The sky was completely dark, and the only light in the villa’s garden came from the street lamps, illuminating this small world. 

The Maybach’s engine was still running, its hum standing out in the silent night. The passenger door was wide open, and a snow-white hand reached out from inside the car, pressing against the chest of a tall, muscular man, moving up and down. 

Even the engine’s hum couldn’t drown out the man’s heavy breathing.

The small, delicate hand on his chest felt like a nimble fish, and even through the fabric, Lu Qing could clearly feel how soft it was and how good it felt. 

As the bodyguard hired by the Yu family for the Little Young Master, he should have stopped his employer’s actions immediately, then carried him back to his room to sleep it off. 

But as a grown man with impure thoughts about his employer, being touched so intimately by the one he liked, what he really wanted to do was pin him down in the passenger seat and kiss him hard.

Looking at the drunken, dazed person in front of him, Lu Qing gripped the car door, veins bulging on the back of his hand, almost grinding his molars to dust. 

He wanted to kiss but couldn’t. If he lost his mind and kissed him now, he’d be kicked out by the Little Young Master tomorrow.

“Xiao Li…” The man’s voice was hoarse, like it had rolled through gravel.

Yu Li didn’t respond. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and the mischievous hand became two—each exploring one side, from the full outer contour of the chest muscles to the firm, prominent center. His thumbs moved slightly, and Yu Li curiously pressed down.

The moment he did, the young man wrinkled his nose and murmured, “Why is it so hard…?”

Hadn’t the internet said chest muscles were supposed to be soft and elastic?

He said this as his fingertips slid down from the chest to the man’s abdomen, beginning to trace the lines of his well-defined abs.

“…”

He kept pressing down, going lower and lower.

“Why are the abs hard too?”

Those online posts must have lied to him. Where was the softness, the elasticity? Everything was rock hard, impossible to press down.

Yu Li, still unconvinced, wanted to continue his exploration—but the moment his hand slid lower, Lu Qing, unable to take it anymore, caught it. The young man’s wrist was slender; together, his hands could be held in just one of Lu Qing’s. With his hands restrained, Yu Li felt like a hooligan caught in the act. His face was full of defiance.

“Why are you so stingy? What’s wrong with a little touch?”

Lu Qing’s chest rose and fell violently, his voice rough as he replied, “No need to keep touching. It’s the same down there as the chest muscles.”

Yu Li’s mind was fuzzy, and he didn’t quite grasp the meaning. He only dragged out a disappointed, “Ah—” then muttered under his breath, “Why did you train so hard? I can’t even touch it.”

Having finally restrained the hands that were setting fires all over him, Lu Qing’s burning body got a moment’s reprieve. Suppressing the heat still coursing through him, he scooped the Little Young Master out of the passenger seat and cradled him in his arms.

With a bang, the car door shut, and Lu Qing walked out of the garage. The person in his arms kept muttering, “Why did you train your muscles so hard?” as if he wouldn’t stop asking until Lu Qing gave him an answer—no matter how long it took.

Looking down at the pretty young man with flushed cheeks, a mischievous glint rose in Lu Qing’s eyes. He leaned down slightly, voice low and teasing.

“You made them hard.”

Yu Li’s brain froze for a beat before he denied it “It wasn’t me…”

“It was you,” the man interrupted, unbothered.

“Anyone who works out knows that relaxed chest muscles are soft. Mine are too—but they get hard when you touch them.”

Yu Li opened his mouth. He didn’t work out, and his muddled brain couldn’t come up with a logical rebuttal. All he could manage was a dry, “Oh,” followed by a not-very-sincere, “Sorry.”

Lu Qing paused on the stairs, his voice softening without meaning to.

“Why are you apologizing to me…”

Yu Li looked up at him.

“I didn’t mean to make them hard. I won’t touch them again.”

Lu Qing: “Don’t.”

Lu Qing: “You can touch them in the future too.”

Yu Li’s eyes lit up. 

“Really?”

Lu Qing: “Really.”

No one else could touch him like this except Yu Li.

As soon as he finished speaking, those soft, boneless hands were once again on Lu Qing’s chest muscles… giving a pinch.

Caught off guard, Lu Qing’s hand shook, and Yu Li slipped down a bit. In that slip, Yu Li suddenly felt he touched something, his beautiful eyes widening in surprise, “Lu Qing!”

The touch made the veins on Lu Qing’s forehead throb. He tightened his arms, lifting the person back up into his embrace.

Yu Li was still calling him, “Lu Qing!”

This time, it was Lu Qing’s turn to apologize, “Sorry.”

Yu Li: “Hmm?”

But Lu Qing didn’t answer, only hoarsely asked, “Little Young Master, can I use your bathroom later?”

Yu Li thought for a moment, not asking why Lu Qing needed his bathroom, and generously nodded, “Go ahead.”

Yu Li’s room was already within reach…

Although Yu Li had been quite lively earlier, touching Lu Qing all over, the morning’s training had undoubtedly worn him out. 

After Lu Qing laid him on the bed, it wasn’t long before Yu Li rolled toward the wall, hugged a pillow, and fell asleep. Naturally, he didn’t hear the sounds coming from the bathroom not long after.

Lu Qing was full of energy—normally channeling half of it into exercise and fitness, while the other half accumulated into more primal urges. 

For years, the only outlet for that second half had been his left and right hands. But ever since successfully moving in with Yu Li, those urges had become more frequent. 

Usually, it was manageable in his own room, but this was the first time Lu Qing had done something so out of line in Yu Li’s bathroom.

And the person who stirred up those urges was just a wall away, lying quietly in bed. He obviously couldn’t hear anything, but Yu Li’s light breathing seemed to echo in Lu Qing’s ears—like a subtle flame of desire, slow-burning and hot. 

The pleasant scent of Yu Li’s shower gel still lingered in the air, wrapping around him like silent encouragement.

“Yu Li… my sweet treasure…”

The murmurs came intermittently, the man tilting his head back, imagining how, not long ago, that very person had stood here—right in this spot—letting the water cascade down his bare body…

Veins bulged on the back of his hand as he gripped the metal handle. With a snap, the shower switch lifted. Water poured down, splashing into a cluster of droplets.

Time passed quietly. The mist in the bathroom thickened. The heavy breathing slowly faded.

The bathroom and the bedroom felt like two separate worlds.

…

The sound of water in the bathroom continued for over twenty minutes before it finally stopped. Lu Qing, wrapped in a towel, stepped out and paused by the door where the clothes rack stood. 

After training, Yu Li had come back to shower, but since he was going out for dinner, he’d worn casual clothes, leaving his pajamas hanging on the rack.

They’d had hot pot for dinner, and inevitably, his clothes had picked up the smell of the broth. Lu Qing glanced at the young man curled up on the bed, then took down the sky-blue, cloud-patterned pajamas and tiptoed to the bedside.

Yu Li was asleep, and a second shower was out of the question—but the clothes needed changing. 

Otherwise, when the Little Young Master woke up tomorrow and realized he’d slept in hot pot-scented clothes all night, he’d probably be secretly upset. 

But since he was fast asleep, waking him to change wasn’t an option. That left only one person who could help him change: Lu Qing himself.

Taking a deep breath, Lu Qing regretted not changing the Little Young Master’s clothes before going into the bathroom. He glanced again at the white bundle sleeping soundly on the bed, then slowly bent down and placed a large hand on the soft belly, gently pulling the young man toward the edge of the bed.

The alcohol had taken effect, and Yu Li didn’t stir—his delicate brows relaxed, cheeks rosy, breathing soft and even. Lu Qing carefully cradled him in his arms, Yu Li’s face naturally resting against his chest, exposing a snow-white ear. One hand supported his waist while the other grasped the hem of the T-shirt, slowly rolling it up.

As he moved, the young man’s glowing white waist appeared before him. Yu Li didn’t exercise much, but unlike most people, any extra weight wasn’t hidden under his clothes. 

He had a small frame, a slender build, and without the fabric covering, his stomach was flat, his waist even slimmer than most boys his age. From Lu Qing’s angle, his abdomen was covered by only a thin layer—his whole body exuding a delicate, pampered air.

Staring at that waist for a moment, Lu Qing’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyelids lowered as he continued to roll up the T-shirt until it was completely off. In that moment, Lu Qing regretted—deeply—not changing Yu Li’s clothes before his shower.

Yu Li was too pale, and without the covering of fabric, the faint pink on his skin was almost too striking. Under the cool air conditioning, they stood proud—like two vibrant blossoms blooming in winter snow—beautiful and tempting.

The pretty young man, drunk and asleep, lay defenseless in his arms, as if no noise in the world could wake him. Just a slight tilt of the head, and Lu Qing could taste the delicacy he had long coveted.

His breathing grew heavier, his eyes darkened, and saliva unconsciously pooled in his mouth. One second… two seconds…

The young man shivered from the cold, a small sound of dissatisfaction escaping his throat. Startled by the reaction, Lu Qing quickly averted his gaze. 

The veins on the back of his hand bulged as he forced himself to focus. His movements quickened, yet remained gentle, dressing the young man in his pajamas with practiced ease.

Changing the pajama pants nearly made him close his eyes.

Still, Yu Li didn’t wake. Once dressed, Lu Qing placed him back in his original position. Before long, he was curled up against the wall again, completely unaware of the fiery gaze burning into his back.

Lu Qing stood at the bedside, holding the clothes he’d just taken off Yu Li, glancing down at the now very awake little Lu. With a dark expression, he left the third floor. He didn’t return to his room, but continued down the stairs—his heavy footsteps the only sound echoing through the quiet villa.

This time, the urge was even stronger. Those two points of vivid pink lingered in his mind—no longer something that could be washed away with a half-hour shower.

With a snap, the living room light on the first floor switched on. Lu Qing, face full of unfulfilled desire, stood before the 50kg dumbbells.

It wasn’t until one in the morning that the lights on the first floor of the villa went out again.