Wen Ran watched Luo Xiao leave, door shut behind him, heart soaring. YES! YES!
He dashed to the living room, sank into the sofa with his sketchpad, drawing happily.
Midway, inspiration struck—he grabbed his phone, started a voice message on WeChat to Shang Ge, speakerphone on, continuing to sketch while recording.
Shang Ge answered instantly, almost yelling through the speaker: “Holy—did you two finish already?”
“Finish what?” Wen Ran replied calmly, still sketching. “Just cleaning the yellow out of my brain.”
Shang Ge: “I clean it? Have you cleaned yours yet?!”
“Who kisses someone’s face first?!”
“I and Wen Wen thought maybe someone possessed you or something!”
Wen Wen, equally flustered on the other end: “Did you get him or not?!”
Wen Ran continued drawing, composed: “Doesn’t count.”
“What did you do all afternoon?!” Shang Ge demanded.
“Nothing?”
“Anything else?”
Shang Ge, ever the good friend, said: “No way you did nothing. You kissed him! We all saw it! Spill it!”
Wen Ran finally admitted, “Well… I did a little test.”
“Test?” Both Wen Wen and Shang Ge blinked in confusion. “What test? How?”
Wen Ran: “Yeah, tested him. I kissed him, sat on his lap, and even had him take off his shirt.”
“My god!” Wen Wen almost screamed.
Shang Ge: “Test? That’s seduction!”
“Listen,” Wen Ran said, still sketching. “I kissed him, sat on him. If he couldn’t resist, groped me, or tried anything, I’d just pass. But he didn’t. He behaved.”
“You!”
Shang Ge: “You’re baiting him! Of course he’d be tempted!”
Wen Wen had a different take, nodding: “I think that’s reasonable. If someone’s too eager, their character’s off.”
Shang Ge: “People are the most impulsive when tested.”
“You can’t really test someone,” Wen Ran countered. “Every time I try, they don’t even make a sound.”
“So… the verdict?” Wen Wen pressed.
“Not bad,” Wen Ran said with obvious satisfaction, his good mood audible.
“I brought him home, initiated contact, but he didn’t grope me. He wanted to kiss me; I kissed him and sat on his lap. When I didn’t allow hands, he didn’t touch me.”
“He kept it together, even though he was obviously tempted. Later, watching the movie, it was just watching the movie.”
“Shows he doesn’t let instincts run wild.”
“Handsome, great build, manly, aligns with my aesthetic, doesn’t think with his lower half, decent character, fun to talk to, can cook, especially well-endowed—99 points from me.”
Shang Ge: “Well-endowed? How well? How big?”
Wen Wen: “And where do you dock the one point?”
Before Wen Ran could respond, the two friends argued:
Wen Wen: “Why care?”
Shang Ge: “Does it matter where the point is docked?”
Wen Wen: “Obviously matters. He clearly has a flaw.”
Shang Ge: “You’re not gay, you wouldn’t get it.”
“Size matters. If it’s big enough and satisfying, everything else is irrelevant.”
Wen Ran ignored them, humming while sketching, visibly happy.
Meanwhile, on his way back, Luo Xiao had already decided: after the friend’s wedding, he wouldn’t leave immediately.
Seeing he had few clothes in his bag, he planned to hit a nearby mall to buy a few proper outfits.
Returning to the dorm late, his three roommates were curious about the shopping haul. Seeing the clothes—decent brands and not cheap—they all chimed in:
“Expensive, huh?”
“Bought a lot.”
“Getting rich?”
Luo Xiao didn’t reply; brands didn’t matter to him. Whatever was available, he bought. Price didn’t concern him—just a quick card swipe.
One roommate, Ding Yijie, was a bit sour: “Who can afford this?”
“Surely someone gifted it.”
“Must be that handsome guy who dropped 200,000.”
Ding Yijie had a habit of commenting on who had money and who didn’t; everyone was used to it. Luo Xiao ignored him, tossing all tags and bags into the balcony washer.
Ding Yijie glanced at the branded bags, jealousy flickering in his eyes. So what.
The next Thursday, Wen Ran came again for “Big Bumblebee maintenance,” stylish and arriving in his black Porsche.
Luo Xiao came out with a faint smile: “Maintenance today?”
“Yeah.”
Wen Ran tossed something at him—an apple—and stepped out. Luo Xiao caught it, then moved the car to a parking spot while noting the workshop was busy.
Colleagues, including Xiao Qing, noticed Wen Ran, but no one reacted—everyone knew he came for Luo Xiao. Only Ding Yijie stared a bit too long.
Inside, Luo Xiao changed a battery on an old Santana. Wen Ran leaned over: “So this is how you change it.”
Luo Xiao made space for him to see clearly: “Not hard. With a new battery, you can do it yourself.”
Wen Ran teased: “Can’t you just do it for me?”
“Sure,” Luo Xiao replied, eyes meeting his.
“Free tonight? I finish at six, want to take you out to eat.”
Wen Ran straightened: “Planning a meal, shouldn’t it be in advance?”
“Same day works. Otherwise, no sincerity.”
Luo Xiao amended: “Then the day after tomorrow.”
“Why not tomorrow?” Wen Ran asked.
“Tomorrow I get off at nine-thirty PM.”
“Hmm…” Wen Ran pretended to think, “Fine, today then. But you’re paying, not me.”
Luo Xiao closed the car hood: “Paying in advance is insincere.”
Wen Ran made a mock move to leave.
“Just joking,” Luo Xiao said, picking up the wrench for Wen Ran’s car.
He squatted to tighten the tires; Wen Ran mirrored him, chatting casually: “Is this work tiring?”
Huh?
Luo Xiao: “I like working on cars. It’s fun.”
“Then maybe you don’t like electric cars?” Wen Ran jumped topics.
“Not really.”
“I’ve ridden electric ones in Tibet and Xinjiang, right?”
“Yeah. Mostly local buses, sometimes Teslas from other provinces.”
“You go alone, or with friends?”
“Depends. Sometimes with company, mostly solo.”
…
The two kept chatting as Luo Xiao focused on his work.
Once the Santana’s battery was replaced, Luo Xiao moved to Wen Ran’s Porsche, and Wen Ran got into the passenger seat. As soon as Luo Xiao engaged the gear, Wen Ran’s hand reached over, covering his on the shifter.
Luo Xiao glanced down at their hands, then up at Wen Ran. Wen Ran’s gaze was direct, sharp as a fearless little fox, his fingers lightly brushing along his knuckles. Luo Xiao stayed still, knowing he was teasing him deliberately.
Wen Ran asked, “I heard you hikers or road-trippers sometimes run into… ‘romantic encounters’ on the road. Is that true?”
“Have you ever had one?” Luo Xiao asked.
“Once,” he said, “someone sat on me and kissed me.”
“Really?”
His gaze dropped, fingers slipping between his, intertwining theirs as their palms met. He looked up, voice soft: “So… do you prefer someone sitting on you kissing you, or sitting beside you holding your hand?”
“And which one, in your view, isn’t a ‘romantic encounter’?”
Luo Xiao looked at him, thinking he really was a fox, sly and provocative. He lifted his hand from the gear, drew his closer, and pressed a quick kiss to it—whatever it counted as, he’d kiss first.