Ask anyone that has started a diet and they’ll tell you while crying into their green juice: Change is easy. Sustaining it is hard. Especially when human hearts or the linear passage of time or the laws of thermodynamics (that bitch!) say that you have to wait to see the fruits of your labor. When you can’t just cash in for some serotonin after every checkpoint.
Wei Qing is cursed in the way all blessed people are. He has no grit and even less patience.
He’s so used to being good, wanted, accepted, that he doesn’t know how to keep himself in line and motivated when he finally meets resistance. It’s why he had fully abandoned himself after one cold rebuke from his brother. Why he only ever bedded those who threw themselves at him, never chased anyone that might not like him back. Why, three weeks into his video-games-and-work-only good boy routine, he’s climbing the walls with the need for Yue Fei to swear eternal loyalty.
Or love him?
He’ll take either! Please notice me, love me, praise me.
Wei Qing knows this all-or-nothing approach is unreasonable. Yue Fei has been watching him decay for years now. Wei Qing knows these things take time. That it wouldn’t be real, or sustainable if Yue Fei’s opinion of him just changed on a dime. It would be falsely papering over a wall that was rotten, pretending that as long as he didn’t see the decay, it didn’t exist. But knowing is not the same as internalizing, and at his core, Wei Qing is still that jumping toddler, wanting to be praised for putting up the toys he threw out during his tantrums.
Yue Fei is almost everything to him; he wants to be at least a little more than a boss to Yue Fei.
He has checked numerous self-help sites, and can very impressively tie all these maladaptations to his charmed upbringing and his past trauma, and even the alignment of the planets (yes, he took a detour into metaphysics during one three am self-help session). But having insight into why he is struggling doesn’t make it any easier to stop. To sit with the discomfort and be alright with it. No grit at all, no ability to handle discomfort without external validation.
Yep, he’s going to blame his parents. He’s an unfilial child.
This is another weekend of antsy, blossoming need that he cannot address. He bites down rather viciously on a carrot while suntanning on the balcony, trying (and failing) to clean up his microblog. So many bad connections to sever, and so many thirst-trap accounts to purge. Between deletions, he finds himself peeping into his own apartment like a creep, every time he mistakes the whirr of the Roomba for Yue Fei’s footsteps. Regrets all the choices that led him to this point. He’s pretty sure his desperation is terminal, call him overdramatic.
Block, delete, unfriend, unfriend, unfrie–
“AH!” Wei Qing yelps and breaks into gooseflesh when a cold bottle of water is pressed against his neck. He splutters and arches to looking accusingly up at Yue Fei, who has somehow crept up on him despite his attunement, and was now looking at his-
Well, it looks like he’s looking at his nipples. But that’s impossible. Clearly. So Yue Fei must be looking at his phone instead!
Sure enough, he’s checking up on him. Wei Qing very eagerly grabs the water and offers up his phone, that deeply-held need for praise written across every inch of his (significantly) exposed skin. “Look! See! Nothing bad- well, nothing new that’s bad, and look at how much smaller my following list is!”
Praise me, praise me, please!
Yue Fei’s fingers brush against his accidentally as he accepts the sun-warmed Blackberry and that fleeting contact is almost as good at the praise he doesn’t get. Really, really nice feeling, very fresh. Yue Fei just scrolls through his newly sanitized feed before handing it back wordlessly. Normally, he’s not so quiet when it comes to giving his opinion on Wei Qing’s progress through the good boy route.
But Wei Qing doesn’t notice, still lost as he is in the delightful feedback loop of finger to finger contact. Despite being a reformed slag (or perhaps because of it), weeks without touch have made his sensibilities positively Victorian. He also doesn’t notice the odd pause in Yue Fei’s steps or the stiffness of his gate as he abandons the balcony, as silent as when he arrived. Wei Qing’s too caught up in the rhythm of his own racing heart to notice the flush that spreads across Yue Fei’s neck.
—
Yue Fei feels a migraine coming on.
Something is wrong. Something is– it must be the pictures. That was it.
Last life, he’d been the point of contact, the filter that had to see all those filthy, cruel things sent to Wei Qiwan. He was the one that had to pay the kill fees on all those lurid stories. Those pictures had just- conditioned him.
To think strange things. To have impossible reactions to even innocent undress on the part of Wei Qing. To notice the instant the water chilled his skin and his body tightened, the redness spreading soft against his skin from spending too long under the sun’s attention-
It’s nothing to worry about. Just old damage, expressing itself in strange, new, temporary ways. Nothing more than that. He’s not like those other people. He has no interest in taking advantage of Wei Qing, much less in that way. He just wants to be an efficient assistant. And maybe not even that, though Wei Qing has been very impressive since he returned to this time…
He shouldn’t overthink it.
—
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Impressive, you say?
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Really, he’d tried.
But the only comfortable part of his overly-sterile and stylish living room is the cloudlike sheepskin area rug, properly supported by pillows stolen from his recently-neglected king-sized bed. Buffeted by pillows and with his back against the lip of the couch, it is almost pleasant, spending hour after hour parkouring away from danger as he constantly explores past his level cap. You can’t call his playstyle smart, but at least he’s dedicated and has learned how to save scum.
At least, this impromptu nest is comfortable until he has to get up. Then, he has the displeasure of discovering that even at twenty-four, his bones can hurt. Thanks, inadequately cushioned floor. He ends up on his ass after an unstudied attempt to get up goes sour, knee banged against the coffee table that he’s never actually used for coffee.
“Ah, fuck! Fuckity-fu-” He swears loudly as he rocks back and forth.
Before he can give up and accept that his life is now floor-bound, there is warm strength under his armpits, and Wei Qing is lifted onto the couch. Not like there’s any question who did it– no one else is ever here anymore, no one but-
“Yue Feeeeeeeeeei. Why does the furniture target me when I’m the one who gives it a home?!”
“It is more appropriate to say you targeted it.”
“But it hurts!” Wei Qing, as a practiced attention-seeker, naturally leans into the injury, cradling his knee like it is shattered, instead of lightly bumped. He knows Yue Fei will roll his eyes and say something dismissive, maybe get him an ice-pack if he’s lucky, but any attention is positive, okay?
He can eat these little scraps of devotion!
What he can’t do is deal with it when Yue Fei breaks character completely, walks around the couch, and kneels in front of him. When Yue Fei grips his foot and places it on his thigh– has he always had such a good physique?– and skims large palms up his calf, pushing up the elastic of his sweatpants’ leghole, following the fabric all the way up, just past his knee. He has absolutely no defenses against such unexpected softness. Those who don’t buy lottery tickets don’t make plans for what they’d do if they won; Wei Qing has no battle plan for Yue Fei’s hands on his bare skin.
Wei Qing shivers; blissfully, Yue Fei mistakes it for the tenderness of injury.
His touch becomes lighter but no less arresting, as he traces Wei Qing’s reddened kneecap. Like even this small hurt might matter. It is a revolutionary act, in Wei Qing’s narrow world. Yue Fei continues to trace, probing the tissue and bones as lightly as he can.
“You have never been good with pain.” There is no censure in this; it is merely a statement of fact.
“I know, I know, I’m a giant baby, but it still hurts-” It doesn’t, not so much, not anymore, but he can’t say that. Not when it’s completely overwhelmed by such wonderful sensation– warmth and care and safety, radiating from the man kneeling before him, with brow furrowed.
“It’s not the bone. Here-” Yue Fei stands and brings Wei Qing’s legs with him, lifting them onto the couch. It only takes a single look for Wei Qing to read his intentions and lean back, until he is prone on the no-longer-quite-as-hated couch. Wei Qing is a flexible guy. Despite all his earlier curses, he’ll love any wingman, even a piece of uncomfortable furniture. He’s tempted to write this couch into his will, at the moment. Preserve it forever as a memento of Yue Fei touching him.
The miracles continue. Yue Fei does not stand up to get an ice pack or a heating pad, even though he no doubt has some squirreled away. No, instead, he perches on the edge of the couch and cups his hands, one under and one above the ‘injured’ kneecap. Yue Fei holds them there, even though the position cannot be comfortable and must make his arms turn stiff and his shoulders hurt. Holds them, and as he envelops Wei Qing’s knee in the warmth of skin to skin contact, even if it’s innocent, even if it means nothing more–
It still means he cares.
After all, he could just heat a washcloth, right? Doing it this way– counts for something.
Wei Qing is positively angelic as he leans back and tries to hide the blushing vulnerability creeping up his sternum and across his face. He throws on some random sitcom that he hears not a word of and waits for his heartbeat to settle.
—
While staring ahead, Yue Fei justifies his own off-script actions. Ice is good for swelling. Heat is good for cramps. Wei Qing doesn’t like cold. Wei Qing is just a little sore, not really injured. Heat makes more sense than cold, and he is here and idle. That’s all. Wei Qing has never been good with pain, has always feared it, and then he’d died and it must have been so very, very painful-
Yue Fei’s eyes darken, and his hands touch a little more firmly at the nightmare that had once played out before him. He is just doing his job. And maybe a little extra.
He is just tired of Wei Qing being hurt.
…He also doesn’t absorb any of the sitcom.
—
Wei Qing makes it through a single twenty-two-minute episode of whatever is playing before realizing that his heartbeat is still accelerating. Yoga had been a lie, all that breathing control stuff had done absolutely nothing! Or maybe nothing could stand up to the awkward hotness of Yue Fei, sitting completely silent, while holding his leg. Not letting go, not even shifting, like his purpose in life was to be a very specialized alternative to space heating. It’s not at all lurid, but it still pierces through Wei Qing’s delicate, hidden heart.
And boy, is it toasty.
Wei Qing knows enough to know when he’s screwed. Especially wearing sweatpants. Things will get awkwardly pornographic if he doesn’t hobble away and adjust. But there’s a certain awkwardness in even getting that far–
He is a child, and words are overrated, so instead of making any sort of proactive plan, he burrows his healthy leg out from the blanket that Yue Fei had procured from who knows where, and uses his free foot to lightly grope Yue Fei’s side. He’s not being cutesy or taking liberties! At least, not on purpose. It’s just his best way of getting Yue Fei’s attention when he doesn’t trust his voice to be steady without some time to prep.
It does get Yue Fei to look at him.
And the blush is back. Stupid face. Stupid capillaries.
Wei Qing clears his throat and retracts his exploring little toes, which had been somewhat clumsily tracing Yue Fei’s ribs. Wei Qing lies while looking at a random vase. “Ah, sorry, but I need to, um– yeah–” As descriptive as it is mature. But Yue Fei has been with him for a long time. Nods and very professionally lets go of Wei Qing’s extra-toasty knee, stands, folds the blanket, and helps him up into a sit, then a stand.
Honestly, even Wei Qing can admit that he doesn’t really need this level of babying. He just hit his knee funny. It didn’t even break the skin and other than a yellowing bruise, there will be no sign of it at all come morning. He’s damaged his knees enough to know. Yue Fei has already done more than he expected. And now, Wei Qing fully expects him to stand to the side and let him hobble over to his bedroom unimpeded.
But for the second time in less than an hour, Yue Fei exceeds his expectations. Wei Qing’s as delighted as he is stressed.
After all, he’d never say no to contact with Yue Fei, but… physiological responses. Sweatpants. Danger, danger, if it happens, will it count as harassment?
While Wei Qing is panicking, Yue Fei is being a normal adult. One arm stays around his waist, easy and secure, the other grips his wrist as he guides Wei Qing’s arm around his own shoulder. Wei Qing is starting to think Yue Fei has a low-grade fever, with how oddly soft he’s being, and how warm every part of him is. Other than a small cold a few years ago, he’s never seen Yue Fei sick, but perhaps he should send him in for a health check, or at least call for medicinal dishes.
While Wei Qing debates adding Vitamin C to their morning smoothies, Yue Fei walks him across the living room, and dining room, and through the bedroom– all the way to the edge of the marble counter in the bathroom. Then, Yue Fei pauses for a moment, as if even he’s confused as to why he’s here, before nodding crisply and walking off.
Wei Qing weakly closes the door.
Oh, he’s in trouble.
So very, very much.
—
Wei Qing flushes the toilet, just to keep up pretenses. And then, because he is trying to be a less dreadful person this time around, makes the brave and self-sacrificing choice to take a bath, instead of the self-pleasuring shower that all that contact had ramped him up for.
Even though he wants to, he really can’t.
Even with all his moral shortcomings, Wei Qing knows what lines he shouldn’t cross. He thinks… it’s probably a pretty big fucking violation, to get off to the caretaking someone is paid to give you. Given his own personal failings, it will probably happen eventually anyway, but he can at least try to be less scummy. Whining for attention is one thing, whining for attention and then getting off on it is– something else. Something tawdry, something that shouldn’t touch someone like Yue Fei. He deserves better, by a lot.
So Wei Qing takes a bath and stews in his own feelings and uses the heat to send himself drowsy, to leach the internal fire from his body. After all, you can’t come in a bath without the immediate regret of stewing in your own release. It’s basically a relaxing version of a… Ahem. Certain self-denying marital aids that Wei Qing had played with, once upon a not very good time. But Wei Qing’s imagination is stubborn and his body is starved of its usual inputs, so-
He swipes through his phone and as the water cools, he drains and refills, drains and refills. All hail the prune king Wei Qing. Extremely sexy. Irresistible. On the last refill, he embraces his inner aromatherapist and adds lavender-scented bath oils to the mix.
Thanks Mom! I know your assistant just sends random fucking gift baskets to everyone, but it turns out this does have a purpose.
The purpose being forced calm, because his body is still misbehaving. Ah, nearsighted and mousy-haired Assistant Chen probably never envisioned this (at the time, the poor lady probably thought his special guests were women, bless her heart), but Wei Qing still drowsily thanks her, as his libido finally, mercifully starts to give up. It’s taken nearly three hours, but at least he’s finally winning this war of attrition.
“Master Wei, do you need help?”
Welp, nevermind.
Wei Qing throws a woefully inadequate washcloth over himself, just in case this turns completely salacious and Yue Fei actually barges in. But the heavens contain at least a little mercy, and the door stays shut.
“Master Wei?”
Although it might not stay that way if he doesn’t respond. He can imagine the tension of Yue Fei’s hand, debating turning that handle. After all, he does have a habit of getting himself into trouble, but alone in a bathroom would be a real low. This isn’t Final Destination and even he shouldn’t be that incompetent. Still- response!
“Fine! Sorry! I was just napping- well, not napping but-” Trying to stop thinking things I shouldn’t.
“That is dangerous.” Oh, Yue Fei, you have no idea.
“I know, I know, getting out now.” He stands up, lets Yue Fei hear the compliance of the sloshing water that cascades off him. Pauses. “Thank you. Uh, for caring if I drown.” You’re a rare bird, for that alone.
He wonders if he cared, even a little bit when he heard about his death. Was there regret and worry, mixed in somewhere with whatever embarrassment and anger he’d felt, at Wei Qing not listening to him? It might be unfounded, but after the last few weeks, Wei Qing thinks he probably did. And that helps. Though of course in this life, he has no intentions of repeating that melodrama.
Yue Fei mumbles something that Wei Qing cannot decipher, caught up as he is in his own past regrets. When Wei Qing finally limps out of the bathroom, there is no sign of him beyond the bed that has already been turned down, and the muscle relaxer and glass of water neatly arranged on his nightstand. This silent care…
Wei Qing flops onto his stomach, hoping the mattress will smother his dick, or at least his thoughts. The last thing he needs is to truly revert to his teenage self, having embarrassing dreams that end with him calling out certain names with entirely too much clarity.
It was fine when he was in school, and all his dreams were centered around Gao Zhong. He boarded alone, and if Yue Fei did hear, well… What was so bad about dreaming about your boyfriend? Weren’t ridiculous imaginings and self-comfort one of the hallmarks of young, abstinent love? Of wanting things that you didn’t really know yet, of having more feelings than bravery, as you dreamt about things you weren’t bold enough to ask for? It was fine, expected, normal. He’d read all about it in his Changing Bodies book.
It’s not like he was trying to convince anyone he was straight.
But calling out now? When his entire lovemap is distressingly centered around Yue Fei? Heh.
There’s no question what name his sleeping self would shatter around.
And that would be a disaster. Unmitigated. He can just imagine it– Yue Fei running in like that first day of his rebirth, throwing open the door at the urgency of his voice, only to find him panting as he dazedly comes down. Putting it together in an instant, knowing what Wei Qing had been dreaming of. Knowing who he’d been dreaming of. Yeah, there aren’t enough New Year’s bonuses to paper over that. He wonders how quickly Yue Fei would tender his resignation.
So this intermittent but persistent problem really needed to be addressed, before unconsciousness.
Which requires some flexibility, given all the restrictions he’s placing on himself in the name of being good.
Author’s Corner:
Yue Fei: …I blame the dirty thoughts on others. I am a pure mountain flower. This is just a glitch in the matrix.
Wei Qing: I dream of a world where my lower half isn’t constantly causing me problems and embarrassment.
Yue Fei: I also dream of this world, on Master Wei’s behalf.
Author: No, I never intended to write a whole chapter about the panic of getting ‘excited’ in sweatpants, but here we are. I for one blame Wei Qing, though I am also suspicious of that couch.
Hahahahahaha. Just hahahahahahaha I died and came back to life with how much I laughed
Why are they so cute and so hilarious 😂😂😭
While this is really amusing, I’d like to add – YEAH, DELAYED GRATIFICATION IS A BIT^H
Gosh would it help to imagine Yue Fei dealing with the same problem 🤣 maybe not.
I also want to laugh but these chapters keep telling me that while Yue Fei keeps telling himself that he’ll leave, I think he missed Wei Qing a lot. That’s why he’s also acting so differently.
Writer , You are FREAKING Brilliant. I truly love you. Thank you, i hope this whole book is this well written.
❤️😂❤️😂❤️😂❤️
I’ve never felt so much pity for a character who’s trying so hard but is still struggling this much.
But my inner sadist won over this time and I just laughed at all of WQ’s melodramatic thoughts
I know I’m literally years later for this, but thank you author. I am finishing reading this story asap just because of how much I loved this chapter. Thank you for tiding me over through insomnia