The Transmigration Guide to Seducing Men - Chapter 2

Voices came from outside. He quickly pressed himself against the door to listen and heard Yan Baizong cough once before asking: “Auntie Chun, who is that person in Old Second’s room?”

“It’s that…” Auntie Chun clearly didn’t know how to address him: “Mr. Qi, Songwei’s…”

“Oh. I saw the lights on inside and thought Old Second was back.”

Auntie Chun was evidently more meticulous; perhaps fearing he might hear, her voice lowered significantly. He only heard Yan Baizong utter a few “mhm”s before the sound outside vanished. He peeked through the door crack; the living room was already empty.

He let out a sigh of relief and sat back on the bed, only to notice the light outside the window had brightened. He turned his head and saw the lights in the room opposite had come on.

Qi Liang’s first instance of voyeurism toward Yan Baizong didn’t stem from any lewd desire; he was simply curious. The novel described the Yan family as having a massive fortune and living in a giant H-shaped villa. The living room was the middle horizontal bar—a public area—while the two sides contained four residential wings. Interestingly, the room where Qi Liangqin stayed and the room where Yan Baizong stayed faced each other, separated by a small garden.

It was late spring, and the weather was turning warm, so the windows on both sides were open. The late spring fragrance in the garden was a bit decaying yet sweet, carrying a sense of humid warmth like the night wind. In the novel, Qi Liangqin would sit before his window for countless nights, greedily watching every movement in the room opposite, spying on Yan Baizong. He would also intentionally draw his own curtains and walk back and forth in front of the window wearing provocative clothes.

Qi Liang was curious if one could truly see across. He pursed his lips and walked tentatively to the window.

His eyes widened instantly: he saw Yan Baizong taking a shower.

The bathroom window wasn’t large, and the curtains would occasionally drift and obstruct his view. Yan Baizong’s shoulders were broad and thick, his back expansive. Because he stood at 189 cm (6’2”), his waist was the long, lean type Qi Liang loved—what the novel described as a “dog-like waist” that stirred the imagination. His hips were narrow and firm, possessing a sexy, restrained power of suppressed explosiveness. His thick thighs were full of strength, and his calves were straight, forming two exceptionally long legs with fine black hair matted against them by the water. Currently, the man’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see more, but even without looking, he knew what the front looked like—the tension in the chest and abdominal muscles, the clearly defined V-line (mermaid line), and certain “parts” that would make one’s heart skip and tremble. He watched as Yan Baizong scrubbed his hair with both hands, the foam flowing down the lines of his muscles, full of a vigorous and solid beauty.

In reality, he couldn’t see quite that clearly, but he had read every chapter of this novel many times. He was both strange and familiar with Yan Baizong’s body; this was the first time he was seeing the person, yet he felt familiar with even the texture of his muscles and every strand of hair. Yan Baizong wasn’t the burly or rugged type; he was more like a gentleman—slightly cold and distant, with muscles that were just right. He was the typical “lean in clothes, muscular underneath.” He possessed the mature aura of a gentleman and asceticism, yet he exuded a hormone-filled presence that couldn’t be hidden under a suit. With this man showering right across from him, Qi Liang felt parched and his face burned crimson. He seemed to feel that oppressive aura, lowering his head in shame, unable to look further.

He was an extremely shy person, once believing he had a social anxiety disorder. Despite being exceptionally lonely and longing for a man’s care, he had never done anything untoward. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly backed away.

But… just looking once shouldn’t be illegal, right?

He had lived for twenty-eight years and, aside from himself, had never seen another person’s naked body in real life. In college, it was a public bathhouse; every time he went in, he didn’t dare look around, always entering in a rush and leaving in a daze—knowing he had seen a crowd of bodies but unable to remember what anyone looked like. He was famous for having the “intent but not the guts.” Perhaps he also possessed deep-seated self-loathing due to his sexual orientation, fearing he’d be caught peeking and treated like a monster.

But now, he could peek at Yan Baizong. This is Yan Baizong, he thought. A top-tier straight man who didn’t exist in real life was, to him, no different from a walking hormone. He suddenly understood the original Qi Liangqin.

This was the first chapter of the novel, the first “meeting” between Qi Liangqin and Yan Baizong. This awkward first glance caused countless ripples in Qi Liangqin’s heart. He fell in love at first sight, while Yan Baizong hadn’t even seen his face clearly.

Looking at it now, this story seemed to carry a bit of sadness from the very beginning, adhering to the old saying: “Every detestable person must have a pitiable side.”

Qi Liangqin didn’t come from a good background; he was a shrewd person from a poor family. He was in a contract marriage with the second Yan son, Yan Songwei. Qi Liangqin was not his wife in any strict sense. Yan Songwei himself wasn’t interested in men; he had fallen in love with a nightclub girl, but the Yan matriarch adamantly refused to allow it. The second son, being a playboy, chose the most annoying way to rebel: he found a man to marry just to tell the matriarch that everything is relative—a nightclub girl is better than a man.

The old lady was so angry she was hospitalized. Without even a wedding ceremony, Yan Songwei brought the man home. Yan Songwei rarely came home to sleep, and whenever he did, Qi Liangqin had to sleep on the floor. Because the marriage was without parental consent, Qi Liangqin was not welcomed in the Yan family. He only had money, but fortunately, he did have money.

Qi Liangqin loved money, just as he later loved beauty. He was very shrewd, knowing how to use himself to obtain both.

A twenty-year-old body, still carrying the aura of youth. At this time, Qi Liangqin was still a virgin. It was only after falling in love with Yan Baizong and failing to get what he wanted that he gradually became crazed.

Qi Liang tried to empathize with such a person’s feelings, but he couldn’t. Qi Liang was not Qi Liangqin. The character was so young and beautiful, with an exceptionally slender waist that wasn’t thin but smooth and supple, full of flexibility—as if it wouldn’t break even if gripped tightly, looking more “alive” than a woman’s waist. His hips were remarkably perky—the “peach butt” referred to as top-tier in the text. This was Qi Liangqin’s best asset; likely no man, straight or gay, would dislike a beautifully shaped and tactile butt. Qi Liang himself didn’t have such a body. Although his body was sensitive, it was ordinary—not smooth, slender, and full of snake-like vitality.

He couldn’t be like the novel, where failing to seduce led to losing his life. He had to keep a respectful distance from Yan Baizong. After all, according to the author’s conception, “what you can’t get is always the best.” Just as Wu Song was to Pan Jinlian, Yan Baizong was to Qi Liangqin—a presence longed for but unobtainable. There would be no result between them.

Qi Liang thought this while lying on the soft bed. Yan Baizong was good, but he was poisonous and would cost him his life. To him, Yan Baizong was just an existence that stirred his desire; he didn’t love him, and it wasn’t worth losing his life over. But for such a perfect man, it would be hard not to fall in love if there were too much contact. He felt his own restlessness and wanted to nip this desire in the bud. He drifted off to sleep in a daze, and by the time he woke the next day, it was already bright.

He was awakened by a call from Yan Songwei. The stranger’s voice on the phone said to him: “You’ve rested for a day, that’s enough. Get over here quickly and serve the old lady.”

According to the plot, next, he had to go to the hospital to visit the Yan matriarch and endure deep humiliation.

He had just transmigrated and didn’t want to face that crowd yet. He wanted to hide in the room and sort things out. Moreover, visiting the old lady meant he would inevitably encounter Yan Baizong. He hadn’t sorted his emotions or thought of a way to cope; he didn’t want to go.

But Qi Liang found his plan foiled. Since he had transmigrated as Qi Liangqin, he had to follow the plot. He began to have an inexplicable headache, feeling as if his soul were about to leave his body—it felt worse than death, and he nearly fainted. Realizing he couldn’t change the established plot, he packed his clothes and went out. The sky was overcast, as if filled with a mist, but the garden was filled with a riot of flowers, their fragrance restless. The swing swayed in the wind, making a rustling sound. His headache vanished, his heart calmed, and he felt refreshed and clear-eyed, as if reborn. This confirmed his suspicion: he was currently living on a fixed track and could not deviate.

But he was nervous, very nervous, and perhaps a little excited. Because by following the script, he truly had a long road ahead: he had to flirt with Yan Baizong—flirting day and night, without regard for etiquette or shame.

The first time Qi Liangqin flirted with Yan Baizong was during the upcoming family dinner.