MLH | Chapter 35
“······” Fang Zichen’s forehead throbbed, and seeing that he was indeed holding a few smooth wooden sticks in his hand, his face burned with anger, “I thank you!”
Using wooden sticks to wipe his ass, it really was like going back before liberation overnight.
Fang Zichen had already forgotten a few times before. When he had not been brought here, he had gotten used to toilet paper being prepared in the toilet. After he came here, he had not paid attention either. There had been a few times when he squatted in the pit latrine, only to find after he finished that there was no paper. The first time, he did not know what to do, so the little angel went to the roadside and broke off some little sticks for him.
But the little wooden sticks broke by the proper boy had had the bark peeled off, slippery and smooth, and could not get him clean at all. In the end, it still had to be Brother Zhao’s turn to step in and pick him a few leaves.
He伸出手 from the latrine pit, staring at the leaves in his hand, and asked unconsciously, “How am I supposed to use this?”
After he came out, Brother Zhao’s look at him … was like looking at an idiot.
Still, using leaves was within the range he could accept.
When he had first come here, when he went to relieve himself at the village chief’s house, there were two baskets of corn cobs in the latrine. At first he did not understand, but later after Hexi explained …
One basket was for used ones, one basket was for new ones.
He asked, “Using that stuff to wipe your ass, doesn’t your … there hurt?”
Those corn cobs looked rough as hell! They felt abrasive even to the hand.
“Not at all!” Hexi scratched his head. “Everyone in our village uses this, we’re used to it.”
“······”
Your chrysanthemums are really tough.
“For families with poor conditions, they can only use leaves and sticks,” Hexi said.
“······”
Back then Fang Zichen had been rendered speechless.
Dinner was abundant. The little greens planted in the courtyard could be eaten now. Brother Zhao pinched off a handful, cooked them together with a few pieces of fried lard, and they tasted wonderful. There was no field at home, so he was not idle at home either, and often went out to dig wild vegetables.
Fang Zichen was a bit picky, so he thought of ways to make him some good food.
It was July now, and just the right time for bamboo to grow on the mountain. He had gone to dig up a basket a few days ago, sliced it and soaked it in water, and what they could not finish could also be put in a jar to make sour bamboo shoots.
This stuff used a lot of oil, so the villagers did not often eat it.
He had fried some yesterday, and discovered that Fang Zichen especially liked it. Tonight, stir-fried together with fried lard, and served with white rice, the taste was even better.
“Is it good?” Brother Zhao asked.
“Good!” Fang Zichen answered. Brother Zhao kept picking at his vegetables, so he夹了一块 fried lard over to him. “You eat too. It’s not like there isn’t any left. Don’t be stingy. When it’s gone, I’ll buy more next time.”
Brother Zhao’s heart warmed. “Mm!”
He had also not eaten white rice for more than ten years, and had almost forgotten what it tasted like.
After dinner, Proper Boy sat on the threshold, his head nodding over and over.
He had run around all afternoon. Now that he was full, he was like a little piglet, full and sleepy.
Brother Zhao washed him up and carried him to bed. As soon as he lay down, he fell asleep.
Fang Zichen was sleepy too.
It was only about eight o’clock now. The moonlight was hazy, and in the past he would not have even dared imagine there would be a day when he slept this early. He returned to the room with his whole body still damp, and found Proper Boy lying at the innermost side, not noticing that anything was wrong yet.
It was not until Brother Zhao came back and got onto the bed, suddenly moving close to him, the warm breath brushing over his neck, that Fang Zichen jolted, and most of his drowsiness vanished.
“Wh, what are you doing?”
Brother Zhao did not speak. After a long silence, he fumbled for his hand, intertwined their fingers, and gripped tightly.
Skin touched skin. His palm was a little rough, but warm and soft. Fang Zichen could clearly feel his fingertips faintly trembling. His voice sounded in the dark, like on that first night, carrying unease,
“······Do you want it?”
Fang Zichen’s breathing was a little unsteady. He answered, “I don’t.”
Brother Zhao did not speak.
Their hands were still clasped. His face looked a little bad. Rejected again, Brother Zhao closed his eyes in some shame and wanted to pull his hand back. In the dark, all the senses became sharper. He heard Fang Zichen turn over, and then warm breath sprayed by his ear.
Fang Zichen squeezed his hand tighter, buried his head in the crook of his neck, and his voice was muffled, not very happy,
“Do you know what it means to say one thing and mean another?”
“······Don’t know.”
Fang Zichen buried himself closer: “It means wanting it in your heart, but saying you don’t with your mouth.”
Brother Zhao suddenly felt a little like laughing, then his body trembled and he froze.
Fang Zichen bit his ear once, soft and warm, his voice hoarse: “Ask again.”
Brother Zhao’s face burned, and he was glad Fang Zichen could not see in the dark. He forced his voice to stay calm,
“Then do you want it?”
“I don’t.” Fang Zichen said decisively.
“… saying one thing and meaning another,” Brother Zhao laughed muffledly. Fang Zichen let go, touched his face, and pinched hard once. He lifted his forehead to rest against his, his gaze blazing like fire, and Brother Zhao even felt hot from it.
“Roar … I’m going to turn into a beast,” Fang Zichen’s voice was low, carrying a touch of hoarseness, fierce as a beast that had been suppressed for a long time, vicious and impossible to refuse: “Don’t blame me.”
Young men, with youth stirring in their blood, were hot and restless in front of the one they loved, impulsive and unable to withstand teasing.
With one turn, he pressed down on Brother Zhao, and the wooden bed boards rocked and creaked.
Brother Zhao lifted a hand to help him undress, so主动 that Fang Zichen’s blood boiled. He swallowed, then kissed down.
Some things men just knew without a teacher. Brother Zhao wrapped his arms around his neck, and they kissed intimately.
They both seemed a little urgent, breath entangled, breaths crossing, saliva mingling, and ambiguous sounds rang out in the dark.
The air all around them seemed to be heating up. Fang Zichen was hot all over, and some energy he did not know where it had come from surged in his body, all in one rush toward his lower abdomen. Brother Zhao clearly felt something pressing against him. Fang Zichen kept kissing him and reached out to undo his clothes. Brother Zhao slightly raised his body to make it easier for him to take them off, but Fang Zichen suddenly stopped, as if by a ghost’s hand.
Brother Zhao’s breathing was a little quick, his eyes moist. “What is it?”
Fang Zichen buried his head back in the crook of his neck, his voice carrying a trace of grievance,
“······I don’t know how to do it.”
“You weren’t just before,” Brother Zhao had not finished when Fang Zichen shouted and jumped up, almost falling off the bed.
“Fuck······”
Brother Zhao turned his head, and was also nearly frightened badly.
Proper Boy was sitting right next to them. His expression could not be seen clearly, only a small outline was barely visible.
No one knew how long he had been watching.
Proper Boy rubbed his eyes. “Father, Dad, why are you sleeping stacked on top of each other?”
Fang Zichen: “······”
Brother Zhao: “······”
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