PTGWD Extra 7: Mad Love4

9.

Fang Xingzhou had never imagined that he would reach this stage with someone of the same sex, someone he’d known for less than a month.

It began with cautious, polite probing.

Lu Jianchuan always seemed to inadvertently reveal his attachment—every physical gesture was overly intimate, far removed from the straightforward pursuit of conquest. Progress was slow, perhaps out of fear that Fang Xingzhou would feel repulsed, or perhaps because kisses and embraces brought him more pleasure than other activities.

He was like a young beast, fond of sniffing with his nose, tasting with his lips, and pressing his ear against Fang Xingzhou’s ribs to count his heartbeat, dawdling endlessly until Fang Xingzhou could take no more. Kicking him hard on the abs, Fang Xingzhou would frown, dripping with sweat, and demand, “Are you going to do it or not?”

Lu Jianchuan’s eyes would light up, as if he had finally received the command he’d been waiting for.

Fang Xingzhou vaguely caught a fleeting glimpse of dazzling patterns, but with the curtains drawn and the room dimly lit, when he looked again, there was nothing.

Heart pounding wildly, he wanted to examine more closely, but Lu Jianchuan flipped him over, pressing him against the railing. His head bumped against the curtain rod—only for the man behind him to immediately stroke it in tender concern.

“Yes!” Lu Jianchuan said firmly.

Trembling with excitement, he bit down on Fang Xingzhou’s shoulder, stripped away all pretense, and swiftly dragged him into an inescapable, terrifying whirlpool.

……

It was strange.

From start to finish, everything was strange.

There were no aids in the dormitory, and any reckless impulses would inevitably come with brutal consequences. Fang Xingzhou had long been mentally prepared for that.

But just before everything began, he distinctly felt something—an icy, viscous slime, too cold to be of human origin, sliding over his skin like the damp trail left behind by a serpent slithering up from the depths of a dark pool.

Even the measurements they had verified together now seemed unreliable.

When his head hit the curtain rod, Fang Xingzhou recalled the size from eight days prior, wondering what medication and treatment might be needed for injuries.

But soon, his mind went blank.

Under the influence of that icy slime, he felt no pain at all. The terrifying size had halved—even smaller than an average human’s—yet it was remarkably agile, quickly bridging the gap from theory to practice. And with that dexterity, Fang Xingzhou was swiftly reduced to madness.

Lu Jianchuan hadn’t been lying. He really had studied “human documentaries” with utmost seriousness—and delivered a flawless performance.

The iron support rod scraped against the floor, the sound fragmented. Soon, Fang Xingzhou was drenched in sweat, as if he’d been fished out of water, his vision unfocused. His pupils reflected only the unrealistically beautiful human façade before him. It felt like he’d been dragged into a beast’s den—the creature’s lips blood-red, pupils burning, fixated on his face as if intending to devour him whole, starting from his head, and digest him into mere nutrients.

Until—with a loud thud—they crashed into the railing.

Fang Xingzhou’s upper body suddenly tipped over, hurtling toward the ground, only to be caught mid-fall by a steady arm.

His pulse skyrocketed, his entire body tense, and then he heard the sweet, frantic breaths from the man before him—laughter lacing that hoarse voice as it whispered, “Darling, I almost died.”

Fang Xingzhou retaliated with a sharp bite.

Lu Jianchuan gathered him into his arms, stepping away from the collapsed railing and carrying him to the desk instead.

The desk was by the window, beyond which lay the clothes-strewn balcony and the beautiful artificial lake bathed in the glow of sunset.

Searing skin met cold glass. The icy sensation jolted Fang Xingzhou into a fleeting moment of clarity—and that was when he suddenly realized the size splitting him apart had changed again. Unnoticed, it had stealthily grown, nearly matching the dimensions from eight days earlier.

But he had no chance to dwell on it.

Lu Jianchuan wouldn’t give him any time for second thoughts…

10.

The three-day break passed without them stepping out once.

Fang Xingzhou had never been particularly enthusiastic about such activities, yet over those three days, he seemed utterly bewitched—tangled up with Lu Jianchuan from dawn till dusk, too lost in madness to even fix the toppled railing.

By the time Li Zheng and An Mingzhe returned to the dorm, Lu Jianchuan was hammering away, finally reinstalling the railing that had lain collapsed for three days.

Fang Xingzhou sat nearby, inexplicably wrapped in a scarf indoors. The usual cold frost in his expression had melted away, his lips slightly swollen, the corners of his eyes tinged red, and a ring-like bite mark engraved into his ring finger.

Li Zheng asked offhandedly, “How was your break?”

Fang Xingzhou responded with a hoarse “Mm.”

An Mingzhe raised his brows. “Whoa, you sick?”

Fang Xingzhou nodded.

An Mingzhe moved closer, reaching out. “I can treat a cold! Do you have a fever? Runny nose? Body aches? Also—”

Before his fingers could touch Fang Xingzhou’s forehead, Lu Jianchuan—their new roommate—smiled and caught his wrist, his expression lazy and satisfied, like a well-fed cat lounging after a feast.

“No fever,” Lu Jianchuan said. “He just took some medicine.”

The mood was subtly off, but the two straight men remained oblivious, merely expressing concern for their ailing roommate before turning to their own overdue holiday assignments.

Still, Fang Xingzhou’s condition seemed serious.

Late that night, An Mingzhe stumbled out of bed half-asleep to use the bathroom. As he passed Fang Xingzhou’s bunk, he heard faint, stifled moans from behind the curtains—soft gasps, as though in unbearable pain.

He frowned groggily. “You sure you’re okay, Xingzhou? Need us to take you to the hospital?”

The sound abruptly stopped.

After a long pause, the “sick” man replied in a strangely thick voice, “…I’m fine. Thanks. Just need rest.”

An Mingzhe hesitated. “Don’t push yourself, man.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Fang Xingzhou said quickly. “…Goodnight.”

“Alright,” An Mingzhe mumbled, pushing open the bathroom door. “Sleep well.”

Hope he gets better soon, he thought as he relieved himself. The weather’s only getting colder…

11.

However, this “illness” of Fang Xingzhou’s seemed to drag on endlessly.

For what felt like a full month, the corners of his lips remained perpetually swollen—though the degree and shade of redness varied day by day. His voice was always rougher than usual, and no matter the setting, he never went without a scarf or high-collared sweater, as though shielding his neck from nonexistent drafts.

An Mingzhe repeatedly urged him to get a proper check-up at the hospital, but each time, Lu Jianchuan effortlessly deflected the suggestion with a smooth excuse.

Oh, and one more thing.

Something else had changed.

Their new roommate had suddenly become inseparable from Fang Xingzhou—stuck to him like glue, attending every class, meal, and outing together. Once, An Mingzhe had even caught them bathing in the dorm showers at the same time.

…Tch. Whatever. Probably just trying to get tutoring from the top student.

And judging by the results, the tutoring was effective.

After weeks of doggedly shadowing Fang Xingzhou, Lu Jianchuan’s abysmal grades finally showed improvement. When called on in class, he could at least stammer out something vaguely coherent.

An Mingzhe was pleased.

So were the girls in their class. Whenever they spotted the two roommates together, they’d break into inexplicable smiles and whisper among themselves. To An Mingzhe, it only proved how harmonious their dorm was—not just bonded by friendship, but thriving through mutual growth.

Truly heartwarming.

That heartwarming illusion lasted until the night after final exams.

The student union had organized a dance party to help med students unwind after a grueling semester. An Mingzhe, nursing a long-time crush on a second-year senior, had practiced dancing for weeks, determined to make his move. Li Zheng, newly coupled, had vanished entirely with his girlfriend, holed up in some secluded corner of campus.

Logically, their two ridiculously handsome roommates should’ve been prime targets at such an event.

Yet neither showed any interest—in fact, they’d even fought about it after Lu Jianchuan discovered a love letter tucked inside Fang Xingzhou’s textbook.

An Mingzhe, assuming they’d fallen for the same girl, spent an hour earnestly mediating… only to overhear another heated argument on the balcony that evening.

Lu Jianchuan’s broad frame blocked Fang Xingzhou from view, but his voice carried clear distress:

“But why did he write you a love letter?”

“Good question. Maybe ask him,” Fang Xingzhou replied calmly.

“We should go public, Zhouzhou. It’s killing me, thinking about others looking at you—”

“We live in a society. People will look. That’s unavoidable.”

“Then let’s go somewhere without people. A deserted island. Or deep underwater—I could hunt for you!” His voice grew increasingly frantic.

“…Don’t be ridiculous.” Fang Xingzhou sounded exasperated. “Your backpack’s stuffed with enough love letters to rival a dictionary. I’ve never threatened to lock you in a windowless room.”

The wounded edge in Lu Jianchuan’s voice sharpened.

“But I still want to hide you away, baby.” The raw sincerity trembled in his words.

Silence.

Then movement.

A hand settled on Lu Jianchuan’s shoulder. Another slid into his hair, tugging him down—until their shadows merged into one, motionless.

An Mingzhe’s pupils widened.

Wait. Are they—?

He slapped both hands over his eyes, backpedaling so fast he slammed into a desk.

———

Ten minutes later, the pair stepped back inside. Fang Xingzhou blinked at An Mingzhe’s presence.

“Back already?” He smiled, lips—once again—noticeably swollen.

Lu Jianchauan trailed behind him, eyes faintly red-rimmed, his gaze locked onto Fang Xingzhou with unsettling intensity.

An Mingzhe’s worldview crumbled in real time.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. Just, uh… practicing my dance moves. So, uh… you guys going tomorrow?”

Before Fang Xingzhou could answer, Lu Jianchuan interjected possessively:

“We are. Together.” A beat. “Right, Zhouzhou?”

“Mm.” Fang Xingzhou’s quiet agreement was punctuated by the subtle brush of fingers intertwining—only for their joined hands to be betrayed by the shadow stretching across the floor.

An Mingzhe: “……….”

Wordlessly, he grabbed his bag and fled, praying to every deity that he’d imagined everything.

12.

Soon enough, he found out whether he had been overthinking or not.

The next day’s party was extremely lively, with nearly everyone from their department attending, even students from neighboring majors coming to join the fun.

By late night, the event had reached its peak revelry. The emcee announced that there would be a thirty-second blackout, urging everyone to seize the opportunity.

With the senior he had a crush on standing right beside him, An Mingzhe was overwhelmed with excitement. He invited her upstairs to a secluded corner he had scouted in advance and began nervously reciting his carefully prepared confession.

The lights went out.

Complete darkness enveloped them.

An Mingzhe’s voice trembled with nervousness as he poured out his feelings within those thirty seconds. Then he heard the senior’s chickles, along with distinct wet sounds coming from nearby—what sounded like intense kissing, mixed with some extremely familiar soft moans…

Thirty seconds was very brief.

The lights came back on.

An Mingzhe even forgot to look at the senior’s expression, his attention completely captured as he stared in shock toward the source of those sounds.

Behind a large potted plant, Lu Jianchuan had Fang Xingzhou pinned against the window. Both arms tightly wrapped around Fang Xingzhou’s waist as he nearly rudely invaded his mouth, as if trying to suck out his beloved’s soul with his tongue and then hide it somewhere only he knew.

Bathed in moonlight, not the slightest gap could be found between them.

Like they were conjoined twins meant to be together.

An Mingzhe slowly opened his mouth wider. Faced with the sight of his roommates’ passionate kissing, he finally had no choice but to accept one fact—

They were undoubtedly deeply in love.

Just as this thought formed, he saw Lu Jianchuan’s gaze leave Fang Xingzhou’s face and turn toward his roommate and the senior standing a dozen steps away. There wasn’t the slightest hint of embarrassment at being caught—instead, his eyes even held a faint smile, as if childishly showing off to them.