As the rehearsal ended, Fang Chen followed Seth out of the backstage area.

He tugged his coat up high, head down, wishing he could become a little invisible mushroom.
Too bad, with Seth so bright in front, invisibility was impossible.

Chen Fang, standing on stage, paused, eyes a little dark as he watched Fang Chen.

Suddenly, the whole rehearsal room seemed to go silent.

Dead legs! Hurry up!
So awkward!!

Fang Chen rushed out so fast his legs were nearly a blur, until outside, Seth grabbed him and pulled him into his arms.

“What are you doing…”

Fang Chen was furious—he’d never met anyone like this. One moment Seth had solemnly promised to pursue him, the next he was like a ravenous wolf, kissing him fiercely.

All tongue, and Seth’s tongue was terrifying, diving in and swirling around, swallowing up even Fang Chen’s spit. He tried to push Seth away several times, but was pinned, wrists held overhead, unable to move.

Minus points!
He was losing points!!

“Hug me.”
Seth, as always, wrapped his arms under Fang Chen’s butt to hold him up, burying his head in Fang Chen’s neck, breathing deep, his voice raspy, “Did you really say I can pursue you, baby? I can’t believe it, say it again, okay?”

Fang Chen kicked in retaliation, “Put me down!”

“There’s no one here, let me hold you a bit longer.”

At first, it was just deep breathing, but soon Seth’s kisses were everywhere: wet, hot, ticklish.

“Seth… put me down.”
Afraid Fang Chen would really get angry, Seth, reluctantly, set him down.

Fang Chen was beet red, lips especially swollen—soft, glossy, with red from ear to neck, not just kissing but licking, too.

Fang Chen secretly cursed.
Pervert! Horn dog!

He scowled, “I’m going back to the dorm.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“No need!” Fang Chen snapped, “It’s close. I’ll walk.”
“Can I pick you up tomorrow?”
Realizing Fang Chen would refuse, Seth quickly added, “I’m courting you. I want to take you out.”

Fang Chen paused, gave a vague answer, “We’ll see, I have rehearsal tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Seth didn’t push, but asked, “If I message you tonight, will you reply?”

Fang Chen stopped, turned, “What are you going to message? Say it now.”

“May I?” Seth obliged, “I just wanted to say, your lips are so soft, and your tongue…”

“Enough!”
Fang Chen stared, all but lunging to cover Seth’s mouth. “Don’t say that!”

Seth took the chance to lick Fang Chen’s palm.

Fang Chen was stunned, snatching his hand back, eyes round.

Seth deadpanned, “You told me to say it.”

Candid when he should be reserved, reserved when he should be candid!

Fang Chen just glared, speechless, then spun and stalked off.

Seth watched him leave, a small smile on his lips.

After a while, Joey came over, startled by Seth’s smile. “What are you thinking?”

Seth sobered and glanced at Joey.

Joey winked, “Any progress?”

This time Seth’s voice was happier, “I’ve started chasing him.”

“…You only just started?” Joey blinked, “Then before you were—?”

Seth’s face cooled. “You talk too much.”

…Ouch, hit a sore spot.

Fang Chen stormed back to the dorm.

His roommate was experimenting with new “dark cuisine,” the whole place stinking of burnt food.

“Chen, you’re home!”
Roommate greeted him, but Fang Chen just waved, heading for his room.

Too embarrassed to lift his head, Fang Chen worried someone would see his swollen lips. Only in private did he relax.

Touching his mouth, it was still sore. He puffed his cheeks and went to the sink to check in the mirror.

Shocking!
So swollen!

Damn it!!!
Hankering for meat?!
Did Seth really treat him like lamb to eat?!

Just then, his phone buzzed—Seth’s message.
Fang Chen almost deleted Seth in anger.

After a little silent fuming, he checked the phone.

[Picture]
[Picture]
Baby, which shirt looks best?

Fang Chen sucked in a breath.

Two photos: Seth in black and white tees, possibly deliberately too small—his chest and arms bulging with muscle, even his grip on the phone showing off his strength.

Who’s he trying to impress! If you dare, wear nothing!

Fang Chen fumed inside, but just saved the pictures, pretending not to see the text.

He tossed the phone aside and hopped in the shower.

Standing under the spray, bubbles everywhere, Fang Chen felt surreal.
How did today get so messy, saying all that, even crying? Embarrassing.

But… Seth confessed to him.

He ruffled his hair in disbelief.
Such a wild day.

Fresh from the shower, the phone still buzzed.

Wrapped in a towel, hands damp, Fang Chen answered absentmindedly.

“Baby.”
Seth’s tone was practiced—like he’d rehearsed forever.

“Didn’t you say you’d reply to messages?”

Fang Chen leaned in, “When did I agree—”

He cut off abruptly.
He hadn’t noticed it was a video call. On screen, Seth was shirtless, sweat streaming down muscle, the light gilding everything.

Sheep gulped audibly.

“What’re you doing?” he asked weakly.

Seth answered calmly, “Working out.”

“At a gym?” Fang Chen peered at the background, “Why is no one else there?”

“At home. Second floor gym.” Seth frowned. “Who do you want to see?”

Fang Chen, “…”
He didn’t get rich people.

Seth was quick to eye Fang Chen, “You’re not dressed either?”

What does he mean “too”?!

Fang Chen angled the phone, “I just showered. It’s a towel!”

Pouting: “Not everyone is like you!”

Seth’s gaze narrowed, voice lowering, “I only show you.”

Fang Chen’s hand shook, almost dropping his phone.
Not like he asked!

Sheep retorted, “I’m ending the call.”

“I want to hear your voice, see you, too.”

Seth’s deep voice, coming through the phone, felt like an electric caress.

Fang Chen paused, biting his lip.
Trouble.

Did Seth take a rocket ship? He was totally different since confessing—now all sweet talk.

Once so quiet, now he was all talk—flirty, no restraint.

Fang Chen, flustered, just mumbled, “Oh.”

“Don’t hang up, okay? Baby, I miss you so much.”

Seth’s words tumbled out, nearly combusting the sheep.

Fang Chen stammered, “Can you… not call me that?”

“Why?” Seth asked seriously. “You don’t like it?”

Actually… That wasn’t it.
But Fang Chen couldn’t say so, awkward silence ensuing.

“Baby, can you send me a couple pics?”

Fang Chen perked up, warily. “For what?”

Seth countered, “I sent you two—your turn.”

Seemed fair.

Fang Chen grumbled, “I didn’t ask you to!”

Seth laughed, “Do you like them?”

Sheep pursed his lips, recalling—yeah… pretty big… his chest.

He licked his lips and mumbled, “Pretty…big.”

Seth husked, “I meant the shirt.”

Sheep froze, face red.

He rushed to cover, “So did I! No, no, I mean a bit small!”

Help! What was he saying!

Seth tried to hold back laughter, watching the onscreen sheep turn so red his ears glowed.

Adorable.

He ground his teeth, feeling a desperate tenderness—if Fang Chen were here, he’d pull him to his lap and bite his ear, making him shiver and turn pink.

“Baby, just one pic, okay?” Seth coaxed.

Fang Chen felt like he was burning alive; to end the call, he promised to send one.

After hanging up, he groaned.

Sheep life is tough.

Especially since Seth kept texting to prod him. Defeated, Fang Chen pulled on pajamas and snapped a fast photo.

Send!

He tossed the phone aside and buried under the covers.
How was Seth so different after the confession!
So fake!
He didn’t dare think what Seth was doing with that photo.
Oww!
Slaughter the sheep!

.
Seth’s apartment was bare—just black, white, and gray.

At the bed, Seth sipped water, then checked his lit-up phone.
Fang Chen’s photo had arrived.

Gray-blue eyes darkened, gazed at the screen, throat bobbing.

Fang Chen wore pale blue pajamas, cheeks round and soft, hair still wet, bright black eyes shining.

Seth stared for minutes, breathed out, hand sliding down.

Baby…
Want to kiss, want to bite, want more.

….
An hour later, Fang Chen got Seth’s reply:

【Baby is so cute.】

Just five words.

Sheep pondered.
Sheep fell silent.
Did it really take an hour to type that?
Or… did Seth do something else in that hour?

Fang Chen blushed, terrified to imagine, closed the chat in a hurry.

He flopped down, started a random movie—needed a distraction.

Only a few minutes in, his roommate knocked.

Fang Chen poked his fluffy head out, “What’s up?”

“Made a lemon pie, want to try?”

On the plate: something blackened, hard to identify.

His roommate’s cooking was genuinely creative—results… not always.

Fang Chen laughed, “Not hungry.”

Roommate didn’t push, instead asked, “Going to tomorrow’s club event?”

Fang Chen blinked, “What event?”

“Clubs are doing campus booths.” Roommate handed him a flyer, “We need another server; pay’s better than your pizza job.”

Fang Chen wanted to refuse, but that last point had him snatching the flyer. “I’m free! Totally free.”

Roommate snapped his fingers, “Set! I’ll wake you tomorrow!”

“Mm!”

Afterward, Fang Chen messaged Seth to say he was working at the club tomorrow, couldn’t hang out.

Seth replied fast.

【Can I come see you?】

Finally, asking before showing up—not just charging in.

【But I’ll be working.】

【I won’t disturb you.】

Fang Chen curled up with his phone, cheeks puffed, tapping away like a hamster.

【Alright!】

Next morning, his roommate got him up and dragged him off.

At the club’s booth, the roommate handed him a uniform, “Change.”

Fang Chen froze, “There’s a costume?”

“Of course; clubs compete for revenue. We need tactics to win! Go get dressed, I’m off to brew.”

Fang Chen went to the changing room, stunned to find it was a butler outfit.
No wonder the pay was high—there were conditions.
Money doesn’t come easy!

British-style, black and white, with a little apron at the waist.
Fang Chen was mortified, changed quickly, avoided all mirrors.

When he came out, his roommate was ready.
It was a coffee booth, umbrellas outside, vases on tables, quite stylish.

He handed Fang Chen a menu. “Just take orders and serve.”

“Okay!”

Just then, Fang Chen remembered—Seth was coming!

He hastily messaged to say: 【I’m busy today, don’t come.】

But customers were early, so as soon as he sent the message, he got to work.

It was busy but familiar—he’d worked at similar jobs.

As he served coffee, he glanced over and saw someone new at a table; he grabbed the menu and walked over.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The man sat lazily, lips curled, gaze sharp—focusing on Fang Chen’s waist, tied in the little apron, thin enough to grab with two hands.

Seth’s eyes darkened, feeling a surge of jealousy.

Didn’t like his lamb dressed like this outside, for other eyes.

“So this is the outfit you didn’t want me to see?”

Low voice, dangerous.

Fang Chen froze, looking up—meeting Seth’s eyes.

“You came?”

Fang Chen looked around, whispering, “Didn’t I tell you not to come?”

“Why?” Seth stared at him. “Didn’t want me to see you dressed like this?”

Fang Chen was stumped.

He fussed too long, afraid his roommate would notice, so knocked on the table, “Do you want to order?”

“Yes,” Seth replied. “One piccolo.”

Fang Chen nodded, all business. “One moment, sir.”

He turned to leave, but Seth caught his hand, low, “Can’t we talk?”

His hand, small and soft, perfect to play with.

Seth hadn’t slept much last night, mind burning with memories of Fang Chen’s tears.
He was going crazy.

He hugged Fang Chen’s shirt every night; the scent had faded, but his longing had not. Every bit of him was lit up.

Since breaking the ice, he wanted more.

He whispered hoarsely, “Baby, talk to me a bit more.”

Fang Chen gritted his teeth, yanking his hand away, “No time, I’m working!”

Seth chuckled, “Alright, I’ll wait for you to get off.”

Fang Chen walked off, but Seth’s gaze brushed over him, branding him.

After hours of serving, finally business was done.

His roommate joked, “You’re so cute—everyone came for you.”

Sheep fainted.

He hid behind the counter, watching Seth—who had sat there, not bothering him but always watching.

Roommate packed up, then saw Fang Chen staring. “Seth Bolton comes here for coffee, huh? Is it for you?”

Fang Chen snapped, “Don’t say that!”

Roommate shrugged, “Just kidding. I’m out, you clean up.”

Fang Chen nodded, “Bye.”

After the last customer left, only Seth remained.

He straightened, looking calmly at Fang Chen.

Sheep hesitated before shuffling over.

“Sir, we’re closing.”

Seth grunted but didn’t move.

Fang Chen puffed his cheeks, “Go!”

Seth smirked, standing to tower over Fang Chen.

“Baby, you look adorable dressed like this.”

Every time Seth called him that, Fang Chen’s ears tingled.

Seth advanced, gaze heavy. “Little butler, hmm? Why message me not to come? Why not let me see?”

Pressed back against the wall, noses nearly touching.

“You know this is dangerous.”

Dangerous…to wear clothes?

Before Fang Chen could answer, Seth kissed him. Fang Chen struggled, but was quickly subdued.

His fingers clutched Seth’s shirt, trembling—not so much resisting as being thoroughly ravished.

Seth’s kisses were never just kisses.
Tongue invading, hands sliding down from Fang Chen’s waist, playing with the little apron, gripping that plump backside.

Enough… couldn’t breathe…

Finally, Seth let him breathe—Fang Chen was a mess, lips and eyes red, mouth open, panting like a little pup.

Seth leaned in, licking Fang Chen’s lips.
Finally, his Chinese was put to use.

Seth smiled delightedly.
“寶寶，舌頭吐出來看一下。”
(Baby, stick out your tongue—let me see.)