CH 78

Chapter 78: Utter Possession

“Prostitute?” Yue Zhishi looked at him in confusion, and then he abruptly realised what Song Yu meant. He frantically waved his hands at him. “Ah, no, no…”

Whenever he was anxious, he would always go to hug Song Yu, but Song Yu held onto his shoulders this time and pushed him away. “Not allowed to hug me.”

“Why?” Yue Zhishi pouted in dissatisfaction.

With a complete poker face, Song Yu said, “I’m allergic to you.”

“You’re lying.” Yue Zhishi wanted to grab one of his arms, but Song Yu caught his arm instead. His other hand held onto the bottom edge of his phone, and he patted Yue Zhishi’s face with it.

“Yue Zhishi, don’t change the conversation on me.”

“You’re really rich now, are you? Or am I too cheap?”

“You’re not cheap!” Flustered, Yue Zhishi went to grab at Song Yu, but he accidentally pulled at Song Yu’s bathrobe and revealed more than half of his shoulders. There were still scratch marks on them.

Song Yu glanced down at himself and then raised his eyes again. Staring at Yue Zhishi, he said in a deep voice, “What, you haven’t had enough?”

Yue Zhishi choked at that question and started to cough, flushing from his chest to his face. It took some effort to smoothen out his breathing, but then Song Yu pressed him down, hands on his shoulders, until he fell backwards onto the soft and fluffy pillows — but Song Yu didn’t kiss him.

A very mild fragrance of sandalwood blended with citrus diffused from Song Yu’s aftershave. It was originally a very common scent, but it became particularly delicious once attached to Song Yu’s skin. His eyes swept languidly across Yue Zhishi’s face, looking like a danger signal.

“How many rounds can your savings pay for?” Song Yu’s finger trailed down Yue Zhishi’s nose and fiddled with Yue Zhishi’s slightly swollen, faintly glistening lips very lightly. “Four?”

“My lips are a bit sore,” Yue Zhishi mumbled quietly, dodging away from Song Yu’s finger.

“Whose fault is that?” Song Yu’s finger poked at a soft corner of his mouth. Sometimes when Yue Zhishi smiled, that place would deepen into a shallow little dimple.

Yue Zhishi had nothing to say to that; he really had kept begging for kisses, and they’d ended up kissing the entire time they were having sex. Perhaps he truly was different from other people, deeply needing to be held or to be kissed — the more he lost himself within Song Yu, the more he needed the confirmation of their intimacy. It would be best if those kisses didn’t stop for a single moment.

“Yue Zhishi, let’s not look for the fabric anymore this afternoon.” Song Yu’s hand had yet to stop, and it continued downwards, wrapping itself around Yue Zhishi’s neck. The pads of his fingers rubbed against the deep red marks left on his skin. “Let’s finish spending all of your money today in one go. That way we won’t have to do it again in the future.”

Yue Zhishi immediately shook his head and strained to lift it higher, wanting to kiss Song Yu. But Song Yu evaded away, and so Yue Zhishi could only emphatically say, feeling sorry for himself, “No, no way.”

Song Yu raised his eyebrows and purposefully said, “Or is it more important to look for your fabric?”

Yue Zhishi dropped his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down unconsciously. He forced out another answer. “No, I meant… we’ll be doing it again in the future.” His hand slid out from a corner of the blanket, and he’d just put it onto the belt of Song Yu’s bathrobe when Song Yu gripped onto his wrist.

“Just look at yourself right now.” Song Yu looked over him and placed Yue Zhishi’s hand back into the blanket. “Behave.”

“You were saying yesterday what a good boy I was, and now you’re saying I’m not behaving.” Yue Zhishi coughed twice, shrinking back into his blanket. “Song Yu, you’re so mean.”

After standing up, Song Yu towered over him and adjusted his bathrobe. He said, looking down at him from up high, “I’m going to tie you up if you keep talking.”

Yue Zhishi closed his mouth, but then he reached out an arm again after two seconds, raising it like a little child towards his teacher. “Final thing. The money I transferred you is for the room. Let me pay for the first day.”

Song Yu turned around, saying calmly and leisurely, “I’m going to get a rope.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t, I’ll stop talking now okay…”

When Yue Zhishi got off the bed to clean up, he realised his legs were trembling; he’d taken only two steps when he crouched and simply sat down on the carpet, not saying anything or making any noise. Behind him, Song Yu was checking his emails at his laptop, and when he saw Yue Zhishi sitting on the floor, he walked over and asked what was wrong.

“It’s aching a bit…” Yue Zhishi’s ears were red, and he hugged his lower belly, face slightly scrunching up.

“Where?” Song Yu picked him up from the floor, arms sliding behind the back of Yue Zhishi’s knees, and headed towards the bathroom.

“…I feel like I’m aching everywhere.” Yue Zhishi touched his chest. “My throat, lower belly, legs and…” He cleared his throat, vaguely insinuating the rest.

“I’ve already put some cream on there for you, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue.” Song Yu lowered him in front of the sink, steadying him.

At that moment, Yue Zhishi saw the cup readied for him, a toothbrush with a squeeze of toothpaste on it resting on top. He tilted his head and looked at Song Yu. “How are you so good.”

Song Yu stiffly turned his face away. “It was just convenient.”

Hearing Yue Zhishi’s still somewhat hoarse voice, Song Yu reached out a hand and very gently touched Yue Zhishi’s lower belly.

Yue Zhishi didn’t think much of his touch; instead, he suddenly realised he lost one of his slippers when Song Yu picked him up. He nimbly stepped onto Song Yu’s cotton slippers — this way, Song Yu wouldn’t be able to walk away.

“I went too hard on you,” Song Yu said very quietly, sounding much more gentle compared to just then.

But Yue Zhishi actually didn’t mind — he placed his hand onto Song Yu’s, words coming out garbled as he continued brushing his teeth. “It’s fine, I’m super hard to kill.”

That sentence didn’t sound right no matter how he listened to it. Song Yu didn’t speak, letting Yue Zhishi step on him as he wished, eyes gazing at the Yue Zhishi in the mirror. There was a small hickey on the skin behind Yue Zhishi’s ear, and it faintly peeked out from his hair.

The hotel’s room service wasn’t too bad — Song Yu ordered a lightly flavoured porridge and some small snacks Yue Zhishi could eat, as well as a large plate of fruit.

Yue Zhishi’s body was currently lacking in nutrients, and he was extremely hungry; he shovelled in the large bowl of hot porridge and felt much better.

But it really was mild and lightly flavoured. Too mild.

He pointed at the rain outside, the colour of his voice different from usual. It was a little husky, as though he’d truly matured from being a little child, but the words he spoke were very childish. “During weather like this, we should be eating hotpot.”

Stabbing a fork into an apple slice that’d been cut into the shape of a bunny, Song Yu plugged up his mouth.

The rain had lessened slightly by 1:30pm, but the wind was still very strong. Song Yu pulled his own woollen turtleneck sweater over Yue Zhishi’s body with the excuse of keeping his throat warm in order to prevent an asthma attack. He fussed with the neck, covering up all of the leftover marks.

They came out of the hotel, and the taxi they’d called earlier was already waiting in front of the financial centre building’s revolving door. Holding up an umbrella, Song Yu kept Yue Zhishi shielded in his arms and took him into the car.

The address for the fabric shop wasn’t too far away. The driver was a young man, and he said that place was Guangzhou’s largest, most international fabric wholesale market.

When he talked about how international it was, he specifically glanced a few times at Yue Zhishi’s face from his rearview mirror. Yue Zhishi and Song Yu each wore one piece of a pair of bluetooth earbuds, and Yue Zhishi was leaning on Song Yu, head lowered at his phone. The wipers brushed back and forth on the car’s windshield. Song Yu was a bit irritated.

“Handsome boy, are you mixed or a foreigner?” the driver finally asked.

Yue Zhishi raised his head, not having clearly heard what he’d said. He was about to take off his earbud, but Song Yu pressed down his hand and said, face cold, “Chinese and English mixed.”

The driver nodded repeatedly and took the chance to take a few more looks at Yue Zhishi’s face while his head was lifted. “Oh, no wonder you look so good. Your eyelashes are longer than some girls…”

“The light’s green now,” Song Yu interrupted, as indifferent and detached as a robot in charge of voice announcements. “There are higher chances of getting into a traffic accident during the rain. Please focus on driving.”

Yue Zhishi had no idea at all about what was happening, and so he lowered his head back down and continued reading his manga chapters. A few seconds later, he felt Song Yu loosen his hand; Yue Zhishi grabbed it back, refusing to let Song Yu move away, and massaged Song Yu’s knuckles as he continued to read.

“Aren’t you afraid of ruining your eyes.” Even though he meant to reproach Yue Zhishi with those words, Song Yu’s voice was far too gentle when speaking to him.

Without even bothering to lift his head, Yue Zhishi clicked onto the next page. “They won’t be ruined, this manga is updated monthly. I can only read it once a month.”

Completely not on the same train of thought at all. Song Yu looked out the window, the car now much quieter without the driver’s attempts at chatting Yue Zhishi up. They arrived at the marketplace not much longer later, and Yue Zhishi said thank you to the driver very politely before closing the door and jumping under Song Yu’s umbrella.

The overall area of the marketplace was quite large, made from many buildings stuck together. There were many fabric shops inside. Looking at the address Yue Zhishi gave him, Song Yu quickly found that particular fabric shop and took Yue Zhishi over.

This particular fabric shop was the largest on its floor, its space broad and roomy. Multiple rows of shelves were installed inside, and they were brimming with all different kinds of fabrics and generally filed according to colour. The name, factory manufacturer and price of each fabric were labelled below. It was an endless, dazzling collection, and yet everything was organised very neatly.

“Are you feeling like you’ve arrived in heaven?” Yue Zhishi attempted to interview Song Yu, someone suffering from OCD, but Song Yu wasn’t really interested in the fabrics; he directly walked towards the person who looked most like the shop manager.

“Hello, I’d like to buy a particular fabric.” Song Yu didn’t bother circling around, bluntly saying what he was after. There wasn’t much expression on his face.

The staff member was a middle-aged woman, and she looked at Song Yu in consideration. He was wearing a long classic heather grey Chesterfield coat with a black cashmere turtleneck. They both looked well made using quality fabrics, and his entire outfit looked expensive. People who worked in fabric manufacturing and clothing production knew how to gauge someone — a simple glance over your clothes, and they would already have an idea of your potential.

She said, a welcoming smile on her face, “Welcome, sir. I manage this store — my surname is Chen. May I ask which fabric you were after? We’re the largest supplier in this marketplace, and many big businesses specifically fly over to discuss custom fabrics with us.” She looked over and pointed at those never-ending shelves. “This is only a small selection. We still have many more fabrics in our warehouse.”

Song Yu glanced back at Yue Zhishi, who then immediately, cheerfully named the fabric. “Hi, Manager Chen. We talked earlier on the phone, and you said this particular fabric was no longer being made. Do you have any stock here?”

Manager Chen used an iPad to check, and it showed that they did have that particular fabric — but it was low in stock and was unable to be retrieved. “Please wait, let me contact the warehouse. We don’t have it here in our shop.”

Song Yu faintly dipped his head, his two hands resting in the pockets of his coat, and stood there with an impassive look on his face. Yue Zhishi explored the fabrics nearby and touched them, recording them down on his phone before running back to tug at Song Yu’s sleeve. “That ash grey silk’s really nice too, we can use it to make the dress Xiao Qi designed.”

Song Yu gave him a sideways look, mildly saying, “It’s not like you don’t have enough money. No need to report back to me.”

Yue Zhishi immediately pouted, crinkling his nose. “I don’t have any money.”

Song Yu’s slender fingers pressed a few times on his phone, and then he pulled up the WeChat transfer record to show Yue Zhishi. He countered, “Really?”

He didn’t accept the transfer, and neither did he reject it, only leaving it hanging in limbo. Yue Zhishi silently grumbled: as expected, this guy did everything the same way, able to fish better than a cat.

“I’m really poor,” Yue Zhishi softly said. “2000 each time is too expensive, I can’t play like that.”

Song Yu keenly caught his specific wording and flicked an eyebrow. “Who’s playing whom?”

Another worker walked up to them before Yue Zhishi could explain. It was a young lady, and she’d stood not too far away earlier. She knew which fabric Yue Zhishi wanted from them, and she brought over similar fabrics, giving them a polite greeting and asking if any of the ones she was holding could serve as a suitable replacement.

Yue Zhishi took the fabrics under the light, seriously looking over them, and then sent photos of them to their group chat. He also took a magnifying glass from the worker, closely examining the fabric textures.

He came to the same conclusion as everyone else in the group chat — none of these fabrics could be used as a replacement. They all lacked that specific glossy, glistening quality, that particular feel of having silver threads running through it without actually using silver threads.

“Thank you.” Yue Zhishi gave the fabrics back to her and then returned back to Song Yu’s side.

The worker said you’re welcome, looking over the two of them with her arms wrapped around the stack of fabrics. Her eyes landed on Song Yu, and then after a pause, she couldn’t help but ask, “Sir, did you come specifically to look for fabric materials?”

Yue Zhishi suddenly thought things didn’t seem quite right — it felt like the staff had mistaken Song Yu as a representative for some clothing manufacturer. Looking over, he thought Song Yu had dressed very business-like; other than his face being overly young, it would definitely be easy to misconstrue him.

Song Yu didn’t reply, and the worker didn’t find it too strange, only turning to Yue Zhishi and asking with a smile, “Are you the assistant? Or secretary? I feel like you’re very young — you might be even younger than me.”

“Ah… I, I’m actually…” Yue Zhishi wanted to explain after being misunderstood, but Song Yu abruptly chuckled and caught his attention.

It was as though he was quite interested in the set up of a young director with his little secretary.

“Our relationship’s not like that,” Yue Zhishi attempted to say, but Song Yu calmly cut off his words and said, “He is quite young.”

An understanding look passed over the worker’s face. Yue Zhishi jumped to consult her about other fabrics, chose a few and then decided to purchase them directly from the store.

“We normally don’t take orders for less than 500 metres.” The lady glanced at Song Yu. “If you head back and think our samples have good results, please return and take care of us.”

Yue Zhishi thought in his heart, he most likely wouldn’t be able to take care of you — he might’ve been born with a face meant for commercial dealings, but in reality, he was someone who picked up rocks.

Picking around, Yue Zhishi ended up choosing a large bunch of fabrics, and he felt like he didn’t bring enough funds to cover the entire cost. He started to ask the worker if he could have a discount, voice carrying a bit of cute whining, but Song Yu stopped him.

“I’ll cover the rest if you don’t have enough.”

Yue Zhishi wasn’t really happy — it was his own boyfriend’s wool being sheered off, after all. But his attention was caught by another plank of fabric in the worker’s hand; a slightly velvety type of fabric lay on top, cut into one metre ribbons the width of three fingers, and there were all sorts of colours.

“This is?”

“Ah, this is our newest product. It’s a satin velvet material that’s extremely soft to the touch — many famous women clothing designers have already ordered this fabric from us for their high-end clothing lines.” The worker pulled out the black strip, handing it to Yue Zhishi. “Have a feel. It’s very luxurious on the skin, and it won’t whiten no matter how you stroke it.”

“It’s true, it’s so soft and comfortable.”

Yue Zhishi draped the black ribbon over his pale wrist. Seeing the sharp colour contrast, a certain fantasy popped up in Song Yu’s mind.

“Let me gift this to you.” A young girl’s smile emerged on the worker’s face. “I think if your hair grew out a bit longer to your shoulders, you’d look really nice using this as a tie.”

Yue Zhishi smiled as well, that little dimpled shadow once again appearing next to his mouth. He very cutely grabbed a bit of his not-long-enough hair and said, “Really? Then thank you.”

The worker packed up all the fabrics he’d purchased, and only then did Manager Chen return; Yue Zhishi could tell from the expression on her face that she wasn’t coming back with good news.

“I apologise,” Manager Chen said. “We originally had a sample around 500 metres, and it was our last batch. This particular fabric is expensive to make, and because there wasn’t enough demand for it, we decided to stop producing it. It was left for another clothing manufacturer — he supposedly likes to collect discontinued fabrics — and it was taken away just yesterday.”

“I see.” Yue Zhishi was slightly regretful. No wonder the owner of this particular fabric shop kept saying they couldn’t sell it — someone else had booked it earlier.

After seeing the crestfallen look on Yue Zhishi’s face, Song Yu opened his mouth despite not speaking for so long. “Could we get that clothing manufacturer’s contact information?”

Manager Chen was initially very hesitant to do so, but the young man in front of her gave off a trustworthy feeling of pressure. It was a very strange description, but that was truly what she felt; in the end, she still clarified and said, “You might not be able to get into contact with him. This particular clothing manufacturer’s a bit troublesome, he nitpicks over the smallest little detail. He’s Vice President Zhou from Mingshang Company.”

“Mingshang…” Yue Zhishi’s memory was a bit fuzzy, and it was Song Yu who immediately realised.

“What a coincidence, we have his contact number.”

Yue Zhishi plucked at his sleeve, asking very softly, “Do we…”

“Yes, his business card’s in your bag.” Song Yu bid farewell to Manager Chen and took Yue Zhishi away. As they went down in the elevator, Yue Zhishi stared at the business card Song Yu had found so easily, asking, “How’d you remember this?”

I remember every man or woman who tries to chat you up. Song Yu didn’t say that out loud, having found a more appropriate excuse. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself instead how you managed to forget everything that happened yesterday?”

As expected, Yue Zhishi was made speechless by his question. He silently pulled out his phone, calling the number; it was still raining, and he stood in front of the glass door on the first floor, dialling the number twice before the other side finally picked up.

“Is this Mr. Zhou Chengwei? I’m not sure if you still remember me, I’m the guy who was next to you on the plane and bumped into you on the bullet train… Yes, yes, the mixed race. Ah, it’s good you still remember me.”

Song Yu stood by the side, watching as Yue Zhishi happily talked on the phonewhile doodling on the fogged up glass door. There was almost no difference between him now as an adult and him as a child.

At five, six years old, Yue Zhishi had also really liked scribbling characters on glass. He’d particularly loved writing the ‘yu’ character from Song Yu’s name, but the character had been slightly difficult for him as a child — which was why every time he’d written their names next to each together, that ‘yu’ character had always been exceptionally big. Yue Zhishi had been able to justify himself very well: he said that character was the largest because it was the most important one. Xiao Yu gege was his most important person.

That small kid with a mouth full of sweet and honeyed words within his memories gradually overlapped with the grown boy in front of his eyes. Song Yu let out a soft laugh, his eyes lowering.

Who knew how many people he’d managed to fool with his ability to coax with fake words.

Yue Zhishi finished his phone call much faster than he’d thought he would and ran back to Song Yu. He clutched his phone in utter excitement and said, “He agreed!”

“How’d you coax him?” Song Yu raised an eyebrow.

Yue Zhishi didn’t notice his tone, only shaking his head. “I didn’t, I just told him my situation. He agreed to send us half of the fabric with one small request. He requested for me to send him one set of the clothes we make using the fabric.”

Song Yu carelessly nodded his head. “Then the problem’s solved.”

“Yes. My waist’s so sore, and I’m so hungry.” Without much regard for the people around them, Yue Zhishi hooked his arms around Song Yu’s neck, his entire upper body leaning against Song Yu. His voice softened, turned docile. “Gege, can you take me to eat something delicious? I want to eat roast goose and coconut milk pudding.”

Thinking of how he’d also used that same tone of voice to discuss prices with other people, Song Yu threw him a look and didn’t place his hands on Yue Zhishi’s waist like he usually would. He deliberately said, “Sure, I’ll pay for the food with the prostitute fee you gave me.”

One person walked past, and Yue Zhishi flew to cover Song Yu’s mouth. He said, very very softly, “That’s not…” He stressed again, “That’s for the room.”

“Same thing.”

Since Song Yu was still going on about it, Yue Zhishi secretly labelled him with the description of ‘cute’ in his heart.

“It’s not the same,” Yue Zhishi said, his voice gentle and breathy. “It’s not like we stay in hotels every day…” And then, realising it was a bit hard to continue along that topic, he changed tactics and said, “Can you be free? I can’t afford paying that much money.”

“No.” Song Yu pushed him away, face cold and unfeeling. “I refuse to prostitute for free.”

Yue Zhishi let out an ‘oh’. “Then I’ll have to earn lots and lots of money. I’ll have to become a big shot lawyer.”

Can you really tell other people that’s your reason to become a big shot lawyer?

Song Yu was both annoyed and amused; he lowered his eyes and suddenly saw that gifted ribbon. Half of it had come out of their bag of fabrics, and it was moving, blown by the cold wind drifting in after opening the door. He reached out and pulled it out, carefully inspecting it — he was once again reminded of a small, trifling thing that had displeased him.

“This really suits you.”

Without waiting for Yue Zhishi to speak, Song Yu caught Yue Zhishi’s wrists and unfastened his watch. He held both of Yue Zhishi’s wrists in one hand, and then he used that black ribbon to bind them up, gripping onto the remaining length.

That velvet cloth lightly strangled Yue Zhishi’s pale and thin skin, as though it could obstruct the flow of blood within those blue and green veins. Song Yu tugged, and Yue Zhishi staggered forward a step from the pull while trying to understand what was happening. He almost fell completely into Song Yu’s arms.

The people walking past started to look at them, and Yue Zhishi felt somewhat uneasy. He softly called out gege and said, “Why’d you tie me up?”

Song Yu didn’t answer, directly exiting out of the main entrance while continuing to tug at Yue Zhishi. The rain outside had temporarily stopped, and there was humidity in the air. The ribbon was the only thing linking him and Song Yu together — with his pair of hands bound and raised, Song Yu dragged him into the thick fog and into a black car waiting by the side of the road.

Once they entered the car, Yue Zhishi felt like he was being stared at by the driver; the closed-off, narrow space made his sense of embarrassment even heavier, and it felt dense and weighty on his body — he couldn’t move. Song Yu closed the car door, still holding onto that black ribbon.

Yue Zhishi turned his head to him, using a knee to nudge at Song Yu’s knees. He leaned over and whispered, “Are we going to go eat like this?”

Song Yu pushed up his glasses and leaned back into his seat. “Mn.”

“It really won’t be convenient to have my hands tied up, unless you feed me,” Yue Zhishi grumbled very softly.

“I can do that,” Song Yu said without any inflection in his voice.

“But I’m not a kid.”

Song Yu tugged at his wrists, hauling Yue Zhishi slightly closer, and then seemed to stroke his hair very tenderly from the top of his head to the vaguely curly ends. It was just like what that worker’d said: his hair wasn’t long enough. The length of it was only just enough to obscure his vision with sweat dampened hair during intense activity.

The image of Yue Zhishi with his hair tied up appeared in his mind for a moment — he didn’t want too many people to see it.

Song Yu opened his mouth, the sound of his voice very much bewitching and mesmerising.

“Baobao, it’s about time for you to cut your hair.”

The author has something to say:

Little Desire is truly super S, he was relatively restrained last night ( )