Help, My Buff Roommate is Begging to Touch my Abs - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Touched by Husband

After returning to the dormitory, the sweltering heat of the day that hadn’t fully dissipated still lingered in the air.

Jin Bao’er picked up the dirty laundry basket Zhao Yuheng had tossed at the foot of the bed; it held a scent mixed with sweat and male hormones. This was a scent unique to Zhao Yuheng.

He skillfully threw the T-shirts and shorts all at once into the communal washing machine and pressed the “Quick Wash” button. The “rumble” of the machine operating started up; Jin Bao’er leaned against the doorframe, watching the clothes tumble in the water inside the drum.

Of course, he definitely wasn’t hand-washing them. If he really had to hand-wash, just those few oversized jerseys and boxers of Zhao Yuheng’s plus his own would be enough to rub his hands red.

Inside the dormitory.

Zhao Yuheng was currently sitting cross-legged on the upper bunk, holding his phone. His gaze, however, crossed the screen from time to time to land on Jin Bao’er’s busy back.

Watching Jin Bao’er help him wash clothes just like usual, the inexplicable irritability in Zhao Yuheng’s heart finally dissipated, replaced by a grounded sense of satisfaction.

This is more like it.

In truth, even now he hadn’t figured out why Jin Bao’er had suddenly flared up that day and said those heartless words about “never seeing each other again.” Hearing those words at the time, he was so angry he nearly smashed his phone; he really wanted to go berserk.

But after these few days of cold war, passing each other like strangers, he realized that when you’re used to being good to someone and suddenly stop, that “withdrawal reaction” is simply lethal. Moreover, he had sworn back then that he would protect him for a lifetime. A man’s oath isn’t made lightly. Even a biological son has a rebellious phase; you can’t truly throw the child away just because he throws a temper tantrum, right?

So, it was impossible for Zhao Yuheng to leave Jin Bao’er behind. He just needed a stepping stone—a reason that Jin Bao’er still needed him and then he could naturally continue being good to him.

He couldn’t say what kind of feeling this was; perhaps it was a step deeper than brotherhood, similar to kinship. Jin Bao’er had integrated into his life like air, making him subconsciously want to be good to him. Like a brother to a younger brother, or even like an old father to an ignorant son. Regardless of how others saw it, that was how Zhao Yuheng felt anyway.

Jin Bao’er hung the dried clothes on the wire in the drying room. Water droplets dripped from the hem of a white T-shirt onto the concrete floor. (The washing machine hadn’t washed it clean enough, so he hand-washed it once more.)

He returned to his seat in the dorm and turned on his computer; the blue light of the screen illuminated his slightly tired face. Just now, his phone had vibrated; it was a text from the bank.

[Deposit: 650.00 RMB]

Looking at those pitiful three digits, the arc of Jin Bao’er’s lips froze for a moment. This was the attendance bonus from last month. After writing for over a month, staying up for countless all-nighters, and nearly finishing two books, it only resulted in this small amount of money.

He subconsciously turned his head to look at Zhao Yuheng, who was currently in a three-man queue playing games with his roommates. Zhao Yuheng’s family background was good; just now he was clamoring about sending “Second” two hundred bucks to buy a new skin. He had always spent money lavishly but had never been stingy toward Jin Bao’er.

Jin Bao’er clutched his phone, an inexplicable sourness welling up in his heart. He didn’t want to be “raised” by Zhao Yuheng like this forever. He also wanted to make big money, so that in the future he could unhesitatingly buy Zhao Yuheng the latest limited-edition skins and take him out for a big meal.

However, his writing level seemed to have hit a bottleneck. Jin Bao’er opened Douyin, and the algorithm precisely pushed several advertisements for “Web Novel God-Making Classes” to him.

“One-on-one tutoring, guaranteed contract within three months, earning over ten thousand a month is not a dream.”

The lecturer in the video was speaking with spit flying everywhere; Jin Bao’er felt a bit tempted as he watched. But when he saw the price list, he hesitated again. It ranged from a few hundred to several thousand. That one-on-one tutoring that promised a “guaranteed masterpiece” actually cost 5,000 RMB for three months. That was half a semester’s tuition for him and a huge sum of money he would have to save for a very long time.

“Fuck! Coming to gank me again!”

On the other side, a curse from Zhao Yuheng interrupted Jin Bao’er’s thoughts. Zhao Yuheng, the Eldest, and the Second were in a three-man queue; clearly, the opponents realized the threat of this Marksman, and several people grouped up to camp him again.

Watching Zhao Yuheng’s face flush red with anger, Jin Bao’er couldn’t help but shake his head with a smile. Generally, powerful Marksmen are like this; after all, since he is Zhao Yuheng, he’s bound to be targeted.

…

The dormitory lights went out.

When it reached twelve o’clock, only the small desk lamp at Jin Bao’er’s bedside still glowed with a dim yellow light. He was experiencing a bit of writer’s block; the cursor on the screen flickered. He lay prone on the bed, his fingers tapping rapidly on the phone, trying to capture the inspiration in his mind.

“Smack.”

A crisp sound rang out, followed by a dull pain on his buttocks.

“What are you doing? Not sleeping yet?”

Jin Bao’er was startled. Before he could react, a tall figure leaned over. Carrying the inherent hardness and strength of a man, he leaned heavily against Jin Bao’er’s back. Zhao Yuheng’s head was almost resting in the nook of Jin Bao’er’s neck, his warm breath spraying onto his earlobe.

“Writing… writing a novel.”

Jin Bao’er quickly flipped his phone over, his heart thumping so hard it felt like it would leap out of his throat.

“By the way, what’s your novel called? Let me have a look.”

Zhao Yuheng seemed completely oblivious to his panic, his whole body almost pressed against Jin Bao’er’s back. He leaned over, his chest tight against Jin Bao’er’s back. That scalding body temperature instantly transmitted through the thin short-sleeved shirt.

Jin Bao’er felt half his body go numb; it was hot and burning, as if being roasted by fire. Jin Bao’er almost never refused any request from Zhao Yuheng, but this… absolutely not. Because what he wrote wasn’t some proper tale of martial arts grudges, but rather that kind of Danmei (BL) fiction filled with ambiguity.

Had anyone ever seen a straight male author writing Danmei? If Zhao Yuheng found out, wouldn’t he explode on the spot?

Just as Jin Bao’er was thinking of an excuse to fool him, Zhao Yuheng didn’t get impatient. A rough, large hand reached over—not to snatch the phone, but to rest gently on the back of Jin Bao’er’s neck. His fingertips, carrying thin calluses, lightly stroked back and forth on the sensitive side of Jin Bao’er’s neck like petting a cat, smoothing things out.

“Nng…”

Jin Bao’er couldn’t help but suck in a breath of cold air, his whole body shivering as if hit by an electric current. He quickly adjusted his breathing, trying his best to relax his shoulders, fearing his stiff body would let Zhao Yuheng discover something abnormal.

“The writing is too trashy, just a bunch of fluff. I’ll let you see later when I become famous.”

Jin Bao’er suppressed his voice, making it sound a bit muffled.

“Mhm, then I’ll wait.”

Zhao Yuheng didn’t think much of it. After speaking, his palm slid from the back of the neck to the top of the head, fingers inserting into the soft hair and giving it a firm rub. Luckily it was a buzz cut, otherwise it would have been rubbed into a bird’s nest.

Then, he stood up straight. Wearing a pair of slippers and black underwear, he swaggered off to the toilet to pee.

Jin Bao’er turned his head and, by the dim light, watched Zhao Yuheng’s broad back and the lines of his waist and abdominal muscles tightening with his stride. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and sighed in his heart.

There would be many more days of such intimate contact in the future.

Jin Bao’er! Jin Bao’er!

You must stay in control; whatever you do, don’t let the secret slip in front of this straight man.