Mo Du (默读) - Silent Reading

Verhovensky I

Luo Wenzhou himself ordinarily lived in the guest room—because the guest room and its bathroom were the closest to the front door, so if he slept late in the morning, he could discharge the whole mission of dusting cat hair off his face, getting dressed, and washing up within two minutes.

So when, using the master bedroom as a guest room, he carried in fresh bedding to lay out for Fei Du, Fei Du evidently got the wrong impression.

Luo Wenzhou hadn’t yet straightened up when a familiar Mu Xiang scent came up from behind him. Then he was hugged from behind, one very badly behaved hand hooking around his waist, the other hand lightly brushing past his neck and pressing his lips; then there was a breath at his ear.

Luo Wenzhou’s ear buzzed. His body didn’t wait for instructions; without authorization, it was already half on fire. He grabbed Fei Du’s wrist, thinking his own palm was so hot it was humiliating.

Luo Wenzhou said, “Don’t mess around.”

Fei Du had discovered long ago that Luo Wenzhou couldn’t resist Mu Xiang, especially when there was only a tail-end left of it, so before leaving the hospital, he’d especially had his assistant bring over a bottle. Now, he turned a deaf ear on Luo Wenzhou’s weak resistance, obligingly letting him grab his wrist, licking the back of his neck. “Shixiong, you’re pretending to be a saint.”

Luo Wenzhou shivered. He was caught off guard when Fei Du pushed the backs of his knees, pushing him onto the quilt he’d just spread out.

Fei Du’s freshly-washed hair was wet, water droplets gathering at the ends, glittering in the dim light of the bedside lamp, dazzling. A droplet suddenly took shape and dripped down. Luo Wenzhou’s throat rolled with it.

Fei Du, with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, added, “Though I like your type of ‘pretend saint’ that shows the wolf into the house. You must taste very good.”

“Get off.” Like a Chinese soft-shelled turtle, Luo Wenzhou was internally hot and bothered but still reached out a hand to push him. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Just out of the hospital and you’re courting death?”

Fei Du had seen that the enemy’s will to resist was very half-hearted. He let him push, not dodging away. As expected, Luo Wenzhou’s strength was no greater than Luo Yiguo’s. He only gave a light shove. Fei Du didn’t retreat, so Luo Wenzhou’s hand on his chest changed its meaning; it seemed he wasn’t refusing but taking advantage.

Luo Wenzhou felt Fei Du’s heartbeat. He’d heard that it had stopped once, so when Fei Du had just gotten out of the ICU, he’d been unable to resist listening to Fei Du’s heart, thinking that he’d have done anything to make that weak and sluggish heartbeat liven up again.

…Now that it had livened up, Luo Wenzhou was somewhat regretful, wanting to eat his words from back then.

As he was lost in thought, Fei Du came close. All the muscles in Luo Wenzhou’s body suddenly tensed, and his breath caught.

Fei Du first faintly touched the corner of his lips. Then, with a trace of huskiness, he said like a sigh, “If I’m courting death, dying in bed with you would be a fine ending.”

Luo Wenzhou really didn’t want to hear the word “dying”. His countenance instantly changed. “Stop talking…”

The poor rebuke “stop talking nonsense” hadn’t made it out when Fei Du sealed his mouth.

This time there was a faint taste of lemon between the lips and teeth—the new toothpaste he’d bought.

Fei Du demonstrated for him on the spot the “gift of gab” that could tie a cherry stem into a knot, stirring Luo Wenzhou, who’d firmly believed himself to be “free of distracting thoughts”, into a pot of porridge, boiling away his last bit of reason. By the time Luo Wenzhou came around, he was already helplessly kissing back. He subconsciously pressed Fei Du’s back, his hands escaping the control of his brain, starting to grope around on Fei Du’s body under the direction of a different organ… until he accidentally touched the back of Fei Du’s shoulder.