The Transmigration Guide to Seducing Men - Chapter 5

Yan Baizong immediately looked at Qi Liangqin. The difference between an accidental touch and an intentional rub was far too obvious.

He saw Qi Liangqin lowering his head, his ears a bright, flushed pink. His fingers were pale and slender, holding the soup spoon and absentmindedly stirring the thick, oily soup. Then, that foot gently retreated. Qi Liangqin turned to Yan Songwei and said: “This soup is delicious.”

His voice was slightly raspy, like the receding tide after a surge of passion.

“Otherwise, the owner of this place wouldn’t be so arrogant. They don’t take delivery orders; everyone has to queue. Mom, this is very nourishing, you should drink more.”

The Yan matriarch let out a cold snort: “Since it’s so nourishing, you drink more. I think you need it more than me—you’ve even got dark circles under your eyes. You two should exercise some restraint; you only know how to work like oxen when you’re young, but you’ll only learn the benefits of moderation when you’re old.”

Qi Liangqin was mortified upon hearing this, while Yan Songwei just chuckled. The matriarch turned to Yan Baizong: “How is your wife? Why didn’t she come back with you?”

“She’s busy and can’t get away.”

The matriarch snorted again: “Busy, busy, busy. It seems like she’s the busiest person in the world. She’s just a university lecturer; I see other university teachers being quite leisurely. What on earth is she busy with all day? After all these years, I haven’t seen her ‘busy’ out a single child. She doesn’t even remember to call during holidays. Her mother-in-law is hospitalized, and she doesn’t even come back to visit?”

“Mom, the reason Sister-in-law doesn’t come back is because you’re always giving her a hard time. If she came back, she’d just have to listen to your nagging. Constantly calling her a ‘hen that can’t lay eggs’—who wouldn’t be annoyed?”

“Old Second,” Yan Baizong said in a deep voice. “Watch your mouth.”

Yan Songwei smacked his lips: “Just treat it as if I’m farting.”

“You,” Qi Liangqin bumped him with his elbow. “We’re eating; why are you talking about farts?”

Yan Songwei wanted to laugh but restrained himself. The matriarch spoke in a somewhat aggrieved tone: “None of you bring me any peace of mind.”

In truth, Qi Liangqin was also very curious about Yan Baizong’s marriage.

Yan Baizong was thirty years old, so he naturally couldn’t be a blank slate. He had married his childhood friend, Shen He, at twenty-two, but she spent most of her time abroad. Perhaps the author, Huangling Xiaoxiaosheng, lacked the skill to depict so many characters, or perhaps he felt Yan Baizong’s wife was too much of an obstacle for the “hookup” between Qi Liangqin and Yan Baizong. Or maybe he was saving her for a big plot twist later. Regardless, this woman had only a few brief mentions in the book. He only knew two main things: first, Shen He wasn’t beautiful but was very scholarly; second, she and Yan Baizong had been married for eight years without children.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t conceive, but that they didn’t dare. Shen He had severe heart disease; let alone having children, even their “private life” was very restricted. From their very first time, they always used protection and were extremely cautious, but the Yan matriarch didn’t know this.

This was where Huangling Xiaoxiaosheng was ruthless: he wrote Yan Baizong as a “heaven-shattering” top tier gong, yet wouldn’t even give the man a harmonious sex life. This was the author’s shrewdness.

Why say that? “Double Virgin” stories have their own appeal; many pure-hearted readers feel it’s a pity if the couple isn’t “clean.” But realistically, as a virgin gong, being able to handle things with such ease that the shou is driven wild is a bit too exaggerated. Most men’s first time is nervous, awkward, and cramped. If it’s like that for straight men, it’s even harder for same-sex partners to enter a physiological part they aren’t meant to. However, as a “strong top,” how could readers accept a gong who was clumsy or finished too quickly?

So the author chose a middle ground. His Yan Baizong had experience, ensuring that when he eventually got together with Qi Liangqin, they would have a pleasant first time. (And for a shou, having a pleasant first experience is vital for reducing pain and anxiety.) Yet, there was no “love” between him and Shen He; they had simply married through a blind date and gotten together naturally. To keep this married man hungry and possessing an ascetic aura, Shen He became a “cannon fodder” female supporting character. She was practically asexual, burying herself in work, and she and Yan Baizong were essentially a couple in name only. But Yan Baizong had only ever had this one woman; even when their marriage became dry, he remained loyal, never messing around, and was cautious and restrained. Such a man was exactly to Qi Liangqin’s liking.

In his younger days, Qi Liang might have liked a gong who was a playboy with a messy private life who suddenly became loyal upon meeting his fated lover. He loved those “overbearing CEO falls in love” novels. But as he grew older and passed twenty-eight, he realized that “a leopard doesn’t change its spots.” He more appreciated a man who was born orderly, responsible, and trustworthy. Moreover, the feeling of satisfaction from making such a law-abiding man lose his mind over him was far greater.

So he loved reading Male Version of Pan Jinlian, because the Yan Baizong here was his type. And he had been shamefully and perversely looking forward to Yan Baizong’s first unprotected sexual experience being with Qi Liangqin—this was also an important “life’s first,” and it was a trope the author repeatedly used to hook the readers’ attention.

Who would have thought he’d drop the story!!

Seducing a married man was more exciting and better highlighted Qi Liangqin’s “Pan Jinlian” essence. Yan Baizong’s steadfastness further filled him with ascetic beauty. He was a responsible man, unmoved by beauty and desire—how rare such a man was in today’s society.

But was it precisely because Yan Baizong was this kind of man that Qi Liangqin was destined to get nothing in the end? It was, after all, an ill-fated relationship.

While eating, he let his imagination run wild. His gaze shifted to the floor-to-ceiling window outside, and he froze, blurted out: “The rain has started again.”

This time it wasn’t just a pitter-patter; the rain was heavy, whipped by the wind against the glass with a loud thwack-thwack. Before long, the glass was covered in a blurred sheet of water. After eating, both Yan brothers were to leave. Yan Songwei told Qi Liangqin to stay: “You have nothing to do at home; stay here and keep Mom company.”

“I don’t have that kind of fortune,” the matriarch said. “I want to live a few years longer; seeing him just makes me angry.”

Qi Liangqin felt a bit embarrassed. Yan Songwei said: “Fine then.”

The three of them left the ward, and the hired nurse went in. Leaving the hospital and seeing the torrential rain outside, Yan Songwei’s phone buzzed. He took it out, glanced at it, and looked at Qi Liangqin with an irrepressible smile. Needless to say, it was a message from Tan Qingqing, likely getting impatient.

“I happen to need both of you to go home, so just take Brother’s car back. With such heavy rain, it’s not convenient to get a taxi,” Yan Songwei said in a tone of great concern.

Qi Liangqin was a person who didn’t like troubling others. If it were his original self, he would have waved his hands and said “no need.” But what could he do? The plot dictated that Qi Liangqin would take Yan Baizong’s car home, and they would experience a series of events that would make readers “clutch their little handkerchiefs” in tension.

So, he looked at Yan Baizong with eyes that seemed to hold rainwater, intentionally pulling his brows into a “V” shape. He felt his expression right now must be a bit affected—a complete little “sissy.”

Yan Baizong naturally couldn’t refuse, only asking Yan Songwei: “And what about you?”

“I’ve called a car.”

The car was parked outside, so they had to run for it. By the time they were inside, both were a bit wet. Yan Baizong pulled a tissue for him. Qi Liangqin thanked him while wiping the rain from his face.

But he wasn’t just going to wipe his face; he had to unbutton his collar and wipe his neck.

In the novel, Qi Liangqin was very “lustful” during this part. He unbuttoned his collar, tilted his neck back, and moved the tissue from his chin to his Adam’s apple, then toward his collarbone. Qi Liang had more shame than the original character; he wiped himself more like a man—hastily. The tissue was mostly soaked, and he clutched it in his hand, starting to fidget his leg.

He was prone to fidgeting his leg when excited—a habit his mother had scolded him for many times, saying it was impolite. He had tried his best to suppress it over the years, yet he was doing it again now. Out of the corner of his eye, he peeked at Yan Baizong in the driver’s seat. Yan Baizong had taken off his damp jacket, leaving only a white shirt underneath.

The shirt was also a bit wet, sticking to his back and shoulders in places, vaguely revealing the wheat-colored skin beneath. This “lean in clothes, muscular underneath” man looked particularly broad-shouldered and solid in just a white shirt. His face was wet with rain, with water droplets clinging to his chin and lips. Qi Liangqin seemed to smell an aura—Yan Baizong’s aura: gentlemanly, masculine, sweet, and suppressed. This aura enticed him, as if the damp shirt was being heated by body temperature, and the scent filled the narrow space. Every breath of air he took was the scent of Yan Baizong.

According to the plot, Qi Liangqin, unable to restrain his “spring heart,” was to passionately offer to help Yan Baizong wipe the water droplets from his body.