Liang Zhen’s emotions have always come and gone quickly, and the TV shopping hosts of “HomeEasy” were particularly effective in this atmosphere. Liang Zhen was still feeling a bit sad initially, but as soon as he heard the background music and saw the images, his mood instantly improved.

“Are they that dedicated?” he asked. “They’re still broadcasting live on New Year’s Eve?”

“It should be a pre-recorded show,” Shao Mingyin replied. “I’ve seen this segment before.”

Just as Liang Zhen was starting to feel better, Shao Mingyin’s words brought him down again.

Liang Zhen still had his grandfather calling him, but what about Shao Mingyin? How much “HomeEasy” must Shao Mingyin have watched to recognize even the rebroadcasts?

“Don’t be so down,” Shao Mingyin patted Liang Zhen’s still slightly wet hair. Although they were not very close, leaning back against the bedhead, the gesture was natural and intimate enough. “This segment is really quite interesting.”

Liang Zhen decided to pay close attention. The product being sold was one kilogram of silver. The two hosts, as usual, exaggerated the benefits of the silver, boasting about certificates, buyback guarantees, and exclusive engravings, making it sound like a great deal. After a long buildup about the product’s quality, it was time to reveal the price, and the hosts invited the company’s boss to announce it personally.

The boss, a northerner who mined silver, started with some pleasantries, praising the beauty of West Lake and Leifeng Pagoda in Hangzhou, and expressing his gratitude to Zhejiang customers. He then announced the price: 6200 yuan per kilogram.

Liang Zhen had no concept of silver prices, so he quickly looked it up and found that this price was highly inflated. He exclaimed, anticipating an exciting haggling session. He glanced at Shao Mingyin, who also smiled, knowing that the following part wouldn’t disappoint Liang Zhen.

Sure enough, upon hearing the price, the male host’s face immediately fell. Anger was barely concealed as he asked the female host, who was giggling with her hand over her mouth: “Did he say 62?”

The male host made the hand gestures for six and two to the production team and shouted, “He called us 62.”

At this moment, the northern boss’s shocked expression was so genuine that Liang Zhen wondered if it was all an act. After the male host explained that “six-two” was an insult in the Hangzhou dialect, the boss had to lower the price to appease everyone’s “anger”. The boss said he’d drop the price by a thousand yuan, but the male host was still very angry and demanded another thousand yuan reduction.

The northern boss, very affable, dropped the price from 62 to 42, but the male host was still not satisfied, saying that prices starting with four were unlucky. Despite the boss’s repeated claims that any further reduction would mean selling at a loss, the final price settled at a number starting with three.

“Wow,” Liang Zhen was stunned by this negotiation tactic. “How do you even do business like this? Are people in Zhejiang all this shrewd?”

At that moment, Liang Zhen even thought of his father. Their family also started in the metal mining business, and in recent years, their sales focus had been shifting south. If Zhejiang people were this skilled at bargaining on TV, how could Liang Chongwei, his father, gain any advantage over them in real business?

At that moment, Liang Zhen realized, for the first time in a long while, that his father had it tough. Having reached that position, he was accustomed to weighing the pros and cons, often unable to find the time and often compelled by circumstances.

“When I first came to Wenzhou, I heard a colleague say ‘grab a cup’ ‘nǎ ge bēi’ (拿个杯),when he was angry,” Shao Mingyin recalled amusing moments while watching TV. “I really thought he wanted a drink of water, so I brought him a cup, and they all laughed. Only then did I learn that ‘grab a cup’ is also an insult in Wenzhou dialect.”

“You’ve been here for almost three years now,” Liang Zhen asked. “Can you speak Wenzhou dialect yet?”

“I’ve heard it a lot while on duty, so I understand it well now. But speaking it is still out of reach, it’s too difficult,” Shao Mingyin replied. Then he asked, “How about you? You’ve been studying here for two years. Can you speak it?”

“I’m not from Wenzhou,” Liang Zhen laughed lightly. “I’m not from Wenzhou, so I can’t speak the dialect.”

“I’m not from Wenzhou…” Liang Zhen felt confused. “Why am I here?”

As soon as he finished speaking, fireworks and firecrackers started outside the window. They looked at the top right corner of the TV screen, where the time was displayed—a feature common on most Zhejiang TV stations, showing the time at the hour and half-hour marks. The numbers had several zeros, indicating it was past midnight, and the new year had begun.

The new year had arrived, and Liang Zhen was still dazed, not fully aware. Shao Mingyin got up, grabbed a piece of clothing casually, and seeing that it was Liang Zhen’s sweater, put it on. Then he threw Liang Zhen’s coat onto the bed, signaling him to put it on too.

“Do you want to watch the fireworks?” He walked towards the balcony. It was quite cold when he first opened the door, but he went out anyway. The fireworks were unusually red, and Shao Mingyin leaned on the balcony, looking up, bathed in the red glow.

He didn’t lower his head, but he knew Liang Zhen was beside him. Although Mushan Street wasn’t downtown, fireworks and firecrackers were not allowed on regular days. But on New Year’s Eve and the night transitioning into New Year’s Day, people could set off all the fireworks they had saved up over the year.

This was Liang Zhen’s first time experiencing New Year’s in Wenzhou and seeing every household setting off fireworks and firecrackers. The noise was so loud that it could be described as deafening. Shao Mingyin had to raise his voice to tell him that Wenzhou people set off a “closing door firecracker” on New Year’s Eve before closing the door, and an “opening door firecracker” on New Year’s Day after opening the door.

“Will it be this noisy tomorrow morning too?” Liang Zhen asked loudly, coming closer.

“Actually, it will be noisy from now until about seven or eight in the morning,” Shao Mingyin informed him. “Fireworks and firecrackers will continue from midnight until dawn.” Shao Mingyin looked up at the sky again, the dense fireworks creating an illusion of daylight in the night. He seemed to forget about Liang Zhen, staring at the sky without a hint of sleepiness. It was as if, without Liang Zhen, he would stand on the balcony all night, watching the unending fireworks and listening to the crackling firecrackers.

Alone, from midnight till dawn.

It made Liang Zhen feel sorry for him.

Feeling cold, Liang Zhen put his coat on Shao Mingyin. Now, Shao Mingyin was wearing all of his clothes. But if Liang Zhen weren’t there, would he have remembered to put on more clothes himself? He wasn’t wearing socks or slippers, his ankles exposed to the cold. Liang Zhen gave him his own, but if he weren’t there, would Shao Mingyin have changed into warmer shoes?

He had become a part of Liang Zhen’s heart.

“Shao Mingyin.”

Shao Mingyin looked down, a fleeting moment of confusion in his eyes, as if asking, “Why are you here?”

How did the two of them, both from the north, end up meeting in Wenzhou?

“Shao Mingyin,” Liang Zhen shouted, his voice overpowering the surrounding noise, “I’m here, I’m with you.”

I’m in Wenzhou, I’m by your side.

He could see the light in Shao Mingyin’s eyes, like a layer of tears. Even though his smile wasn’t forced, it still pained Liang Zhen.

“Shao Mingyin, look at me,” he whispered in Shao Mingyin’s ear, and kissed him, “I’m here, I…”

He felt something growing inside him, from his chest, from his beating heart, a burst of inspiration that made his fingers tingle. But he couldn’t grasp it. He opened his mouth but could only manage a single “I.”

He gradually found himself speechless, only mouthing the words. The surge of emotions was fleeting, without a chance to express it, he could only watch it fade away.

“Liang Zhen?”

Shao Mingyin grabbed his shoulders: “Sing.”

Sing what you want to sing.

“I,” Liang Zhen was clearly looking at Shao Mingyin, but his eyes seemed to be seeing something else through him.

“You can do it,” Shao Mingyin encouraged, giving him a kiss on the lips, “Just open your mouth, and it will come out.”

Liang Zhen paused slightly, then hummed a melody. But when it came to adding the lyrics, he knew what the emotions were, but couldn’t sing it out.

As soon as Shao Mingyin heard the tune Liang Zhen hummed, he felt an inexplicable familiarity. They both made a final struggle to go back inside. Liang Zhen was searching through the beats on his phone—there were too many, and he couldn’t find the right one.

Then he heard a sound behind him—it was music, an accordion.

He turned around, and there was Shao Mingyin sitting on the floor with the accordion resting on his lap, not using the shoulder straps. After playing the two eight-beat segments again, he nodded at Liang Zhen, saying it was this one.

It was one of the beats Liang Zhen had played for Shao Mingyin that day.

“Sing, Liang Zhen! Sing whatever you want to sing right now,” Shao Mingyin looked at him, “You know it, sing it.”

That shout drilled into Liang Zhen’s entire body, and in front of him was Shao Mingyin, hoping he would sing.

He opened his mouth, and it was no longer just “I”. When the singing merged with the accompaniment, some breaks perfectly landed on that “I”—it was mountains, it was lakes and seas, it was all just for you.

“No matter which mountain or river

Which lake or sea I

Crossed mountains and ridges

All just for you.”

Liang Zhen sang.

He himself couldn’t believe it, he even forgot to record it. He sang it again, this time with Shao Mingyin humming along. They didn’t have time to close the window, and it was still so lively outside, but he could hear it.

He could hear Shao Mingyin, and he knew why he was in Wenzhou at that moment. Liang Zhen crossed mountains and ridges for music, for Shao Mingyin.

And Shao Mingyin was right in front of him.

Liang Zhen squatted down, and as their eyes met, Shao Mingyin pushed the accordion aside. They started kissing. Shao Mingyin knelt straight, making him half a head taller than the sitting Liang Zhen. He cupped Liang Zhen’s face, lifting his chin, his hand pressed against his jaw as if holding a treasure.

This position was not easy for force, but Liang Zhen managed to lift him. After carrying him to the bed, he spread his knees wide, clamping Shao Mingyin’s pelvis tightly, not allowing him to escape.

But Shao Mingyin never intended to escape.

They continued kissing, from lips to cheeks to jaws. Liang Zhen’s hand moved to the thin layer of abs on Shao Mingyin’s belly. Shao Mingyin took off his coat on his own, lifting his sweater and the undershirt along with it. When Liang Zhen helped him take it off, he raised his hands cooperatively. Once completely naked, their lips never parted. When Shao Mingyin’s hand started stroking Liang Zhen’s erect organ, Liang Zhen’s hand also reached behind him.

“Bring them out…” Shao Mingyin was referring to the condoms and lubricant Liang Zhen had placed in the bedside drawer.

Liang Zhen fetched them. While unwrapping the packaging, Shao Mingyin watched him intently, his eyes filled with undisguised, raw desire.

“What’s wrong…” Seeing Liang Zhen pause after opening the lube, Shao Mingyin smiled. When he smiled, his eyes filled with charm, “Do you need me to teach you?”

“No, I was just thinking…” Liang Zhen remembered the articles and information about gay sex he had read before. With everything ready, he realized he hadn’t discussed with Shao Mingyin who would top and who would bottom during sex.

This thought made him conflicted. Shao Mingyin was so skilled, it was hard to imagine him willingly being the bottom. But as for himself, being straight for twenty years, if it was Shao Mingyin, he might accept it, but he felt his reaction might be disappointing.

“What are you thinking,” Shao Mingyin, left hanging, was obviously uncomfortable. He propped himself up and bit Liang Zhen’s ear hard, “Do you want to fuck me or not?!”

Shao Mingyin said that with a harsh tone, with a hint of annoyance at Liang Zhen’s hesitation. But despite the fierce tone, Liang Zhen felt a tingling all over his body, his lower abdomen swelling with desire. Shao Mingyin’s arousal was evident too. When Liang Zhen inserted his fingers to stretch him, he also used his mouth on Shao Mingyin to keep the pleasure uninterrupted and reduce discomfort.

It was Liang Zhen’s first time doing this, and he didn’t find the spot that would bring Shao Mingyin the most pleasure. But it was enough to fit two fingers. After Shao Mingyin sucked him a bit, Liang Zhen put on the condom, then with one hand guiding his member and the other spreading Shao Mingyin’s thigh, he slowly pushed in.

But Liang Zhen was too big, and halfway in, Shao Mingyin was in so much pain he was gasping, his erection softening due to the pain. Liang Zhen couldn’t bear to see him in such discomfort and was about to pull out when Shao Mingyin suddenly grabbed him.

“Stroke me,” Shao Mingyin referred to his own organ. He wrapped his arms around Liang Zhen’s waist, his tone and gaze wild, like he didn’t care about the consequences. When Liang Zhen started stroking him, he began moving his hips, slowly taking Liang Zhen in. When the pain became too much, he simply sat on Liang Zhen’s lap, legs wrapped around his waist, fully taking him in.

Shao Mingyin was really in pain, his lower abdomen twitching. His erection was completely gone, so Liang Zhen squeezed his nipples, taking one nipple into his mouth. Liang Zhen added more lube to his base, also taking care of Shao Mingyin’s front. This stimulation made Shao Mingyin let out a few muffled moans, his waist slowly relaxing. When Liang Zhen began small movements, Shao Mingyin’s moans turned sultry.

Adequate lubrication really helped. Soon, Liang Zhen increased his pace, continuing to knead Shao Mingyin’s chest. When they switched to doggy style, Liang Zhen intended to go slow, but Shao Mingyin urged him on, head buried in the pillow, not turning back, telling Liang Zhen to go fast.

Liang Zhen pulled out his member, then thrust back in heavily, hitting deep inside. He was pleased to hear Shao Mingyin’s satisfied moans but couldn’t increase the speed yet.

“Liang Zhen, Liang Zhen…” Shao Mingyin didn’t hold back. He still felt pain, a mix of aching and pleasure, combined with the humiliation and helplessness of being fucked. He urged Liang Zhen, “faster.”

“Call me ge,” Liang Zhen whispered against Shao Mingyin’s back, “Call me ge and I’ll go faster.”

Shao Mingyin heard him, his knees trembling. Liang Zhen wasn’t very experienced, it was his first time topping, and the psychological pleasure far outweighed the physical. At this point, if he called the younger Liang Zhen “ge”…

“Are you going to call out?” Liang Zhen thrust deeply again but held onto Shao Mingyin’s waist to keep him from collapsing. One hand continued to tease Shao Mingyin’s nipples, making his legs tremble, toes curl, and ankles tense.

Shao Mingyin opened his mouth, but his voice was too soft. Liang Zhen increased the pressure on his nipples, and Shao Mingyin clutched the bed sheets, finally uttering a nasal “ge.”

That “ge” was the last of Shao Mingyin’s rationality. His entire body was consumed by pleasure, and Liang Zhen sped up, stroking him from the front. As the overwhelming ecstasy approached, a fear arose in Shao Mingyin’s heart, and Liang Zhen tightly embraced him from behind, interlocking their fingers.

Afterwards, Liang Zhen continued to hold Shao Mingyin from behind. Shao Mingyin allowed him to kiss and nibble on the vulnerable back of his neck. Exhaustion and the aftermath of their lovemaking brought a rare wave of sleepiness. As the sound of fireworks and firecrackers outside began to fade, he heard Liang Zhen’s breath in his ear.

He heard Liang Zhen say that he had once thought of a stage name.

“When I wrote my first lyrics in my notebook, I wrote ‘Yin Liang’ in the bottom right corner,” Liang Zhen said softly. “It has a cultural and meaningful connotation, referring to the idiom ‘Yu Yin Rao Liang’ (lingering sound fills the house).”

“But later, when I decided to go into rap, I never used that name because I felt my songs weren’t worthy of the phrase ‘Yu Yin Rao Liang.’ Besides, using my real name is convenient, so I never mentioned it to anyone. More importantly, whenever I thought of mentioning it, I felt something was missing.”

Liang Zhen turned Shao Mingyin around, touched his ear, and pecked his nose.

He smiled, now understanding.

“It turns out what was missing was you.”

Yin Liang represented ‘Yu Yin Rao Liang,’ which signified both music and Liang Zhen, and also Shao Mingyin and Liang Zhen.

Liang Zhen said, “It turns out from the beginning, it was always Shao Mingyin.”

^[1]TN:

Then Yin in Shao Mingyin is music