In a Relationship With the Rugged Guy Next Door - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: “Country folk sure know how to play.”

“Brother Lang—” Chen Jingming quickly covered Chen Lang’s mouth.

Chu Feng had taken the car to be washed yesterday. A vehicle that spent years running mountain roads and hauling goods couldn’t be in great shape; the two dents in the rear had never been repaired.

Chen Lang had suggested borrowing a car to receive Fu Yu, but Chu Feng insisted there was no need to “slap one’s own face to look fat.” Clean, comfortable grass and well-kept cattle pens were what the client actually needed to see.

When they reached the parking spot, Fu Yu sat in the back.

Originally, the plan was for Chen Lang to sit in the back to chat with him. Chen Jingming assumed that since Chen Lang’s temper had flared, he would definitely go sit in Li Yongjing’s car instead.

Surprisingly, Chen Lang climbed in anyway.

As Chen Jingming buckled his seatbelt in the passenger seat, he exchanged a glance with Chu Feng.

Chu Feng felt rather helpless but wasn’t angry with Chen Lang. To him, handling these social interactions was a nuisance. For years, Chen Lang had been the one fronting these meetings, successfully handling “old foxes” who had been in the business for decades. Who would have thought he’d be bitten by a young pup today?

It was only natural for a “rich second generation” like this to be a bit picky.

Chu Feng didn’t mind. He firmly believed that in business, the product was what mattered most.

The silence in the car was eerily awkward. Outside of work, Chen Jingming was effectively a shut-in, but he wanted to do something for the pasture.

He gave himself a mental pep talk, intending to chat with Manager Fu to ease the tension. Since Fu used to be a chef, talking about food was a safe bet.

“Ahem…” Chen Jingming cleared his throat. “Manager Fu, didn’t your assistant come with you?”

Jingming’s voice was soft, his tone polite and endearing, devoid of any sycophancy or malice.

“No.” Fu Yu looked out the window, his arms crossed in a dignified manner. “He had a sudden personal matter and requested leave.”

Chen Jingming: “I see. Earlier, I heard Lang… Manager Chen mention over the phone that he planned to take him to eat some local specialties.”

Fu Yu turned his head. “What specialties?”

Chen Lang chimed in, “Stinky Tofu Hotpot. She said she loved stinky food.”

Chen Lang had been the one in contact with Fu Yu’s assistant for some time, exchanging data and logistics.

“Stinky tofu in a hotpot?” Fu Yu didn’t recoil at the mention of the smell; instead, he seemed curious. “What kind of tofu do you use?”

Chen Lang: “There are many kinds of tofu in Changxi. You probably haven’t heard of them, Manager Fu.”

Fu Yu: “I was abroad before.”

Chen Lang turned back to look at him. When it came to food, no one in the car was more of an expert than he was.

While waiting at a red light, Chen Lang began raving about a fierce local dish—Shrimp-Sour Beef. Fu Yu’s expression was serious as he listened intently, his eyes fixed on Chen Lang, completely ignoring the scenery outside.

…

They arrived at Changling Town and had lunch at Jinmei Restaurant. Chen Jingming went to help Hu Xianyun serve the dishes.

“Who’s that?” Hu Xianyun asked.

A small courtyard separated the kitchen from the dining area. Chen Jingming and Hu Xianyun chatted under the grape trellis.

Jingming said, “An important client for the pasture, from Shanghai.”

Hu Xianyun: “He looks loaded. Does this mean you brothers are about to strike it rich?”

“Who knows,” Chen Jingming scratched his head. “Don’t know if the deal will go through yet. By the way, aren’t you going to look for a job?”

Hu Xianyun: “Don’t want to. Summer is coming; who wants to work then?”

Chen Jingming laughed. “Why not work in the summer?”

“You’ve been away too long. We’re very busy in the summer,” Hu Xianyun explained. “We have to go play in the river, go rafting, catch fish and shrimp, pick plums, and harvest corn. Very busy.”

Chen Jingming: “How romantic.”

Hu Xianyun: “Romantic? How?”

“I don’t know.” Chen Jingming smiled. “Summer just feels romantic.”

“Food’s ready!” Hu Xianyun’s mother shouted from the kitchen.

Chen Jingming and Hu Xianyun went to grab the dishes. Hu Xianyun carried the stir-fried chicken blood, while Chen Jingming brought the pickled-chili pork tendons.

The others were already chatting at the table. Chen Jingming set the dish down and sat. Chu Feng poured him a cup of the restaurant’s tea. Thinking it wasn’t hot, Jingming took a large gulp.

“So bitter!” His face crumpled into a ball.

“Is it?” Fu Yu curiously took a sip. “Mm, Kuding tea.”

Chen Lang: “Manager Fu even knows about this?”

Fu Yu: “I’ve had it before.”

“Baby.” Chu Feng went to the front desk to grab a free mint, unwrapped it, and offered it to Jingming. “This one is sweet.”

Chen Jingming dazedlly opened his mouth to take the mint. He said to the frowning Fu Yu, “Sorry about that, Manager Fu.”

Fu Yu immediately looked away.

“Manager Fu, actually, he isn’t my assistant,” Chu Feng explained.

“Mhm.”

Chu Feng: “He’s my brother.”

Fu Yu: “Huh?”

A trace of confusion flashed in Fu Yu’s eyes. From the moment they met, he could tell Chen Jingming was gay, just like himself. Chen Lang was harder to read because his aura was too “local.” But Chu Feng was clearly straight, so seeing Chu Feng feed Jingming a candy had shocked him—he thought they were a couple.

Now Chu Feng was saying they were just brothers.

Do country folk play this fast and loose?

The actual gay men at the table fell silent. Once again, it was Li Yongjing, the eternal straight man, who stepped in to clarify: “Haha, sorry about that. Manager Fu might have misunderstood. Because his brother was away from home for many years and just returned, Chu Feng treasures him quite a bit.”

Li Yongjing was convinced that everyone at the table was straight, and that he was the most “woke” one among them.

Fu Yu looked at Chen Jingming, who lowered his head to drink his tea.

…

The lunch featured authentic Changxi cuisine, and everyone enjoyed it. At the table, Fu Yu seemed a bit more human.

After eating, they drove to the pasture. Chu Feng was the busiest during the afternoon tour. The breeding and slaughtering supervisors had prepared well in advance.

“Xiao Lang, you go ahead,” Chu Feng said.

Chen Jingming was sitting on the small bed in Chu Feng’s dormitory. “Aren’t we going?”

Chu Feng: “We’ll be outside for a few hours. Let me put some sunscreen on you.”

Chen Lang, who had already reached the corner: “…”

“Brother, do you usually sleep here?” Chen Jingming asked.

This was the innermost room on the second floor of the dormitory building. The back of the room was piled with miscellaneous items. There was a metal bunk bed; the top bunk was filled with quilts, while the bottom was neatly made up.

Chu Feng opened the sunscreen, squeezed it into his palm, and applied it to Jingming’s arm.

“I used to sleep here often,” Chu Feng said, meticulously applying it to every inch. “Now that you’re back, I won’t sleep here. No matter how late it is, I’ll go home to sleep with you.”

Chen Jingming held out his other arm. “The bed is so small. Can you even stretch your legs out?”

Chu Feng: “I can. Baby, do you want a nap?”

“No.” Chen Jingming wasn’t sleepy. He had been in high spirits lately and wanted to learn more about the pasture. “I want to go with you guys.”

Chu Feng, who had been tense all morning, finally broke into a happy grin. “So clingy to your brother, huh?”

His large hand, covered in sunscreen, was rubbing Jingming’s neck. Chen Jingming couldn’t be bothered to explain that he wasn’t being “clingy”—Chu Feng wouldn’t believe him anyway.

Chu Feng had his own “self-persuasion” system.

…

By the time the tour ended, the sun had set. Everyone was tired and hungry, so they headed straight to Dagu Village.

The market and performances were over, so they went directly for the “All-Beef Feast.” Xishan Pasture had supplied this old restaurant for years. Though it only had three branches, it was legendary among local foodies.

The owner arranged a private room. The open window let in a cool breeze.

Chen Jingming was physically weaker than the others and had sweated the most. His bangs were damp. Chu Feng used a tissue to wipe his face.

“I can do it myself,” Chen Jingming whispered, conscious of the others.

“Let Brother do it.” Since Jingming couldn’t win a tug-of-war with him, he had to sit still. To his surprise, no one was looking.

Chen Lang and Fu Yu, who had disliked each other at first, were now chatting animatedly about the development of Chinese fusion cuisine.

Chen Jingming: “Brother, look at them.”

Chu Feng: “They aren’t fighting anymore. Manager Fu is actually very polite, and Xiao Lang is a cheerful guy.”

Just as he spoke, the atmosphere shifted again.

“Please don’t smoke here. It’s very uncouth,” Fu Yu said, reassuming his arrogant, disgusted expression.

It turned out Chen Lang had offered Fu Yu a cigarette. They had smoked together at the pasture, and Chen Lang had even smoked two of Fu Yu’s Gitanas.

Chen Lang took a deep breath, gritting his teeth: “I specifically went out to buy Chunghwa cigarettes just now!”

Fu Yu: “It’s a matter of manners, regardless of the brand.”

Chen Jingming’s smile froze. He closed his eyes in despair: Here we go again.

…

The Changling beef was rich in aroma. Different cuts were used for different preparations: stewed, stir-fried, pan-seared steaks, and three types of hotpot bases for dipping.

Chen Jingming’s favorite was the cold-tossed beef skin. Stewed until soft yet slightly chewy, it was the perfect snack to go with drinks.

While they were discussing the aging process of the beef, a few girls in ethnic costumes walked past the courtyard. They were the restaurant’s dancers. Their ornate outfits jingled pleasantly as they moved.

A “toasting ceremony” is a staple of ethnic dances, often requested by tourists.

Fu Yu looked over a few times, thinking the clothing could be integrated into the tableware design. Chen Lang noticed his gaze.

Ten minutes later, four Miao aunties in traditional dress stood in the private room.

“These are the best singers in the shop,” the manager said with a forced smile since the younger dancers were busy. “Since Boss Chu brought guests today, we must toast until you’re satisfied! A ‘High Mountain, Flowing Water’ for the bosses!”

The aunties each held a ceramic pot and surrounded Fu Yu. The pots were filled with sweet rice wine.

Fu Yu’s face went terrifyingly dark. Chen Jingming’s eyes lit up.

But the aunties didn’t care if you were an elite man or a fresh-faced youth. To the sound of the lusheng and toasting songs, the ceramic bowls were brought to the lips. One had to drink for two minutes straight.

“Brother, I want some too,” Chen Jingming mumbled, feeling a bit tipsy as he grabbed Chu Feng’s hand.

Chu Feng squeezed his palm. “You’re next.”

…

Chen Jingming forgot exactly when he blacked out. He only remembered the rice wine was sweet. He had left to use the bathroom, but as soon as the wind hit him, his legs went soft and he went down.

“…” It took Chen Jingming a full three minutes to “reboot.”

He wasn’t at home; he was on a hotel bed.

Sitting up, he vaguely recalled that everyone seemed to have gotten drunk during the second half of the night. The private room had been a chaotic mess of arguing, with only Chu Feng remaining sober to carry everyone to the hotel one by one.

He remembered being incredibly thirsty in the night, constantly wanting water.

The door clicked. Chu Feng walked in. Seeing Jingming awake, he sat down. “Awake? Your eyes are so swollen from sleep.”

Chu Feng leaned in and sniffed him. “Stinky. My stinky baby.”

Chen Jingming said blankly, “Brother, I’m thirsty.”

Suddenly, Chu Feng lifted his shirt above his chest.

Startled, Chen Jingming recoiled and fell back onto the bed.

“Look at this,” Chu Feng pointed to his right pec.

There were two clear teeth marks, with the skin slightly broken.

Chen Jingming’s eyes went wide. “That?”

“You bit me,” Chu Feng laughed, letting his shirt down and reaching for a bottle of mineral water. “You were yelling that you were thirsty in the middle of the night, but I didn’t hear you. You just grabbed my chest and started sucking.”

Chen Jingming’s world collapsed. “Brother… you’re joking, right?”

“Why would I lie? Here, drink your water.” Chu Feng rubbed Jingming’s head. “I figured you were missing your mom and wanted to nurse. Pity your brother doesn’t have any milk.”