FQ chapter 41

Just like that night, Luan Ye’s lips were soft and warm. But tonight, neither of them were drunk, so the kiss didn’t carry the taste of red wine—only the faint scent of the tea they had just drunk, mingled with the rosin on Fan Qing’s body. It created a strange, unique fragrance.

And this time, it wasn’t just a gentle brush of lips.

Their mouths pressed together, lingering. Before Luan Ye could even give a hint like last time, Fan Qing’s tongue cautiously touched his lips and slipped in, trying to deepen the kiss.

His movements were still clumsy. Luan Ye could feel his slightly panicked breathing falling across his face. But at the same time, Fan Qing kissed him seriously, carefully cupping the back of Luan Ye’s head with his right hand to keep him from pulling away.

Their tongues entwined, breaths heated. Steam still rose from the tea on the table, warmth seeming to drift between them.

Their hurried, tangled breathing overlapped. Luan Ye guided Fan Qing’s breathing, slowly leaned back while his hand slid from Fan Qing’s face to the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him down.

They ended up falling back onto the couch, one on top of the other. Luan Ye lifted his head, and Fan Qing’s hand was still cradling the back of his head as he leaned down to kiss him again.

By the time the red tea in the glass pot had cooled completely and the warmer switched back to heating mode, their long, awkward kiss finally came to an end. Fan Qing pulled away from Luan Ye’s lips but didn’t move away. Instead, he lightly kissed Luan Ye’s nose, cheeks, and forehead.

His kisses were soft and a little ticklish against the skin. Luan Ye hadn’t even caught his breath yet but couldn’t help laughing again.

From this angle, Fan Qing’s excellent bone structure became even more pronounced. Luan Ye let go of his shirt and rubbed his hair, then traced down to his ear and lightly pinched his earlobe.

“Not bad,” he said. “That was a pretty long kiss.”

Fan Qing’s earlobe immediately turned red at an incredible speed, the blush spreading up his ear.

“…That was long?” he asked.

“Pretty long,” Luan Ye replied.

It sounded odd, but it was still praise—especially since it came right after a confession.

“Thanks,” Fan Qing said hoarsely, like a student being praised at school. “I’ll keep it up.”

Luan Ye laughed for a long time. When the redness on Fan Qing’s ears finally faded, he leaned down and started kissing Luan Ye again.

This time, he was a bit more skilled and less frantic. His kisses became soft and lingering.

Their positions hadn’t changed—Fan Qing was still sitting on Luan Ye’s thighs, waist tilted slightly back, pressing down on him from above.

He was kind of heavy, but Luan Ye didn’t say anything.

He could tell that Fan Qing needed this moment—to feel that the emotions between them were real.

But then Fan Qing asked, “Am I being annoying?”

“It’s fine.” The mood was too good, so Luan Ye’s voice was soft too. “You are not annoying.”

Fang Qing was like a freshly tamed animal, still insecure, needing to nuzzle into you to feel safe.

He relaxed and kissed Luan Ye again.

“I just feel like… this isn’t real.”

The irrational impulse, the morally questionable confession, and the sudden kiss…

It all felt like the torches outside—fierce, intense, and blazing with heat. So much that now he felt both excited and uneasy.

“It feels real to me,” Luan Ye said.

“The kiss was real…”

He shifted his leg slightly and laughed.

“And the erection is definitely real.”

“You—”

Fan Qing immediately stiffened. His face turned so red it reached the tips of his ears, and his throat tightened.

“You could see that? I thought from this angle—”

“I don’t need to see. I can feel it,” Luan Ye laughed. “Did you forget you’re sitting on my lap?”

“I—forgot.”

Fan Qing quickly scrambled off his lap and returned to his original seat. Luan Ye sat up too, realizing his leg had gone numb.

“Need the bathroom?”

“…No.” Fan Qing tugged at his pants. “I’ll be fine in a bit.”

Then he glanced at Luan Ye’s pants.

“You’re… okay?”

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” Luan Ye said, sipping his now-warm tea. “Not at the age where kissing alone gives me a hard-on.”

“Oh.” Fan Qing’s face got even redder.

“I wasn’t like this before…”

He paused, trying to phrase it gently. “So easily… turned on.”

Luan Ye gave him a look.

“Tonight’s different. It was too exciting,” Fan Qing bit his lip and let go quickly. “Maybe it’s because… it’s you.”

“Blame me,” Luan Ye nodded. “Then what? Want me to help you?”

It took Fan Qing three seconds to register what “help you” meant.

“How… would you help?”

“There are a lot of ways,” Luan Ye smirked. “Want to try one?”

“…Let’s skip that tonight,” Fan Qing turned his head, throat dry. “It’s been stimulating enough—I can’t handle more.”

Luan Ye burst out laughing. Just as he calmed down, they heard the sound of the courtyard gate being pushed open.

The noise was loud—someone was talking, someone else was singing.

Luan Ye and Fan Qing exchanged a look and went to the door to check.

It was Da Yao bringing Qiao Feibai back. Qiao Feibai was clearly drunk, slung over Da Yao’s shoulders, stumbling as he loudly sang a Cantonese song. Despite being that drunk, he was miraculously still in tune.

Da Yao seemed worried about waking Granny Mu and tried his best to speak quietly, but his naturally loud voice still came through: “Stop singing. Just tell me which room you’re in?”

Qiao Feibai hadn’t even finished the song when Luan Ye called out, “First floor. The room downstairs.”

Da Yao looked up and saw him, like seeing a lifesaver: “Still up? Can you come help me open the door?”

Luan Ye sighed and went downstairs. Fan Qing had probably recovered by then and followed behind to help.

Da Yao was surprised to see him: “Yo, you’re here too?”

“Yeah, I’m—”

“Drinking tea,” Luan Ye finished for him.

“Oh,” Da Yao blinked.

“He was fine when we lit the torches,” Luan Ye fished out the key and opened the door. “How’d he end up like this?”

“Back at the bar, I took my eyes off him and he downed two more drinks. Refused to stay there and insisted on coming back.”

Da Yao and Fan Qing helped throw Qiao Feibai onto the bed, then found a towel to wipe his face. Qiao Feibai kept humming and muttering lyrics.

Once everything was settled, Da Yao finally let out a breath.

“Alright, that’s good enough. He can take care of the rest in the morning.”

“Wanna stay for a bit?” Luan Ye asked.

Da Yao waved his hand. “It’s too late. It’s almost one. Another time.”

Fan Qing checked the time—sure enough, it was almost 1 a.m.

Time had flown by so fast, he hadn’t even noticed.

After seeing Da Yao off, Fan Qing turned back to Luan Ye.

“I’ll head back too,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

“…Oh.” Luan Ye was stunned for a second before replying. “It’s late. Be careful on the road.”

Before Da Yao showed up, Luan Ye had assumed—like any reasonable adult—that Fan Qing would stay the night. Even if they didn’t do anything, given how clingy Fan Qing had been, he didn’t seem like he’d want to leave.

“Get some rest. It’s been noisy with all the festivals,” Fan Qing said. “You probably haven’t slept well.”

Luan Ye understood. He looked at him for a moment, a small smile in his eyes.

Fan Qing was already out the door but turned back one last time.

“That tea—it’s been steeping too long,” he said. “Don’t drink it.”

“Got it,” Luan Ye replied.

Still worried, Fan Qing said, “Want me to take it down for you?”

“No need,” Luan Ye laughed. “I’ll take it down in the morning.”

“I’m just worried you’ll wake up thirsty in the middle of the night and drink it half-asleep,” Fan Qing said. “Cold overnight tea can give you a stomachache.”

Luan Ye stared at him for a few seconds and smiled with a sigh: “You really are…”

He reached out and pinched Fan Qing’s ear, then rubbed his cheek before letting go.

“Go on. Goodnight.”