Fang Chen didn’t fall asleep until just before dawn, then sprawled out and slept right through the morning. He was snoring away when knocking at the door finally roused him.

He stumbled out in his slippers, rubbing his eyes as he opened the door.

Standing outside was Seth. Today Seth wore a black tank top and matching athletic pants—the sharp muscle lines beneath his clothes made him even more imposing, especially those exposed arms, veins winding down his forearms and muscles bulging with each movement.

Fang Chen couldn’t help staring.

Whenever Seth picked him up, it was always with one arm. When he used force, did those veins stand out even more, did the muscles bulge bigger?

Noticing Fang Chen’s gaze, Seth’s lips quirked just slightly, but he said plainly, “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you hungry?”

It’s noon already?

Fang Chen blinked, confused. “Hungry… kind of.”

Seth reached out as if it was the most natural thing, gently smoothing Fang Chen’s hair. “I’ll wait for you. Go wash up, and then let’s eat.”

Fang Chen mumbled, “Oh…” in a daze.

Back in the room, his slow brain caught up—his cheeks flushed.

How did he never realize he was so… thirsty? Always paying extra attention to Seth’s physique.

Knowing Seth was waiting outside, Fang Chen washed up and changed in a hurry, then rushed out.

When he opened the door again, he saw Seth had lit a cigarette at some point. But as soon as he saw Fang Chen, he stubbed it out quickly.

He noticed Fang Chen was running—seemed he’d been in such a hurry, his shirtfront wasn’t even buttoned up properly.

Seth reached out, naturally buttoning Fang Chen’s clothes for him.

The closeness made Fang Chen aware of the faint smell of smoke that clung to Seth.

He glanced up: from this angle, he could only see Seth’s pronounced Adam’s apple, then his sharp jaw. Seth had the classic Western look—deep-set features, golden hair that, when left unstyled, would hang down a bit, making him appear a little cold and untamed.

He looked a bit fierce, but had never actually lost his temper in front of Fang Chen.

Once the buttons were done, Fang Chen seemed to still be lost in thought. Seth asked in a low voice, “What are you thinking?”

Fang Chen snapped out of it, meeting Seth’s gray-blue gaze, and blurted out, “You…”

Seth raised an eyebrow, amused. “Me? Thinking what about me?”

Fang Chen realized what he’d said, wanted to bite off his own tongue, and hastily changed the subject. “I was wondering if you… smoke a lot?”

Seth was briefly surprised, then replied, “No, only sometimes. Did you smell it? Sorry.”

Fang Chen shook his head, “No, I was just asking—do you only smoke when you’re upset?”

He thought Seth might be in a bad mood.

Seth looked at Fang Chen with a strange expression, a half-smile. “Not because I’m upset.”

“Huh?”

“You wouldn’t want to know. Let’s go.”

Seth didn’t have any real addiction, but he couldn’t deny that, when certain thoughts surged in his mind, nicotine helped suppress them.

It let him hold back—a little longer.

Everyone but Fang Chen had already had breakfast.

At this hour, maybe lunch was the right word.

Outside, the wooden table was covered with a simple linen tablecloth, a crystal vase filled with wildflowers sat in the corner. On the table were lovely plates topped with steaming blueberry pancakes drizzled with honey.

The cup beside had hot milk, its aroma drifting over.

Sitting opposite, Seth only cradled a cup of jet-black coffee.

Fang Chen had noticed: Seth seemed very restrained when eating out.

He stuffed a piece of pancake in his mouth, voice muffled, “Do you have to eat a special, healthy meal?”

Seth nodded.

Fang Chen asked sympathetically, “Doesn’t that make you hungry?”

His lips, rimmed with honey, looked extra shiny. Every time he opened his mouth, you could almost see his pink tongue inside.

Seth’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He nodded again.

“So pitiful—”

Fang Chen really was hungry. He finished all the pancakes and drank every last drop of the milk.

Rubbing his full belly, Fang Chen said, “Where are we going next? Should we find the others?”

Seth shook his head, “No need. Just the two of us.”

He had Uncle Boer bring Fang Chen a jumpsuit for berry picking, then took him out into the fields.

Fang Chen carried a small metal bucket, putting on serious airs as he followed Seth, but was stunned at the size of the blueberry patch.

“All this?” Fang Chen was amazed. “You…do you really eat this many yourself every year?”

Seth laughed. “Of course not, most are shipped out in bulk.”

Fang Chen nodded, and followed the method Seth taught—picking berries one by one into his bucket.

The clink as they dropped in was oddly satisfying.

He filled about half the bucket before pausing to rest his back—and Seth immediately told him to stop if he was tired.

“If you’re worn out, let’s head back. This is supposed to be for fun, not hard labor.”

Fang Chen held up his berry haul, delighted. “When we get back I can make jam—let you try!”

Seth smiled, “Alright.”

After a while it got hot, so Fang Chen took off his gloves. As they walked out, out of the corner of his eye he saw a huge spider, with colorful markings, dangling alarmingly close.

His mind blanked for two seconds, then he gave a “wooo” and leapt at Seth.

Seth turned at the noise, but before he knew it, Fang Chen was in his arms.

Little lamb, leaping for safety!

He instinctively hugged Fang Chen tight.

Realizing the person in his arms was trembling, Seth spoke gently. “What is it? What did you see?”

Fang Chen, clinging like an octopus, pressed his face to Seth’s neck, eyes squeezed shut, wishing it was all an illusion.

“A spider, a colorful one, huge,” Fang Chen’s voice trembled. “It must be poisonous.”

Seth frowned, glanced over, and recognized a harmless orb-weaver, common on the ranch. He didn’t explain, though—just rubbed Fang Chen’s back lightly. “Don’t worry, it’s gone.”

But Fang Chen didn’t move, clinging tight, “Let’s go…please!”

His childhood had left him terrified of critters like this.

Seth didn’t speak again, carrying Fang Chen away steadily. He kept one arm free to keep patting Fang Chen’s back.

It wasn’t until they’d left the blueberry patch far behind that Fang Chen poked his head out, realizing he was still hanging on.

He struggled to get down, but Seth held him tighter.

“You…what are you doing?”

“Aren’t you scared?” Seth replied.

Well, he had just jumped on the man, after all.

But Fang Chen felt guilty, tone weak, “But we’re out now…”

Seth only made a slight noise—but didn’t let go.

Fang Chen, confused and embarrassed, kicked his legs and whimpered, “Let me down.”

Seth looked down at him: Fang Chen looked annoyed, staring up with big, shining black eyes.

He was mad… but also so beautiful, so cute.

Seth pursed his lips, holding back, and finally put him down a few seconds later.

As soon as Fang Chen was down, he backed away and eyed Seth suspiciously. But Seth looked calm as ever, just watching him.

So… why not let go earlier?

Was he overthinking it?

Fang Chen hesitated, bit his lip, and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Seth answered courteously. “It’s my ranch—it’s my job to protect you.”

Fang Chen bit his lip, looking down. “I…need to go change.”

Seth smiled, “Go ahead. Rest if you need to.”

Watching Fang Chen hurry back, head down, Seth’s warm eyes darkened, following every step until he disappeared inside.

A few minutes later, Joey appeared and sidled up to Seth. “So… um… how far have you and he gotten?”

He wanted to ask if they’d slept together, but was afraid Seth would kick him.

But Seth just said blandly, “We haven’t even started yet.”

“For real?”

Joey was stunned. He was all about physical pleasure, not words.

Seth finally glanced at him, cold. “So, never let me hear you joke about him again. He’s not like anyone else.”

It was just as Fang Chen had said—they were from different countries, different cultures. Fang Chen was much more reserved, not one to show all his feelings out loud.

So even though Seth had wanted to peel this little lamb’s clothes off from the moment they met, he’d restrained himself this long.

Because he liked him, so he respected him.

Joey held up his hands, speechless. “Well, are you sure he knows you’re courting him?”

Seth was silent.

And a little ways away, in his little cabin, Fang Chen paced, face set.

What did it mean… what was that… what did Seth actually mean?!