Chapter 9
It was almost dawn when I got off the plane and returned home.
Shang Mu was so sleepy that he collapsed on the sofa as soon as he got home. Zhou Wangchuan knew that his guard was at its lowest at this time, so he asked, "Why are you in a bad mood? Did you encounter any difficulties at work?"
The man, who was already sleepy, opened his eyes immediately upon hearing this, and squinted them with a certain alertness: "No."
Zhou Wangchuan looked at him quietly: "Oh?"
"Did I say that?" Shang Mu scratched his hair irritably. "Even if I did, I can handle it myself. I don't need your help."
"Okay." Zhou Wangchuan patted his shoulder soothingly, "Go to sleep."
On an early autumn night, the bright moon is like frost, the wind is like water, and the air is filled with a faint, moist floral scent, making it very easy to fall asleep.
The person next to him was sleeping soundly with one of his arms around him, but Zhou Wangchuan couldn't fall asleep.
His sleep schedule was incredibly regular: a one-hour nap and eight hours of sleep every night. He went to bed at 11 p.m. and woke up at 7 a.m., no more, no less. He'd gotten some sleep on the plane, but now he couldn't fall asleep.
Zhou Wangchuan gently pulled his arm out, and the person next to him immediately grumbled in dissatisfaction. He took the long caterpillar pillow from the bedside and stuffed it into the other person's arms, and the restless person calmed down.
"So good." Zhou Wangchuan smiled silently and stroked the sleeping eyes.
He tiptoed out of the bedroom and closed the door. He first cleaned the living room and swept the dust off the floor. Then he put the clothes in the dirty laundry basket into the washing machine, added detergent and blotting paper, and set it to start at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning.
After doing this, he changed the direction of the flowers on the balcony so that the leaves on the shady side could also get some sunlight.
After finishing tidying the living room bookshelf, he glanced and noticed a small goldfish lying in the laundry basket. It was delicately carved, with beautiful blue eyes. Zhou Wangchuan thought it was Shang Mu's phone pendant or a handicraft, so he picked it up and placed it on the coffee table.
Unexpectedly, as soon as he touched it with his fingers, a sound came out from it, which was particularly clear in the silent night.
“…Last night’s live broadcast was fantastic.”
"...If you practice with me once, you should know the value of the film in my hands. If I want to make someone famous, it will be as easy as pie."
"Are you threatening me?"
It turns out this is a voice recorder.
Listening to the voice inside, Zhou Wangchuan slowly frowned. He finally understood why Shang Mu was in a bad mood.
He went to the computer in his study to look up some information and figured out the whole story. But he felt that there was more to it than that. After thinking it over for a while, he called the Shishan Prison and confirmed another thing.
I see.
These two things combined are enough to explain Shang Mu's emotional outburst yesterday.
There was a rustling sound from the bedroom next door. Zhou Wangchuan turned off his computer and the door to the study was pushed open. Shang Mu stood at the door, yawning and covering his lips. He asked dazedly, "Why aren't you sleeping?"
Zhou Wangchuan looked at the tuft of hair sticking up on his head, his heart softened, and he asked, "Why are you awake? Did I wake you up?"
"The arm I was holding suddenly felt cold, and I woke up." Shang Mu walked towards him, his voice bleary with sleep, "What are you looking at?"
Zhou Wangchuan closed the book in his hand and showed him the cover: "Just flip through it."
After seeing the long string of difficult and obscure medical terms above, Shang Mu curled his lips in boredom and sat down on the armrest of the chair.
Zhou Wangchuan favored Ming-style furniture, and his entire study was decorated in a neo-Chinese style inspired by antiques. An entire wall of antique shelves, with a large plaque in the center reading "Virtue Bears All Things," a two-meter-long study table, a two-seater armchair, and a profusion of pretentious flowers and plants lining the walls.
Shang Muchang joked, "With this study, you can put on a fake beard and pretend to be a famous traditional Chinese medicine doctor."
The armrests of the armchair were very thin, only one or two centimeters wide, but Shang Mu felt very stable sitting on it, his waist was straight, his legs swaying, and he looked very leisurely.
"Why are you sitting so straight?"
Zhou Wangchuan put his arm around his waist and tried to pull him onto the chair, but Shang Mu broke free from his hand, hooked his legs around the armrest, and fell straight back, his shoulder resting on the other armrest. He raised his eyebrows in triumph.
His endurance was really good. With only his shoulders and knees as the support points, his body was stretched into a beautifully curved string, suspended in the air on the chair.
Zhou Wangchuan chuckled and reached out to pinch his waist. Shang Mu's eyes widened, and he instantly released his strength, and his back fell on Zhou Wangchuan's legs.
"Don't pinch my waist!"
"Why?" Zhou Wangchuan took a pillow and placed it under his neck. "Aren't you tired lying like this? Go back to your room and rest."
From this angle, Shang Mu could just see the fluttering gauze curtains, and the moon looked like frost flowers printed on the window, blurry and faint.
There was only a dim bamboo lamp on in the study, reflecting the frosty moon, and the atmosphere was unusually quiet and harmonious.
Zhou Wangchuan thought about the two things he had just learned, lowered his head and looked at the person in his arms, and said again: "If you encounter anything difficult to deal with, you can tell me."
"Did you tell me? Could you please stop asking?"
Shang Mu stretched out his finger, hooked the small brass handle of the desk drawer, and changed the subject: "What's in here? Why don't you let me see it? It's been locked for several years. When will you let me see it?"
Zhou Wangchuan held his troublesome hand and said with a smile: "Baby, you said you wouldn't ask again."
Shang Mu curled his lips: "Tsk, who cares."
"I haven't even asked what's locked in your drawer." Zhou Wangchuan smiled calmly, put his arm around his shoulders and pushed him in to prevent him from falling.
Each of them has a locked drawer, and neither of them knows what is in the other's drawer.
Under the quiet moonlight, there was silence for a moment.
After a while, Zhou Wangchuan reached out and held Shang Mu's right calf, stroking it gently and asking, "The weather is getting colder. Does your leg hurt?"
When Shang Mu was little, his father beat him to a bone in his right leg. After it healed, it wasn't visible, but it was palpable. He never mentioned it to anyone else; Zhou Wangchuan figured it out himself. During their first intimate encounter, both of them were quite inexperienced. Zhou Wangchuan felt Shang Mu's right leg bone and felt something was amiss, so he immediately questioned him. The doctor's hands were deft and accurate, leaving Shang Mu with no choice but to claim it was a childhood fall.
"It's been fine for a long time." Shang Mu kicked his legs nonchalantly and yawned with his hands covering his lips.
Zhou Wangchuan rubbed his hair and said, "Go to bed."
"And you?"
"I want to read for a while."
"Then I'll be here too." Shang Mu gradually became sleepy. He moved his waist slightly and forced himself to look at him with hazy eyes. "Touch your belly."
Zhou Wangchuan bent down and kissed his forehead, then reached out and stroked his belly, using the same movements as when he stroked Si Xi.
Shang Mu closed his eyes comfortably, snuggled into Zhou Wangchuan's arms with great enjoyment, and his consciousness gradually became blurred.
The two had experienced this countless times before—after an argument over a practice, he'd leave home on the pretext of a business trip, and Zhou Wangchuan would find him and take him home. The previous arguments would fade away during the journey, and the two would enjoy a brief moment of sweetness until the next practice.
Repeat countless times.
Before falling asleep, Shang Mu thought vaguely that he didn't know how long it would last this time.
The person in his arms fell asleep peacefully, and Zhou Wangchuan gently stroked her soft hair. He looked at the closed computer on the table, his eyes dark. Thinking of the recorder and Shishan Prison, he had already made a decision.
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