Luo Xiao leaned against the door and immediately laughed.
Wen Ran was truly one of a kind.
“What are you laughing at?”
Wen Ran leaned in closer, his pure eyes fixed on him, like a small animal studying its prey.
“Laughing at how cute you are,” Luo Xiao replied, still looking at the young man. “I have no intention of saying I don’t like you.”
“How much do you like me?”
Wen Ran, like a little cat, pressed part of his body against Luo Xiao’s chest.
Luo Xiao smiled: “A lot?”
“Ten out of ten. How about you?”
“Hundred percent.”
Wen Ran “hmph”-ed, letting go of Luo Xiao’s hand, turned to change his shoes, and headed up the stairs: “Slippers, wear whatever you want.”
Watching Wen Ran’s back, Luo Xiao thought he was like a cat, or maybe a fox—charmingly sly.
Now he noticed the basement properly: cement walls, cement floors, truly undecorated.
By the door, a shoe rack stood empty, shoes scattered in front of it, filling the floor.
Luo Xiao changed his shoes, then noticed the basement wall covered in paintings, spray-painted, a large expanse of vibrant colors—but chaotic, abstract, impossible to distinguish what they depicted.
Walking up the stairs, which were also undecorated and lacked handrails, every step had a small cute animal painted on the side wall.
As he ascended, the animals formed a continuous scene climbing the staircase.
Luo Xiao found it adorable and smiled unconsciously.
On the first floor, still undecorated, wide gray walls and floors, the living room furnished but with mismatched pieces.
The sofa was wicker, with colorful cushions and pillows.
The coffee table: a painted oil drum topped with a round glass pane.
The TV mounted on the wall, which had another painted scene—an abstract, curled-up cat.
The dining table’s four corners were also colorful painted oil drums, with a large wooden plank on top.
Luo Xiao had seen all sorts of homes and decorations: mansions, ordinary rentals, even yurts in Xinjiang—but never anything like this.
He assumed Wen Ran’s style and cars implied wealth, a nice home. Seeing the villa wasn’t surprising, but seeing it like this—bare, unfinished, with a playful artistic touch—he was naturally astonished. It reminded him of those minimalist “self-mocking” styles he’d seen online, but Wen Ran’s was uniquely different.
At that moment, Wen Ran came out of the kitchen holding a glass of water and handed it to Luo Xiao.
He took it, sipped, still scanning the room.
“How is it?” Wen Ran asked. “Does it feel weird?”
“No, not weird,” Luo Xiao denied.
Looking around, he guessed, “You studied art?”
“Yes,” Wen Ran smiled. “You guessed, smart.”
He explained: “I went to an art academy. After graduating, I was too lazy to get a job or continue painting. The little bit of artistic skill I had left, aside from applying it to event setups, I put into this house. How does it look?”
Generous and candid, Wen Ran asked: “Artistic enough?”
Luo Xiao nodded, still drinking: “Too bad I don’t really understand it.”
“No need to,” Wen Ran said, motioning for him to sit. “Art is meant to be experienced, not solved. Equations need solving; art doesn’t.”
Luo Xiao set the glass on the coffee table and sat down. Tall, long-legged, he made the sofa behind him seem small.
Wen Ran smiled inwardly: so manly~
At that moment, a cat descended the stairs, rubbing against Wen Ran’s legs.
He bent to pick it up and walked to Luo Xiao, introducing: “This is my little brother Oreo, my mom’s cat. She’s allergic, so I took him in.”
“You’re not allergic, right?”
Wen Ran handed the cat to Luo Xiao.
“Nope.”
The cat was well-behaved, purring as he stroked it.
Luo Xiao had seen this cat before in Wen Ran’s social media.
Wen Ran sat beside him, not too close, not too far, reaching out to pet the cat. Naturally, his hand landed on top of Luo Xiao’s hand several times, deliberately playful. Luo Xiao noticed but said nothing, letting him do it, quietly amused.
Then Wen Ran said: “Your hands are so rough. Is it from fixing cars?”
“I see you’re wearing gloves, but how come your fingers still look like this?”
Luo Xiao’s hands were broad and large, rough but not unattractive, giving him a rugged, masculine look, unlike Wen Ran’s smooth, delicate skin.
“I spend a lot of time outdoors,” Luo Xiao explained. “My hands get used a lot, wind and sun make them rough.”
“Do you use sunscreen?” Wen Ran asked curiously.
“Sometimes,” Luo Xiao replied. “But once my skin gets tanned and rough, it actually resists the wind and sun better.”
“Do they crack?” Wen Ran continued.
“Sometimes.”
Luo Xiao pulled his phone from his pocket, opened his photo gallery, and handed it to Wen Ran.
The picture showed his hands, not only frostbitten and blackened, but cracked with deep lines.
Wen Ran exclaimed, “Wow!” expecting a sad story. Instead, he said, “So cool.”
Luo Xiao froze, then laughed—Wen Ran really was different.
Most people, even seasoned travelers, would see such hands and think of the hardships endured. But Wen Ran found it cool, and that perspective struck Luo Xiao as just as compelling.
For the first time, Luo Xiao scrolled through other photos to show Wen Ran: similarly cracked feet, sunburned faces, even the barely livable tents he’d used before.
Wen Ran looked on, constantly saying “Wow,” genuinely intrigued.
“Where was this?” he asked, holding the phone, clearly impressed. “You could actually live in this tent—it’s tougher than it looks.”
Luo Xiao had the cat on his lap, arms brushing Wen Ran’s as they leaned together over the phone, going through each photo, explaining where and under what conditions his hands and face ended up like that.
Wen Ran listened, fascinated.
At one point, Luo Xiao glanced at Wen Ran and noticed the tiny fine hairs on his face, the starkly different pale, smooth skin, and long, dense lashes.
To Luo Xiao, Wen Ran seemed from an entirely different world.
He lived in snow, wind, and rain, closer to nature. Wen Ran was a delicate flower of the city, fragile and beautiful.
Luo Xiao thought they would rarely cross paths—but he had to admit, this flower was deadly attractive, not just to others, but to him.
He was drawn to Wen Ran.
Huh?
Seeing Luo Xiao staring, Wen Ran turned.
As soon as he did, Luo Xiao leaned slightly closer, his deep gaze falling on Wen Ran’s lips, then lifting quickly. His intent was clear.
Wen Ran didn’t move at first, locking eyes with him. Luo Xiao’s gaze dropped then rose again, and Wen Ran’s eyes followed to his lips. The moment was slow, teasing, charged with unspoken tension.
They were close now. Luo Xiao’s low voice murmured, “Am I getting a kiss?”
Wen Ran responded slowly, tilting his head and brushing his lips against Luo Xiao’s corner of the mouth—“a kiss?” you say, shall I give it.
Luo Xiao moved to kiss him, but Wen Ran suddenly pulled back.
Not giving a kiss?
Luo Xiao looked at him.
Wen Ran leaned in, his breath and voice hot against Luo Xiao’s ear: “I haven’t even tasted your cooking yet, and you want to taste me?”
Luo Xiao’s mind went dizzy. He turned his head to kiss him, but Wen Ran dodged again. He paused, restraining himself. Then Wen Ran moved again, brushing his lips against Luo Xiao’s cheek and teasing: “After dinner, do you leave, or after I eat, do you leave? Hmm?”
That drawn-out “Hmm” almost undid Luo Xiao.
He finally stopped holding back. One hand gripped the one holding the phone; the other cupped Wen Ran’s neck, pressing him closer, kissing his cheek. His voice was low, husky: “You’re inviting me, aren’t you? Afraid I’ll stay tonight?”
“You can stay.” Wen Ran wasn’t afraid.
Luo Xiao’s restraint broke. He kissed Wen Ran’s ear, temple, jawline, breathing growing heavier. “Which floor is your bedroom?”
Obedient, Wen Ran didn’t move and answered: “Third floor.”
Luo Xiao’s desire surged. He kissed the boy’s jaw and neck, panting, voice rough. “Let me confirm—you live alone, single, no one else here?”
Wen Ran lifted his neck, replying in a way that made Luo Xiao’s chest tighten: “If I said someone was here, would you stop? I like you more than anyone else.”
The last thread of restraint snapped.
Luo Xiao grabbed Wen Ran’s neck and kissed him deeply. Wen Ran, perhaps deliberately, tilted his head, but Luo Xiao didn’t give him a chance. Large hands cupped his face as he kissed, discovering the softness and sweetness of Wen Ran’s lips—like sugar, intoxicating.
At first, Luo Xiao only intended a brief kiss, but the taste, the warmth, made him lose control. His tongue brushed against Wen Ran’s, sparking electricity through him.
At that instant, Wen Ran straddled Luo Xiao, taking the lead.
He discarded the phone, pressed close, cupping Luo Xiao’s face, and kissed him in a long, deep, deliberate kiss.
Afterwards, their noses touched, Wen Ran’s hot breath whispering: “You can’t go to the third floor today, only here.”
“You can only do what I allow,” he added.
One of Luo Xiao’s hands instinctively held Wen Ran’s rounded, firm hips.
Wen Ran cupped his face, kissing him lightly, murmuring: “Hands away.”
Obedient, Luo Xiao removed his grip.
Wen Ran kissed his nose, praising: “Good boy.”
And then said softly: “Take off your shirt.”