Zhao Ziqiang had just returned from grocery shopping. A fair amount of slushy water splashed off his shoe as he nudged the shoe mat at the entrance. He squinted, took a deep breath, and flicked the cigarette butt down the hallway before fully stepping inside, ushering in a gust of cold air. The person on the sofa shrugged his shoulders, shot him a sidelong glance, and, as if recalling something, smiled slightly.

“What did you buy?”

Zhao Ziqiang ignored him, kicked off his shoes, and walked toward the kitchen in his cotton slippers.

The house was quite small, consisting of a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. Aside from the kitchen, the other areas looked like a dog’s den for a single man. The person on the sofa, unbothered by being ignored, pursed his lips and smiled as he headed to the kitchen to help.

In the kitchen, the tiles were wiped clean and shiny, while the cookware, food, and seasonings were neatly arranged—nothing fancy, just everyday items. It was clear that the owner simply had a simple passion for cooking.

Zhao Ziqiang took a couple of steps, feeling uncomfortable as he twisted his foot. Frowning, he extended his foot, bent down and pulled off a worn-out sock with a large hole that was digging uncomfortably into his big toe.

It was white and surprisingly clean.

“Just toss it in the laundry basket, but make sure not to mix it with the underwear.”

He reached back and tossed the socks to the other person behind him, who caught them.

In general, Zhao Ziqiang was a neat and tidy person, though not as obsessively meticulous as a woman, nor as nagging. His only obsession was his lover, the person behind him, Qian Wang.

Qian Wang took that pair of socks and tossed them into the sock laundry basket before going back to stand behind Zhao Ziqiang.

In the old days, Zhao Ziqiang would often grumble and complain while cooking, and his food was awful. But since it was the only thing Qian Wang had to eat, he had to put up with it.

Back then, Qian Wang would stand behind Zhao Ziqiang, watching as various ingredients were tossed into the hot oil that would make him tear up. His hands would typically rest somewhere between Zhao Ziqiang’s waist and thighs, which was also why Zhao Ziqiang often complained.

Eventually, the grumble and swears stopped happening. It was unclear whether it was because Qian Wang had stopped placing his hands on Zhao Ziqiang’s backside or if Zhao Ziqiang’s cooking had improved so much that he no longer nagged him with questions.

Now, after a long time, Qian Wang stood behind Zhao Ziqiang once again, but this time he was doing it intentionally.

He felt somehow guilty today, not because he was sorry, but because he wasn’t sure if Zhao Ziqiang knew about what he did; maybe Old Wang hadn’t told him yet.

Zhao Ziqiang was making sweet and sour cabbage. While waiting for the dish to finish cooking, he lit a cigarette, occasionally stirring the pan and lost in thought.

Everything seemed normal in Qian Wang’s eyes, and he felt a bit more relaxed.

There was no range hood in the house, and the room was filled with smoke. Qian Wang thought for a moment, turned around, and left the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. It was just too suffocating.

After Qian Wang left, Zhao Ziqiang twitched his mouth slightly. Such a pouting expression looked strange on a big man like him, especially since there was no one in front of him.

The rice had already finished steaming, and one dish was enough—there was plenty to go around, especially since cabbage was very cheap this winter.

Zhao Ziqiang balanced a bowl in each hand, with a plate of vegetables nestled between them and two pairs of chopsticks tucked under his arm as he made his way into the living room. This time, Qian Wang appeared lost in thought.

Zhao Ziqiang shot him a glance and said flatly, “Eat.”

Only then did Qian Wang slowly pick up his chopsticks. As soon as he started eating, he could lose himself in the food, devouring it as if he hadn’t eaten in days, despite having eaten the same way at lunch.

Zhao Ziqiang smiled faintly. This was the expression he wore every day during meals. He had a fondness for snacks and sweets and wasn’t particularly passionate about rice, so watching Qian Wang enjoy his meal brought him… a sense of amusement.

But today, Qian Wang wasn’t as calm. As he devoured his food, he felt a sense of frustration, as if he were chewing on wax, making him uncomfortable.

Zhao Ziqiang almost finished his rice with just a bit of water and put down his chopsticks. Just as he was about to say something, Qian Wang spoke up first.

“My mom asked me to come home today. I told her I’d go after dinner.”

Zhao Ziqiang simply responded with a noncommittal “Hmm,” continuing to drink plain water as if it were beer.

Yesterday, the day before yesterday, three days ago, last Tuesday, last Wednesday.

He silently counted in his mind. Qian Wang had come up with various excuses to leave after dinner, but the good news was that he wasn’t lying today. It was Zhao Ziqiang who had called his mom to ask her to tell his son to come home.

As for the days when he had lied… Zhao Ziqiang pouted and rested his head on the table, lost in thought. He might as well talk to that kid. He heard he was a college student about to graduate—why wasn’t he seriously thinking about finding a job? Honestly! Kids these days only know how to cause trouble for others.

And with that thought, he headed out.

Zhao Ziqiang checked the address sent by Lao Wang several times on his phone, confirming that he had found the right place. It was an ordinary neighborhood with ordinary building numbers, but the only special thing was that the community was well-maintained; the paths leading to each unit were kept clean, even in the snowy weather.

After knocking on the door of the top-floor apartment, a young boy opened it, looking quite annoyed. Their family probably had just finished eating, as the woman of the house peeked out with a bowl and chopsticks, asking in unison with her son,

“Who are you looking for?”

Zhao Ziqiang flicked away his cigarette butt, ran a hand through his hair, and, ignoring the boy, focused on the woman. “I’m looking for you.”

A family of three sat on the long sofa, with Zhao Ziqiang at one corner. The man of the house didn’t lift his head, focused on the newspaper in his hands.

Zhao Ziqiang didn’t mind and smiled, saying,

“Well, I’m gay.”

His words hung in the air, like muffled thunder, plunging the room into silence.

The woman of the house leaned back a bit, her expression a mix of curiosity and disdain.

The man of the house lowered the newspaper he had been reading.

The boy shuddered slightly, staring intently at Zhao Ziqiang.

Zhao Ziqiang casually rubbed his nose. “Your son is trying to seduce my partner.”

With a loud thud, the newspaper was slammed down on the table, and the woman spoke in unison with her son.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I’ve said what I needed to say. You should keep a close eye on your own son, maybe he’ll turn out fine. Being a little boy toy isn’t really respectable. ” After saying this, Zhao Ziqiang turned to leave. What a joke—why would he stay and wait to get hit?

Despite causing a scene, it didn’t feel like he had achieved anything; however, the satisfaction of venting his anger was real.

As he kicked at the thick layers of snow, he muttered curses at Qian Wang.

Seven years, just exactly seven years! You’re feeling itchy, huh? Fine, I’ll scratch it for you. If I don’t, it would be strange if that beast doesn’t get scratched to death!”

Well, at this point, he had already stumbled out of the bar, drunk.

The only gay bar in the city was such a disappointment; Zhao Ziqiang didn’t encounter a single person who flirted with him. Feeling isolated, he spent half the night drinking alone before storming out, leaving a tab with the owner.

Instead of returning to that small place, he went back to his brightly lit home. His parents were there, he had his own bedroom, and his bed was fully furnished. That was more than enough for him to have a good night’s sleep.

His phone suddenly rang in his back pocket. He took it out only to see a blank memo, and without thinking, he dialed a number.

“Beep—beep—”

“Hello…”

“I love you, good night.” Zhao Ziqiang said this and quickly hung up, almost at the same moment he started snoring.