Nose brushing nose, Su Hui sensed their real breath mingling. His desire for Ning Yixiao overwhelmed everything. When he probed with his tongue, it only ignited a shiver throughout his entire body. He could barely stand, collapsing into Ning Yixiao’s arms, though Ning Yixiao didn’t embrace him back. Su Hui felt a subconscious pang of sadness.

“Hold me…” in the space between their entwined lips, he issued a command that sounded less like an order and more like a plea.

His wish was granted.

Dazed and intoxicated, Su Hui enjoyed the long, damp kiss. Under the influence of alcohol, he shed the chains of “what shouldn’t be done,” forgetting these new friends, forgetting New York’s miserable winter, the icy streets, the hardships, the electroshock therapy, the confinement—all the terrible things were left behind.

In this moment, he was the Su Hui of six years ago: not afraid of failure, certain that he would get whatever he desired.

Ning Yixiao hadn’t expected a second kiss.

After many years apart, Su Hui had hidden his feelings well. The occasional sliver of evocative emotion he let slip didn’t seem aimed at him alone. Based on Su Hui’s behavior, he was no longer special. Yet, Ning Yixiao constantly deluded himself into sensing something—a vague, agonizing emotion that tortured him.

Perhaps it wasn’t enough to be called love, but perhaps it was close.

Even if it was only a shred of lingering affection, Ning Yixiao didn’t want to give up. What he wanted, he had to have.

He just couldn’t understand why Su Hui shed tears while initiating the kiss.

He kissed away the salty tear on Su Hui’s lip, but it was quickly hooked away by Su Hui’s tongue as he delved deeper. When Su Hui’s hand dropped and accidentally touched the cake, his pinky finger was covered in cream. He raised his hand and, completely unconscious of the intense sensual implications of the image, licked it off.

So, Ning Yixiao took over.

The cream made everything messy.

Ning Yixiao pressed his index and middle fingers together, scraping some cream from the edge of the cake. He pressed his cream-coated fingers against Su Hui’s lips. Su Hui’s face was flushed from the kissing and the alcohol, as beautiful as the cherry atop a cake.

“Open your mouth,” Ning Yixiao commanded, his voice hoarse. The sweet, cloying scent of the cream entered Su Hui’s nostrils, making him dizzy. In his stupor, he thought he was back six years ago, the Su Hui still steeped in the honey of love. Obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the cream-covered fingers inside, habitually licking and sucking under the guidance of his subconscious.

Ning Yixiao let him lick for a while, then, as if finding a fun toy, used the two fingers inside his mouth to pinch and knead Su Hui’s tongue. His flexed knuckles occasionally brushed against the sensitive palate, sending ripples of sensation through him.

Su Hui’s breathing grew rapid, punctuated by soft, nasal hums. He wanted the troublemaker to remove his fingers, but only received even more erotic, debauched teasing from the sadistic intruder.

Gathered saliva melted the cream he couldn’t swallow in time, spilling from the corner of his mouth, sliding down his chin toward his neck.

The decadent scene reflected in Ning Yixiao’s deep eyes triggered a switch in his memory, recalling similar scenes from six years ago.

Back then, it hadn’t been a sweet substitute like cream. The salty, musky scent of semen would fill Su Hui’s mouth. He would always childishly refuse Ning Yixiao’s attempts to make him spit it out, swallowing it with effort, then sticking out his tongue in a show of defiance to show Ning Yixiao the results of his efforts—the small tongue piercing sometimes flashing along with his cunning eyes. Or, he would use his fingers to smear the semen Ning Yixiao had accidentally shot onto his face into his mouth, pestering him to taste his own flavor.

Regardless of the choice, the 20-year-old Su Hui would always end up receiving a sweet kiss from his lover.

And so, six years later, the 27-year-old Ning Yixiao withdrew his fingers, gripped Su Hui’s jaw, and exchanged a kiss with the person before him.

The two tunnels of time slowly overlapped within the kiss.

Ning Yixiao kissed him brazenly, his tongue sweeping through Su Hui’s defenseless mouth with an indescribable determination—as if by doing so, he could level the chasm created by six years of time and break the transparent barrier built by the years they had spent apart.

The 21-year-old Ning Yixiao had held a sincere heart but couldn’t keep his lover; the 27-year-old Ning Yixiao possessed the power and status he had once longed for, and he would surely lock the person he had been forced to let go of firmly by his side this time.

Su Hui was drunk and couldn’t sense the undercurrents in Ning Yixiao’s heart. He was just very happy to be embracing and kissing Ning Yixiao again; even if it were an illusion, it brought him a sense of security. Thus, he opened his mouth even more submissively, dancing his tongue with Ning Yixiao’s.

Ning Yixiao scooped up another dollop of cream and smeared it onto Su Hui’s neck. The kiss followed the path of the cream, pecking downward, his tongue sticking to the warm skin to hook away the pure white, leaving behind only ambiguous, wet traces. His lips pressed and sucked gently, leaving small red marks on the canvas known as Su Hui.

Su Hui smelled the waves of cream, feeling Ning Yixiao’s scorching breath and the warmth and wetness of his lips and tongue against his neck. The long-lost, unfamiliar pleasure made him dizzy. He felt as if he had turned into a fragrant, delicious cake—because the delicacy required attentive consumption, Ning Yixiao was kissing his neck with such focus and intensity.

The cream made everything messy.

Su Hui’s face was flushed, his lips slightly parted in gasps, revealing the pure white cream he hadn’t finished eating. His neck was slick and sticky. He leaned against Ning Yixiao like a marionette, his only lively part being the neck tethered to Ning Yixiao’s troublemaking lips.

Like a garden trampled by heavy rain, or a painting accidentally made into a masterpiece by ink stains. Blooming, stretching, decadent and enchanting.

The fragile line of defense finally collapsed. Facing Su Hui, Ning Yixiao always surrendered.

On this night where the old and the new met, they crossed the safety line without warning. Su Hui’s aggressive stance was as light as a butterfly.

Ning Yixiao pressed Su Hui onto the bed, their clothes stripped away in their entanglement.

The room had no lights on, but the faint moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on Su Hui. In the dim environment, his snow-white skin seemed to form a crescent moon of its own. It was just like their rental apartment six years ago, without windows; the dim bedside lamp would shine on Su Hui’s arched spine—cold and clear. On those nights when he couldn’t see the moon, Su Hui’s reflection was on Ning Yixiao’s heart.

Compared to six years ago, Su Hui was even thinner and more fragile. Scars of all sizes from his illness remained on his snowy skin, and the pale pink scar under his ribs was still jarring.

After not seeing him for so many years, this body didn’t feel unfamiliar to Ning Yixiao. He tried to forget these pasts that he dwelled on, to let go of the stubborn ailments festering in his heart. But every time he was about to forget, the details of their time together would appear in his dreams.

Ning Yixiao’s hands caressed the places he had once worn down and licked, leaving red marks behind. It was as if the chasm of six years had never appeared, as if the helpless separation and the days and nights of longing were all a dream. When he awoke, they were still two trapped beasts in a rental apartment, licking each other’s wounds, still kissing and making love on every ordinary day, letting desire paint colors onto their lives.

But the new, unfamiliar scars on Su Hui’s body shattered Ning Yixiao’s hallucination. The glaring reality warned him of the six years they had spent apart, of the pasts they owned that the other didn’t know—just as Ning Yixiao didn’t know the origin of these new wounds.

So, Ning Yixiao kissed him, using his lips to suck out marks similar to the past ones on those new injuries. From his collarbone to his waist and abdomen, dots of red were marked onto Su Hui’s body.

Ning Yixiao kissed Su Hui’s clean navel with a touch of regret—the tiny blue butterfly navel ring from those years had vanished without a trace. But a stray cat would be caught and brought home by its owner, and a wandering butterfly would land in its own habitat.

Ning Yixiao opened his wings and saw once again the tattoo extending from his hip bone, the line of English he was so familiar with. Many things had changed, but some things had not. Su Hui’s skin was very thin, and every touch from Ning Yixiao stirred up ripples. Passion and alcohol matured his body once more, covering his snow-white skin in a faint pink, wanton yet innocent.

His flesh-colored penis stood straight, the pre-cum at the tip hanging like Su Hui himself—clean yet tainted with decadence. When Ning Yixiao licked his body earlier, he had already impatiently reached down to touch himself.

Ning Yixiao slowly, with undeniable force, removed Su Hui’s hand from his own penis, then landed a kiss on the erect member.

Su Hui didn’t expect Ning Yixiao to kiss it, and he struggled the moment the sensitive glans pressed against the soft lips.

Ning Yixiao pinned Su Hui’s struggling legs, turned his head to kiss the familiar tattoo on his hip bone, as if gathering courage from the things that hadn’t changed, and then opened his mouth to take the penis inside.

They had been too long without doing this, but many things were like instincts carved into their bones. Ning Yixiao still remembered every sensitive spot on this penis, and Su Hui, as the glans was wrapped by the throat muscles deep in his mouth, inserted his long fingers into Ning Yixiao’s hair, involuntarily arching his hips.

Their souls were still hypocritically pulling away, but their bodies had honestly gravitated toward each other.

Waves of pleasure surged from the most fragile parts of his body to his brain. Su Hui only saw the rise and fall of Ning Yixiao’s head, but he could imagine the sensation of him kneading his scrotum and grinding against his perineum.

Su Hui murmured Ning Yixiao’s name. He couldn’t distinguish reality from dreams, as if calling his name could pull them closer. He also wanted to say “I love you,” but didn’t know why he couldn’t open his mouth—perhaps because the rapid, desire-filled gasps made his voice intermittent, or perhaps because in his subconscious, he viewed those three words as his greatest enemy.

And so, in the end, the only thing declared along with his gasps was, “Happy birthday.”

Su Hui was like a wound-up music box, the only switch controlled by Ning Yixiao’s movements. The strength of his licking the shaft and sucking the glans controlled him, playing out pleasant, low-toned moans and those repeated cries of “Ning Yixiao,” “Happy birthday.”

As if to make up for some regret.

And so, Ning Yixiao forgave him for not calling his name, and forgave him for not saying “I love you,” even though this was all within his expectations.

Having not vented for too long, Su Hui didn’t last very long under the ministrations of Ning Yixiao’s tongue. During another bout of sucking, he ejaculated unexpectedly into Ning Yixiao’s mouth.

Ning Yixiao stood up, his arms propping up his body, spitting the sticky white honey onto Su Hui’s lips, telling him, You aren’t you very fond of the sea?

You taste exactly like the sea.

The room was filled with the sticky scent, as if a small piece of summer had flowed out here.

Su Hui fell into a deep sleep in Ning Yixiao’s arms, his body limp and unconscious. Ning Yixiao cleaned him up slightly, and when changing his pajamas, he found he was still very hot, which wasn’t normal. He took his temperature—38.7°C.

Unluckily for him, his prediction had been correct; Su Hui was indeed suffering from a cold and had a fever.

Ning Yixiao found fever-reducing medicine, spent some effort feeding it to him, and then used physical cooling methods, bringing out ice packs to apply to his forehead and wiping down his body. After two hours of struggling, the fever finally went down, and he felt relieved.

Usually, when entering a manic phase, Su Hui’s sleep was very short—sometimes he didn’t need it at all, remaining incredibly excited all night, even unable to stay in one space for too long.

But this time, being dead drunk, plus suffering from a cold and fever, he slept for a long time. When he woke up again, the sky was bright, and the bright snow light filtered through the half-closed curtains.

It seemed to be snowing outside.

He had a faint premonition of this.

Su Hui’s head hurt as if it had been hit hard by a blunt object. He was heavy and tired, his thinking short-circuiting; he only vaguely remembered drinking and chatting with them.

The quilt was so warm that Su Hui subconsciously wanted to give up thinking, close his eyes, and sleep for a while longer, so he burrowed deeper inside.

He felt something wasn’t right. His body moved, and suddenly, an arm reached over and hugged him.

A very familiar, very tight back-hug.

Su Hui woke up instantly. He didn’t even need to turn around to know the person was Ning Yixiao.

Why are we sleeping together?

Su Hui struggled to recall, fragmented memories assembling like puzzle pieces, his ears gradually turning red.

He was trapped by shame, anxiety, and insurmountable annoyance, unable to extricate himself, yet he still held onto a tiny bit of wishful thinking.

What if it really was a dream? Maybe Ning Yixiao just helped drag me, dead drunk, back to the room and then fell asleep because he was too tired.

After all, they were both fully dressed.

Su Hui lowered his head to check again, and suddenly realized something wasn’t right—the pajamas he was wearing weren’t the ones he had on yesterday.

What about the sweater…

His subconscious escapist psychology began to act up again. Su Hui carefully moved Ning Yixiao’s arm, wanting to slip away.

But he didn’t succeed. Not only that, he was caught red-handed.

“Awake?” Ning Yixiao’s voice was hoarse and low.

He wasn’t fully awake, eyes half-closed, as he reached out and covered Su Hui’s forehead.

Su Hui didn’t dare move at all.

“…Still seems to have a bit of a fever.”

Ning Yixiao suddenly sat up, moved closer, and pressed his own forehead against Su Hui’s, eyes still closed.

Su Hui’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

They leaned against each other like this for ten seconds.

“Not bad.” Ning Yixiao pulled away, returned to the pillow, and pulled Su Hui back into the quilt. “Cover up. If you catch another cold, I’m not looking after you.”

Su Hui’s heart beat even faster. He couldn’t stay in the same bed as Ning Yixiao anymore; his heart felt like it was going to explode.

Ning Yixiao, however, didn’t care at all. He turned and hugged him again, his chin resting in the hollow of his shoulder in an intimate posture.

“Ning Yixiao, I want to go out…” Su Hui said tentatively, very softly, “I… we…”

“Now?” Ning Yixiao’s breath was warm, lingering around his neck, his voice lazy. “Sure? But they’re still outside, right? If they see us, they might misunderstand.”

After he finished speaking, he changed his words, “Or maybe it’s not a misunderstanding.”

It’s over.

Su Hui suspected this wasn’t fake at all, not a dream; he really had done something wrong.

“I…” he didn’t know what he should say, what was good to say, “I was too drunk last night…”

Ning Yixiao still had his eyes closed. “Mm, continue.”

How can I continue?

Su Hui’s mind was a blank slate; he didn’t know what to do at all.

He had no choice but to lie, “I seem to have had a blackout…”

Ning Yixiao heard this and laughed softly, the laughter carrying an inexplicable meaning. He reached out and pinched Su Hui’s chin, “A blackout means you don’t remember, right? You took the initiative to hook your arms around my neck and kiss me, remember?”

Su Hui’s face was as red as a peach, ready to leak juice at a pinch.

“You kissed me first… right?”

He truly wasn’t sure.

“Mm, remember this.” Ning Yixiao’s lips were flat. “What about the rest?”

Su Hui couldn’t speak. He just wanted to be an ostrich and bury his head to admit defeat.

Ning Yixiao moved closer, his voice low, and suddenly switched languages, “Blowjob, right?”

Without waiting for his response, Ning Yixiao added, “If you still can’t recall, I’ll say it again in Chinese. Will that make a deeper impression?”

Su Hui was blinded by shame and covered Ning Yixiao’s mouth, pleading like a child chanting a mantra, “Don’t say it, don’t say it…”

He had truly thought it was a dream. Everything that happened last night was too unreal, too unlike the things they would do now.

Getting entangled in an unclear relationship with an ex was simply the stupidest behavior in the world, yet Su Hui had done it.

Su Hui tried to defend himself, “I’m sorry, I was out of my mind yesterday, I made a mistake…”

Ning Yixiao took the opportunity to bite his hand. It hurt, and Su Hui subconsciously loosened his grip.

“A mistake? Mistook me for someone else?” Ning Yixiao’s expression went cold.

“No!” Su Hui immediately retorted, but had no other powerful words.

Mistaking him for the Ning Yixiao of six years ago—does that count as a mistake…

He didn’t know.

Su Hui wanted to disappear immediately, right now—even if a lightning bolt suddenly fell and took him away, that would be fine.

He buried his head in the pillow, determined not to get up.

“Then what was it?” Ning Yixiao didn’t plan to let him off like this and kept pressing.

“Nothing…” Su Hui muffled, his mind getting more and more chaotic as his memory gradually recovered; he couldn’t think rationally at all.

Ning Yixiao pinched the back of his neck and shook it. On his slender, white neck, the marks he had bitten last night still remained. “Su Hui, you’re 26. When will you learn not to escape reality?”

Struck in his painful spot, Su Hui’s nerves became increasingly agitated.

Yes, the 26-year-old Su Hui got drunk and wanted to seduce the 21-year-old Ning Yixiao, only to be bitten hard by the 27-year-old Ning Yixiao.

But besides escaping reality, what else could he do?

“What about you?” he said with a hint of grievance. This wasn’t his fault alone, “Why did you do such a thing?”

Ning Yixiao said shamelessly, without the slightest guilt, “Because you were hard.”

What?

Su Hui couldn’t believe his ears.

“A small effort,” Ning Yixiao said.

“Alright, don’t say anymore, I beg you.” Su Hui covered his own ears, escaping everything that happened last night on the pillow in the manner of an ostrich.

The manic phase made his thinking faster than before, as if there were many, many versions of himself arguing in his head, none willing to concede.

He truly admired himself—that his willpower could be weak to such an extent. Having clearly promised to be friends and determined to be a competent friend, he hadn’t expected to mess it up with his own hands in the end.

What does this count as? Can it still count as being friends?

The adult world isn’t so black and white; it’s complicated, with many possibilities. But Su Hui remained stuck in the past. Could Ning Yixiao accept being such friends? He didn’t know; he only felt that Ning Yixiao seemed to enjoy it very much.

But Su Hui wasn’t reconciled, so he quickly abandoned this path.

Everyone was drunk; this was wrong to begin with, an entirely incorrect behavior. Su Hui felt the root of the error lay in himself, so he chose to take the initiative to apologize.

“I drank too much.” He raised his head, eyes downcast, apologizing to Ning Yixiao, “Last night, I was a mess, and I was in a manic phase. Maybe there were many factors, which is why I did such an outrageous thing… I know I didn’t act correctly. I’m sorry.”

Ning Yixiao just watched him, letting him say the one sentence he hated the most.

“And then?”

“There is no ‘and then’.” Su Hui said sincerely, “I’m very sorry. Why don’t you just forget all of this?”

If he had said this to the Ning Yixiao of the past, he surely would have accepted it silently.

But he was no longer the Ning Yixiao of the past.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled, saying to Su Hui, “My memory is excellent. During graduate school, I represented S-University in the Intercollegiate Memory Championship—gold medal, and a certificate. Want to see it?”

Su Hui was going crazy.

How exactly did he become like this?

After Ning Yixiao finished speaking, he leaned over and rubbed his nose against Su Hui’s. “I can’t forget. I remember every detail. What should we do?”

Su Hui wanted to hide because his body’s reaction was too honest. He couldn’t hide his liking for Ning Yixiao at all; even being teased like this made his heart beat faster.

“Then just remember it.”

Su Hui couldn’t understand what Ning Yixiao wanted to do, nor did he have the energy to think. He was a bit sulky, backed away, felt it wasn’t enough, so he left the bed directly and walked to the wardrobe to find a sweater to drape over himself. But the cold air still drilled in, surging in through every hole.

He wanted to leave but sneezed without warning.

Ning Yixiao didn’t say “bless you” this time, his tone like a compromise, “I don’t eat people, come back.”

Su Hui’s steps paused, watching Ning Yixiao sit up and pick up the knit sweater on the floor to put on.

“You can pretend nothing happened, it doesn’t matter.”

He picked up the watch on the side, put it on his wrist in a measured way, and finally put on his glasses, as if restoring his gentlemanly and scholarly side of the past.

In truth, he had guessed that Su Hui would react this way upon waking, and had even imagined worse; he hadn’t been able to sleep well because of it, so the current situation actually made him feel a sense of relief.

He liked Su Hui more than he had thought in his heart, even after trying to let go and learning to be relieved, tossing and turning in a dilemma, tortured by resentment, very much wanting to demand an explanation for the six years he had lost, wanting to demand compensation, and then torture him a bit so that he would feel pain—it wasn’t that Ning Yixiao hadn’t thought about these things.

But he could actually do without all of it.

As long as Su Hui said, “Can we start over?” Ning Yixiao might really agree without hesitation, saying “Okay” unconditionally.

He didn’t want to lose Su Hui because of excessive pride; once was painful enough.

Therefore, Ning Yixiao was also willing to accommodate Su Hui’s avoidance, even finding an excuse for it—if Su Hui really had no feelings for him, he wouldn’t be this awkward; he was someone who faced his desires openly.

As long as there was still a shred of unfinished old affection, Ning Yixiao had a way to get him.

“I remember I seemed to tell you before that I was always alone for the New Year, never setting off firecrackers, never putting up couplets, not to mention things like dragon dances or temple fairs. I was very busy after starting work, so I never had a chance. Every holiday had nothing to do with me. But actually, sometimes I still want to try, want to know what it feels like to have someone accompany you for the holiday.”

Su Hui’s heart suddenly softened.

Of course he remembered what Ning Yixiao had said; he remembered every sentence.

When they were still together, Ning Yixiao had said that he envied others gathering as a family for the New Year, eating a reunion dinner and watching the gala, but he was mostly in the dormitory, alone, and the quilt was cold.

For him at that time, being able to eat a bowl of tangyuan was enough to consider it the New Year.

Su Hui suddenly felt a bit sad, not realizing that within a few short sentences, he was being led by the nose once again.

“Today is the first day of the New Year, and I have one more day off.” Ning Yixiao stood up and walked toward him, naturally and easily controlling him once again.

“Accompany me to Chinatown for a stroll.”