Chapter 10#

Fruit#

Lin Muhan was making breakfast in the kitchen while Han Qingsu wandered around the living room. He finally found a charger and plugged in his phone, but he wasn’t in a hurry to turn it on.

He hadn’t had a chance to look closely before; although the apartment was small, it was well-maintained. A few photos were scattered on the wall next to the TV. One showed a family of three: a toddler in split-crotch pants grinning while being held by a man and a woman. He recognized the child as Lin Muhan at a single glance.

The timeline of the photos spanned a significant period. Next to that, Lin Muhan was already in elementary school, wearing a red scarf with a stony face, no longer smiling.

Then there were photos of him as a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old in a high school uniform, standing side-by-side with an old man, a faint arc at the corner of his mouth. Beside that was a photo of an older Lin Muhan standing on a mountaintop, eyes full of laughter, making a rare “peace” sign at the camera. The rest were strangers Han Qingsu didn’t recognize.

“Eat,” Lin Muhan said, bringing out the porridge.

Han Qingsu asked, “Why were you wearing split-crotch pants?”

“What?” Lin Muhan instinctively looked down, only to hear Han Qingsu’s laughter. He looked up, expressionless, and saw the photo in Han Qingsu’s hand.

“Put it down,” he said coldly.

“No way, this photo is too interesting,” Han Qingsu joked. “I’ll get it enlarged and framed for you later.”

Lin Muhan didn’t speak, his face cold as he sat at the dining table to eat breakfast.

Seeing his expression was off, Han Qingsu casually placed the photo on the table, sat down to take a couple of sips of porridge, poked at the sliced fried dough sticks with his chopsticks, and glanced up at him. “You made this yourself?”

“Yeah,” Lin Muhan replied flatly.

Han Qingsu picked one up with a hint of disdain and took a bite. His eyes lit up slightly, but he still kept up his young master’s act, eating with deliberate leisure. Seeing that Lin Muhan remained silent, he hooked his lower leg under the table and gave him a light, meaningful kick.

“Baby, are you angry?” Han Qingsu looked at him with a grin. “Your ‘bird’ now is powerful and of impressive size. Come on, let me take a picture of it, get it framed, and hang it at the head of the bed.”

Lin Muhan nearly choked on his porridge.

Han Qingsu gloated, beginning to enjoy his breakfast. Lin Muhan stared at him gloomily. After two bites, Han Qingsu sighed, “I really forgot; your parents passed away. Don’t be sad.”

“…My parents are both still alive,” Lin Muhan’s mouth twitched slightly.

Han Qingsu was eerily silent for two seconds. “Sorry, remembered wrong.”

He had had too many young boyfriends in the past, and there were always those few who were aloof and came from tragic backgrounds. He vaguely remembered Lin Muhan’s background being tragic, though he truly couldn’t remember how tragic.

“They divorced when I was very young, and they both started new families afterward. They are very happy,” Lin Muhan said calmly.

“That’s great,” Han Qingsu nodded perfunctorily, setting down his chopsticks with his left hand and picking up a spoon to drink his porridge.

Lin Muhan stared at him with gloomy eyes. “So, which of your boyfriends had both parents deceased?”

“Student Lin, that’s being far too imprecise with your words,” Han Qingsu looked up, pointing his spoon at him sternly. “Although my romantic history is rich, I have always treated every relationship with sincerity. No matter who I dated, I was single-minded and truly in love. I have never played the field; that is a matter of moral bottom line. So, there is no ‘which boyfriend’—please refer to them accurately as ’ex-boyfriends’.”

“…” Lin Muhan sneered. “How shameless. You’ve never loved anyone at all.”

Han Qingsu clicked his tongue, put down the spoon, and simply grabbed a piece of fried dough stick with his hand to chew. Given he didn’t have time to talk, he could only look at Lin Muhan with disapproval.

Lin Muhan seemed to read his meaning and scoffed, “If you truly loved Chu Jingyuan, would you have jumped into bed with me right after breaking up with him? Don’t tell me you were drunk; people who are drunk can’t even get it up.”

“I haven’t finished eating yet, don’t force me to beat you up,” Han Qingsu looked at him, feeling extremely annoyed.

Lin Muhan pulled at the corners of his mouth and tossed a peeled egg into his bowl.

“I only eat fried eggs,” Han Qingsu poked at the round egg with his spoon, his disdain evident.

“That’s the only one left in the house,” Lin Muhan said expressionlessly. “Take it or leave it.”

Han Qingsu stared at the egg for two seconds, bit the bullet, and took a bite, swallowing it painfully. He furrowed his brows and said, “With your economic status, you really aren’t suited to hiding a beauty in a golden house. If I went back to City A and found any random ex, I could at least have two fried eggs for breakfast.”

Lin Muhan made no comment on Young Master Han’s pitiful level of literary refinement. He said coldly, “If you could find one, would you have ended up stuck in Wucheng?”

Han Qingsu narrowed his eyes. “You really don’t know how to carry a conversation, do you?”

Lin Muhan didn’t intend to chat with him anyway. He scooped up the bitten hard-boiled egg from his bowl, ate it in a few bites, and then put on his jacket to head out.

“Where are you going?” Han Qingsu asked, turning his head, his cast-covered arm resting on the back of the chair, swaying back and forth.

Lin Muhan grabbed the keys and, hearing this, said coldly, “To earn you two fried eggs.”

The door slammed shut with a bang.

Han Qingsu slowly finished the rest of his porridge, realizing belatedly that he might have stabbed at Lin Muhan’s poor and pathetic pride as a poor person. However, the young master felt no guilt whatsoever, nor did he feel any sense of awareness about owing the man tens of thousands of yuan.

He also had no sense of awareness about washing the dishes or cleaning the table.

He followed the doctor’s orders, took his anti-inflammatories and painkillers, and paced around the cramped living room a couple of times. Feeling stifled, he opened the door to leave, only to find it wouldn’t turn.

It wouldn’t turn?

Han Qingsu stared at the broken anti-theft door in shock. A thousand dark thoughts about Lin Muhan’s ulterior motives flashed through his mind, and then he let out a lazy yawn.

To hell with it, this little brat wasn’t mentally stable.

On the screen, Han Qingsu lingered by the locked door for thirty seconds, then shuffled back to the bedroom in his slippers and fell fast asleep.

“…” Lin Muhan was silent for a moment.

He should have known Han Qingsu was recklessly carefree.

His phone rang. He picked it up, and an anxious voice came from the other end.

Lin Muhan listened to the rambling, but his eyes remained fixed on Han Qingsu’s sleeping face. He chuckled softly.

The voice on the phone paused abruptly, asking cautiously, afraid of making him unhappy.

“No, I’m laughing at my wife,” Lin Muhan leaned back in his chair, his ribs still throbbing with pain. “I know what you mean. Go find Gu Wanjing; he will help you.”

The person on the other end thanked him profusely.

Lin Muhan laughed, “We aren’t married yet, but the date is set. We’ll send you an invitation when the time comes.”

There was another series of blessings from the other side.

After hanging up, Lin Muhan was in a good mood, and the irritability from leaving Han Qingsu faded slightly.

In the spacious room, a huge screen occupied the entire wall, showing nothing but Han Qingsu’s sleeping figure. The split-screen displayed countless small windows, monitoring every corner of the house in real-time. Lin Muhan sat at his desk, and the computer in front of him displayed news of Han’s stock plummeting.

When the wall falls, everyone pushes; when the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.

It’s truly wonderful.

He started a video conference, forcing himself to immerse in work.

His custom ringtone echoed throughout the room. Everyone in the video paused. Lin Muhan gestured for them to continue, then turned off his microphone to answer the call.

“Brother?” He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the old neighborhood in the distance, his voice surprisingly gentle.

On the screen, the man was sitting on the bed with messy hair, hugging a quilt, eyes not yet open. Han Qingsu’s impatient voice came from the phone: “Is your ‘imprisonment package’ only one meal a day?”

Lin Muhan looked at his watch; it was already five in the afternoon. He paused and said, “I’ll cook for you once I drop off this guest.”

“If you’re going to abuse my physical and mental health like this, I’m calling the police to arrest you.” Han Qingsu on the screen yawned and fell back onto the bed. “Remember to bring back a bottle of wine. The fridge is emptier than your pockets.”

Lin Muhan said, “I only have enough money to buy two eggs.”

“Get lost,” Han Qingsu laughed and cursed, ending the call.

When Lin Muhan returned with a large bag of groceries, Han Qingsu was still asleep.

He set the things down, took off his coat, and walked into the bedroom.

Han Qingsu was in a daze when he was kissed to the point of breathlessness. He snapped his eyes open. “What the hell.”

“Awake?” Lin Muhan stared down at him.

“I thought a ghost was pressing on me,” Han Qingsu pushed him away and sat up, only to have Lin Muhan hug him from behind and start nibbling on his neck.

He had slept too long and wasn’t fully awake, staring blankly at nothing until Lin Muhan bit his collarbone, snapping him back to reality with the pain.

“Why don’t I get you a wrench so you can dismantle this bone?” He shoved Lin Muhan’s head away hard.

Lin Muhan stared at him with a sinister glint, grabbed his chin, and kissed him.

The wake-up service was highly boundary-crossing. Han Qingsu rolled around in bed with him, nearly coming to blows over the “top vs. bottom” issue again. Finally, because the other guy’s physical strength was too high and he was handicapped with one broken arm, the bastard Lin Muhan used his knee to pin Han’s wrist, nearly dislocating his arm.

In short, it was indescribably tragic.

Young Master Han knew when to yield. Gritting his teeth, he was forced into the bottom position again, feeling utterly frustrated while also experiencing pleasure. He wanted to curse out loud, but every time he tried to speak, he couldn’t form a sentence, so he might as well shut up.

The culprit refused to let him off. Lin Muhan whispered, “Call me husband.”

Veins bulged on Han Qingsu’s forehead. He sneered, “I’ll call you ‘Grandpa’!”

If Lin Muhan hadn’t dodged fast, he might have actually had a rib broken.

Han Qingsu was furious and tried to get out of bed, but was dragged back by his ankle. The young master was so angry he burst into a string of profanities.

…

By the time they ate, it was already nine in the evening.

Han Qingsu’s hair wasn’t even dry when he sat at the dining table.

Lin Muhan stood behind him, drying his hair, and couldn’t help but say, “Brother, eat slowly.”

“Try drinking only one bowl of porridge a day yourself!” Han Qingsu threw down his chopsticks. “If you dare lock that crappy door again, I’ll tear this dump apart!”

Lin Muhan hugged his shoulders and kissed him, whispering, “I’m used to locking it. I did it out of habit this morning. It won’t happen again. Brother, don’t be angry. I was wrong.”

“You better be,” Han Qingsu sneered.

Lin Muhan finished drying his hair and sat down to serve him food. This time, there were three dishes and one soup, fresh and tasty, finally making the young master comfortable.

After eating, Han Qingsu sat on the sofa like an overlord, playing on his phone. Lin Muhan cleaned the table, washed the dishes, and then cut a plate of fruit to bring to him.

Han Qingsu glanced at it and tilted his chin at him.

“…” Lin Muhan sat down beside him. “Eat it yourself.”

“This one, you cut it,” Han Qingsu shook his cast-covered right hand and then held up the phone in his left. “I’m being tortured by you on an empty stomach, Student Lin. This isn’t the same attitude you had when you were begging me in bed earlier, is it?”

Lin Muhan shoved a strawberry into his mouth. “Begging you not to cry?”

Han Qingsu bit his finger viciously.

Lin Muhan remained unmoved. “Want to use your mouth?”

“Fuck,” Han Qingsu cursed, released his finger, and lowered his head to continue looking at his phone.

Lin Muhan started by feeding him the fruit, then intentionally held it further away, watching him lean over to bite it off while his attention never left the phone.

Lin Muhan felt irritable. He leaned in to kiss the corner of Han Qingsu’s mouth, glancing at the screen—

It was a text message, likely an address. He didn’t look closely.

For those few words, Han Qingsu had been flipping back and forth for over ten minutes.

Lin Muhan grabbed the phone away in dissatisfaction, hugged his waist, and pinned him into the sofa. He said coldly, “What are you looking at so intently? Did Chu Jingyuan ask to see you?”

Han Qingsu grabbed his hair, looking distracted. “No.”

“You’re disappointed it’s not him?” Lin Muhan bit his ear, speaking in a measured tone. “I should screw you until you can’t get out of bed, so you have no time to think about these messy things.”

Han Qingsu laughed. “Come on then. If you’ve got the guts, screw me to death.”

It’s unclear what sensitive nerve of this lunatic he touched, but Han Qingsu barely managed to hold his own. By the end, his voice was hoarse and frightening.

Lin Muhan picked up his phone and unlocked it.

“You… how did you know my password…” Han Qingsu reached out to grab it, but was pinned by the wrist to the side.

“Why are you still thinking about that guy surnamed Chu?” Lin Muhan kissed his sweaty forehead, staring at him. “Can he make you feel as good as this?”

Han Qingsu punched him in the face. “Lin Muhan, stop this damn endless nonsense!”

Lin Muhan turned his head from the punch, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Han Qingsu was furious and held nothing back. His ears rang, and it took a long while before he could hear Han Qingsu’s angry gasping again.

He pinned Han Qingsu’s shoulder down and, ignoring his struggles, read the text message clearly.

[Mom is buried at Peizhishan Cemetery. Even if you didn’t attend the funeral, go see her when you have time. She couldn’t even see you one last time before she died. Han Qingsu, at the very least, have some conscience.]

Lin Muhan froze.

Seeing him freeze, Han Qingsu paused, violently threw off his restraint, grabbed the phone back, and threw it onto the coffee table. He pulled at the corner of his mouth and smiled. “Satisfied? Come on, continue. If you can’t kill me, I’ll kill you.”

Lin Muhan suddenly remembered that it wasn’t just some unknown ex-boyfriend of Han Qingsu’s whose parents were dead; it was Han Qingsu too.

“Brother, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“If you’re not going to do it, get lost,” Han Qingsu scolded.

Lin Muhan didn’t continue, but he didn’t leave either, instead pulling him into his arms. “Brother, don’t be sad.”

“Which eye did you see me being sad with!” Han Qingsu pushed him away impatiently, got up, and went to the bathroom. Soon, the sound of a shower running could be heard.

Lin Muhan listened to the water, lit a cigarette, and didn’t go in.

After showering, Han Qingsu came out, didn’t even look at him, and went into the bedroom.

Lin Muhan finished the cigarette, walked to the bedroom door, and knocked symbolically.

Han Qingsu couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. It’s unknown how much time passed, but in his half-asleep state, he felt the mattress sink behind him as someone wrapped their arms around his waist and pressed against him.

“Brother, let me go back to City A with you.”

Han Qingsu didn’t speak.

“Brother, don’t be angry with me. I won’t look at your phone anymore,” Lin Muhan softened his voice. “I’m just too afraid of losing you. Brother, I love you.”

Han Qingsu scoffed. “Give it a rest, kid. It was my fault back then; I forcibly bent you and tricked you into bed, ruining your future. Now, I have nothing, and everyone can step on me. You’ve vented your anger, so leave it at that. Don’t talk about love; it’s meaningless.”

The hand around his waist tightened slightly. “Brother, I—”

“That’s enough, I’m exhausted, sleep,” Han Qingsu interrupted him. “One more word and you’re getting out.”

Lin Muhan didn’t speak again, just gave a cold, cynical pull at the corner of his mouth behind his back.

This bastard wasn’t as stupid as he thought.

But how could that be?

If Han Qingsu didn’t fall head over heels in love with him, he wouldn’t be able to vent his resentment no matter what—he needed Han Qingsu to taste the feeling of being abandoned by the one he loved deeply, to feel his heart shredded and his soul shattered, ending in excruciating pain, rather than living a life of carefree, romantic hedonism after being dumped.

He wanted to completely, utterly destroy Han Qingsu.

He leaned over and gently kissed Han Qingsu’s ear. “I’ll listen to whatever you say, brother.”