Don't move for now.
Everything went smoothly until the sleeve was pulled down to the arm with a cast and bandages, which suddenly put Song Zicheng in a difficult position.
After trying for several minutes without success in getting his sleeve off, Song Zicheng appeared calm on the surface, but in reality, he was starting to panic.
Lu Zhiyan remained calm and composed, not speaking, but simply watching Song Zicheng quietly. He noticed the slight redness on the tip of Song Zicheng's ear and inexplicably found it extremely cute. As if possessed, he reached out his left hand and slowly rubbed the red tip of Song Zicheng's ear.
Song Zicheng, who was engrossed in unbuttoning his sleeves, was startled by Lu Zhiyan's small, sudden movement. He didn't look up, but quickened his pace. When Lu Zhiyan seemed to have had enough, he said, "Just cut it open with scissors."
As soon as Lu Zhiyan finished speaking, Song Zicheng immediately stopped what he was doing, quickly turned around, and went to the kitchen to get a pair of scissors.
This handmade Italian brand shirt was reduced to a single sleeve in Song Zicheng's hands with scissors. Looking at the sleeve he had cut off, Song Zicheng thought to himself: What a waste.
If simply taking off his clothes had already made Song Zicheng tense, then what followed made him even more overwhelmed, his brows furrowed the entire time, and he was on the verge of collapse.
The spacious bathroom gradually warmed up with the steam from the hot water. The air was filled with smoke, and the visibility was low, but Song Zicheng could still see Lu Zhiyan clearly in front of him. Never before had he thought that his eyesight didn't actually need to be this good.
Although the two had been intimate in bed before and had done the most intimate things, there shouldn't have been anything wrong with helping each other take a bath. But the key point is that Lu Zhiyan's guy started to raise his head the moment Song Zicheng took off his clothes.
It was alright when there were clothes between them, but now that the naked body was right in front of Song Zicheng's eyes, he sighed deeply, closed his eyes, steeled his resolve, and told himself to be like a puppet and resolve the matter as quickly as possible.
The moment his hand touched Lu Zhiyan's skin, his fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly. He tried to regulate his breathing, trying not to look so disheveled.
On the other side, Lu Zhiyan was the complete opposite. His heavy and rapid breathing slowly reached Song Zicheng's ears. He felt that what was moving over his body was not Song Zicheng's hand, but a flame that was gradually igniting him.
His physical desires grew increasingly unbearable. Lu Zhiyan squinted at the person in front of him, mindful of his newly fractured arm. He didn't go too far, but instead grabbed Song Zicheng's right hand and guided him to feel the heat and warmth emanating from it.
Although they were both hands, Song Zicheng's hand was stimulating enough that Lu Zhiyan gasped the moment it touched him, letting out a low, intriguing gasp.
Song Zicheng, who had intended to finish washing up quickly, was genuinely surprised by this turn of events. The moment his hand touched Lu Zhiyan, he was truly taken aback. Not only was it too sudden, but more importantly, he still couldn't get used to Lu Zhiyan's astonishing size.
"Faster, faster, faster!"
Lu Zhiyan's voice, filled with intense lust and low moans, echoed in the bathroom. At the moment of climax, Song Zicheng's hands were covered in lukewarm liquid. In the dry north, Song Zicheng's hands were sticky and hot, which was inconsistent with his usual demeanor.
Lu Zhiyan took a shower again and again, a full hour later, before emerging from the bathroom looking radiant. Following closely behind, Song Zicheng had a flushed face that seemed out of place for the season. He walked along, twirling his wrists and occasionally wiggling the corners of his mouth.
Lu Zhiyan stopped just before entering the master bedroom. He turned around and said, "Don't move yet. Wait until my arm is better before you leave. This is your responsibility."
Song Zicheng ignored him, and Lu Zhiyan didn't care, tacitly agreeing. The moment the master bedroom door closed, Song Zicheng was still standing there in a daze, not knowing whether he hadn't recovered from Lu Zhiyan's words or from what had just happened in the bathroom.
The moving plan had to be put on hold for the time being. Lu Zhiyan paid him the rent for the next month for no reason. Song Zicheng accepted the money without any hesitation or embarrassment.
With the final exams over, school matters for the semester have come to an end. There are still about two weeks before he goes back to his hometown for the Chinese New Year, so the plan to move has been temporarily abandoned. He now spends his days in the apartment acting as a caregiver and nanny.
Lu Zhiyan's arm injury was not minor. Logically speaking, finding a professional nurse with a medical background to take care of him would be much more effective and help him recover as soon as possible. Song Zicheng had mentioned it to him once before, and Lu Zhiyan only replied that he was willing.
Song Zicheng didn't say anything more. Since Lu Zhiyan had said so, he would just do his job well so that everyone would be happy and to reduce some unnecessary trouble.
Aside from having plenty of high-protein, calcium-rich foods in the refrigerator, milk and fruit readily available throughout the house, and having to dress, undress, and wash Lu Zhiyan every day, nothing has changed since before.
There was one exception: Song Zicheng had a dispute over how to eat.
After Lu Zhiyan fractured his bone, he rested at home for a few days, handling most of the company's affairs online. After Song Zicheng finished preparing lunch, he knocked on the study door, and the three of them sat down at the dining table, the atmosphere rather strained.
Song Zicheng placed a bowl of soybean and pork bone soup in front of Lu Zhiyan. He even brought a spoon, but when he sat down to eat, Lu Zhiyan remained seated and motionless.
Song Zicheng noticed but didn't immediately look up to check. He didn't want to meddle, but he sensed a gaze fixed on him. He closed his eyes, took a sip of soup, slowly raised his head, and asked perfunctorily, "What's wrong?"
Lu Zhiyan didn't speak, but tilted his chin slightly and pointed to his right arm. Song Zicheng immediately understood what he meant, but he pretended not to know. At this moment, his good younger brother Song Zian spoke up: "Brother, Uncle Lu's arm is injured, so he can't eat by himself."
After Song Zian finished speaking, he and Lu Zhiyan exchanged a smile, as if they had conspired together and planned it in advance. In a corner unknown to Song Zicheng, Song Zian and Lu Zhiyan had already colluded and were so familiar with each other that it surprised him.
Under the watchful eyes of the two, Song Zicheng had no choice but to grit his teeth, adjust the chair to a crooked position, and feed Lu Zhiyan with a soup bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.
The person being fed seemed to enjoy it. Lu Zhiyan's eyes and mouth lifted slightly, a barely perceptible hint of pleasure in his expression. He lowered his gaze and took in every detail of Song Zicheng's every move.
When it comes to feeding others, Song Zicheng has done it before. He personally fed Song Zian when he was hospitalized, and even at other times, when his younger brother complained that he was so tired, Song Zicheng would feed him with a doting look on his face.
But that was his younger brother, a child. The man in front of him, nearing thirty, exuded an aura that was incredibly intimidating, even in casual home clothes.
And he himself was feeding Lu Zhiyan spoonful by spoonful under his gaze. Song Zicheng did not look into Lu Zhiyan's eyes the whole time; his gaze only lingered between the bowl and Lu Zhiyan's mouth.
Aside from saying the taste was alright, Lu Zhiyan didn't say anything more. The quiet environment made the atmosphere particularly awkward, yet also unusually warm and harmonious.
Although Lu Zhiyan's dominant right hand was injured, his desires did not diminish; on the contrary, they became more intense and frequent during his recovery period.
The marks on Song Zicheng's body never disappeared. Even when he tried to persuade him with kind words and alarmist talk, Lu Zhiyan ignored him and instead intensified his efforts, making Song Zicheng take the initiative himself.
Song Zicheng was unwilling, so Lu Zhiyan started his usual rant again. He just wanted to scare Song Zicheng, but the speaker didn't take it seriously, while the listener remembered it.
It turns out that the nearly one month of peaceful coexistence was all an illusion. Lu Zhiyan was still the same Lu Zhiyan, willing to do anything to achieve his goals. Song Zicheng had thought that Lu Zhiyan would improve after seeing how well he and Song Zian got along these past few days, but he was just overthinking it.
Song Zicheng's slightly increased understanding and appreciation of Lu Zhiyan abruptly reversed, returning to square one, or even worse than before.
"In a bad mood?" Lu Zhiyan, who was sitting on the sofa reading a book, noticed that the movement on his shoulder was getting slower and slower, and the strength was getting weaker and weaker.
With his head down and a silent expression, Song Zicheng didn't say anything, but he started massaging Song's shoulders again.
After a minute or two of silence, Song Zicheng said, "I'm taking Zian back to my hometown for the Chinese New Year in a couple of days."
Lu Zhiyan, who was about to turn the page, stopped abruptly, seemingly surprised by Song Zicheng's words: "Back to Anhui?"
"yes."
Do you still have relatives over there?
"No, but Uncle Jiang is more than family to me."
Uncle Jiang is Jiang Yuebai's father, Jiang Yang. They have known each other since college, when they were roommates and classmates. After graduation, they became teachers at the same school and have known each other for nearly thirty years.
During the time when Song Zicheng's parents passed away, Jiang Yang was busy taking care of everything, and even in the past three years, he has helped him from time to time.
“We have to take Zian home to visit every year. Recently, Zian told me that he often dreams about the past and misses his parents.”
Song Zicheng spoke these words in a very low voice. Although he tried his best to hide it, the sadness and depression in his voice were still revealed. He stared blankly ahead, and only blinked once in a long while, as if he was deeply immersed in memories.
Lu Zhiyan couldn't bring herself to say what she was about to say. In all the time she had known Song Zicheng, even during their first time in bed, Song Zicheng had never looked so lost and pained.
He had previously asked Cui Junyu to investigate, and according to hearsay, the terrible car accident seemed to have been caused by Song Zicheng. As a result, Song Zicheng was depressed for a long time afterward and even consulted a psychologist.
Song Zicheng deliberately tries not to think about many things, but as soon as life gives him a chance to catch his breath, he will uncontrollably think about what happened in the past. So he keeps himself busy every day, as if keeping busy will automatically block out those sad things from his brain.
The weather was fine that day, with not a cloud in the sky.
Perhaps it was the perfect time for summer vacation, as cars streamed by on the road. Song Zicheng and Song Zian squatted near the gas station, watching the passing cars with nothing to do.
"Brother, why haven't Dad and the others come back yet?" Song Zian asked, pouting as he waited anxiously, holding a small pebble in his hand.
"The shop that sells sour fish soup isn't far away, I should be back soon."
No sooner had those words been spoken than a loud crash echoed through the intersection.
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