Archive of Our Own

The room lay shrouded in darkness, the blinds drawn tight, and the lamp resting dormant on the nightstand like a creature in slumber. Yet, in the quiet gloom, a faint glow flickered—casting soft illumination on the deep shadows beneath Chu Wanning’s tired phoenix eyes.

Cradled in his hands is his cellphone, its screen aglow with the image of two unclothed young men. One of them was vibrant and full of color, his beauty striking and wild, a glint of rebellion shining from the piercing in his lip. The other stood in contrast: a little taller, broad-shouldered, handsome in a quiet, unassuming way. Stoic, yet harboring a heart far too big. They were having sex for the first time. Chu Wanning scoffs, his fingers tightening around the bed sheets as his thumb slides across the screen. With his heart beating fast, he keeps reading Neon Sign Amber. His fifth time through, and still it stirred something in him.

How pathetic , he thinks harshly. A man in his mid thirties, and yet he still found himself blushing and…and shamefully bodily reacting at foolish love stories—aching for something that had always been just out of reach. However, this is all he had. Reading stacks of yaoi manga and danmei novels filled his heart in a way little else could. He might be a man of few words, known for his foul temper and a tongue as sharp as broken glass—always bristling, always on the defensive and swaying away his claws. But beneath that armor, he had always been, since boyhood, a hopeless romantic. And more than that, unfortunately, he was just like any other human being and was weak when it came to the flesh. He carried desires, dark and unruly, that refused to be silenced. This, then, was his refuge. His quiet rebellion. A way to soothe the hunger gnawing at his heart. 

When the weight of loneliness pressed too heavily on his chest, when he felt starved for even the faintest trace of affection, a tender, heartbreaking love story was his comfort of choice. But on nights when his thoughts turned unspeakable—restless, unrestrained—he sought out something far more carnal, shameless in its indulgence. Something that could make him feel that certain type of warmth.

Simple as that.

Chu Wanning finishes the final page and closes the app with a quiet sigh, turning off his phone and setting it gently on the nightstand, as silence folds softly around him. He decides it is time to buy the physical copy of the manga. It would soon be the end of the month and he would get his paycheck, so there’d be no issue. Well, no, actually there is one small hitch. There isn’t a single inch of space left on his overflowing shelf.

His gaze drifts instinctively to the right, landing on the shelf where his treasured yaoi collection rested. The Tian Guan Ci Fu novels were his most recent indulgence, he bought all of the volumes and the simplified version, which he had to read soon, neatly placed just above the row of dolls and acrylic standees. Ah, to have a husband like Hua Cheng, someone who, without a word of complaint, would build Chu Wanning a brand-new shelf in less than a day.

Instead, he has been condemned to a quiet unrequited love for someone almost ten years his junior. A stupidly handsome man who not only shared his apartment, but had once sat before him as his student. Although, well, he couldn't ask for help in this situation either, as he would rather stab himself than let Mo Ran into his room or even make him a part of his hobbie.

Of course, this little habit of his was a secret kept under lock and key. One he had never shared with anyone, and never intended to.

No one could ever know that the esteemed Yuheng, the strictest and most revered teacher at Sisheng Peak, holder of three master’s degrees and a PhD, was, in truth, a fudanshi who secretly longed to be taken and dominated, just like the ukes in his cherished fiction. But it wasn’t his fault at all. Back then, he had only been searching for a simple online quiz to figure out if he was gay—until an indecent banner ad in the site lured him in and never let go.

Chu Wanning shut his eyes furiously, counting to ten in an effort to steady his racing thoughts, seething with frustration. It is well past three in the morning; the best course of action now would be to sleep, to silence the chaos in his mind. He should stop dwelling on such foolish things.

Tomorrow, he could make a list of feasible options for acquiring a new shelf.

And when morning came…

With his hair tousled and his loose nightclothes offering little more than a shield against the May chill, Chu Wanning sits in the kitchen. He had been summoned there, reluctantly, by force. The entire apartment is filled with the delicate scent of floral incense mingling with the rich aroma of freshly cooked food, exquisite, like a carefully crafted scene. A bowl brimming with freshly prepared mantou, another filled with sautéed lotus root glazed in sweet and sour sauce, and a serving of delicate tangyuan—all of it cooked with care by the very man responsible for his constant cardiac arrhythmias.

From across the counter, Mo Ran places plate after plate onto the marble surface, completely unconcerned that his broad, muscular chest was on display, or that his biceps flexed with a scorchingly raw power with every movement. He even pays no mind to the unruly trail of dark hair that led from his navel, disappearing just inside the waistband of his sweatpants. No decency, no shame.

“I’ve never made mantou this large before...I hope they’re cooked through properly,” the man in front of him says, a pout tugging at his lip.

He huffed. 

At twenty-five, Mo Ran had only grown more striking, his allure impossible to ignore. Too lascivious, too ruggedly masculine to look at. Like a respectable gong in a wuxia tale, he had transformed from a playful, youthful trainee into a battle-hardened commander, his powerful frame and chiseled body the envy of many. Chu Wanning grips a plump mantou, squeezing it tightly as he shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly with half-lidded eyes. To be honest, he was still groggy, the remnants of sleep clinging to him. 

“Are they tasty?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking at Mo Ran. “If you see me eating it, then don’t ask stupid questions like that,” he replies, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “They taste good.”

If only Chu Wanning could be the ethereal, captivating shou of this man’s wuxia story, his skin like silk, glowing with an almost otherworldly radiance, his face soft and round, an invitation for admiration from every gaze. But no, he was far from that ideal: a man well past his prime, his appearance far from handsome. His skin was ugly and dry, too rough; his frame too tall and his facial features too sharp to ever be considered a delicate blooming flower. Even now, freshly awake and shoving food into his mouth like a starving man, he surely appeared a complete wreck—horrible. 

Someone like Mo Ran could never want him. Of course not. Least of all desire him carnally.

Still…

Not even a heaping bowl of sweet and sour lotus root could dull his mind or stop the dirty drift of his thoughts. Just yesterday’s evening, he’d lost himself in a story just like this where two men, in a cramped kitchen not unlike his own, kissed like they were dying for it. Chu Wanning gives his head a firm shake and keeps eating, refusing to acknowledge the muscular presence that had just settled beside him. Of course Mo Ran would come for breakfast; naturally, he'd sit down on the counter sooner or later. Still, Chu Wanning angles himself carefully, ensuring their knees never touch one another, eyes fixed with exaggerated interest on the marble countertop. Stupid yaoi, he thinks bitterly. If only life were ever that easy and lovely.

“Laoshi, will you be busy today?”

He doesn’t respond, but his gaze flickers sideways, catching the younger man in the corner of his eye. Weekends are usually reserved for preparation, drafting lesson plans and arranging his schedule, but with the semester drawing to an end, there’s little left to prepare. And so, Chu Wanning is very unoccupied today. 

“Mengmeng and Shi Mei want to go to the movies this afternoon, so I was wondering…” Mo Ran rambles, his chin resting on his palm. And, for some unknown reason, he seems nervous. “If you wanted to come with us? You know, just to have some fun.”

“I hate watching movies” 

“Oh…”

“You should go enjoy yourself with them. I’ll stay home.”

Damn, Chu Wanning just screwed up again. 

His social skills are horrendously lacking. Instead of simply saying, “Yes, Mo Ran, I’d like to come with you,” he’d told that wretched little lie. Even so, perhaps it was for the best. Mo Ran and his friends were so young, too full of noise and energy. What place did he have among them? It was easier this way. He preferred the safety of formal, infrequent gatherings, where everyone knew their role and no one asked too much. 

Besides, he had a few DVDs waiting to be reviewed today. Yes—perhaps he’d made the right choice after all.

But Mo Ran doesn’t let the conversation end there. With his mouth full of mantou, he insisted on speaking again. "So, do you want me to bring something specific for dinner? I can stop by that bakery you like so much and buy something."

And again. “There's a new cake, they say it's very sweet and soft...it's shaped like a sakura flower.”

“If you want to buy it, go ahead. You don't need my permission.”

The man smiles, dimples blooming like two pretty buds and the pearls of his teeth gleaming like morning light breaking over the horizon, a striking contrast against his warm, caramel skin. Chu Wanning feels the tips of his ears flush with a mortifying heat. Embarrassing.

“It’s settled then,” he says. “I will bring the best cake just for you, Laoshi.”

“Mo Weiyu…” Chu Wanning mumbles under his breath, taking the last tangyuan. “Shut up and eat before it gets cold. Stop spurting such nonsense” 

‎˚₊⋅─── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ───⋅ ˚₊

The front of his shorts is damp and bulging, and even beneath the drape of sheets and the weight of his laptop, he’s acutely aware of it—the humid heat of his pleasure unmistakable, impossible to ignore. It’s so shameless. Chu Wanning clutches his headphones with tense hands, jaw clenched as he grits his teeth in a furious effort to keep himself contained. He must have truly lost his mind, slowly descended into madness. Loneliness has worn down his reasoning so thoroughly that, outside of his work, thinking with clarity feels like a distant, difficult thing to fulfill. 

With the whole campus now on vacation, since the semester ended a week ago, his days have grown quiet and unhurried. He has little to occupy himself with, and so, with no responsibilities aside from his personal projects, he turns to certain personal diversions in his free time. One of them is watching Mignon in the solitude of his messy room, taking advantage of the silence while his roommate is away at the gym.

So, for the context of his current situation…

Mignon is a relatively recent animation, which he came across on a recommendation thread within a forum tailored to fujoshis and fudanshis . Yes, he is a member of said forum. Thus, as curious as one can naturally get, he wanted to give it an opportunity. Chu Wanning hadn’t anticipated the scenes would be so...overwhelming. It wasn’t merely the near-explicit portrayal of sex, he had seen far more indecent and unabashedly shameless Japanese animations before, but rather the unsettling familiarity of the protagonist that truly disarmed him.

Of imposing stature and a body carved in sunlit bronze, the protagonist radiated vitality and his incandescent smile only added to the allure. He was handsome, vigorous, and had an impeccably built, every inch of him defined by exaggerated musculature. And yet, what lingered in Chu Wanning’s mind wasn’t merely his appearance. It was also his demeanor: eager and almost childishly insistent. Like a cute puppy desperate for approval, striving to impress with boundless energy and unrelenting charm. Mignon reminded him far too much of Mo Ran.

“…” 

Witnessing this character embroiled in such a shameless scenario with an older man, with a skin just as pale and equally sharp-tongued and reserved, very reminiscent of himself, was enough to make Chu Wanning’s heart skip a beat in his chest. He presses his thighs together and stifles a broken sigh. He knows he shouldn’t be reacting this way to an animation, but it's unavoidable. If only he could trade places with the vampire doctor and to be held voraciously by Mo Ran. But of course, such things would never happen.

‘Wanning…’ a voice whispers in his ear.

‘Do you think you are better than others?’ It is a mixture of the past and something far deeper than any memories, rooted in the very core of his pathetic lust. ‘Chu Wanning…you’re going to regret every word you’ve said, do you think you’re so tough? ’

His legs shifted, rubbing together with increasing urgency, seeking any pressure to soothe the ache blooming between them. While his headphones spilled muffled whimpers and saccharine endearments, his mind swelled with something far more primal and raw. An unrelenting hunger.

‘Maybe if I fuck you, you'll learn to use that pretty mouth of yours for more than spitting bullshit ” 

Finally surrendering, one hand let the laptop slip from his lap, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. Perhaps, Chu Wanning had developed a taste for degradation.

‘So ridiculous’ 

After all, words like those were all he had ever known from Mo Ran in the past, back when they were teacher and student, locked in a dynamic as difficult as it was unbalanced. Mo Ran had resented him deeply, sometimes even openly. And so, even now, years later and long after they had resolved their differences and grown close enough to share a home for the sake of frugality—Chu Wanning still couldn’t bring himself to imagine that voice speaking softly to him, let alone holding him with anything resembling tenderness. He doesn't deserve it.

‘I’ll fill you so well that all you’ll be able to do is moan my name’ Besides, this is part of Chu Wanning’s darkest desires.

Instead of gripping his throbbing erection and stroking it, his fingers moved past his balls and sought out his puckered entrance. Without much deliberation, he forces a finger inside, the only thing he dared to put there, and moans softly.

Chu Wanning fingers himself fast, taking advantage of the fact that a bit of pre-cum has rolled down that area of his body, and stares at his laptop screen. The device no longer rests within easy reach, yet he can still make out the fluid cadence of the character’s bodies, moving in perfect synchrony to the dulcet symphony of their voices tinted with pleasure. He whimpers and imagines that those fingers aren't his, that Mo Ran is the one caressing him just like Mignon touches the doctor in that tape. If only he hadn’t made himself so detestable that semester. If only he had been a better teacher. Maybe then, Mo Ran wouldn’t have hated his presence with such visible disdain. Not that it would change the actual truth; he’s awkward, severe, and old. But maybe, just maybe, Chu Wanning wouldn’t feel this crushing weight in his chest even while touching himself in the dark at some yaoi shit.

Tilting his head back against the bed frame, Chu Wanning presses his lips into a thin line, willing the tangle of emotions to smooth themselves into something bearable. Then, with practiced detachment, he resumes his task.

As thrilled and aroused as he is, Chu Wanning lasts very little and shamelessly pours his climax into his shorts. He didn’t even have to touch his member.

“M-Mo Ran…ngh” 

A few minutes later, the laptop screen fades to black, and silence settles heavily in his ears. The battery had died. With a scowl, Chu Wanning angrily snaps the device shut and pushes it further across the bed, angry at himself for being so weak. And then, the weight of the climax dawns on him. Reality returns, unflinching and cold.

“Ugh” he feels gross, his clothes are sticky. 

In short, he ought to shower and wash these shorts. As he puts his foot out of bed, his sole lands on a book. His haughty eyes, a little crystalline and tinged with weariness, swept over his surroundings. It is only then that he registers the mess: discarded clothes and scattered papers littering the floor, and every surface crowded with objects from his personal collection, intermingled with tools and remnants of half-finished mechanical projects. He grimaces. Chu Wanning should clean up. Or he could hire someone else to do it.

“As if…” he says to himself. 

That would be a foolish move.

If he brought someone in to clean, they’d touch his precious things, and that alone would unsettle him too much. Worse, they’d likely scoff at his hobbies. Best to leave it as it is; Chu Wanning is the only one who ever comes and goes from this room anyways. 

With that, he grabs a towel from a drawer and goes straight to the bathroom. Mo Ran could get home at any moment now, so he'd better hurry.

Hours later, Chu Wanning finds himself on the balcony, quietly tending to his flowers, when Mo Ran abruptly steps into his space, uninvited and far too close. 

Ever since the younger man returned from the gym, Chu Wanning had found it impossible to face him properly. Not after committing such an act in his name. For that, he'd kept to his room for quite a while, emerging only now since it is time to take care of his little “garden”. Lately, he sought to reclaim some semblance of order in his life, so he had crafted a rigid schedule in his gaudy My Melody diary—he actually finds it pretty—which was gift from Madam Wang on his last birthday.

“Laoshi, I missed you…”

Chu Wanning grips the watering can, and with a swift motion, he sharply slaps away the arm that had draped across his shoulders.

“Get the hell out” he says. “And don't keep calling me that, I'm not your laoshi anymore.”

Instead of getting the hell out, Mo Ran chuckles and wraps his arm around Chu Wanning’s shoulders once more, pressing his cheek against the side of his head. That boy—just as insufferably disrespectful as ever. This time, Chu Wanning can do nothing but blush and grunt through clenched teeth, feigning interest in the tulips before him as if their petals held the secrets of the universe. It must really be a lot of fun to tease an older man with anger issues, otherwise, why would Mo Ran insist so much.

“So what should I call you, just Wanning ?”

“Mo Weiyu…”

Mo Ran dares to laugh again. “Why are you so angry, Wanning? Ah, that sounds just right… Wanning ”

Chu Wanning felt his heart constrict and race with an unsettling excitement, such a naive and useless thing, his mind conjuring memories born from his own fantasies. Flustered, he twists in Mo Ran’s arms, attempting to break free. When that fails, he quickly tries to recompose his stoical facade, though the effort felt hollow. He hadn’t anticipated the man being so audacious, pressing Chu Wanning against his broad and muscular chest, right there beneath the beautiful summer sun. What in the cliche manga world is this about?

“Mo Ran!” he spits out, his voice trembling with rage. “If you continue joking like that…”

“There’s no joke, I am just calling you by your name. Or do you preferred being called Gege ?.”

“I'd rather you find something else to do and leave.” he says. “Don't you have to work today or something?”

Mo Ran pulls him a little closer, and from the shift in his tone, he can already sense the pout forming on his lips. “I never work on Fridays, you know that already…and even if I had to go, I would still prefer to stay here with you.”

Oh really , he thinks sarcastically. 

Chu Wanning is really angry, not just because he’s the target of countless mockeries, but because this former student of his is an utterly shameless dummy. It’s highly likely that he's overthinking the situation and making a big deal out of other people's actions, so he decides to leave it at that. It's not like this will kill him. It's also not like Mo Ran would say such things to provoke him, not when he has more alluring figures like Shi Mei to flirt with at his leisure. He supposes this is simply the camaraderie between two men who share a roof. 

“They look pretty, auntie also used to take care of flowers. I once sneaked into her garden to borrow a few roses.” 

Chu Wanning raises an eyebrow. “You mean you stole roses from her garden.” 

“I borrowed them,” Mo Ran corrects him, giving his waist a gentle squeeze before reaching out to caress the delicate petals of a tulip, as if contemplating the transient beauty of its fragile bloom. “Years later, I tried again…Ah, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

After a brief silence, during which Chu Wanning stepped away from Mo Ran to return the watering can to its place, he finally decided to speak again.

“Then…”

“Mmn?” Mo Ran made a sound, encouraging him to continue.

He paused, carefully selecting his words. "You can borrow the flowers from my pots."

Spinning around in a futile attempt to conceal his blush, Chu Wanning cleared his throat, pretending to adjust his shirt before opening the glass door that separated the balcony from the living room.

"If you ever want to borrow a few flowers, just take them from here. I won't be mad," he says. "Only if you want."

After that, Chu Wanning hurriedly left and retreated into his bedroom. However, the remorse that had weighed on him melted away like midnight mist, leaving behind a tender tingling in the pit his stomach. Mo Ran’s face had looked so gentle, his surprised expressions so precious and worthy of a painting, his golden skin glowing in the soft embrace of the sunset. Leaning against his desk, Chu Wanning covers his eyes with the back of his hand and pants. How could one go from experiencing the most lascivious dreams to yearning for a tender kiss? He is certain he’d have a heart attack soon. 

If he were more innocent and unworldly, he might have wholeheartedly believed that this moment between them mirrored the first romantic advances between Ichikawa and Kikuchihara in Zanzou Slow Motion. The quiet blossoming of something new, like the first stirrings of a Haitang tree awakening in early spring. Chu Wanning rubs his face with both hands and shakes his head. It's nothing of the sort, of course. Even with the unspoken meaning woven into Mo Ran’s anecdote, those bravely borrowed roses would never be for him. At thirty-five, he could no longer be so easily fooled by fiction.

That same day during dinner, everything remained the same as always.

‎˚₊⋅─── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ───⋅ ˚₊

The start of June stirs like a fever dream, its frenzy sweeping the wind through every trembling little leaf, just as impatient cars below prowled the streets in exasperated rhythm. Between towering buildings, a giant screen flickers with the most popular novel by a very famous author. Chu Wanning, feet grounded and gaze steady in the road in front of him, walks forward, his newly acquired stuff cradled firmly in his arms.

He had come from the home of Xue Zhengyong and Madam Wang, having been invited by the couple for lunch. Naturally, Xue Meng had been there too, eager to welcome his former laoshi and brag of his latest exploits at work. Chu Wanning is not good at social gatherings, but he is also not good at turning down any invitations from this loud family. And with Mo Ran away on a two nights business trip, the solitude of home no longer settles as easily as it once did. 

Chu Wanning sneezes, the tip of his fingers are feeling cold. He should have brought a coat. More to the point, he should have gone straight home instead of loitering around. Nonetheless, well, he doesn't regret it at all.

The thing is…when he was on his way toward the train station, a shop drew his attention.

Now, he's holding both volumes of Color Recipe and the first volume of Bing An Ben in his freezing hands. It ranks among the best days he’s had, second only to that Sunday when Mo Ran, without meaning to, fell asleep on his lap as they watched the news on the TV. Though Chu Wanning has already read Color Recipe —Harada being one of his favorite manga artists—he hasn’t yet had the chance to immerse himself in Bing An Ben . The reviews promise a masterful danmei with a perfect blend of sadness and perversity. He is very excited.

Besides, the shou is in his thirties just like him, it’s perfect. He also has a certain fondness for peeling back stories under a toxic light. Chu Wanning enjoys an obsessive and mean man claiming possession of another. 

Humming softly to himself, he crosses the street and soon reaches the train station.

Once aboard, Chu Wanning settles into the only vacant section, casting a glance around to ensure he’s alone.

Only then does he relax, letting excitement fully take hold as he slips his purchases from the plastic bag. Chu Wanning studies the covers with care, fingertips brushing over each corner with reverence. They’re beautiful. The lack of space in his room is irrelevant, this was a very necessary acquisition. As an honorable fudanshi, he takes pride in having spotted the store that was selling them. Soon, he’ll upload a detailed review to his secret blog, covering both the product quality and his initial impressions. But just as he’s about to open one of the books, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

It is the torment of his dreams.

Mo Ran: image.jpg

Mo Ran: this is u when I interrupt ur crochet session lol

The image consists of a white kitten, frowning and looking visibly irritated. Chu Wanning snorts; he has no idea how a grumpy cat could possibly resemble him at all. That’s ridiculous. Cats are beautiful creatures, Chu Wanning is not. But before he can type a reply to refute the claim, Mo Ran sends another message.

Mo Ran: missing u like a mf 🥺🥺

Mo Ran: wish i could hear ur voice rn

Mo Ran: won’t u pay attention to me Wanning? 

As effortlessly as a scroll unrolling, the tips of Chu Wanning’s ears turn a faint crimson, heat slowly gathering there. Mo Ran probably means he’s bored in that business trip of his and misses arguing with him, yet something as small as a text message manages to turn his whole world upside down. This is what it is to be a hopeless romantic and a virgin at thirty-five. Still looking at that very last message, he takes his time to reply, first returning the items to the plastic bag before typing a single word. 

Chu Wanning: Return to your work, Mo Ran, and spare me the unnecessary nonsense.

On the other hand, the younger man responds with remarkable speed.

Mo Ran: but I wanna to talk 2 u, I can't live if u don't talk to me :(((

Chu Wanning: You can't force me to chat with you. Get back to work.

Mo Ran: but u’re still answering, aren't ya? and if u wanna be forced...I can do that for u

Mo Ran: heh 😈 🍆

Chu Wanning, for reasons too obvious to state, ceases replying and powers off his phone. He can scarcely believe the absurdity he’s just read, this is nothing short of calculated torment. What the hell does that emoji combination suggest? The devil is probably a sign of mockery. Mo Ran is clearly trying to test his limits, unaware that, in truth, he’s strewing blossoms over a heart aching with longing. Clutching his purchases, Chu Wanning sinks into his seat. The station where he must disembark draws near.

“…”

Just then, something stirs in Chu Wanning's wayward imagination, quickly becoming a pressing topic for contemplation. Given that his thoughts now revolve entirely around homosexuality, spanning from his exchange with Mo Ran to his recent shopping spree, the notion inevitably veers in that direction. As he walks off from the train and makes his way toward his apartment, which thankfully is not that far away from the station, Chu Wanning attempts to unravel which yaoi scenario he might wish to be involved in.

It is a question he often grapples with since first encountering that literary genre.

“I forgot to buy dinner…” 

He could deal with that later.

As he steps into his apartment, he is met by darkness and silence. He removes his shoes and walks towards the small kitchen, leaving the plastic bag on the counter before pouring himself a glass of water. In truth, he is craving for oolong tea, but he can’t muster the energy to even retrieve the teapot from the cupboard. Instead, he drinks two more glasses of water and leans against the refrigerator to continue thinking.

He may already have the answer to this never-ending question.

Chu Wanning would greatly relish the idea of being inside a danmei. To be precise, he would like to be the shou. And given his personal reading preferences and his indecorous dreams about Mo Ran, the plot he envisions is equal parts heartrending and unabashedly steamy. If possible, an omegaverse in a wuxia setting. 

”I need to write this,” he whispers to himself.

He carries his belongings to his room, leaving them on the nightstand, the only surface not entirely buried in clutter, then retrieves his laptop and returns with it to the living room. This is another of his… personal projects: writing down every idea on his mind related to this particular hobby of his. It’s no wonder he ended up launching something as absurd as a blog under the pseudonym Beidou Immortal . He needs some outlet or he’ll explode.

Writing is very common in this community from what he's seen anyways. 

Following the thread of his thoughts, Chu Wanning contemplates the ideal dynamic. 

Although he once likened Mo Ran to a warrior, he now saw him more fittingly as an emperor. A powerful and prideful ruler, ruthless in bearing yet secretly warm at heart, so striking in his beauty he could stir mountains to shift. A wolf cloaked in sheep’s skin, methodically carving a path toward absolute dominion over the masses. Obviously a dominant alpha. Chu Wanning shudders, his cheeks blushing. Mo Ran would look so good in traditional clothes. 

As for himself, though it felt almost scandalous to admit, he imagined occupying the role of an omega concubine, secluded from the world. The Emperor’s concubine, who had once been his shizun and to whom he’d once vowed to be a devoted disciple, now reduced to a mere trophy displayed in a cold pavilion. As protagonists, they would share a complicated relationship, all the while bound by unwavering love. A fated pair.

Tears and glory; between spiteful caresses and frantic kisses, their skin torn in a savage effort to entwine their souls. A bite on the verge of withering, but resilient.

Chu Wanning’s fingers move relentlessly over the keyboard, filling no less than ten pages in Word. Had he not already been a professor of mechanical engineering, he likely would have pursued something akin to a degree in literature.

When reality hits him like a bucket of cold water, it is too late. His eyes open wide.

“What the heck am I doing” 

This is not something that can be uploaded to the web; it has completely crossed the line. This story isn’t a mere variation of some fictional couple for an online forum; it’s a deeply personal creation, inspired by his own roommate. Chu Wanning is that desperate. What a loser. 

So, Chu Wanning hits the save button and closes the app, determined to get his mind off such filth.

He truly hasn't been the same since he found this world. It’s comforting, in a way, to find something relatable or indulge in the madness of it all, but it only fills him with unattainable expectations. He’ll never be the pretty boy, never be like Xie Lian or Shen Zechuan. He is far from desirable or capable. So, it’s better not to raise his hopes up. 

Narrowing his eyes, he clears his throat and wraps himself in a blanket he’s brought from his room, shamelessly searching for something to read. Despite everything, he refuses to give up his enjoyment of yaoi. Spotting a manhua that piques his interest, Chu Wanning makes another impulsive purchase, buying the chapters. He can reflect later; for now, it’s time to find peace.

After all, starting from tomorrow, his focus will turn to the upcoming launch of the postgraduate courses. Xue Zhengyong has nominated him as a teacher, and, true to his workaholic nature, he accepted the offer. It is better to make the most of his free time.

And when Mo Ran calls him later that night, Chu Wanning, of course, feels no flutter of butterflies in his stomach. Of course he doesn’t imagine this as something lovers might do when separated. 

Absolutely not.

So he answers the call and behaves just as he always does.

“Mo Ran”

“ I just arrived at the hotel, ah… ” a deep voice murmurs from the other end of the line, it sounds a little hoarse. He can hear the man’s footsteps as he walks around the room. “ The negotiations took longer than we thought. ”

”But it's already ten o'clock,” he says, a note of disguised concern lingering into his words. 

“ Tell that to the customers. They were all just old snobs, full of distrust. ” Mo Ran scoffs. " Not even Shi Mei could convince them, and we all know he's pretty good at that sort of thing. "

“ Oh, speaking of him...I think Shi Mei has been avoiding me lately . He might even hate me. It’s a shame. ” 

Chu Wanning pauses mid-motion, he has been removing a pile of clothes from atop the sheets to clear space on the bed, and presses his lips into a thin line, eyes fixed on Mo Ran’s profile picture.

“I don't think I did anything wrong, but who knows.” Mo Ran mumbles. “I won't beg him to talk to me, though.”

"Such a childish demeanor." he says, a familiar pressure settling in his chest. 

He’s so cynical; the childishness lies with him. He isn’t truly scolding Mo Ran, but rather the envy and jealousy gnawing at his own heart. Chu Wanning has always known how much Shi Mei means to this man, ever since both boys had been his students. Shi Mei, the one of androgynous and unearthly in beauty, with a temperament as graceful as his appearance. Of course Mo Ran would be drawn to someone like that. It’s only natural. Just like in a romantic manga, the two of them together are the protagonists, while Chu Wanning plays the quiet role of a supporting character.

Because of it, he tells himself not to sulk over Mo Ran’s infatuation. He ought to be above it and comfort Mo Ran properly. The boy probably feels conflicted. He ought to act his age. 

Mo Ran laughs. “ Shi Mei is just a sore loser, I'll let him get over it on his own.” 

Chu Wanning frowns, a flicker of confusion crossing his features at the remark. 

“ Hopefully we can wrap up the deal soon, ” he says, swiftly changing the subject. “ At least we got to do some sightseeing this morning. Sucks we couldn't hit the bar like we planned, but maybe tomorrow. ”

He doesn’t press the previous topic further, so he snorts and says. “Wouldn't it have been more effective to hold the negotiations in the morning?”

“I didn't feel like sitting next to them and drinking tea, it would ruin my morning. ” 

“Maybe that way you would have had more free time at night.“

Mo Ran hums. “ Maybe…anyway, let's stop talking about me. ” By the time the man speaks, Chu Wanning has already nestled himself into a quiet corner of the bed. “So, what did you do today? ” 

“Unlike you, I was preparing everything for tomorrow’s meeting.” what a fucking liar. 

” Right, you're going to teach those brats from the postgraduate course. ” 

Even though he won't be seen, Chu Wanning raises an eyebrow.

Mo Ran adds. “ You know, I'm a little jealous. ” he sounds like a wounded dog, but Chu Wanning knows better. “ They can have you as their teacher again, that’s so unfair. ” 

“I don't think they have too many options, they're probably not happy about it.” he counterattacks and that might be the truth. Much like Mo Ran in the past, many students and colleagues are not too fond of him because of his attitude. Nothing new.

“ Impossible, anyone would die to receive a class from the honorable Yuheng. ” 

It is really difficult not to be delusional, he must stay strong and realistic.

“ Hey, laoshi…Wanning.” the man whispers. “Can you promise me something? ” 

"Promise me you won’t play favorites with anyone but me? Even that stupid Mengmeng, don't make anyone else your favorite...please."

He can't be strong and realistic.

"Ridiculous”

“ Wanning, I am being serious. ” 

“Go to sleep, Mo Ran. You're probably feeling very tired. Have you eaten anything yet?”

“ If I tell you I haven’t, will you come and make me something? I'd love to eat some of your wonton soup right now. "

Chu Wanning huffs. “I can't go there, we're three hours away and it's already too late.” but the idea isn’t really that bad, even so, he shakes his head and says. “If you’re that eager to eat my cooking, then do what you must and come home soon.”

“ Then I will work hard and come home hoping that my reward will be Wanning's wonton soup. ” the younger man replies. He can almost picture the way that blinding smile would make his cute dimples appear. “ A dinner made especially for his favorite former student, the only one. ”

”Mo Weiyu…I'm going to hang up the call”

” Wanning, wait… ”

With his finger hovering just above the red button on the screen, Chu Wanning came to an abrupt halt at those two words. 

“ Stay with me, let's sleep on the phone. I don't want to be alone. ” Mo Ran whispers. “ Please. ” 

He understands all too well that he shouldn't take more than is his due, and that the proper course is to stay out of it. While Mo Ran and he no longer have a disastrous relationship, he knows he can’t take advantage of the boy now that they’ve managed to establish a fragile peace. Mo Ran is kind to everyone, adept at adapting to others, and excels in any environment. Yet, Chu Wanning also sees the remnants of the man’s past, those marks that still linger, leaving a vulnerable core beneath the surface. He knows he should set boundaries between them. Though Mo Ran seeks only friendship, Chu Wanning doesn't deserve such a privilege. Still…

Mo Ran has spent so long sailing in search of the light, looking for a hand to grasp, that Chu Wanning can't bring himself to deny him something as simple and harmless as this. So, he responds:

“Okay, I won't hang up," his voice is low, a clear sign that he's becoming sleepy as well. "I'll stay here with you."

He cradles his heart in trembling hands, as if he could secretly offer the weight of all he feels.

“Good night, Mo Ran”

That night, he recalls dreaming of a quiet, peaceful breath beneath the soft sway of a wooden roof on the outskirts of the city. In his heart, in his most unattainable desires, someone whispers ’ I love you ’ right into his ear. A yearning so strong that it makes his chest hurt. He would have preferred to envision a scene brimming with passion, devoid of any complicated emotions, far away from the word love . In the end, it is all but a fleeting reverie.

‎˚₊⋅─── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ───⋅ ˚₊

A month passed uneventfully, as his days often does.

During that time, Chu Wanning’s schedule had been rather demanding. In addition to teaching the postgraduate courses, he had chosen to resume a research project he had previously left incomplete. On top of that, the new semester at Sisheng Peak was fast approaching, and he needed to prepare the syllabus for each of his classes. There had been little room for rest or indulgence. 

But it’s Sunday, and today he has resolved to tend matters beyond his formal duties. After saving one final resource file, some important class material for his students, Chu Wanning stretches his arms overhead, easing the tension from his muscles.

On the coffee table, a steaming glass cup of fragrant red fruit tea awaits him; beside it, a delicate and pretty porcelain recipient cradles several sugar cubes. That fine china had been a gift from his roommate, the same one who had so thoughtfully prepared the tea. Although he doubts he’ll make use of the sugar, the contents of the cup are already perfectly sweetened. His haughty, phoenix-like eyes lower toward the horizon, their sharpness softening at the edges. He takes a sip of the warm brew, savoring the burst of flavor, and exhales a quiet sigh of contentment. The morning is so tranquil that he thinks he might try to crochet for a while. It's still a challenging craft for him, but he's steadily improving.

He should jot the few schedule changes in his diary, but that will be later. For now, Chu Wanning ties his hair into a high ponytail and, in doing so, lets his laptop rest beside the tea before heading into the bedroom for his kit. 

At that moment, a voice calls out to him from the living room.

“Wanning!” 

And what else is there to do but go to Mo Ran. 

“Wanning, I need you to do me a favor” 

Chu Wanning, crochet kit in hand and wearing a stoic expression, answers the younger man with calm composure, “What’s wrong?”

“I may have just spilled coffee on my laptop and I need to write some reports,” he says, Mo Ran’s voice edged with desperation. “They’re due tomorrow—if I don’t hand them in, my supervisor will kill me. They will complain to my uncle.”

"In other words," Chu Wanning arches an eyebrow.

“No one can fix a device that fast… so, could you lend me yours? I swear I won't do anything bad to it. I'll give it back to you tonight.”

Chu Wanning’s expression remains unchanged. “Such reckless behavior. And how can I trust you not to damage it? You know I use that laptop for work.”

Mo Ran rushes to grab Chu Wanning’s shoulders, a touch so perfunctory yet so sudden that it courses through him like a bolt of electricity. The tips of his ears flare with embarrassment. God, Mo Ran’s palms are so warm and they feel very large against his body. If they were to wrap around his waist, they might be able to cover him completely. Squeeze him as though they fit snugly there. He has to subtly pinch his arm to stave off any unnecessary mental images.

Chu Wanning swallows hard.

“Please, I promise I’ll be careful,” he begs. “Wanning… say yes, you really won’t help this poor dog?”

With a pained pout and pitiful big eyes aimed his way, Chu Wanning’s defenses crumble.

"You will give it back to me tonight."

Mo Ran immediately recovers, a smile blooming across his face, dimples deepening with effortless charm. “Of course, you have my word.”

With the agreement sealed, a happy Mo Ran brings the laptop to the dining table, where his papers and folders are neatly arranged. Chu Wanning, meanwhile, presses a finger to the bridge of his nose, warding off an oncoming headache, then reclines once more on the large couch. He unpacks the contents of his kit, placing them carelessly on his lap. The once-steaming cup of red fruit tea now sits empty and long forgotten, far from his thoughts. At least fifteen minutes slip by like that.

Xiaohongshu has become his trusted ally for useful tutorials, niche recommendations, and bursts of inspiration. Though he’s dabbled in Weibo like any other Chinese netizen, he prefers something more intimate, centered on art. So Chu Wanning opens the app and scrolls through it until a video catches his eye. This time, he’s going to try knitting a small kitten. He hums with conviction.

But as Chu Wanning studies the pattern and selects his materials, he suddenly remembers something. Something he shouldn’t have overlooked so easily.

Shit , he thinks. 

“…”

Before gathering the materials to send to his students, Chu Wanning had been reading manhwas . He’d left several tabs open; indecent, unthinkable, outrageously excessive, and even lustful images scattered across his navigator. He hadn’t bothered to even clean up his documents folder either, firmly believing no one would ever lay a hand on his things. Now, pressing the wool between his fingers, Chu Wanning grits his teeth until they hurt, teetering on the edge of fainting.

If Mo Ran were to see something like that…

But the young man hasn’t flinched since he lent him the laptop; he’s been focused on working for a long time now. Not a single sound of surprise escapes him, nor does he show any sign of disgust. Chu Wanning glances at him for a few seconds, then takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

Perhaps Mo Ran hasn’t opened anything other than the Word application. Or maybe Chu Wanning really did close his previous tabs and simply doesn’t remember.

Either way, the best thing to do right now is to pretend he’s also occupied and continue with his crocheting.

In fact, another twenty minutes slip by without any major problems.

His lower back aches from slouching on the couch, and he needs a mental break after messing up the pattern so many times. So, Chu Wanning gets up and grabs the empty cup from the table, planning to take it to the kitchen. On his way, he passes Mo Ran’s makeshift work area and picks up the dirty dishes. Washing them is the least he can do, considering how well he’s been fed every day. It’s only fair. Besides, he does enjoy domestic tasks…It makes it feel like they share a real home together.

Chu Wanning smiles lightly. 

As he reaches out to open the cupboard and put away the already dried dishes, something hard and warm suddenly collides with his back.

“Wanning…”

Unlike previous occasions where Mo Ran merely leaned against him from behind, now Mo Ran’s entire body is pressed up against his. Chu Wanning's breath catches in his throat, every muscle tensing with rigidity. At such close distance, it’s impossible not to notice the rhythmic beat of the other’s heart and the solid, unyielding firmness of that massive chest. Even a certain lower region makes its presence known. A part that, for some reason, is slightly aroused and greeting the curve of Chu Wanning's ass. This makes no sense.

“Chu Wanning…”

Completely bewildered and shocked by the situation, Chu Wanning squirms, desperately trying to pull away from the sink, away from whatever it is Mo Ran is doing. But despite summoning all his strength, he can’t move. The man has a firm grip on him. Chu Wanning feels his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

What the actual fuck . 

“Chu Wanning, why didn't you tell me you liked muscular men?”

At these words, panic floods him even more. Mo Ran didn’t even know he is gay, let alone that he had a particular fondness for men with well-built physiques. He tries to wriggle away again, but two strong hands roughly grips his waist, massaging the clothed skin there.

“Ah, that boxer looked so big. His physiotherapist almost broke in two, heh” he whispers. "Who would have imagined that the great Yuheng would like stories like that.” 

Chu Wanning's eyes widened.

So, he had indeed left traces of his indecent hobby on the laptop. Mo Ran had seen the chapter left open in his browser; now he knew the truth—that he is a perverted old man. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, a phoenix on the brink of death, trembling in helpless agony. Mo Ran had discovered that Chu Wanning is a fudanshi. Even if the young man doesn’t really know such terminology. 

The most troubling thought is how much Mo Ran has seen. If he went inside his documents or simply stayed at the navigator. How much dignity he has left.

“Tell me, Wanning, did you imagine yourself getting fucked by him while you were reading?” 

What? 

Mo Ran's canines graze the tender skin at the curve of his neck. “Or were you imagining an emperor screwing you against his throne?”

Shame coils in Chu Wanning’s chest, bitter and unrelenting, his hands clutch the marble so tightly his knuckles go pale, bone-white. Mo Ran had the audacity to rifle through his saved files, his private drafts. The ones he didn’t even dare to publish in his stupid blog. Fine. It’s his own fault for not deleting that idiotic story. He knows that. But that doesn’t give Mo Ran the right to mock him so viciously, to corner him like this and drag him face-first into his own humiliation. Now, still standing there, Chu Wanning isn’t just on the verge of tears. He’s trembling, gutted by indignity, shaken with fury. He’s angry. Frustrated. Very disappointed in himself, and aching with the betrayal of Mo Ran’s cruelty. But in spite of everything, his traitorous body still responds to the other’s warmth, starving for it. As if it’s forgotten the situation he’s in right now. 

“Mo Weiyu, get away from me!” he demands furiously, breathing becoming increasingly difficult.

Mo Ran has never listened to him, so this time is no exception.

But instead of a mocking laugh, instead of cutting words, Mo Ran rubs himself against him. A shaky sigh slips from those ever-playful lips, more breath than sound. “Wanning…” his voice drops lower, soft with something similar to lust. “If I were a powerful emperor, you wouldn’t be just another concubine in the harem.”

With the touch of a finger—gentle, like water sliding over the silk of a tulip petal—Chu Wanning’s chin is lifted, his face coaxed back to meet the moment. He doesn’t have the opportunity to resist, his breath catching as it tangles with Mo Ran’s. 

Ok, this scenario really feels like something out of a typical yaoi manga that's only six chapters long. What the hell . Is Chu Wanning dreaming? Did he fall asleep while crocheting? 

“You’d be my main wife,” he murmurs. “The one who would carry my children, the one I’d please with my body every night. Don’t you think that’s better?”

"Nonsense," he quickly refutes, as none of this makes sense. Chu Wanning thinks it's all a big joke; otherwise, he can't find a logical or credible explanation. “Stop talking. Just shut up and get out of my sight. Mocking others isn’t something to be proud of. I thought you’d grown past that.”

"But I don't want to shut up. I still have a lot of questions. Laoshi‘s laptop holds quite the impressive collection." he says, feigning innocence. “Won’t my imperial wife guide me through this world? Let this lowly disciple learn from your vast knowledge.” 

Chu Wanning can’t stand it anymore. He may be a pathetic and ridiculous old man, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be exposed like this. Fury boiling over, he twists around as best he can and shoves Mo Ran away with all his strength, breaking free and storming away from the kitchen sink. Once out of those sinful arms, he whips around, like a cornered cat ready to strike, and he glares at the younger man, every inch of him defensive. The most painful thing is that he can't stop his heart from beating, helpless from everything that has happened. 

What would Onodera do in his position? Probably run away.

But he does not run away, but rather faces. “If you’re so desperate for an imperial wife, why don’t you go ask Shi Mei to move in with you? Even someone like Miss Song Qiutong would suit you better.” he snaps, voice shaking. “Lending you my laptop was a mistake. Forget everything you saw… and leave me alone.”

Of course, he’s the one who wrote ten pages of delusional, vaguely perverse fiction about his own roommate, a former student, no less, and years younger. But still, he has every right to be offended. To overreact. This is real life, not some homoerotic manga, and certainly not a danmei novel. He has to face the consequences of his own stupidity. All while guarding the unrequited feelings he was never meant to show.

Mo Ran apparently has different plans.

“Ugh, don’t even bring up Shi Mei,” Mo Ran spits harshly, his baritone rich with something dark and indulgent. He steps forward, like a bloodhound catching the scent of his prey. “He might be my friend, but I’m still offended. I don’t like it when someone tries to steal what’s mine.”

Ignoring Chu Wanning’s bewildered glare, Mo Ran closes the distance again, slipping once more into his space. His fingers gently ghost along the back of Chu Wanning’s hand. The dog has caught the cat. From being cornered against a sink, he’s now trapped again, caged in another corner of the same kitchen. Perhaps he didn’t try hard enough to put distance between them, as if a desperate thread of hope, yearning and very persistent, reigned over common reason. His entire body shudders, but his brow stays knit in helpless defiance. Mo Ran really is too tall, much broader than him as well. Chu Wanning must raise his head slightly just to meet his gaze. He has to glue his heels into the floor to avoid wavering before such an imposing presence.

Memories of that phone conversation a month ago flooded back into his mind. Mo Ran had also said something similar back then. 

What should he do…

What should he even say? 

But before he can demand answers, the younger man finally takes his hand and presses it to his chest. Right at the height of his heart. “Wanning, are you in love with me? Do you like me?” 

Mo Ran grins, smugly. But underneath that proud look, there’s something similar to nervousness.

“Because I like you too much, Chu Wanning. I’ve liked you since I was eighteen,” he confesses, eyes glinting with the faintest trace of violet, deep but unmistakable. They’re too intense. Too sincere. And Chu Wanning feels the urge to flee again. “I’m madly in love with you, only you. There’s never been anyone else.”

This can't be real, he must be dreaming. Maybe he even choked to death on his tea and transmigrated into some slice-of-life novel. How could Mo Ran love him? Someone as bland and ugly as him. This is definitely a mistake. 

“I love you, Wanning. And I also want to bend you over every surface in our apartment. I want to make you mine, every inch of you.” 

He wanted to huff in disbelief, roll his eyes, toss out some biting remarks. He should tell Mo Ran to go to hell, like always. Let his usual defenses rise like armor.

But nothing like that came past his lips. 

“I have a horrible temper.”

Mo Ran chuckles. “Nonsense. You’re very good to me.”

“I-I’m very old” he adds.

“You look younger than me, though”

Still not convinced, Chu Wanning throws his last card at him.

“I’m so ugly”

Mo Ran stares at him, wide-eyed and visibly offended, as if Chu Wanning has just blurted out something outrageous. Chu Wanning doesn’t understand such a reaction. Hadn’t he simply stated the obvious? Something everyone already knew?

“I’m not good looking, everyone knows that” he repeats, just to make sure Mo Ran heard him correctly this time. Ah, his cheeks are blushing. 

And contrary to what he expected, once the initial shock fades, Mo Ran lets out a soft, breathless laugh. Then, he gives Chu Wanning’s hand, the hand he’s still holding, a gentle and playful squeeze.

“Chu Wanning, you are the most beautiful and sexy man I have ever seen in this world. I am in love with you.” he says. “I don't deserve you and yet I pray to have you by my side.”

In less than a minute, he’s been kissed. On the lips. 

Mo Ran moves his full lips over his, stealing his breath. The man's mouth tastes faintly of bitter coffee, and Chu Wanning shudders. His eyes are red-rimmed, unable to close. It feels so good, and at the same time, it strikes a tender, trembling chord deep in his heart.

His first kiss.

“Hmhg” he whimpers.

After being released, he is automatically pulled forward and his body collapses against Mo Ran’s chest. Strong arms wrapping themselves tightly around his narrow waist, anchoring him roughly, while a head buried in the curve of his neck. Chu Wanning, of course, freezes, flustered and with his fingers trembling in the air, unsure where to rest his hands. Lost in a tide of sensation, longing and confusion dripping from his chest, threatening to flood his blood. Oh shit. 

“My dick cries with love every time it sees you wearing those tiny shorts of yours.” 

Chu Wanning tenses, squirming again. He might have lustful fantasies, but he is still a thirty five years old virgin. Never been loved by anyone before. Therefore, he no longer wants to be an uke in a compromising situation. Well, no, he does want that. But this situation scares him too much!

Mo Ran holds him tighter. “God, babygirl, you turn me on so much. We should recreate all those comics you read together,” he whispers into his ear, voice low. “I bet I’m way bigger than any of your favorite characters.”

“M-Mo Ran!”

“Chu Wanning”

The hands holding his waist are agile and very skillful, betraying a wealth of experience. They stealthily slip around his sides and shamelessly settle on the two protuberant round gloves on his backside. There, Mo Ran squeezes firmly, giving his buttocks a deliberate massage. Chu Wanning jolts with a sharp inhale, letting out a humiliating, pitiful gasp. This is totally unacceptable. He should push this man away, scold him. Retreat behind his prudish facade. But he does not.

“Let me fuck you,” Mo Ran begs, almost reverently. As if Chu Wanning were a god and he were a worshipper in the midst of prayer. “Let me fuck you until you finally understand how much I love you. Let me fill you up with my–”

“Enough!”

Chu Wanning clenches his jaw and turns his face away, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“If you’re going to do something, then do it,” he mumbles coldly. “But don’t resort to this kind of idiocy. And don’t you dare regret it later.”

“Your room or my room?”

“Whatever suits you. Don’t ask me.”

Mo Ran gives another squeeze. “I’ve always been curious about your room,” and suddenly, Chu Wanning’s feet leave the ground. Mo Ran lifts him effortlessly, arms hooked beneath his plush thighs, carrying him out of the kitchen. “Will you let me see it?”

Whatever. He can deal with the embarrassment later. Right now, all Chu Wanning can focus on is Mo Ran’s bulging biceps, lifting him like he’s weightless. Because he feels it too, that rising heat curling low in his belly, the undeniable warmth of desire spreading through his nether regions. The body is weak to the flesh, and his is no exception.

“I already told you not to ask me,” Chu Wanning snaps at him, his voice tight with exasperation. By now, his cheeks and ears are burning and far too red to hide.

“As you wish,” Mo Ran replies, looking too excited for his own good. 

There’s no turning back.

So, Chu Wanning loops an arm around the younger man’s steady shoulders and lets himself be led, willingly this time, toward his own room.

“Fuck, I’m so hard I think I’ll explode.”

“Shameless.”

“Only for you.”

There’s so much information in his head now that it makes him light-headed, almost dizzy, as if he were living for the first time and didn't know what to do with his bare hands. He's about to take a huge step, something he never dared believe could be real. Not for someone like him. It always felt like a story meant for someone else. Chu Wanning holds on tighter, terrified that if he loosens his grip, this unattainable dream will disappear just like that. 

A faint scent of haitang lingers in the air, delicate and fleeting, mingling with the warmth of sunlight streaming through the room’s lone window.

“Wow, baobei , really…this place is definitely something,” Mo Ran says, kicking the door shut with the heel of his foot as his eyes sweep the room. 

Chu Wanning shifts, a little self-conscious, the core of his heart feeling far too bare, extremely exposed. This hobbie of his has been his most closely guarded secret for a long time. And now Mo Ran is inside his world, eyes roaming over everything, analyzing each detail, each object, each fragment of who Chu Wanning really is and what brings him joy. From the scattered trash on the floor to the shelves overflowing with merchandise, Mo Ran takes it all in with a curious amusement, scrutinizing the chaos, the quiet obsessions, and still holding him dearly. Like he really does love Chu Wanning. 

There is another thing he’d forgotten existed. Mo Ran, who had just been brushing a few fleeting kisses along his chin, stops in his tracks and seems to focus on a spot behind Chu Wanning's shoulder. Feeling a little bit nervous, Chu Wanning turns his head. And what he sees is somehow more horrifying than a few posters, books, or even the collection of plushies and figures that’s cost him over more than 7,000 yuan.

“Uhm…”

In the middle of the bed, thankfully cleaned by him during a midnight bout of insomnia, lay a human-sized dakimakura. And not just any dakimakura. It featured a man with beautiful dark blue hair, dressed in striking red, a black tattoo curling over the right side of his sculpted, bare chest. Koujaku, from Dramatical Murder . A character he liked very much. It reminded him of Mo Ran. However, what’s truly scandalous isn’t just his naked chest, but the lack of clothing covering up the area below the waist.

Mo Ran is looking straight at it.

“So this is where all your payments went, huh.”

Chu Wanning kicks out and claws at Mo Ran’s shoulders, trying to break free. “Put me down,” he hisses. “Put me down! If you're just here to make fun of him, I suggest you leave.”

Instead of setting him down, Mo Ran only smiles against his neck and bites hard. Smart move. Chu Wanning completely loses his ability to fight against him, letting out a muffled sigh, and his legs turn to jelly. Soon after, his back is collapsing against the plush of soft, smooth light pink sheets.

“Wanning…” Mo Ran breathes, his voice burning with lust. “You are so cute.”

Between his parted legs, an imposing man looms and takes him by the hips. He appears relentless, sure and wild. With his tousled fringe casting shadows over his eyes, the small gathering of hair at his nape comes undone. So handsome, If Chu Wanning were an omega, he'd be totally wet down there by now. He bites his lower lip, feeling his body heat up more and more. 

Mo Ran grinds against the inside of his thigh. Chu Wanning is wearing shorts. No undergarments underneath. Ah, and there’s a small patch in the front. 

The man smirks, noting the dampness. “I can’t wait to devour you whole.” He is holding him too roughly. 

The way those calloused fingers dig into his skin makes it clear: there will be marks, probably red and very prominent, considering how sensitive Chu Wanning is. With how delicate and pale his skin actually is.

In the blink of an eye, Mo Ran shrugs off his shirt and sweatpants, breathing far too loudly, having the audacity to fold his clothes neatly off to the side. The younger man is now just wearing his underwear. Chu Wanning swallows hard, hands flying up to his face and covering his mouth. He’s feeling intimidated to the point of trembling and he absolutely refuses to look down. He’s kind of afraid to see what's there. 

But even if he wanted to stop and reflect, he couldn’t. Mo Ran is touching him from head to toe, biting into skin that had never known another’s touch. Even kissing him, again and again. And strangely, that is enough to quiet some of his fears.

He feels his stomach begin to heat, his heartbeat getting faster and faster by the second. Truth be told, Chu Wanning is more aroused than he ought to be by the realization of the true difference between their bodies. While he isn’t delicate—he has his own share of muscle, a strong, well-built frame—but here, beneath Mo Ran, he feels small. He feels like he’s allowed to act like those pretty boys. Allowed to surrender, to want without shame and to not worry about being too masculine to crave being dominated. He shuts his eyes, trying not to come right then and there.

“Baobei, raise your arms. Let me undress you.”

Chu Wanning allows it.

Soon, he finds himself drawn out of his secure shell, naked beyond the physical. The icy breeze from the air conditioning brushing against his lower belly. Cheeks flushed, he lets Mo Ran look at his bare skin and touch it however he pleases.

"Beautiful.”

Something hard hits his ass.

“So fucking beautiful.” 

It’s Mo Ran’s clothed dick.

“I wanna get you pregnant.”

Their lips meet for the second time—scorching, wild, a vigorous, weakening dance. They kiss until saliva slips down their chins, tongues wrestling with each other, and nipping at flushed skin as if aching to leave marks. As if wanting to bruise each other. It's desperate, needy, something they seem to have been waiting for all their lives. Chu Wanning clings to Mo Ran's biceps, nails digging in the muscle, while Mo Ran fondles his pecs and occasionally pinches his nipples. It's too much. 

His head feels like it’s going to explode.

”M-Mo Ran”

The named one licks his lower lip and pants. “So sensible…your nipples are just as cute as you”

“D-Don’t say things like that!” 

“Ah, I wonder if there's milk in them?”

Unable to refute, his nipples are attacked by Mo Ran's mouth. Teeth playfully graze the areola, lips sucking firmly at the sensitive bud. Chu Wanning moans and arches his back, barely able to recognize the sound as his own. It's downright embarrassing, the way the younger man mouths at his flat breasts, simulating that he drinks from them, and how his palms press them, trying to make them smack together. He clearly fails, but the intent is there, and it's mortifying. And yet, Chu Wanning is gasping, shamelessly excited by it all.

So it is true , he thinks, men really can feel arousal from having their chest touched .

They stay like this for a few minutes, Chu Wanning breastfeeding Mo Ran while he takes as much of his fill as he can.

But judging by how hard that thing feels through the other man’s underwear, it’s obvious things are about to take a more heated turn.

“Say, babygirl, do you trust me?” Mo Ran suddenly asks, his cheek resting against Chu Wanning’s left pec.

He tilts his head, fingertips gently combing through the ends of Mo Ran’s hair. 

“I want to try something with you… but only if you say it’s okay.” he explains. “I know this is probably your first time, but I really want to do it.”

Probably his first time? Is he really giving off virgin vibes? Well, his whole room display should be enough of an answer. 

Anyways. 

He’s just a hopeless romantic with a sweet tooth who’s finally gotten a spoonful of sugar in his bitter tea. For years, he’s denied himself the right to live fully, and now that he’s tasted the so-called sweetness, also because Mo Ran is his weakness, Chu Wanning can only nod and let it all happen.

“It’s okay…you can do it.”

What Chu Wanning didn’t expect was for Mo Ran to suddenly roll them across the bed, flipping their positions without warning. But that wasn't the end of it. He was shamelessly manhandled, grabbed by the hips and manipulated, and when he least expected it, he found himself face-to-face with the terrifyingly big bulge in Mo Ran’s boxers. His bare ass, to his utter horror and delight, is angled the opposite way. Towards Mo Ran's face. He lets out an outraged gasp.

His sides are caressed apologetically, though there’s not a trace of regret in the touch. Much less in Mo Ran’s voice when he dares to speak again.

“This way we can both get a taste, heh” 

He braces himself against the thick, powerful thighs in front of him. At the same time, he feels hands kneading his buttocks, then parting them shamelessly, a finger cautiously tracing around the most private place hidden there. This can’t be real. Chu Wanning’s face burns and he is about to faint. 

“Hey, Wanning, you’ve probably read something like this,” Mo Ran teases, forcing him to lower his body even further. “So, you know what you’re supposed to do, right?”

"I don't know what you're talking about," he rebuts, too quickly to appear truthful, patting his thigh as if this will accomplish anything. "And get your face away from there, that place is filthy."

A loud sound echoes through the walls. He whimpers.

His ass just got spanked. 

“So pink…it probably tastes as sweet as those cakes you usually eat.”

Mo Ran growls. “Baobei, do me a favor. Take off my underwear, yeah?”

He frowns, still in shock from the spanking.

Chu Wanning should stand firm and resist this nonsensical act, demanding to be laid back down on the bed. But even after years of meditation trying to master his impulses, he has an overwhelming need settled in his chest, burning him from the inside out, making it impossible not to drool at the sight before his eyes. The black fabric does nothing to hide the outline of that powerful, thick length. He needs to see it. He needs to test if something like that can be held in his hands. To taste it.

So, he does as he is instructed.

A long, wide erected cock immediately greets him.

The glans is flushed an angry red, gleaming with an obscene amount of sticky precum, while the heavy base throbs with veins winding along its length. Mouthwatering. To top it off, Mo Ran’s pelvic area is dusted with thick, abundant pubic hair, something Chu Wanning had never managed to grow himself, at least not like that. A moan rumbles from his throat. He doesn’t need to be commanded or forced, both hands come up instinctively to wrap around that delicious length.

That minimal action rewards him with a low moan. 

Mo Ran was right, his size is far beyond that of any character Chu Wanning has ever seen.

“I told you, he cries every time he sees you wearing those tiny shorts.”

“Shut up.”

Without further ado, and before regret can catch up to lust, Chu Wanning leans in and timidly laps at the head of that thick, swollen member. The taste of the fluids isn’t as sweet and tasty as he imagined, but it’s not unpleasant either. He steadies himself and licks again, each pass of his tongue more desperate than the last, the musky scent permeating his nostrils.

His ass is squeezed tightly. “Fuck.”

Perhaps the technique isn't quite right, his teeth have grazed the tender skin beneath the glans twice now, but the soft, breathless sounds Mo Ran make and the subtle movement of his hurried hips thrill him. And somehow, as if his sudden impulsive act carried the weight of words that couldn't be spoken aloud, Mo Ran takes the hints and understands he has permission to do whatever he wants. The next moment, his puckery, virginal entrance is immediately tormented by a mischievous tongue. Eaten out without mercy. 

“Ah!” Chu Wanning cries out, mouth hanging open.

From sharp bites in his buttocks to obscene, wet slurping, Mo Ran drags his tongue up and down his tight hole. It is as if his singular goal is to choke on Chu Wanning's asshole. To devour his trembling flesh. He, for his part, becomes a mess of moans, squeezing harshly at the cock in his hands. But, of course, he can’t stay like that. Summoning what strength he has left, Chu Wanning returns to his previous task and tastes Mo Ran's penis again. This time he takes it inside his mouth, at least as much as he can manage to fit. 

And when a finger is inserted into his entrance, he doesn't complain.

Inexperience doesn't mean ignorance; Chu Wanning is far from ignorant. He knows the process, as well as he knows that proper preparation takes time, that his body must be coaxed open, eased and peeled like a shy cocoon. Mo Ran is anything but small, and he has no intention of being torn apart tonight. So he allows himself to be fingered, breath getting heavier with each ram. Of course, one day, he wouldn’t mind being taken rough, forced open, but that’s a thought for another time.

He sucks greedily in match with Mo Ran’s licks and finger thrusts. 

“Where is it…” And it doesn't take long for Mo Ran to find his weak spot. The prostate. Chu Wanning freezes, whole body twitching and hole clenching down. “God, your ass is really a whore.”

There is no way to refute it.

He doesn't have the face to do it either.

“You suck my fingers so well, baobei, I think this little cunt of yours is craving for a third one…”

What the hell is he saying? Chu Wanning seethes, fury flaring hot beneath his skin. Despite that, his body thinks something completely different and his own dick spills a thread of precum in Mo Ran’s chest, ecstatic.

Shit, he’s close. 

When the third finger sinks inside, it's over for him. During his own masturbation sessions, he's never dared to go this far, never fucked himself this hard, nor has he usually gone in for more than a single tentative finger. So being teased roughly has him teetering on the edge. Who would have thought that being touched by someone you love could feel like ascending straight into heaven? If Mo Ran keeps licking his ass like this and pushing his fingers in, he'll cum.

Chu Wanning chokes on Mo Ran’s cock. “W-Wait, no…”

Nobody listens to him.

Or rather, no one pays attention to him. It's too late anyway.

All it takes is for Mo Ran to quicken his pace, his tongue hungrily chasing the rhythm of those glorious fingers and trying to join them in, for him to see stars.

“Mo Ran, ngh, Mo Ran!”

His orgasm leaves him limp, but luckily he is held by two strong arms.

“God, you came a lot.” from the weird sounds Mo Ran is making, there’s no need to guess what he’s doing. “Your cum tastes so good… so sweet.”

Chu Wanning tries to reprimand him, yet the only thing he can do is moan. 

“Wanning,” he says, voice strained. ““I'm sorry, I can't take it anymore.”

Like a doll, his trembling body is seized and shaped again, moved with the ease of a puppeteer guiding his favorite plaything. His left cheek lands against the dakimakura, chest flush to the mattress, and his hips arched upward. Chu Wanning doesn't understand how his knees support his body weight, knowing that he feels as light as a feather, boneless, unable to exert any strength. As he catches his breath, two big hands desperately open his legs and caress his waist. 

Mo Ran is kneeling behind him.

Something hard and slick rubs urgently against his tender entrance.

Mo Ran is about to fuck him.

The love of his life, the only person he's ever loved, is desperate to take him. Just like in every yaoi he's ever read.

Never mind that he’s still sensitive from his recent climax, Chu Wanning can't wait any longer. With a helpless moan, he licks his lips and grips the edge of the pillow, parting his legs wider. He has nothing to say; he's still the same tight-lipped prude who struggles to speak his mind so easily, but he hopes his submission is understood. That he's dying to be impaled.

A thumb spreads his hole. 

He hears Mo Ran spit, his cock slapping in between his buttocks. 

“If I had been known back then that laoshi was that desperate for cock, I would have fucked you in front of the whole class.” is the only sign he gets before Mo Ran starts pushing inside.

"Ahngh! Nngh!”

His nails dig into the pillow as he tries to hold himself steady, careful not to move in a way that might hurt. It's a difficult thing to achieve, as his ass has a mind of its own and tries to suck in more of that fleshy length. Right now, his insides are being opened incredibly. Chu Wanning pants heavily, gasping for air. Mo Ran is in no better condition; leaning forward with his forehead on his shoulder blades, the younger man moans quite loudly, each sound laden with a surge of heat and overwhelming pleasure. After what seemed like hours, Mo Ra’s hips slaps loudly against his ass as he buries his cock all the way inside. Tight walls flutter and make space for the wide shape. 

It hurts. But at the same time it’s perfect.

Chu Wanning just lost his virginity at thirty five.

His buttocks are separated once again.

“I hope this inspires you to write some good smut later,” a voice purrs against his ear. “For now, just focus on behaving—and being my little slut.”

An impassive rhythm is set. 

Mo Ran thrusts into him again and again, each violent drive of his massive length scraping mercilessly along the sensitive walls inside. It feels hot and painful hurts, but that only is decoded into a blinding, ritualistic pleasure. Chu Wanning’s body rocks with every deep plunge, the sheets beneath him rustling with the sound of colliding, sweat-slicked skin. Coarse hair kisses pristine flesh, it tickles; a maddening sensation that coils in his lower belly. He moans and whimpers, Chu Wanning is certain that even the neighbors can hear his high-pitched screams he is letting out.

As the base withdraws and the glans tip grips the abused entrance, a promising thrust approaches.

The headboard slams against the wall with a sharp crack, and a small Mamegoma plush toy tumbles from the shelf above, falling near Chu Wanning's face. In that instant, his mind goes blank, his brain shutting down for a few distant seconds, even as his mouth keeps moving, gaping from pleasure. 

He's having sex with someone. Him, Chu Wanning. The man with an embarrassing collection in his room. Who is too curt and abrupt to speak. A plain teacher who never expected to be loved by anyone, much less wanted in the haze of lust. But, apparently, he is. He's loved and desired. He still can’t fully believe it, but there's something undeniable about their current situation.

Mo Ran is fucking him, his penis pulsing inside Chu Wanning. He has really given him pleasure.

At the right angle, the head of that powerful cock manages to attack the bundle of nerves in his aching walls. Mo Ran pistons his hips so roughly that it makes Chu Wanning's toes curl, eyes closing tightly.

“The pure and chaste Yuheng, imagining himself getting fucked by his former student,” he hears Mo Ran sigh, the warmth of his breath hitting the back of his neck. “Shit, you’re too tight.”

“T-That’s not…mnhg”

Fingers loosen Chu Wanning’s hair, letting the strands cascade over his shoulders. Then a hand grips a fistful of that silken length and yanks his head back. He hisses.

“Don’t lie, Wanning. I’ve seen it all, remember?”

Of course he remembers—he still regrets leaving something so scandalous saved in his files. Even if Mo Ran hadn’t found it today, there’s no guarantee some accident won’t happen while using his laptop at work. And that, naturally, would be far more terrifying. Still, Chu Wanning decides not to reply.

Mo Ran chuckles, sucking a bruise into his shoulder. “Look how wet you are” he takes his neglected member and gives it a few strokes. Chu Wanning squirms, moaning softly. “This disciple will make sure to fill his shizun very well, so much that even when we're done you'll still be able to feel me inside.” 

“S-Shut up!”

“Ah, mngh” the younger man whimpers. "It’s amazing how much you're enjoying having your ass virginity taken…fuck.” 

Chu Wanning clench hard around Mo Ran’s cock.

“What a fucking whore…”

He clenches again. 

“Baobei, you were truly born to be fucked by me.” 

Mo Ran makes sure every corner of his back and shoulders is tinged with red, like a painter laboriously filling in the sketch of a previously empty canvas, sucking, biting and claiming him until his skin peels off. Until he carves deep enough to take a hold of his beating heart. Chu Wanning likes it; he wants to be marked more. And he would laugh sarcastically if he could. Mo Ran truly lives up to the nickname "dog" that many people often call him. Ah, this feels good. 

The crampy room is no longer just a Haitang residence, no longer just enveloped in the soft, subtle aroma of flowers. It’s become a red pavilion, steeped in the musky scent of sweat and crude sex in the air. Thick and heady. Just like the movements of their bodies, seeking a primal kind of release. It's exquisite, intoxicating. It should feel filthy, but it doesn’t. It could never feel like that.

And at some point, Mo Ran's thrusts become more erratic. His hips are about to lose their rhythm. 

“Ah, shit, I’m going to cum.”

“I-Inside” Chu Wanning whispers.

“Huh?”

He slumps back into the bed, once again gripping the pillow and the sheets. “Do it inside…me.”

It takes only a few more thrusts before Mo Ran lets out a deep, guttural sound, his grip tightening on Chu Wanning’s hips as he buries himself to the hilt, pubic hair grazing the plump ass. There, a copious layer of semen spills out in generous quantities, filling his hole. Chu Wanning desperately reaches for himself, but before he can even touch his dick, a wave of pleasure hits his nerves and that makes him spill all over the sheets, overwhelmed by the raw and unrelenting sensation of being taken so savagely. The climax is much more devastating this time.

“Ahh, hngh”

“Chu Wanning,” Mo Ran’s whole body collapses into his back. He’s trembling. “Mngh, I love you…”

Then, his chin is seized, his head wrenched back and Mo Ran kisses him with a brutal, devastating need. 

Fuck Onodera , right now Chu Wanning wants to think for himself and for the first time listen to his own heart. To do something.

So, he says. “I…love you too, Mo Ran.”

He doesn't know if it's his idea or if Mo Ran just got hard again.

”…”

It wasn't just his idea, the man actually got an erection after hearing him say those words.

“We have to practice a lot if you really want to get pregnant, Wanning.”

Bullshit , he can’t get pregnant. 

Yet, Mo Ran’s dimpled smile is hard to resist. 

After three more rounds—each filled with a tangle of shifting limbs and where they tried a myriad of different positions—and a piping hot bath to soothe the ache of their muscles, Mo Ran and Chu Wanning lay side by side on the bed with their face up. The blanket protected them from the cold, their long legs tangled beneath the wrinkled folds. By then, lunchtime had arrived, but the sun had surprisingly vanished from the city, dark clouds leaving the once welcoming blue sky in a dull state of gray. It is the kind of weather that’s perfect for  staying in and having a piping hot bowl of soup. Of course, that is if one has free time.

Chu Wanning frowns, his cheek resting against Mo Ran's broad chest. 

"Aren’t you supposed to be writing reports?"

Mo Ran lazily plays with his fingers. “It's not my fault I got distracted,” he says. “Besides, there's still plenty of time.”

Chu Wanning lets out a quiet huff, pulling his hand away and covering himself further with the blankets. That only prompted the other to pull him even tighter, as if trying to merge their bodies together. Such a dummy. 

"You should still hurry up and finish it before nightfall. Don't be irresponsible," he says. "You were just as careless back in college."

“That was a long time ago, I've already changed.”

He raises an eyebrow.

Mo Ran smirks, lashes fluttering down. “I just want to spend more time with my boyfriend. That’s not irresponsible,” he borrows Chu Wanning’s hand again, toying with it idly. “I swear I will finish writing those reports after lunch.”

The world seems to stop; his heart leaps, then slams hard against his ribs. Denial can be very hard to overcome. Flustered, he looks up and questions what lies before him, uncertain of what he’s about to face. Two dark eyes greet him, a soft glint of violet blooming with warmth and quiet compassion. There is nothing but sincerity in that gaze. Chu Wanning opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to say something, but not a word escapes. 

He feels like all his plushies and figures are looking at him in disappointment.

“Chu Wanning.”

He blinks, suddenly very aware that he’s wearing nothing but one of Mo Ran’s shirts. And that they’ve only just fucked and confessed each other’s feelings. Well, kind of.

“Wanning…”

He clears his throat. “Mo ran.”

“Let me recreate every love story you’ve read—with you,” Mo Ran murmurs, his voice so tender it sounds like a sigh. “I know real life can’t be exactly like fiction… but let me try.””

The tips of Chu Wanning’s ears flush.

This man has not only embraced Chu Wanning's soul and foolishness wholeheartedly, but now vows to step fully into his world and give him what he has yearned for in silence, for years. From the moment he began reading all kinds of homoerotic content, he believed this part of himself was meant to be hidden, that such a hobby might be ridiculed by those around him. Chu Wanning had never seen himself as both a man and the exalted Yuheng, a pristine role model. He would never have dared to believe he could share this with a loved one, with his Mo Ran. Apparently, he's been betting wrong. 

Ah, he has a lot to write about in his blog. 

“Chu Wanning, be my boyfriend.”

Perhaps one day, he'll even take the step to make his debut as a casual writer. The tale of the emperor and his concubine still lingers in the back of his mind, waiting for a better development.

“Let’s be together.”

Smiling from the bottom of his heart, soft and true, Chu Wanning gently combs Mo Ran's bangs aside, brushing them away from his ever-tender eyes.

“Yes.”

Mo Ran gasps. “Really?”

He nods.

“But only if you're going to sit down and write the reports right now.”

A cheeky groan. “You hate, don’t you, babygirl?”

Chu Wanning narrows his eyes. “Stop calling me that ridiculous nickname,” 

Sitting down with a soft grunt, he takes the opportunity to stretch his limbs. His whole body feels sore and aches significantly, but he's been in bed for a long time now. It’s time to move. 

“I’ll go prepare some wonton soup,” he informs, clearing his throat again and tying his hair back with a practiced flick. “By the time it’s ready, I expect you to have made significant progress.”

Mo Ran pouts. “Fine, but only because you prepared my favorite dish.”

This is just the beginning of their own story—where the irredeemable husky finds refuge alongside a surly white cat, once professor and student, such an unpredictable combination. That cloudy afternoon marks the first of many they’ll share together as lovers. That’s a nice thing to think about, surely. And even if the cycle of life were to end, Chu Wanning hopes their souls will find be reincarnated in a new timeline and they find each other again. But for now, he can't wait to teach Mo Ran everything he loves.

Fin .