Perhaps noticing that Xiang Mo’s expression was off, Du Chi explained that he didn’t mean it in a derogatory way.
Once you associate erotica with art, it’s no longer a synonym for vulgarity in the eyes of the world; it becomes a refined taste.
“Art needs this kind of taste,” Du Chi said seriously.
Regardless of whether it was nonsense or not, this alternative interpretation was somewhat useful to Xiang Mo.
Artists tend to have some reserve in them. When they hear the word “refined” from outsiders, it often brings more joy than expert recognition, even if there’s some exaggeration in the compliment.
His feelings about Du Chi hadn’t changed, but Xiang Mo, in a way, did find it difficult to dislike people who praised him.
On the afternoon when he reminded Du Chi to watch the volume, the logistics company delivered a roll of carpet.
The carpet was exceptionally heavy. Two delivery men carried the carpet up the wooden stairs, producing concerning creaking noises with each step. The old, worn-out staircase seemed to be protesting against the weight it shouldn’t have to bear, diverting the attention of most students in the studio.
“Teacher, did someone move in upstairs?” a student asked.
Since the appearance of the heavy motorcycle in the yard, students had asked similar questions every day.
The cool motorcycle clearly didn’t match Xiang Mo’s personality, and even students who were closer to him secretly messaged to ask if he had a new boyfriend.
Xiang Mo had never come out to his students, and he didn’t know how they had figured out his orientation. He had forgotten to deny the students’ questions and asked in surprise, “Why would you think I have a boyfriend?”
The student sent a cute emoticon and said, “A beautiful teacher like you needs to be loved.”
Then, without waiting for Xiang Mo’s response, they immediately retracted the message.
This wasn’t the first time students had addressed him in this way. Once, while he was bored scrolling through social media, he came across a flat-out portrait painting by a student, showing a person with slightly long bangs, perfect proportions, thick lower eyelashes making their gaze look both lazy and alluring, and beneath the slightly upturned nose was a pair of juicy, tempting lips, and the layered colors created a jelly-like texture that made the lips appear extremely enticing.
The caption in the student’s post read: “The beautiful teacher at the studio has a sexy face [fire emoji] [fire emoji].”
Xiang Mo had initially wanted to comment on the excellent work but ultimately chose to pretend he hadn’t seen it.
“Upstairs, it’s been rented out.”
Returning to his thoughts, Xiang Mo gave a brief response, asking students not to be distracted from their work.
However, when the two delivery men came down from upstairs, Xiang Mo’s mind was divided.
This delivery company was different from regular courier services; it specialized in delivering goods to cooperating businesses.
Xiang Mo had also bought carpets before. He would order them online and wait for the delivery, which took at least a day or two. However, Du Chi seemed to have found a local physical store, picked out a large carpet to cover an entire room, and had it delivered immediately.
Thinking back, ever since his morning reminder to Du Chi, his presence seemed to have diminished.
The loud banging of the refrigerator door in the kitchen had stopped, and there were no more heedless footsteps upstairs.
Although Du Chi had maintained a casual attitude on the surface and had even teased Xiang Mo, he had actually taken in Xiang Mo’s suggestion.
The early morning’s frustration had dissipated, and Xiang Mo suddenly felt more at ease.
Perhaps this was how neighbors should interact. The other party wasn’t intentionally annoying; they just weren’t aware. A simple reminder could lead to peaceful coexistence.
It was a delightful and pleasant morning on another Monday of a new week.
…………….
When Xiang Mo arrived on the third-floor balcony with a laundry basket, he happened to see Du Chi sun drying something on a lounge table.
In recent times, every time Xiang Mo came to the third floor to do laundry, he felt like he had walked into the wrong place.
The once shabby balcony was now adorned with flowers and plants. It had outdoor furniture, and upon gazing out at the balcony, amid the mix of miscellaneous items and drying laundry, their balcony looked like a little garden, with no traces of mundane everyday life.
“Good morning, Teacher Xiang,” Du Chi said as he fiddled with whatever he was working on, greeting Xiang Mo. “Are you here to do some laundry?”
“Yep,” Xiang Mo replied.
Greetings between neighbors were often filled with small talk. Xiang Mo was holding a laundry basket, so of course, he had come up to do laundry.
“Or are you not doing laundry but coming up to admire my body?”
His gaze unavoidably drifted over Du Chi’s upper body, and Xiang Mo forced himself to stop looking. He stuffed the dirty laundry into the washer-dryer.
He knew that Du Chi had a habit of taking a shower after his morning run. But he hadn’t expected him to be shirtless afterward.
Perhaps it was because the third floor was Du Chi’s territory, and he felt more at ease here. Du Chi was wearing only a loose pair of cotton long shorts, and there was a half-damp towel draped around his neck.
Although Xiang Mo didn’t want to admit it, the well-toned physique, the result of long-term exercise, displayed under the clear blue sky was as pleasing to the eye as a painting.
Sanmao curiously came over to Xiang Mo’s side and watched him set up the washing and drying program.
After the washer-dryer combo started, Xiang Mo intended to go back downstairs to continue with his work, but Sanmao crouched beside him, blocking his path to the hallway. He had to take a detour and get closer to the table where some items were being sun-dried.
“What’s this?” Xiang Mo asked, looking at the wet ancient books on the table.
“It’s a copy of the Diamond Sutra from the Jiajing period,” Du Chi explained.
Xiang Mo understood each word Du Chi said but had trouble comprehending the bigger picture. Just as the motorcycle didn’t fit with his image, the Diamond Sutra didn’t seem to match Du Chi.
His gaze betrayed him, and Du Chi took the initiative to explain, “It’s related to my work.”
“Work?” Xiang Mo raised an eyebrow.
He had noticed that Du Chi wasn’t a typical office worker. He spent his days at home, appearing to be an unemployed wanderer. Xiang Mo initially didn’t care about his neighbor’s personal affairs, but seeing the ancient books before him piqued his curiosity.
With the backlit pages displaying inscrutable text, Xiang Mo was unable to decipher the content, and he had similar difficulty understanding Du Chi’s profession.
“I’m a type designer,” Du Chi said.
His nape felt warm from the sun, so he removed the towel hanging around his neck and dried his still-damp hair. Then he continued, “Sometimes, I need to reference fonts from ancient books.”
Xiang Mo had never heard of such a profession, and he hazarded a guess, “Do you design artistic fonts?”
“No, I design entire typefaces.”
When Du Chi asked if Xiang Mo would be interested in running an art studio part-time, Xiang Mo had replied with a simple “no.”
It was the same situation now. The world of typefaces was a fresh and unfamiliar domain, but Du Chi didn’t bother to provide further explanations, suggesting that he wasn’t inclined to share more information.
This was fine by Xiang Mo; after all, he and Du Chi didn’t need to become close friends.
“However, if you ever need artistic fonts, I can help you design them,” Du Chi added casually.
“Thank you, but there’s no need,” Xiang Mo politely declined. “I have some knowledge of design as well. If I ever need artistic fonts, I can handle it myself.”
“Oh, right.” Du Chi appeared to suddenly remember something, and a mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “You’re an artist.”
Again, the mention of being an artist.
Thankfully, he hadn’t added the word “erotic” this time, but Xiang Mo could still sense the teasing undertone.
He didn’t feel particularly angry; instead, he pretended not to hear the remark and naturally shifted the conversation. “Are you a design student?”
“Yes,” Du Chi confirmed. “I also studied art in high school, but my skills are nowhere near yours.”
Xiang Mo had started painting at the age of seven and was talented and diligent. Many instructors, despite having more experience, couldn’t match his skills.
However, he now realized that Du Chi was not a complete newbie.
“By the way, how did you hear about my art exhibition?” Xiang Mo asked curiously.
“Oh, I watched it as if it were an adult video.”
Xiang Mo was taken aback.
As far as he understood, adult videos should involve interactions between two people. He took a deep breath and patiently explained, “I only paint male figures, so how could it be an adult video?”
“That’s right,” Du Chi responded as he used his towel to wipe the back of his head, which was still damp. “I like men.”
Xiang Mo was momentarily stunned, thinking, “Why does this person not follow the script?”
Who would casually come out as gay without any warning?
When Du Chi was engaging in “exercise” upstairs earlier, Xiang Mo hadn’t paid attention to the visitor’s gender. Also, since he didn’t particularly care about other people’s private lives, he never suspected that Du Chi might be like him.
The atmosphere now became somewhat awkward.
Xiang Mo was already used to seeing Du Chi’s exposed abdominal muscles, but this sudden revelation made him feel uneasy.
However, Du Chi appeared nonchalant and at ease. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and said, “You’re the same, aren’t you, Teacher Xiang?”
Xiang Mo was left speechless, not knowing how to respond. It was at that moment that Du Chi’s phone, tucked in his pants, rang unexpectedly. This provided a much-needed opportunity for Xiang Mo to collect his thoughts.
After hanging up the phone, Du Chi informed Xiang Mo, “Luo Pang invited us to taste some dishes.”
“Luo Pang?” Xiang Mo was puzzled and quickly realized that Du Chi was talking about the restaurant owner across the street, Luo Yang.
Before Xiang Mo moved in, Luo Yang had been operating the restaurant across the street for three years. Xiang Mo had known him for that entire time and referred to him as “Boss Luo” in a polite manner.
Boss Luo often invited his neighbors to taste the dishes he was preparing. Xiang Mo should have been the one directly contacted, but this time, he had notified Du Chi first, who in turn asked Xiang Mo to join.
When did these two become so familiar with each other?
Xiang Mo stood outside Du Chi’s room, awaiting his neighbor to change his clothes. He wondered if his new neighbor was some sort of social butterfly.
