The two entered the house with difficulty. Shen Yun’s body was already wet with sweat, and his thin shirt was clinging to his body, faintly revealing the colour of his skin.

Zhou Lan’s gaze wandered up and down his body, like a lion inspecting his prey, with the aggression in his eyes that he couldn’t hide.

Panting, Shen Yun helped Zhou Lan to the bed. Before he could stand up straight, he was pulled into Zhou Lan’s arms.

Separated by two thin layers of clothing, their skin was warm and pressed together.

The faint scent of milk on Shen Yun’s body mixed with the smell of tobacco rushed into Zhou Lan’s nostrils, and his body temperature rose rapidly.

He didn’t care about the stomach pain, breathing heavily and reaching out to undo Shen Yun’s buttons.

The tiny buttons slipped from his fingers, revealing Shen Yun’s delicate clavicle. Zhou Lan lowered his head, trying to take these two collarbones into his mouth.

A stabbing pain in his stomach caused him to let out an “ouch”. His powerful arms loosened, his eyes glaring resentfully at Shen Yun.

Shen Yun pushed him back, looked into his eyes and said seriously, “Take the medicine first.”

Zhou Lan’s face was already pale with pain, but he was still reluctant to let go. He missed this person too much, or missed this body too much.

Missed the face that was tortured by desire and restraint when he was stoically pressed under him but was so aroused that he couldn’t control himself.

So addictive.

Shen Yun broke free from him, went to pour a glass of water, and then carefully read the drug instructions under the lamp.

His eyes were downcast, his brows frowned slightly, and his long black eyelashes blocked his eyes; like a student studying seriously.

Zhou Lan looked at him in silence, and then his eyelashes finally flapped gently like butterfly wings. He raised his eyes, squeezed out two pills and fed them to Zhou Lan’s mouth.

Zhou Lan obediently swallowed the pills, and then stretched out his hand to pull him into his arms.

Shen Yun felt amused and angry again, and propped up his body: “I’ll make you something to eat.”

He poked his stomach. Zhou Lan frowned in pain, his lips pursed into a thin line, his expression cold.

Shen Yun blinked with a smile, turned around and went downstairs.

It wasn’t until his figure disappeared that Zhou Lan raised the corners of his lips, pale-faced, and silently spat out two words: “Little brat.”

Zhou Lan leaned against the head of the bed; his sense of hearing and smell had become unusually sensitive.

In the silence, a little sound of pots and pans came, hitting his eardrums, letting him know that Shen Yun was busy for him.

Wisps of fragrance floated up, making his nostrils flutter and his stomach ache even more severely.

Then there was the sound of bowls and chopsticks, and Shen Yun’s footsteps came from downstairs, getting closer and closer.

Shen Yun brought a bowl of vegetable noodles with a poached egg lying on it, and a little sesame oil was on it, emitting a seductive aroma.

With a cigarette between his rosy lips, he came to the bed and handed the noodle bowl to Zhou Lan, and said, pointing with his eyes: “Eat.”

Zhou Lan, however, looked into his eyes without moving, consistently commanding, consistently oppressive.

Shen Yun curved up the corners of his lips, pulled out a chair and sat by the bed, picked up a few noodles with chopsticks, and placed them at Zhou Lan’s lips.

Neither of them spoke, looking at each other.

Shen Yun tilted his head slightly; the cigarette in the corner of his lips flickered, a wisp of white smoke escaping from time to time, making him look strangely well-behaved.

Zhou Lan couldn’t help but lower his head and slightly raise the corners of his lips.

Shen Yun looked at his expression and narrowed his eyes. His hand holding the chopsticks was a little sore.

Zhou Lan finally bowed his head and ate the noodles graciously. The noodles were fragrant and soft, but when he sucked in the noodles, the soup splashed a little bit on Shen Yun’s shirt, and the white shirt was immediately stained with two light-coloured stains.

Shen Yun blinked, and when he went to pick up the noodles again, he rolled up the noodles a little bit with chopsticks before delivering them to Zhou Lan’s mouth.

Rolling and rolling; Shen Yun was actually fascinated.

He suddenly remembered the lights in Xiao Bo’s bar. What would happen if they were replaced with this rolled noodles-like design?

Thinking about it, he pursed his lips and smiled.

Zhou Lan asked curiously: “What are you laughing at?”

Shen Yun raised his eyes and shook the rolled noodles in his hand: “I was thinking about designing a lamp like this, it would be very interesting.”

When Shen Yun said that, his bright eyes were smiling, and he thought Zhou Lan might also find it interesting.

But Zhou Lan’s originally soft expression hardened instead.

He was thinking of Shen Yun, but Shen Yun was thinking of a lamp.

Seeing his nasty look, Shen Yun couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

But outwardly, he delivered the noodles to Zhou Lan’s lips even more flatteringly. Who knew that Zhou Lan would turn his head and say, “I won’t eat it anymore!”

Shen Yun looked at Zhou Lan’s fickle face, didn’t say anything, got up and went downstairs to wash the dishes and chopsticks.

He sat on the window sill and smoked. The summer wind blew very comfortably, making him feel drowsy.

He was actually very tired and wanted to get a good night’s sleep, but he was afraid of the bed.

It was difficult to see the stars in the sky of the city, but tonight you could actually see a few twinkling stars far away.

Zhou Lan leaned against the head of the bed, thinking about something, and neither of them spoke.

Each was immersed in his own thoughts.

On the contrary, Shen Yun gradually enjoyed this atmosphere.

Although the two people were in the same environment, they seemed to be in two worlds.

They didn’t interfere with each other and didn’t even understand each other.

If there was no sense of crisis that surrounded them at all times, it could simply be said to be perfect.

But it didn’t matter; he exhaled a puff of smoke, and his eyes were dark. Nothing mattered.

“Come here.” Finally, Zhou Lan broke the silence.

Shen Yun stubbed out his cigarette and walked to the bedside.

Zhou Lan pulled him into his arms; he could feel Shen Yun’s taut nerves.

He stroked his back, but his fingers were undoing his buttons one by one, and the milky white clam meat finally slowly appeared in front of him.

Shen Yun said softly: “Your stomach…”

Zhou Lan had said at the celebration banquet: “Who said I want to fuck you? So self-centred? So horny?”

The words seemed to be still ringing in his ears, but Shen Yun didn’t plan to refute him with anything; he thought it was too boring.

In the end, it was him who suffered anyway.

“I can’t move, you can move.” Zhou Lan’s voice was low and dull as he pressed his head between his legs.

Shen Yun instantly understood what he wanted him to do.

He struggled, but he couldn’t get rid of the hand that was pressing on the top of his head. That hand was as hard as steel, bending his spine little by little.

His technique was jerky and pitiful.

But it brought Zhou Lan great excitement.

This kind of jerkiness, rejection and forbearance gave him the feeling that he was unique.

There was not much physical pleasure, but the psychological pleasure made him tremble slightly.

His fingers were inserted into Shen Yun’s soft and warm hair, and he pressed down uncontrollably.

Shen Yun felt that he was almost suffocating, the thing in his throat blocking his breathing, causing him to spasm in pain.

With this spasm, Zhou Lan released.

Shen Yun bulged his cheeks and raised his head. His cheeks were abnormally flushed, the corners of his eyes were crimson, wet, almost dripping with tears.

It was a kind of sexy vulnerability, so fragile that he seemed to break with a single touch.

He wanted to get out of bed to spit out what was in his mouth, but Zhou Lan held him down.

Shen Yun looked at him through the mist of tears and narrowed his eyes.

Zhou Lan also looked at him, firmly and persistently, gently kneading his waist, as if to relieve the sense of vulnerability revealed in him.

Shen Yun finally lowered his eyes and obediently swallowed what was in his mouth.

Zhou Lan watched his movements with his heart swirling, and some pity rippled in his heart.

A bit of cloudy white spilled out from the corner of the bright red lips, and Zhou Lan gently wiped it away with his fingers.

Then he put his fingers into Shen Yun’s mouth, gently probed his soft tongue, and pressed into his soft throat.

Shen Yun turned his head sideways and pursed his lips, his mouth moist and shiny, smeared with Zhou Lan’s wetness.

He rolled to the other side of the large bed, closed his eyes, panting sharply, his eyelashes wet.

Zhou Lan stretched out his hand to catch him, and Shen Yun begged weakly: “Let me sleep for a while. I just stayed up all night yesterday.”

While talking, he nervously groped for the cigarette again.

Shen Yun held a cigarette between his fingers, but his eyelashes were heavy and trembling.

Zhou Lan gently rubbed his soft hair, and all his affection and desire turned into pity. He asked softly, “Why don’t you drink anymore?”

Shen Yun gently exhaled a mouthful of smoke: “Drink? Didn’t I drink?”

His brain was a little slow to react. He thought carefully for a while, smiled and said, “My drinking capacity is not good, so I drink less. I remember hearing people say before that drinking shouldn’t exceed six points of drunkenness, eating shouldn’t exceed seven points of fullness, and loving someone shouldn’t exceed eight points of affection. It makes sense.”

Shen Yun was about to fall asleep; he stubbed out his cigarette and closed his eyes.

Zhou Lan’s words reached his ears through the haze: “Then does your lover only have eight points of your love?”

He still remembered to smile in a daze, the smile like a mask that had grown to his face.

He replied softly, without even thinking about it: “I, ah, don’t love anyone, and don’t want to love…”

The words that followed sank into silence.

Zhou Lan looked at the person curled up in his arms. The book said that people who slept in this position were extremely insecure.

He hugged this person tighter and listened to his steady breathing.

His stomach, close to the heart, was hurting a bit.

Shen Yun fell asleep, and the smile on his face was gone, revealing his tiredness.

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