The Wealthy Old Man’s Palm-Sized Pet - Chapter 11

The interior of the car was exceptionally quiet. Ever since Song Zhiyuan and Fu Xingnian had entered, the rear compartment had been partitioned off, completely obstructing the view between the front and the back.

Neither of them spoke.

After several minutes of silence, Song Zhiyuan couldn’t help but steal a glance at Fu Xingnian. Fu Xingnian was looking straight ahead, idly fiddling with a cigar; it was impossible to tell what his mood was. It had to be said that Fu Xingnian’s hands were quite handsome—his fingers were slender and traced with prominent veins.

Song Zhiyuan didn’t consider himself someone with a hand fetish, but he found himself deeply captivated by Fu Xingnian’s hands, staring in a daze.

The cigar became still between his fingers. Song Zhiyuan looked up to find Fu Xingnian’s dark, deep eyes fixed upon him.

Aside from when they were eating and Fu Can mentioned putting an arm around his waist—causing Fu Xingnian to cast a glance at him—Song Zhiyuan had sensed that Fu Xingnian was somewhat displeased.

However, that was only a momentary perception. Throughout the rest of the meal, they had behaved like complete strangers. It was hard to imagine the intimacy and absurdity of their encounter earlier that morning, standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows.

But was Fu Xingnian unhappy again now? And if so, why?

Song Zhiyuan: “Mr. Fu.”

Fu Xingnian: “Weren’t you calling me ‘Uncle’ just a moment ago?”

Song Zhiyuan smiled. “If Mr. Fu is willing, I can call you Uncle Fu from now on as well.”

Fu Xingnian looked at him. “Song Zhiyuan.”

Song Zhiyuan: “Don’t be angry, Mr. Fu. Wasn’t that just because we were in front of Fu Can? I couldn’t exactly call you Mr. Fu; Fu Can would have thought it was strange.”

He didn’t want Fu Can to know about his relationship with Fu Xingnian, and he assumed Fu Xingnian would be even more averse to anyone knowing. Song Zhiyuan figured that on this point, at least, they were in total agreement.

“You care about Fu Can that much?” Fu Xingnian’s voice was remarkably calm.

Song Zhiyuan naturally cared about Fu Can because he considered him a friend—a very pure friend. But he knew that if he were to say “yes” right now, Fu Xingnian’s mood would certainly worsen.

“Mr. Fu, your hands are very beautiful.” Song Zhiyuan abruptly changed the subject.

With a sudden tug from Fu Xingnian, Song Zhiyuan found himself sitting on the man’s firm thighs.

Fu Xingnian spoke: “Song Zhiyuan, I told you before: for the duration of our relationship, you are not allowed to have intimate gestures with anyone else. Anyone.”

Song Zhiyuan understood. “But Fu Can and I are just good friends. What he said about putting his arm around me was just us messing around.”

Fu Xingnian tilted his chin up, forcing Song Zhiyuan to meet his gaze. After a few seconds, Song Zhiyuan surrendered. “I understand. I will definitely be more careful in the future.”

This answer seemed to satisfy Fu Xingnian slightly. He took Song Zhiyuan’s hand and placed it at his own waist. “Undo it.”

Song Zhiyuan’s eyes widened. “Mr. Fu, now? Here?”

He didn’t dare speak loudly, only in a whisper. They were in a car; there was someone driving right in front of them. Here? Was he sure?

But looking at Fu Xingnian’s expression, he didn’t appear to be joking. Song Zhiyuan still felt uncertain. “Mr. Fu, are you sure about doing this here? There’s someone in the front.”

Fu Xingnian reminded him, “Song Zhiyuan, have you forgotten what I said?”

Of course, Song Zhiyuan had not forgotten. He glanced at the partition; surely the person in the front couldn’t hear the sounds from the back.

With a soft click, slender fingers undid the expensive leather belt. Before Song Zhiyuan could react, he felt a sudden chill below. Fu Xingnian lifted him up with one hand and then let go.

The sudden stimulation caused Song Zhiyuan to let out an involuntary moan. “Mr. Fu…”

Song Zhiyuan leaned back uncontrollably, his slender neck forming an enticing curve. Even his delicate Adam’s apple exuded a charming aura, and a teardrop slipped from his eye down his cheek.

As Song Zhiyuan grew nervous, his entire body tensed up. Fu Xingnian, a veteran of the field, let out a muffled groan; it was too tight.

Because of the person in the front, Song Zhiyuan didn’t dare make any more noise. He bit his lip hard, his hands clinging to Fu Xingnian’s shoulders. His beautiful eyes were misty, and the corners of his eyes gradually turned red like a budding lotus, beautiful, pure, and heart-wrenching.

The two band-aids on his neck were so conspicuous. Fu Xingnian peeled them off. The red hickeys matched Song Zhiyuan’s fair neck perfectly; only Fu Can would truly believe those were mosquito bites.

Fu Xingnian once again buried his head against his neck, nipping lightly. Song Zhiyuan carried a faint, very pleasant scent—not the smell of any perfume or laundry detergent, but a natural body fragrance. It was slightly sweet and increasingly addictive the more one smelled it.

Through the car window, Song Zhiyuan saw their reflection an intimate embrace. Fu Xingnian held his waist firmly; his long fingers were exerting force, and his waist pained him slightly.

Song Zhiyuan’s mind wandered for a moment. He and Fu Xingnian had shared the most intimate acts many times already, yet his first kiss was still intact.

The car was very quiet; only the heavy breathing of two people could be heard. Song Zhiyuan’s breathing was particularly obvious, and the leather seat was wrinkled where his hands gripped it.

Over the past month, Song Zhiyuan’s sense of shame had been pushed to new limits again and again. Compared to the current environment, the incident in front of the mirror earlier was nothing.

The speed of the car never changed, and it never even stopped—it was as if they hadn’t encountered a single red light along the way. Out of the corner of his eye, Song Zhiyuan saw the scenery outside retreating; in his vision, the landscape was a blur of jolting motion.

Fortunately, the car’s privacy was excellent. They could see out, but those outside could not see in.

The sounds inside the car were incessant. Aside from the high-grade sandalwood fragrance, another scent filled the interior as the two smells fused together.

The scene shifted once more; Song Zhiyuan lay on the soft seat, the gentle glow of the streetlights falling upon him through the window. With no point of support, Song Zhiyuan pressed one hand against the car window, and Fu Xingnian’s hand covered his.

It was as if they were the only two people in the car, and Fu Xingnian worked away as if there were no one else present.

After an unknown amount of time, the car finally grew quiet. Fingerprints from Song Zhiyuan’s hand were left on the window.

Song Zhiyuan’s phone showed several messages from Fu Can, asking if he had arrived at the dorm and sending a few photos of newborn kittens tiny little things that hadn’t even opened their eyes, looking very much like small mice.

From the time he entered the car until he saw Fu Can’s messages, an hour and a half had passed.

Every year, after freshman registration, there would be ten days of military training during the hottest part of the season. Under the scorching sun, standing on the training grounds in military fatigues for half a day would leave one drenched in sweat. There wasn’t a single spot of shade on the field.

On the first day of training, several students fainted from heatstroke. The school clinic suddenly became very busy, and the student union sent several volunteers to help.

Song Zhiyuan looked thin and frail. His classmates, seeing him like this, assumed he would be the first to faint on day one.

However, unexpectedly, two days passed, and not only did Song Zhiyuan not faint, but his movements were also incredibly precise. The instructor couldn’t find a single fault with him—it was as if his body possessed a stubborn resilience.

Fortunately, Fu Xingnian hadn’t tormented him these past two days. He seemed busy and hadn’t come looking for him; perhaps he had taken Song Zhiyuan’s words to heart last time.

However, Song Zhiyuan’s happiness was short-lived. Just as military training ended for the day, he received a message from Fu Xingnian telling him to come out.

Truly, things happen the moment you mention them.

Song Zhiyuan told the classmates he was supposed to have dinner with that he had something to do. The classmates asked what he was going for; they were exhausted after a day of training. If they weren’t so hungry, they would have rushed back to the dorm to shower and collapse on their beds, unwilling to move a muscle.

Song Zhiyuan smiled and said a relative had come to school to find him. Of course, he also wanted to shower and rest in the dorm, but the person was Fu Xingnian. If he were late, Fu Xingnian would only torment him even more ruthlessly.

Reaching the school gate, he saw Chu Wei standing by a car in the distance. Fu Xingnian had changed vehicles again. As always, the privacy was excellent; from the outside, it was impossible to tell if anyone was inside.

From within the car, Fu Xingnian watched Song Zhiyuan approach. He was wearing oversized camouflage fatigues with a belt cinched at his waist. Even the bulky uniform couldn’t hide his perfect figure slender waist, long legs, and a pert rear.

Fu Xingnian knew exactly how good his body was and how beautiful Song Zhiyuan was, especially when he smiled.

Song Zhiyuan opened the car door, and sure enough, Fu Xingnian was there. “Mr. Fu.”

Having just finished training and walked such a long distance—Song Zhiyuan had even jogged a bit after getting off the campus shuttle—fine beads of sweat covered his forehead. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his lips were slightly dry from a lack of moisture.

Song Zhiyuan hadn’t even had time to drink water; he could only lick his lips occasionally.

Fu Xingnian: “Get in.”

Song Zhiyuan got into the car and acted coquettishly: “Mr. Fu, I missed you so much.”

Fu Xingnian looked at him. He couldn’t see a shred of “missing him” in his eyes. Song Zhiyuan never initiated messages to him, but that was a point that actually satisfied Fu Xingnian.

His previous partners couldn’t wait to message him every day, asking where he was, what he was doing, or asking him to accompany them. Such behavior quickly bored Fu Xingnian.

Song Zhiyuan was completely different; he seemed to hope Fu Xingnian would never message or call him hoping Fu Xingnian would quickly grow tired of their relationship so it could end. When they weren’t together, he was cold, but when they met, he played his role perfectly.

Song Zhiyuan added: “Mr. Fu, these past two days of training have been so exhausting. We spent two hours doing crawl drills this afternoon; my waist and legs are still aching.”

“Mr. Fu, I came out the moment I got your message. I’m both thirsty and hungry right now.”

As he spoke, Song Zhiyuan looked at Fu Xingnian with a pitiful expression, attempting to elicit some sympathy—or at least hoping he wouldn’t be tormented quite so harshly these next few days.

Fu Xingnian said nothing, merely handing him a bottle of water. “Drink some water first.”

Song Zhiyuan was truly thirsty and drained the bottle in one go.

The car finally came to a stop. Song Zhiyuan had thought they were going to a hotel, but looking out, he saw it was a restaurant.

Fu Xingnian: “Didn’t you say you were hungry? Let’s eat.”

Song Zhiyuan happily followed Fu Xingnian inside.