When Fang Chen came out of the shower, he felt like he was burning up, mind flooded with images of Seth holding him in there. Seth, with his years of boxing, had calloused hands, and when he absent-mindedly stroked Fang Chen’s head with his fingertips, Fang Chen’s knees nearly buckled.

Having realized he’d bullied Fang Chen, Seth switched to a gentle, harmless demeanor, heated up a mug of milk with honey, and coaxed, “Baby, have some milk before you sleep.”

Fang Chen glared, “Drink before bed and I’ll just get up to pee at night.”

Seth took the chance to sit beside him, pulled Fang Chen into his arms, and kissed his soft earlobe, “I’ll carry you, you sleep, I’ll hold it for you—and whistle for you too.”

“…”
Was he a toy?!
Just get picked up and carried around whenever—

Fang Chen’s exposed ear was burning red, so he snatched the mug, gulped the milk down, and shoved the empty cup at Seth.
“I’m done with you. I’m going to bed.”

Seth stood up after him, “Baby, can I hold you to sleep tonight?”

The answer: the guest room door slammed shut.

Seth bowed his head, laughing softly.

But the smile quickly faded; his face grew cold. He went to the study and made a call.
“Find out about someone for me.”

Who the hell was Chen Fang anyway!?

Fang Chen tossed and turned, finally opening his phone and scrolling through the contacts—nothing.

Did he ever actually know Chen Fang?

Just then a text popped up.
[It’s Chen Fang. If you want me to keep things secret, send me $20,000 to card: xxxxxxxxxx!]

Fang Chen paused for two seconds—and then laughed, relaxing.
So it was just begging for money.

He snorted, sprawled on the bed, legs kicking, slowly replying.

[If you know me, you know my situation. I can barely feed myself; where would I get money for you?]

Chen Fang must have been glued to his phone, replied quickly.
[OK, but Seth must have money, right?]

[You better think it through, or I’ll spread news about what you did in China.]

Fang Chen thought, “Oh,” in his mind, referring to the original owner’s dumb deeds—framing his brother, bullying classmates, etc…

[Make a PDF then, everyone loves PDFs for scandals, looks impressive. Go ahead, make one.]

Either flummoxed or speechless, Chen Fang didn’t reply.

Checking back in the original owner’s memory, Fang Chen still couldn’t find Chen Fang. He must’ve gotten rattled too easily before—now, thinking it through, Chen Fang was just another shrimp.

Trying to squeeze money out of him? Dream on!

Feeling secure, Fang Chen tossed his phone aside and fell fast asleep.

Across town, “shrimp” Chen Fang was getting twisted with frustration.

He hadn’t known Fang Chen before—just thought he was pretty and tried to cozy up. Then, through a cousin’s gossip, he heard about the Fang family scandal, and the name “Fang Chen” popped up.

That’s when he realized the background.
This once unreachable rich kid was now broke and working to support himself.

Dark thoughts swelled in Chen Fang’s head. Poor rich kid, now easy pickings?
But then Fang Chen turned around and hooked up with Seth!

Didn’t care about him! Was he being looked down on!?

—

The little lamb, carefree, slept soundly, but woke in the middle of the night with a full bladder.

All Seth’s fault for making him drink milk!

Grumpy, Fang Chen shuffled out in slippers, only to pause when he saw light under the door.
Light still on outside?
Seth still awake?

Checking the clock—already 2am.

What was Seth doing?

Curious, Fang Chen quietly cracked the door and peeked out.

Dim light in the living room. No one in sight. He stepped out cautiously, then caught sight of Seth at the kitchen island.

Fang Chen puffed out his cheeks, unimpressed.
Hmph, snacking while he sleeps!

He scraped his foot against the floor.
Sheep artillery!
Then launched himself like a cannonball—”thud”—into Seth’s back.

Seth’s hand paused, wiped off, spun around, and grabbed Fang Chen before he could bolt.

“What now? Ambush?”

“Eh eh—” Fang Chen kicked, craning his head, “You’re sneaking snacks—”

Then froze.

On the table: dough, odd-looking buns, with a tablet showing a remote cooking class.

“You…making buns in the middle of the night?”

Seth leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Like them? I’ll make fresh ones for you in the morning.”

Fang Chen felt a little guilty, mumbling, “No need to stay up.”

“Just practicing, morning batch will be prettier.”
Then kissed him again. These days, simple kissing wasn’t enough—he craved more, wanted to eat him right up.

“Then this batch is wasted.”

“Not wasted; I’ll give them to Joey.”

Getting his face kissed until it was all wet, Fang Chen tried to dodge, but thinking of how much effort Seth put in, he felt a wave of warmth and wrapped his arms around Seth’s neck, resting his chin on his shoulder.
“Don’t bother, I’ll eat anything.”

Seth couldn’t reach his face, so he pinched his butt through his pants.

“Not the same, not for me.”

He loved seeing Fang Chen eat his food—the boy was so easy to read, every mood written on his face; when he liked something, he smiled and even wiggled his head in delight.

Fang Chen went quiet.
Suddenly, he realized: he’d never had anyone treat him so gently before.

Pat on the bum.

Seth murmured, “But why are you still up?”

Eh?
Fang Chen lifted his head.

Wait—
What did he come for again?

For a brief moment, distracted, he forgot his need to pee—then it hit harder than before.

He kicked, “Hurry, I need the bathroom!”

Seth raised a brow.

“Oh, baby, you came to find me so I could carry you to the toilet. How cute.”

No!!!

Fang Chen was sweating with urgency. “Let me down, Seth, I really need to go!”

Seth soothed him, “Okay, I’ll carry you.”

Why didn’t Seth ever understand English when he wanted him to?

He really did carry Fang Chen to the bathroom, ignoring all protest, holding him over the toilet.

“Pee now, baby.”

Fang Chen nearly cried, face burning, sweating all over. Failing to get free, he pleaded, “Seth, let me down, I’ll do it myself.”

Seth’s tone was unhurried. “Baby, need to go or not?”

As if he would handle it himself if Fang Chen didn’t.

Fang Chen’s lashes trembled, and he shamefully squeezed his eyes shut.

A few seconds later, the trickle of water sounded.

After, Fang Chen stomped furiously back to his room, buried under the covers, vowing not to talk to Seth for at least two days.

Too cruel.

Seth took the chance to peek in, patting him through the blanket.
“Baby, don’t sleep muffled.”

Fang Chen yelled through the covers, “Get out!”

Seth relented, “Alright, sleep well.”

The sheep fumed, then threw off the blanket, hair wild and eyes red with frustration.
“Don’t cook anymore, go to bed!”

“All right,” Seth smiled, “I’ll listen.”

Still, next morning, there were beautifully made buns and aromatic rice porridge for breakfast.

Fang Chen ate with gusto, wanting to swallow the whole plate, knowing Seth had woken early to make it.

“Vacation is soon.” Seth brought it up again, “Do you want to move in with me?”

This time, Fang Chen didn’t refuse as fast—he hesitated.

Seth turned up the heat.

“If not here, let’s go to the estate—there’s a fountain, a sea of roses, and two dogs.”

Fang Chen began to pay attention; head popping up at the last part.
“Dogs?”

“Two Dobermanns.”

Seth pushed forward, then tactfully backed off.
“You don’t have to live here yet; I know I haven’t won you over, shouldn’t push too hard—but baby, the estate is huge, we can have separate rooms. I just want to see you every day.”

“If you ever want to leave, you can, anytime.”

No lamb could resist such sweet talk; within a few sentences, Fang Chen agreed, dazed.

Seth smiled, pleased.

After breakfast, Seth packed Fang Chen’s bag, filled it with snacks and juice.

“You can share with your roommate,” he said, then—offhand—”Call anytime, even if you’re unhappy, anytime, I’m always here.”

Fang Chen averted his eyes, muttering, “I’m not unhappy.”

Seth smiled, “Glad to hear it.”

There was rehearsal today, but Fang Chen skipped it, not wanting to see Chen Fang.

But with performance only two or three days away, he didn’t want to quit now—too irresponsible.

Zhou Lili texted him, and he claimed not to feel well. Thankfully, she didn’t pry—just reminded him to rest.

But the more you avoid someone, the more you run into them; that afternoon in class, he ran into Chen Fang.

Fang Chen rolled his eyes, turned to leave.

Chen Fang blocked him, “Let’s talk.”

Fang Chen met his eyes, “Did you finish your PDF?”

“…”

Chen Fang gritted his teeth, “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

“I’m not saying you won’t, go ahead, I support you.”

“You aren’t afraid I’ll tell Seth what you did?”

Fang Chen yawned, “Go ahead—by the way, does health insurance work overseas? Worried you won’t take a punch from him.”

He patted Chen Fang’s shoulder, snickered and left.

Chen Fang fumed, fists clenched, sending a text as he glared after Fang Chen.

Classes ran all day; by evening Fang Chen was done, exhausted, shuffling along, complaining to Seth over the phone.

After listening to Lamb’s moaning about homework and tiredness, Seth soothed him, “You worked hard, baby. I have some things tonight and can’t pick you up; I’ll send someone with food, OK?”

“No need, I’m eating out with my roommate.”

Seth barely frowned, kept his tone gentle, “Where are you eating? Don’t pick a dodgy place—come home early, okay?”

Fang Chen nodded, “Okay!”

“Good lamb, I’ll call you tonight.”

Afterward, Seth put his phone aside, the smile fading as he turned to Chen Fang, who was being fitted with protective gear by bodyguards.

Chen Fang was trembling.

Having gotten Seth’s info, he tried to blackmail him, asking if he wanted to know “who Fang Chen really is.”

Seth replied, arranging a meeting.

Chen Fang thought he’d get a payday—only to meet the devil.

“You don’t want to know who Fang Chen really is? He’s not as innocent as he seems!”

Seth, slowly putting on gloves, tone calm, “He’s mine—why would I get the facts from you?”

He advanced, voice low, “Didn’t you want money? Fight me—one punch, ten grand.”

Chen Fang gulped.

Hurry up; Las Vegas casinos are already looking for you. They’re not as easy-going as me.

On hearing that, Chen Fang’s eyes widened in terror.

Seth just looked at him.
After a minute, Chen Fang set his jaw and entered the ring.

First stance set—Seth punched, dropped him like a sack of flour.

Then flexed his wrist, voice cold, “I hate hearing Fang Chen’s name from your mouth. You don’t deserve it.”

Chen Fang wiped his nosebleed, staggered to stand—only to be punched in the gut, blacking out.

“I haven’t sought you out, and you came to me—
Tell me, what did you say to Fang Chen that upset him?”

…

Half an hour later, metal door opened; Seth, cigarette between his lips, strolled out, ordering money be sent to Chen Fang’s card.

Want money? He’s got it.

Just hope you live to spend it.

Next day, Zhou Lili called to urge Fang Chen to rehearse.

Fang Chen was about to dodge with an excuse, when Zhou Lili worried aloud, “Is there something going around? Chen Fang’s worse off, says he’s dropping out.”

Fang Chen paused, “He’s sick?”

“Yeah, suddenly—was fine before.”

She sighed—performance soon, but now missing people.

“Can you come rehearse today?”

Fang Chen agreed quickly.

Maybe the universe saw how bad Chen Fang was and struck him down.

In any social circle, absent members become subject.

As Chen Fang wasn’t there, gossip about him spread.

Fang Chen listened silently.

“He got into gambling, owes a fortune.”
“Went to Vegas two months ago!”
“Is he really sick, or in trouble?”
“What sickness—was fine yesterday, went to Vegas, hoping for a comeback.”

Fang Chen paused.
No wonder he tried to squeeze money from Fang Chen.

But he hadn’t given Chen Fang a penny—so where’d he get more gambling money from?

Lamb pondered seriously—
Could it be Seth?!

Such a coincidence, Chen Fang fell sick after Seth was “busy” last night.

Distracted, Fang Chen botched his lines several times, but Zhou Lili assumed he was unwell and sent him home.

Leaving rehearsal, Fang Chen called Seth, opening with a demand, “Where are you?”

A pause.
“In front of you, baby.”

Eh???

He looked up—and saw Seth’s car out front, Seth getting out, phone in hand, waving.

Fang Chen promptly hung up and ran over.

Seth frowned, met him, scooping up the little cannonball immediately, “Why run?”

Fang Chen wrapped his arms around Seth’s neck, “Why’d you come?”

“To take you out to eat. Messaged you but you didn’t reply.”

A meek explanation, “Didn’t check my phone.”

“No problem. What do you want to eat?”

“Anything.”

“There’s a new French place; want to try?”

“Sure.”

He wanted to ask about Chen Fang, but couldn’t quite get the words out.

When they parked at the restaurant, Seth didn’t get out but fixed him with a look, “Baby, you want to say something?”

“Huh?”

His plan to interrogate vanished—just wanted to be a snail now.

Mumbled, “No, nothing.”

Seth looked for a moment, then leaned over, holding Fang Chen down.

“Baby, you can tell me anything, okay?
If not, your mouth will have to do something else instead.”

Huh?

Before Fang Chen could react, Seth kissed him—gentle, tender, exploring, tracing every response.

Their heartbeats synced, traffic outside fading into background.

When Seth finally let go, Fang Chen blinked, realizing he hadn’t struggled at all—so easily swayed.

Seth gazed intently, “Will you say it?”

Fang Chen was still fuzzy-headed.
Seth pecked his lips repeatedly, “Speak up? Or I’ll keep kissing you if you don’t.”

Recovering, Fang Chen muttered,
“You…haven’t reported in, how can you kiss me?”

Seth smiled, “Will you forgive me this once and not deduct points, baby?”

So sneaky.

Fang Chen’s heart raced, but he replied softly, “I wanted to ask you…about Chen Fang.”

The smile faded instantly; Seth’s face cooled. He sat up, tone chilly, “Who’s Chen Fang?”

Fang Chen didn’t notice, answered in surprise, “You don’t know? The guy I rehearsed with, I punched him, you hate him—you hit him when he grabbed me!”

Seth looked at him, “If I hate someone, why would I know them?”

“…”
That makes sense.

“Why bring him up?” Seth asked, voice cold.

He didn’t like hearing other people’s names from Fang Chen’s mouth.

Fang Chen pouted, explaining what he’d heard.

Seth’s face didn’t change, “So, you think I gave him money?”

“I’m just guessing!”

Seth stared for a moment, then smiled, fingers brushing Fang Chen’s kiss-reddened lips.

“How about this, I’ll give you all my cards. From now on, anytime I spend, I’ll ask you if it’s okay, baby.”

Eh???

Fang Chen flailed, “No, no, that’s not what I meant!”

“But that’s what I mean.”

Seth wanted Fang Chen to have everything.

He leaned in for another kiss, but Fang Chen quickly blocked it.
“I’m hungry.”

He grumbled, “Let’s eat.”

“…Alright.”

The new restaurant was lively, but Seth had booked a private room, so it was quiet.

Waiting for food, Fang Chen propped his chin, lost in thought.

Seth frowned, annoyed, “Baby, who’re you thinking about?”

Fang Chen sighed, “Just nervous about the performance.”

Big challenge for an introvert.

“I’ll be in the audience. If you’re nervous, just look at me, not others.”

Truthfully, Seth didn’t want Fang Chen on stage.

The longer they were together, the more possessive he became.

He hated anyone else looking at his lamb.

Sometimes wished he could lock Fang Chen up, not even let him wear anything—

Fang Chen blinked, “Why do you keep staring at me?”

Seth smiled, “Just hungry.”

__

Author’s note:
Mini-theater
Seth goes to a competition out of town, but Fang Chen’s schedule is full and he can’t go along—Seth leaves resentful.

At night, Fang Chen calls to coax him.

But Seth is quiet, barely responding as Fang Chen chats away.

At first, Fang Chen thinks Seth is sulking, but then realizes something’s off, “What are you doing? Why won’t you talk?”

On camera, Seth looks up, moves the phone farther away to show everything.

He doesn’t stop moving, voice raspy:
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m thinking of you the whole time.”