In a Relationship With the Rugged Guy Next Door - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: On Such a Good Day, Doing Anything Is…

“Now?”

“Now!”

A moment of silence filled the cramped single dorm.

Chen Jingming was just about to triumphantly conclude that Chu Feng wasn’t “gay enough” when he suddenly heard a click.

He looked down; Chu Feng was already unbuckling his belt.

Probably because of their durability, Chu Feng often wore heavy-duty denim jeans, switching between various dark and light washes. Today’s pair looked like they had been worn for years, washed until they were faded white.

Chu Feng loosened the belt and pulled them down along with his underwear.

“Baby, come.”

“…” Chen Jingming turned his head slightly to avoid the sight. He hadn’t actually meant to “eat” right now; he only said it because he was certain Chu Feng would never agree.

Now that he had played with fire and gotten burned, he could only save face by stammering: “It’s… it’s not washed.”

Chu Feng raised his chin, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He immediately bent over to pull his pants back up. “I’ll go wash.”

He actually turned to open the door.

This time, Chen Jingming truly lost his nerve. He grabbed Chu Feng’s forearm. “No need, no need! I was actually joking.”

“You shouldn’t joke about things like this,” Chu Feng said.

The belt was still unbuckled, hanging loosely at his waist and revealing the outline of his abdominal muscles. Chen Jingming kept his eyes down, wondering why Chu Feng had suddenly become so uninhibited.

“Come here, Baby.” Chu Feng gripped Jingming’s wrist and pulled him close.

Jingming sucked in his breath. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Chu Feng hooked one arm around Jingming’s waist and used the other hand to cup the back of his neck, forcing him to look up. “Brother told you, you can have whatever you want. I mean what I say.”

“Is that true…?” Jingming still felt Chu Feng was only doing this out of doting indulgence, not actual desire.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the large hand on his lower back suddenly pulled him flush against Chu Feng’s body.

Chu Feng: “Not true?”

It was dinner time, and employees were constantly passing by downstairs. Jingming trembled involuntarily with fear of being seen. “Then why won’t you let me…”

“Brother just doesn’t want you doing that kind of thing.”

“Why?” Jingming frowned. “Is it because you think it’s uncomfortable when you do it to me, so you assume I’d be uncomfortable doing it to you?”

Chu Feng frowned as well. “That’s for sure. How can it be comfortable having such a big thing stuffed in your mouth?”

Normally, Jingming would have shrieked at such a blunt statement, but today he only felt a deep sense of helplessness. He closed his eyes in despair and let his head thud heavily against Chu Feng’s chest.

“Baby?”

“Brother, let me be quiet for a moment.”

Chu Feng just held him gently, remaining silent. After a while, Jingming reached out and buckled Chu Feng’s belt for him.

“Brother, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat. What’s for dinner?”

“I think it’s soybean and pig trotter soup,” Chu Feng said, checking to make sure his zipper was up.

Jingming: “Pig trotter soup? Let’s go!”

…

The Bowl Cut Disaster

The Xishan Ranch cafeteria was famous for its food. The lady who cooked there was a relative of the breeding specialist and made incredibly delicious meals.

To many of the elders, Chen Jingming’s appetite was a mystery. Despite being so much smaller than Chu Feng, he ate just as much. “Maybe you’ll grow as tall and strong as your brother,” the cafeteria lady joked.

Chu Feng’s expression turned solemn. “I was just thinking… if you had grown up with me and eaten this much every day, you might have actually grown that tall.”

“Brother…” Jingming’s eyes grew red. He realized that the fact he was adopted and unhappy would be a lifelong knot in Chu Feng’s heart, even though they shared no blood.

“It’s not your fault,” Jingming whispered. “You can’t take all the responsibility on yourself.”

“It is my responsibility,” Chu Feng replied stubbornly.

Realizing his brother’s obsession was a form of love, Jingming didn’t argue further. He just smiled. “You’ve done a great job already. Your hair is getting long, Baby. Want to get it cut this weekend?”

Jingming agreed but refused to go to the city. Instead, he snuck off on Friday after work to the only barber shop on Changling New Street—run by a relative of Chen Lang’s mother.

“Just cut it short,” Jingming told the auntie in the cheongsam. “The bangs are in my eyes.”

Fifteen minutes later, the auntie removed the cape. “Done!”

Jingming looked in the mirror and was speechless. It was a bowl cut.

“Look! So handsome!” the auntie chirped. “This is very popular in Korea, perfect for young people.”

Jingming mechanically lay back on the washing bed and closed his eyes. He had never hated Koreans in his life—until today. He paid the 30 yuan and ran home, covering his head.

…

The Rescue Mission

He ran past Chen Lang, who was smoking outside. Chen Lang saw him fleeing in tears and immediately called Chu Feng. “Get home! Your ‘little cow’ is in trouble!”

Chu Feng rushed back to find Jingming locked in the bathroom.

“Jingming? What happened? Did someone bully you?” Chen Lang pounded on the door.

“Don’t laugh!” Jingming sobbed from inside.

When the door finally opened, Chen Lang burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Hahaha! Who did this? I’ll kill them!”

“Your aunt,” Jingming said flatly.

Chu Feng arrived, breathless, and pulled Jingming into his arms. “I’ll love you no matter what you look like,” he promised, kissing Jingming’s face.

“Even you said it’s ‘okay,’ which means it’s hideous!” Jingming wailed, soaking Chu Feng’s grey T-shirt with tears.

Eventually, the two older brothers sat Jingming down in the bathroom. Armed with a pair of scissors and a YouTube tutorial for a “micro-textured” cut, they carefully trimmed the bowl cut.

“You look like a high schooler,” Chen Lang remarked. “And Chu Feng looks like your uncle.”

“Get lost!” Chu Feng laughed.

…

Literature and Charcoal

While the brothers continued their usual bickering over ranch equipment, Jingming went to Golden Sister’s Restaurant to help Hu Xianyun carry their takeout.

Hu Xianyun was filming a video of herself grilling fish. “I’m going to be famous,” she told him. “My fifth video got 200 likes!”

As they watched the charcoal sparks fly, Hu Xianyun asked, “Why don’t you keep writing scripts?”

“I don’t know what to write,” Jingming sighed. “The market wants IP adaptations, and I’m not feeling my usual suspense stuff lately.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re too happy lately?” she suggested with a smile. “Isn’t suffering the cradle of literature?”

Jingming rested his chin in his hand. He thought about the story he had always wanted to write—a story about “adoption” and “being adopted.” He didn’t hate his foster parents; it was more complex than that. It was the union of two broken families, a bond forged in pain. He just didn’t know how to write the ending.

“Xianyun,” Jingming said as they walked back with the grilled fish. “I’m actually in a lot of pain.”

Hu Xianyun glanced at the steaming tray. “You mean you’re in a lot of heat? This tray is burning!”

They both burst out laughing.

“Just write it,” she said, looking up at the stars. “Write it badly, write it half-finished, just write. On such a good day, doing anything isn’t a waste. Even just looking at the stars is a win.”

Jingming smiled. “Mhm!”