The issue with Chen Fang came to an end for now; Fang Chen didn’t see him again before the performance. Zhou Lili recruited a last-minute substitute, and rehearsal went decently, so Fang Chen managed to force himself onstage.

Backstage, Fang Chen was extremely nervous—even as just a supporting role, the thought of being watched by so many made his limbs tingle.
Useless, useless!
He cursed himself in his mind, then started some deep breathing to steady his nerves.

Just as he closed his eyes, someone tapped his shoulder. He opened them—shocked to see Seth.

“Seth? Why are you here?”
Seth had training tonight; Fang Chen thought he’d miss the show.

“Didn’t I promise to come watch?”
No one was backstage at that moment; Seth lifted Fang Chen onto the prop table, kissed him on the lips, “Nervous?”

Fang Chen sniffled cutely, “A little.”

Seth spoke seriously, “I heard exchanging saliva helps relieve nerves—Want to try kissing?”

“Huh?”
Is that scientific?

Seth leaned in, nose-to-nose, flirtatious, “Baby, I mean nothing else, just want to ease your mood—don’t get the wrong idea.”
 

Who’d believe that!

But Fang Chen couldn’t resist, obediently parted his lips; Seth kissed him deeply.

Mouths and tongues tangled, Fang Chen instinctively hugged Seth’s neck. Maybe Seth was right—his nerves really did fade, senses overwhelmed by Seth’s teasing lips.

The intimate sounds went on for a long while.

When Seth finally stopped, Fang Chen’s face was flushed, breathing rapidly, lips rosy—no need for lip gloss.

“So Silly.”

Seth murmured, “We’ve kissed so many times, you still forget to breathe.”

Ugh…

Fang Chen shoved Seth, “Go, everyone’s coming back soon!”

Seth frowned, dissatisfied, “I’m so shameful? So what if people see?”

Fang Chen grumbled, “Just go!”

He really didn’t want rumors.

Seth had to give in, gritting his teeth and muttering, “You toss me aside after use, you little brat!” 

He ruffled Fang Chen’s hair, “Come find me after it’s over.”

Fang Chen hurriedly nodded, “Okay!”

Seth left just as Zhou Lili and the crew returned, “Hungry? Eat something, there’s still a while before our set!”

“Mm mm,” Fang Chen mumbled.

Zhou Lili raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Just saw Seth Bolton outside—was he here?”

Fang Chen shook his head quickly, “Didn’t see him.”

But when he glanced up, Zhou Lili noticed his flushed lips, and gave a knowing “Oh~”.

Fang Chen dropped his head.

Zhou Lili patted his shoulder, “So what if you’re dating? It’s normal, don’t be shy.”

Fang Chen stammered, “No, we’re not.”

Not dating and already kissing this way…

If he were…

Zhou Lili “tsk tsk”-ed, then handed over a burger.

“Poor thing, eat up—you’re too skinny.”

…

An hour later, it was finally showtime.

Fang Chen was last in line, stepping onstage and looking out into a sea of faces, nearly forgetting how to move.

He bit his lip, eyes drifting until—they settled on Seth in the front row.

He stood out in the crowd; for the year-end show, all students wore uniforms, but grad students wore suits.

Seth sat lazily, hand propping his head, gray-blue eyes fixed on Fang Chen.

Their eyes met.

Suddenly, Fang Chen’s anxiety disappeared; he breathed out—no longer nervous.

The performance went smoothly; as the servant, Fang Chen’s job was to watch Zhu Yingtai climb into her coffin. He couldn’t help but tear up, but thanks to his spot, wiped his eyes in secret.

After the show, he quickly changed and rushed out, dodging the crowd until he found Seth.

But Fang Chen paused—Seth was surrounded by other students in matching uniforms.

Not knowing them, Fang Chen hesitated, preparing to wait.

Seth, noticing, glanced over; Fang Chen ducked to the side.

But Seth had seen him.

Seth frowned, cut off his classmates, and walked over.

He pulled Fang Chen out from behind a tree, “Hiding?”

“No,” Fang Chen said awkwardly, “I saw you busy, thought I’d wait.”

“Just chatting.”

“Were you crying just now?”

Fang Chen hesitated, then realized Seth meant his onstage tears.

“How’d you know?”

“I watched you the whole time—of course I know. Crybaby, why so easily moved?”

Seth fixed Fang Chen’s messy collar, “Hungry? Let’s eat.”

Fang Chen nodded, then looked uneasily at the nearby students watching them.

Seth didn’t say more, took Fang Chen’s hand, and walked over.

“Hi!” his classmates greeted.

Fang Chen smiled, “Hello, I’m Fang Chen, uh…I’m Seth’s…”

Before he could say “friend,” Seth interrupted,

“He’s the one I’m courting.”
 

Silence.

Fang Chen wanted to dig a hole and hide, forced a laugh, trying to follow up—but Seth was already ahead.

“We’re going on a date, bye.”
 

He dragged Fang Chen off.

“Hey—” Fang Chen complained, “Why’d you say that?”

“What’s wrong? Anything wrong with my words?”
“If not for fear of your anger, I’d have kissed you right there.”

Scary foreigner!

Fang Chen gave up.

Seth asked what Fang Chen wanted to eat. That caught his interest.

“Jamin recommended a bar,” Fang Chen showed Seth a photo, “Here! Said the meat sauce pasta is amazing.”

“A bar?”
“Can you drink?”

“I won’t, I just eat!”

Seth never argued about these things, so they went.

The bar was dim and noisy, in a basement, a true American street feel; Fang Chen dragged Seth to a corner seat.

He asked, “Ever eaten somewhere like this?”

Nope.

Seth wiped the cups clean before passing one over. “When I first started fighting, I spent a year in underground rings.”

Fang Chen was surprised.

“Way more chaotic than this; people treat fighters like animals, gambling’s right next to the ring, win to stay in—like horse racing.”

He sounded calm, as if that brutal past meant nothing.

“Why did you go there?”

Seth wasn’t just a rich kid?

“I started boxing young, very aggressive; I wasn’t getting matches, so I had to go underground to fight.”

Fang Chen gasped, “Scary.”

Yeah, it was.

Seth gazed at Fang Chen.

If he’d met the lamb back then, it would’ve terrified him.

No rules in those places, always covered in blood after, but Seth would just wipe it away, numb to the pain.

Fierce beast—sure to scare off innocent lambs.

But back then, Seth was impatient; if he wanted something, he’d get it.
Might’ve snatched Fang Chen away outright.

He smiled, lowering his gaze.

“Actually, that underground ring is nearby. Want to see after dinner?”

Fang Chen’s eyes lit up, “Sure!”

The bar food was good, Fang Chen packed leftovers for his roommate.

Seth barely touched his food; Fang Chen poked his arm, “Don’t eat, how’d you get so big?”

Seth smirked, scooped Fang Chen up and jostled him, “Eat little lamb.”

Fang Chen kicked him.

The district was sketchy, far from busy streets; on their walk, a few drunk guys looked Fang Chen over, but Seth stepped in front, glaring them away.

Fang Chen peeked from behind, then quickly retreated.

Seth asked, “Tired?”

The roads weren’t car-friendly, so they walked.

Fang Chen shook his head, “Not tired.”

Seth paused, then scooped Fang Chen up, “If you’re tired, I’ll carry you.”

???
Brother, you have selective hearing.

Fang Chen didn’t resist; if someone wanted to carry, why not relax?

He rested his head on Seth’s shoulder, rubbing his chin like a kitten.

Seth’s steps faltered, “Don’t tempt me.”

Eh?

Fang Chen grumbled, “Can’t you control yourself? You’re usually so disciplined—don’t drink, careful with food…”

“Other things don’t matter. With you, one breath and I want you.”

…
Fang Chen blushed, burrowing his head, “Shut up.”

Seth chuckled, holding tighter, his hand cupping Fang Chen’s butt—the pressure intense even through clothes.

Fang Chen’s ear turned bright red.

Seth…
So sexy…

Soon enough, they reached their destination; Seth set Fang Chen down, took his hand, and led him through an old underground entrance.

The corridor was dark and dilapidated, Fang Chen pressed close to Seth, nervous.

After the tunnel, it opened up—music, shouting, the sounds of a crowd.

A locked iron door stood ahead.

Seth keyed in a code—click, it opened, and they entered.

The underground ring was a shock—dim lights, thick with smoke and alcohol, loud voices merging.

Seth squeezed Fang Chen’s hand, “Let’s walk around.”

Fang Chen nodded.

First, a rough bar, bartender flair, but most just grabbed bottles.

Centered, an iron cage—fighters brawling, not just boxing, but brutal hand-to-hand combat.

Fang Chen stared, breathing hard, squeezing Seth’s hand tighter.

Seth asked, “Scared?”

Here, Seth’s eyes turned darker, rough edge rising—the ring always called out the beast in people.

Before, Seth would comfort the lamb, but now he felt a more possessive, darker drive, eyes roaming over Fang Chen, wondering where to start.

Fang Chen felt Seth’s gaze and shivered, eyelashes trembling, licking his lips.
“This place is a mess. Let’s… go back.”

Seth, almost lazily, refused—for the first time, “No hurry, stay a while.”

The match neared the end.

A red-haired bruiser finished, the crowd a mix of cheers for winnings and curses for losses.

No one cared about the fighter lying unconscious.

Fang Chen grew uneasy, couldn’t stand it, closed his eyes, trying to burrow into Seth’s chest, but Seth pressed him down, leaning in.

“寶Baby, next round I’ll fight—cheer for me.”

“What?”
Fang Chen’s eyes widened, “No—don’t! You’ll get hurt!”

“I won’t, they can’t beat me.”

Seth smiled, kissing his ear.

He led Fang Chen up to a private room on a mezzanine.
“This was my old fight lounge—good view. Wait here for me.”

Unable to argue, Fang Chen threatened, “Swear you won’t get hurt!”

“I swear! Or you dock points.”

Seth kissed him, “Once I win, we go home, okay?”

Fang Chen hesitated, then nodded.

He leaned out the window, watching—down below, the ring was reset, and as the announcer called Seth’s name, cheers erupted.

Seth appeared, stripped down to a tank and shorts, muscles taut and intimidating.

Match time.

Fang Chen’s hands sweated, heart racing, eyes locked on Seth.

Don’t get hurt, don’t get hurt…

His prayers switched between Buddha and God.

At the whistle, fists flew.

The crowd roared, energy surging.

As Seth promised, no one could best him.

In this pit, he was in his element, each punch solid, every blow submerged under the din.

For Fang Chen, it all blurred—every punch, every cheer.

Victory—Seth lifted his gloves, crowd going wild, even tossing bills into the ring. Seth ignored them, just glanced up at Fang Chen, smiling.

Fang Chen relaxed.

Winning didn’t matter, only Seth’s safety.

He waited in the lounge—Seth arrived showered and changed, swept Fang Chen up, showered kisses on his cheeks, then nuzzled his neck and inhaled deeply.

Seth often did this—using Fang Chen as a stress ball, like “cat sniffing,” breathing in, feeling refreshed.

Fang Chen grumbled, “You got punched.”

Seth murmured, “Doesn’t hurt.”

For Seth, if Fang Chen was waiting for him, watching, his blood boiled, pain vanished.

Fang Chen was annoyed—why fight at all—but after the match, didn’t want to argue. He poked Seth, “Let’s go.”

Seth clung tighter, “No hurry.”

Seth still radiated post-fight heat, his heart feeling hollow, craving to fill it.

“When I used to fight here, I’d prepare a reward to motivate myself.”

His voice was rough, “Sometimes a junk meal, sometimes booze…
I’d tell myself: fight harder, win, then you get the prize.”

At first Fang Chen thought he was reminiscing, but the vibe grew dangerous, cold sweat creeping.

He stammered, “W-wait, why talk about this… Seth, let’s go…”

“Baby, you’re so obedient.”
Seth interrupted, rubbing Fang Chen’s ear with his lips.

“If you wait here for me, watching from the window, I get so excited.
I want to win even faster, come back and claim my prize.”

The last words came as Seth bit Fang Chen’s ear lightly, just enough to feel.

“Baby, you’re my prize.”

At that, Fang Chen was crushed—not just nervous, but devastated. On the verge of tears, “No, I’m not—”

Seth snickered.

Holding him close, Seth rained wet kisses from ear to collarbone.

Fang Chen’s eyes were red, “You lied—you promised we’d go home after!”

Seth chuckled at Fang Chen’s tone.

He nuzzled Fang Chen, “Just a bite or two, then we’ll go—okay?”

Eat…
Eat what?
Weren’t they just fed?

Before he could react, Seth whispered in his ear, “Baby, lift your shirt up and bite it.”