In a Relationship With the Rugged Guy Next Door - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: “By the way…”

As a homebody—and a “bottom” at that—it was obvious what kind of content Chen Jingming’s social media feeds usually pushed. Working in the entertainment industry, he’d also picked up plenty of marketing tricks by osmosis.

In today’s world, every industry uses a bit of “thirst-trap” marketing. With Chu Feng’s physique, wouldn’t a little “accidental” exposure be the easiest thing in the world?

Chu Feng didn’t understand the connection between selling beef and showing off muscles. He was also worried about the embarrassment if customers or employees saw such a video.

“Don’t you trust me, Ge?” Chen Jingming asked, face blank.

“…” Chu Feng gritted his teeth. “I trust you.”

He posted the video. In less than an hour, the views began to skyrocket. Just like that, nestled among a dozen meticulously produced but poorly-performing educational videos about the ranch, sat one high-traffic thirst trap.

Chen Lang: “Big Bro, what kind of strategy is this?” Chu Feng was using the back of an axe to pound fragrant vines. He said coolly, “The strategy Baby gave me.”

Chen Lang looked at Chen Jingming. Chen Jingming gave a tight-lipped smile. “Lang Ge, it’s almost at ten thousand likes.” Chen Lang: “You city folk sure know how to play, huh?” Chen Jingming: “I’m not that kind of person, Lang Ge.” Chen Lang gave a knowing smile. Chen Jingming: “…” He felt like Chen Lang was acting a bit strange.

…

Tomorrow was the Qingming Festival. Local custom called for making “Qingming Baba” (mugwort rice cakes). While most places use glutinous rice and cudweed, Chu Feng added one extra ingredient: fragrant vines.

Fragrant vines have a unique, heavy aroma and are used in medicine or soups. Chu Feng learned this from his mother, who was from a small county in the south of the province where they added the vine’s juice to the rice cakes to make them fragrant without being greasy.

After pounding the vines until the skin peeled and fibers separated, they were soaked in mountain spring water. The water was then filtered and mixed into glutinous rice. Then, the cudweed and sugar were added before the mixture was ground into a wet powder using a stone mill. The dough was then formed into balls and pan-fried. They were delicious even without any filling.

Chu Feng lit the outdoor stove and set up a large iron pot. He had been busy pounding vines and turning the mill; now, with the fire roaring, he was dripping with sweat.

“Baby, wipe my sweat for me.” “Oh.” Chen Jingming had just washed his hands, getting ready to help shape the dough.

After wiping the sweat, Chen Jingming started pinching off pieces of dough. The water content in glutinous rice dough is higher than in wheat dough; it felt wet and behaved like a non-Newtonian fluid. Chen Jingming rarely entered a kitchen and was clumsy; he struggled to roll a proper ball.

“Here.” Chu Feng stepped up directly behind him, his hands covering Chen Jingming’s to guide him. Their hands, covered in wet flour, tangled together. Chen Jingming felt a bit awkward at first, but when they finally placed a perfect ball into the pan, he was genuinely happy.

“It’s so round!” Chen Jingming said. “Good job, Baby,” Chu Feng replied.

Are they filming “Ghost”? Chen Lang, who was drenched in sweat from feeding the stove, cursed silently: Enough already, you “straight” man and “thirst-trap” bottom.

Chen Jingming eventually got the hang of it and pushed Chu Feng away with his elbow. “I can do it myself.” Seeing that he was enjoying himself, Chu Feng stepped aside. The afternoon heat was becoming unbearable, so he rinsed his hands and pulled off his shirt.

Chen Jingming groaned helplessly. “Argh! Ge!” Chu Feng: “It’s hot. Why do you shout every time I take my shirt off?” Chen Lang cursed again: A “thirst-trap” top and an “innocent” bottom.

Chen Jingming: “It’s broad daylight, it’s not proper. Besides… Lang Ge is right here.” Chu Feng: “We’re all men, what’s the big deal?” Chen Jingming looked to Chen Lang for backup, but Chen Lang was already drenched, sweat running down his face in streaks. He couldn’t take these two anymore and whipped his own T-shirt off.

If I’m going to be miserable, we’re all going to be miserable.

As Chen Lang stood there bare-chested, he caught Chu Feng’s gaze and cleared his throat. “By the way, there’s a market in Tianhe Village this weekend. There’s a Nuo Opera performance at night, let’s go,” Chen Lang said. “Jingming hasn’t been out since he got back.”

Chen Jingming took a sharp breath and looked at Chu Feng for help, but Chu Feng was busy cleaning and didn’t see him. “Have you ever seen Nuo Opera?” Chen Lang asked. Chen Jingming shook his head. “Want to go?” Chen Lang invited again.

Chen Jingming was afraid; he didn’t want to be in crowds. He kept his head down, rolling dough. He was skilled now, finishing one after another. His voice was tiny. “I don’t really want to go.” Chen Lang looked at Chu Feng, and Chu Feng shook his head. “Alright, no worries,” Chen Lang said. “Just rest then. You must be tired from the trip.”

The rice cakes were fried, the sky grew dark, and Chen Lang went home. Chu Feng put his shirt back on. Chen Jingming, fresh from a shower with damp hair, sat gnawing on a chicken leg while listening to an employee call Chu Feng.

“Boss, everyone in the livestream wants to see you.” “Why?” “They’re asking if you woke up from your faint. They’re worried and want to help you.”

Chu Feng was usually very serious in front of his staff. Since that video, his authority had taken a hit. His ears turned red. “Just host the stream properly. Just sell the beef.” The employee seemed to be stifling a laugh. “Boss, are you posting another one tomorrow?” Chu Feng looked at Chen Jingming. Chen Jingming smiled with satisfaction. “Yes, yes.” Chu Feng: “Yes.” Employee: “Thanks, Boss!”

After hanging up, Chu Feng opened the livestream. Usually, twenty viewers was a lot; now there were eighty. But the comments were… a bit much.

“Let me see,” Chen Jingming said. “Don’t,” Chu Feng said, trying to hide the phone. Chen Jingming leaned in eagerly. “Let me see!” Holding a chicken leg and speaking in an unconsciously whiny, spoiled tone, he briefly looked exactly like the child he used to be. Chu Feng gave in and handed him the phone.

“Is this stream selling beef? By the way, speaking of beef…” “Bring that big-chested hunk out to sell!” “What’s your selling point? If you won’t sell sex, I suggest the host try some ‘queerbaiting.’ The voice of the guy filming sounds like he’s quite the beauty too.” “Which part of Changling beef is best for braising?” “Can you guys stop with the vulgar comments? By the way, speaking of ‘vulgar’ (big)…”

Chen Jingming calmly set the phone down. “Sigh,” Chu Feng groaned. “How can people say things like that?” Chen Jingming looked up. Chu Feng’s solid arms stretched his ordinary T-shirt into a tight fit. He took a bite of his chicken leg. “It’s human nature.”

…

The next morning, Chu Feng woke him early. “Time to get up, Baby.” Chen Jingming shielded his eyes. “Mmm…” Chu Feng: “Little lazy pig, time to get up and eat breakfast.” Chen Jingming: “…Okay.” He answered five or six times without ever opening his eyes, staying huddled under the covers.

“Baby? Baby?” Chu Feng shook him gently. Finally, Chen Jingming opened his eyes blearily, his fair face marked with sleep creases. Chu Feng couldn’t resist leaning down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Ah!!” Chen Jingming bolted upright, seeing Chu Feng with a T-shirt draped over his shoulder. Chu Feng laughed. “Haha, get up, get up.” He helped Chen Jingming up and started pulling off his pajamas. The shirt got stuck on his head halfway through. Chen Jingming didn’t know whether to cover his chest or his head.

“Ge! I can do it myself!” he wailed. “I’ve got it.” Chu Feng pulled the pajama top off, then took the T-shirt from his shoulder and sniffed it. “I washed this for you yesterday. It smells great after being in the sun all day.” Chen Jingming: “…” Chu Feng grabbed his wrists to help him into the sleeves. Chen Jingming couldn’t out-argue him and wasn’t strong enough to resist, so he just let Chu Feng manhandle him. He made a vow: never sleep in again.

…

It was Qingming Festival, and Chen Jingming was going with Chu Feng to visit the graves. In the three days since returning to Changxi, his mood had fluctuated between hazy nostalgia and sharp sadness. Standing before Chen Chunyi’s tombstone, he realized with a shock that he could no longer clearly remember her face.

The photos he had taken to his new home had all been lost. He knew his adoptive parents didn’t like him missing his birth mother; he understood, so he had hidden the photos, but they disappeared anyway. He hadn’t made a scene; he just pretended he didn’t notice.

“Baby, come, light the incense,” Chu Feng said. Chen Jingming took the bundle—twelve sticks—lit them, and placed them in the burner. Other families were there too, bustling with energy, making their spot feel quiet and lonely by comparison.

As he lit candles for his mother, he saw remnants of last year’s candles. He realized that while he felt lonely with just the two of them, Chu Feng had been doing this all by himself for years. “Ge.” Chen Jingming walked over to Chu Feng’s father’s grave. “Let me help.” Chu Feng was arranging offerings. Seeing Chen Jingming being so thoughtful, he felt a surge of happiness and smiled for a long time. They finished the ritual, burned the spirit money, and sat on the stone steps to eat the offerings.

“Mama,” Chen Jingming suddenly whispered. Chu Feng looked at him. Chen Jingming, gnawing on a rice cake, smiled. “It’s been a long time since I said those words.” Chu Feng froze for a second, his lips thinning as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he remained silent.

On the way back, they ran into an acquaintance: Du Li from the Convergence Media Center. She was returning from an interview at the Martyrs’ Cemetery and flagged them down. “Brother Feng, what a coincidence!” Du Li had naturally curly hair and looked to be around Chu Feng’s age. She leaned into the passenger window. “Eh? Who’s this?”

Chu Feng: “This is my brother. Baby, this is Teacher Du Li.” Chen Jingming: “Hello, Teacher Du.” Du Li: “Hello, Baby! I didn’t know you had a brother?” Chu Feng: “Teacher Du, his name is Chen Jingming. Don’t call him Baby, and he’s not my biological brother.” Du Li: “A ‘god-brother’ (Gan-didi)?” Chu Feng frowned. “Why does that sound so weird coming from you?”

“Hahaha.” Du Li looked at them meaningfully. “How old?” Chen Jingming: “Twenty-four, Teacher Du.” “So young! By the way, Brother Feng, when can we do another interview with you?” “I’m busy, no time,” Chu Feng said. He didn’t want to work with them again—the photos from the last time were ugly and they had claimed his ranch had no sales.

Du Li laughed. “Busy with what? Busy fainting?” Chu Feng’s face darkened. “…” Du Li quickly explained, “I mean, it was very handsome, Brother Feng! I’ve known you for years and that was the first time I got to appreciate your abs.”

Chen Jingming was stifling a laugh. Wait, wasn’t he always stripping at the drop of a hat?

“Anyway,” Du Li continued, “The provincial publishing house is partnering with National Geographic for a ‘Regional Wonders’ series on Changxi. They’ve set up a temporary office near us and need an editor. You have a wide network—know any writers you can introduce?”

Chen Jingming instinctively turned to look at Chu Feng. Their eyes met, and Chu Feng immediately broke into a grin. Du Li: “Please, Big Bro, anyone?”

Chu Feng leaned back coolly and draped his arm over Chen Jingming’s shoulder. “I actually do have someone, but I’ll have to ask him.” “You’re the best, ‘Ox’ (Great),” Du Li said, giving a thumbs up. Then, as if possessed, she blurted out: “By the way, speaking of ‘Ox’…”

Chen Jingming couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. Chu Feng massaged his forehead. Du Li: “My bad. Brother Feng, help me out.”

Chu Feng’s warm, large hand gently massaged the back of Chen Jingming’s neck as he looked into the younger man’s eyes. “Alright. I’ll ask for you.”