In a Relationship With the Rugged Guy Next Door - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: “Baby, let’s be just like we used to be…”

The heavy rain poured down on the way back.

Changxi was a rainy city, so rain was nothing unusual, but a downpour as heavy as tonight’s only happened a few times a year.

In front of Chen Jingming sat a bowl of clay-pot lamb rice noodles in clear broth. In Changxi, these noodles weren’t served with cilantro or green onions, but with garlic sprouts, and the air was thick with the faint, gamey scent of mutton.

It was one in the morning. There were two other tables of customers in the shop who looked like they had come for a late-night snack to sober up after drinking. Many 24-hour rice noodle shops existed in Changxi, born from the city’s vibrant nightlife.

The portion in front of him was large, but Chen Jingming had no appetite. The exhaustion of travel had drained his already limited energy; his mind was foggy, his pale face lacked color, and even his lips were slightly chapped.

“Baby, eat this.”

Two small ceramic dishes were placed in front of him—one with pickled radishes and the other with crispy chili flakes. He looked up slightly at Chu Feng, who sat opposite him.

Chu Feng was over 190cm tall, with wheat-colored skin, broad shoulders, and long legs that were impossible to ignore. He wore a simple jet-black T-shirt that clung tightly to his arms, failing to hide his superior physique. Though April in Changxi was cool in the mornings and evenings, the denim shirt Chu Feng had been wearing was now draped over Chen Jingming.

This was the first time in thirteen years that Chen Jingming had returned to Changxi. Despite the city becoming a popular tourist destination recently, he had never come back, even when friends visited. He couldn’t view this place simply as a tourist spot, yet it no longer felt like home.

“Ge (Brother),” Chen Jingming said softly, wanting to ask Chu Feng to stop calling him “baby.” His voice was so quiet it was immediately swallowed by the sound of the storm outside.

“Hmm?” Chu Feng paused, pushing one of the small dishes closer. “This is what you used to like. Baby, see if it still tastes the same.”

Chen Jingming hesitated, glancing around the shop. Luckily, the rain was loud; otherwise, people would surely find it strange to hear a grown man being called “baby” over and over.

“What’s wrong? Need a tissue? Or water?” Chu Feng asked.

“No,” Chen Jingming shook his head. He picked up his chopsticks and took a small piece of the pink pickled radish. It was dyed pink by the skin of the red radishes. It was sweet, sour, and crunchy with a hint of spice—enough to finally give him a bit of an appetite.

Seeing him start to eat, Chu Feng finally relaxed. From the moment he picked Chen Jingming up at the airport, the younger man had been silent, neither drinking nor eating. If the storm hadn’t forced them into this shop, Chu Feng feared he would have stayed that way all night. He was worried.

Chu Feng picked up a stainless steel cup, peeked at Chen Jingming’s eyes, and asked, “Baby, want some chili?”

Chen Jingming looked up, again wanting to tell him to stop using that nickname, but seeing the concern in Chu Feng’s eyes, he simply whispered, “Yes.” Although he hadn’t eaten spicy food much since moving to his new home, he hadn’t lost his tolerance entirely.

As soon as he spoke, a large spoonful of chili oil was dumped into his bowl.

Chu Feng: “Eat up, baby.” Chen Jingming: “…”

For locals, the chili oil in these noodles was fragrant but not overly hot. One scoop was standard, two showed taste, and three was “heavenly.”

“Ha…” Chen Jingming began to pant shortly, his tongue sticking out like a little dog’s.

After a few seconds of observation, Chu Feng finally realized: “Spicy?”

He jumped up to get a glass of cold water, moved from across the table to sit beside Chen Jingming, and patted his back while apologizing. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine,” Chen Jingming said, shrinking his shoulders and awkwardly pulling away.

“It’s my fault.” Chu Feng paused, then reached out to pat Chen Jingming’s head before sitting back down. He chuckled softly. “I forgot our baby might not be able to handle spice anymore—or likes having his back patted.”

Chen Jingming gave a polite, thin smile. It seemed Chu Feng hadn’t realized that Chen Jingming was no longer the clingy “baby” he used to be.

Chu Feng turned to the owner: “Boss, another bowl.” “No need,” Chen Jingming said quickly. “I really don’t have an appetite.”

Chu Feng hesitated, then canceled the order and pulled Chen Jingming’s leftover bowl toward himself to finish it. Eating Chen Jingming’s leftovers used to be a daily occurrence for him.

The rainy wind whipped through the door curtains, messing up Chu Feng’s slightly long hair. Being so large and dark-skinned, he looked like a disheveled wild man. Chen Jingming found himself imagining Chu Feng swinging through a jungle on a vine, wearing nothing but a few leaves. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

Chu Feng saw the smile. Even as the wind rattled the plastic curtains, he watched Chen Jingming’s curving eyes and smiled back silently until their eyes met.

“Cold?” Chu Feng asked. “No.” Chen Jingming’s smile didn’t fade instantly. He lowered his head, feeling a bit embarrassed for laughing at his own imagination after being so silent.

“Baby,” Chu Feng said, having finished both bowls in large gulps. “I’m really happy you’re back.”

Chen Jingming hesitated before asking cautiously, “Ge… but you asked me to come back to help. Help with what?”

Chu Feng: “We’re planning to start e-commerce live streaming.” Chen Jingming: “But I don’t know how to do any of that.” Chu Feng laughed: “Then you can just stand next to me and shout ‘Follow us so you don’t get lost!'” Chen Jingming: “…”

“Just kidding.” Chu Feng laughed heartily and couldn’t resist reaching out to pinch Chen Jingming’s cheek. “I just missed you.”

…

The rain was too heavy to risk driving to the town in poor visibility, so they stayed in the shop for two hours until it let up. During the hour-long drive back, the car heater kept Chen Jingming warm.

Chu Feng reclined the passenger seat so Chen Jingming could sleep. He lay there, a thin silhouette, but sleep wouldn’t come. The blurred scenery outside made him feel surreal—he was actually back in Changxi, in Changling Town. Only yesterday, he had been crying in a rented room in Shanghai; tonight, he was in Chu Feng’s passenger seat.

He stole glances at Chu Feng. The man had changed—his nose seemed sharper, his jawline more defined—but those fierce, narrow phoenix eyes remained the same. He looked intimidating, like someone you shouldn’t mess with, yet he couldn’t stop saying “baby.”

As they left the city, high-rises were replaced by open roads and occasional streetlights in small villages. Chen Jingming watched Chu Feng, wondering about the years they spent together, how Chu Feng lived after he left, why they lost touch, and if Chu Feng had seen the gossip news.

A month ago, Chen Jingming had been a scriptwriter for an idol drama. He had worked hard for the opportunity. Though he studied Computer Science, he loved writing and had been mentored by a literature professor, Lu Fang. Eventually, he left his job as a developer to pursue screenwriting.

The drama featured young idols, including the second male lead, Tang Song. Because idols have massive fanbases, the script often required on-the-spot changes to satisfy fans. That was Chen Jingming’s job. It was stressful, but Tang Song had been kind to him.

He thought they were friends until one night, after drinking, Tang Song tried to force himself on Chen Jingming. Chen Jingming fled in terror, only to find himself trending the next day under the headline: “Male Scriptwriter Harasses Tang Song.”

His personal information, even his ID number, was leaked. His attempts to clarify were met with a lawyer’s letter and intensified fan harassment. His company told him to go into hiding. He lost his job, his social media was swamped with hate, and he even received packages containing animal carcasses and funeral wreaths at his door.

Worst of all, his life’s work—his writings—were picked apart and mocked. He was heartbroken.

That’s when Chu Feng called. Chen Jingming had planned to ignore the unknown number until he saw the location: Changxi. He was staying with a friend, afraid to go out. Hearing Chu Feng’s voice, he burst into tears and hung up. He wasn’t in a state to reminisce, but then a text came:

Baby, it’s Ge.

…

When the car finally stopped, Chen Jingming was staring at the muscles in Chu Feng’s arms and quickly closed his eyes to pretend to sleep.

Chu Feng opened the door, and the scent of wet earth and grass filled the cabin. Just as Chen Jingming was about to “wake up,” he felt Chu Feng’s arms slide under his back to lift him.

“No need,” Chen Jingming said, eyes snapping open. “It’s fine, keep sleeping.” Chu Feng lifted him in a princess carry. Even through his T-shirt, Chu Feng’s body felt hot.

Chen Jingming struggled, but Chu Feng held tighter. He was tall and used to physical labor; carrying the 173cm (approx. 5’8″) Chen Jingming was effortless for him.

“Ge,” Chen Jingming protested. “Put me down. I need to get my luggage.” Chu Feng shifted him to one arm. “I’ll get it. Just wrap your arms around my neck.” “Put me down!” Chen Jingming insisted, sounding distressed.

Chu Feng froze for a moment before slowly setting him on his feet. Chen Jingming looked away. “It’s okay. Let’s go, we’re home,” Chu Feng said.

Chen Jingming looked at the address: No. 48 Changling Street. It was Chu Feng’s house. He looked next door at No. 49, which was once his home, but it had been converted into a government office.

The house had changed. The first floor was now a large studio with a computer and various documents. The walls were decorated with wax prints and ritual masks. They went up to the second floor to Chu Feng’s bedroom. The room was familiar—the bed against the wall, a desk by the window with a lamp and a bottle of moisturizer.

Chu Feng told him to sit. “I’ll get you water to wash your feet.” He placed a pair of new slippers by Chen Jingming’s feet. Chen Jingming stood up. “No, I can do it myself.” Chu Feng pressed gently on his shoulders. “You’re tired. Let me.”

Chen Jingming was frustrated. “Don’t do this, okay? I can wash myself. I’m not a kid anymore.”

But thirteen years ago, this was exactly how they lived. Back then, Chen Jingming was a clingy child who wanted to be attached to Chu Feng 24/7. Chu Feng cooked for him, helped with homework, washed his face and feet, and slept beside him.

Seeing Chen Jingming’s melancholic eyes and thin frame at the airport, Chu Feng realized he had been wrong for thirteen years. He had let Chen Jingming suffer. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Baby,” Chu Feng leaned down and cupped Chen Jingming’s face in his hands, speaking with determination. “We’re going to be just like we used to be.”