Why Does First Love Feel This Sweet? - Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Showing off their affection felt like completing a task long overdue. Sheng Yi felt so refreshed it was as if every pore in his body was breathing freely.

Qin Feilin, on the other hand, was left speechless. Weren’t these two childhood friends? How could they be together?

Even though her high school crush had never been reciprocated, it was exactly that “unreachable” quality that had caused her admiration to ferment over the years. She was a proud girl; she looked down on the boys who chased her like lapdogs. Only Rong Yu was like the moon—perfect, distant, and untainted. The colder he was, the more she couldn’t forget him.

Suppressing her bitterness, she forced a stiff smile. “…My apologies. I didn’t realize your relationship had developed this way. I won’t disturb you then. Merry Christmas.”

Sheng Yi smiled back. “Merry Christmas.”

As soon as she walked away, Sheng Yi pulled his hand back from Rong Yu’s shoulder. Rong Yu turned to look at him. The smile on Sheng Yi’s face had vanished. He took a savage bite of his ice cream and muttered, “It’s been years since graduation and she’s still pining for you. Not bad, Rong Yu, not bad at all.”

Sheng Yi usually called him by his full name only when he was annoyed—though even he didn’t know why he was annoyed. After all, Rong Yu hadn’t done anything.

Rong Yu, however, felt a secret thrill from Sheng Yi’s temper. Possessiveness. Regardless of the underlying emotion, it made him happy. He watched him tenderly for a few seconds. “Do you want to stay out tonight?”

“Huh?” Sheng Yi’s heart skipped a beat. He had forgotten his own impulsive words.

In truth, Sheng Yi had a plan for today. Lately, they hadn’t had a “substantial” encounter. While the teasing was exciting, Sheng Yi knew Rong Yu must want more. They were twenty-one, full of vigor; it was natural. Since they were married, this step was inevitable. He decided to use the good atmosphere to open a “new chapter” of their night life.

“Sure… sure,” Sheng Yi said, unaware of how red his face was. He stood up stiffly and walked toward the nearest hotel, trying to look cool. “Let’s… let’s go.”

Rong Yu watched Sheng Yi’s hilarious, robotic walk and checked his watch. “It’s only seven. Let’s have dinner first.”

…

The Wagyu Strategy

They went for Japanese Wagyu BBQ. As the fresh beef sizzled on the grill, Sheng Yi poured Rong Yu a full glass of white beer. “Since we’re not driving, you can drink more today.”

Rong Yu leaned back, arms crossed. “You can only have half a glass.”

“You looking down on me?” Sheng Yi laughed. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself—who knows who’s going under first tonight.”

Sheng Yi’s plan was simple: get Rong Yu drunk. If Rong Yu was tipsy, he would be less nervous, and maybe—just maybe—Sheng Yi could maintain his dignity as the “husband.”

Ten minutes later, Sheng Yi’s eyes were misty. He was arranging the meat into star shapes on the grill. “Xiao Yu, guess what this is?”

“A star?” Rong Yu replied calmly, indulging the drunk.

“Wrong!” Sheng Yi grinned mischievously and poured another glass. “It’s a flower that looks like a star. You lose! Drink!”

Sheng Yi’s logic had narrowed to one goal: make Rong Yu drink. Rong Yu, ever patient, finished the glass. Sheng Yi then arranged vegetables into a duck shape. “Guess this one!”

“A duck?”

“Hahaha! It’s a chicken that looks like a duck! Drink! A full glass!”

Rong Yu felt like Sheng Yi had used a lifetime of brainpower on these tricks. By 10:00 PM, even Rong Yu’s vision was a bit blurry. He paid the bill and, holding onto his last shred of sobriety, helped the stumbling Sheng Yi out of the restaurant.

Sheng Yi leaned his entire weight on Rong Yu, his breath hot against Rong Yu’s neck. “Xiao Yu… are we going to get a room?”

“Yes,” Rong Yu’s voice was husky. Unlike Sheng Yi, he didn’t look drunk, but the “Xiao Yu Teacher” persona was starting to show an edge.

“Since we’re getting a room…” Sheng Yi’s hands wandered unsteadily around Rong Yu’s waist. “…shouldn’t we do ‘adult things’?”

Rong Yu, who usually hated the smell of alcohol and was currently fighting a bout of severe germophobia, just wanted to throw this smelling-of-beer guy into a bathtub for three hours. “I am not messing around with a drunkard.”

…

The Scare and the Soul

They reached the hotel suite. The door clicked shut. Rong Yu dropped Sheng Yi onto the bed and leaned over him, pinning his shoulders. “Strip,” he commanded coldly.

Even through the haze of alcohol, Sheng Yi felt the instinctive urge to obey “Teacher Xiao Yu.” He sat up to pull off his shirt, but moved too fast—his forehead slammed into Rong Yu’s chin.

“Ow!” Sheng Yi tumbled back, tears pricking his eyes.

Rong Yu sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his split lip. He swatted Sheng Yi’s hip. “You won’t die. Get your clothes off.”

As he moved to help him, Sheng Yi’s eyes suddenly went blank. The trauma to his head combined with the alcohol caused a momentary blackout. He looked at Rong Yu and asked, “Who are you?”

Rong Yu froze. His body turned rigid. “Sheng Yi, don’t joke like that.”

“My head hurts…” Sheng Yi groaned in genuine pain.

Rong Yu’s calm shattered. He began rubbing Sheng Yi’s forehead, his voice trembling. “Don’t rush. Think. I am Rong Yu.”

Sheng Yi’s eyes slowly cleared. “Xiao Yu… my Xiao Yu.”

Rong Yu let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and pulled Sheng Yi into a suffocating hug. He was shaking. The fear of being forgotten again was a despair he couldn’t hide. He kissed Sheng Yi desperately, a bitter, intense kiss filled with the taste of alcohol and raw emotion.

Rong Yu’s self-control was gone. He pulled Sheng Yi up and pushed him toward the sofa.

“Stay there,” Rong Yu’s voice was cold and hoarse.

Sheng Yi, still dazed, obeyed, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city lights. He felt a cold hand—Rong Yu’s hand—press against his back.

He had drawn those hands many times. Perfect, slender, skeletal hands meant for a surgical scalpel. But right now, those hands were pinning him down with terrifying precision.

Rong Yu’s black sweater sleeve was rolled up, revealing the tensed muscles of his forearm. He pressed his lips to the side of Sheng Yi’s neck. “Say my name.”

“…Rong Yu.”

He made him say it again and again, as if carving the name into his soul. “Will you remember it this time?”

Sheng Yi’s eyes were red, his voice practically gone.

“Who am I?” Rong Yu bit his shoulder.

“My… Xiao Yu.”