Chronicles of the Beginning of Love

There was too little light left in the alley. Evening slowly lost its color as the blazing accident began to ferment and expand in the depths.

The city center outside was still loud and lively. Qiu Huaijun heard static. As if all sound had dissolved, he could only hear the slight gulping noises.

They weren’t transparent; as long as a person walked in to smoke, they would see Qiu Huaijun biting the hem of his shirt and thrusting his chest out, lewdly letting someone else eat his soft, white breasts.

The cold brought dizziness and stuffiness in his nose. Qiu Huaijun bit down hard on the hem of his shirt, his breathing strained.

He Qingchuan bit his nipples. His hot, wet oral cavity sucked milk out as his tongue prodded his nipples, first circling around his areola then sucking forcefully again. He licked damply at the hot skin, taking in both the thin layer of sweat and milk.

He didn’t take off his glasses; the ice-cold frame of his glasses occasionally brushed past flaming skin, bringing forth a shudder.

Qiu Huaijun’s entire body was terribly hot. His body went soft, completely dependent on He Qingchuan’s hold on his waist.

Fingers stroked his tailbone, then slowly slipped into his pants. They slid into the soft crack of his ass, imitating intercourse as they thrust in and out.

Qiu Huaijun let out a low moan, shooting He Qingchuan a powerless glare. Sobs squeezed out from his throat as his eyes became wet. His drool dampened the bottom hem of his shirt, nearly making him drop it; he tilted his head to the side and swallowed.

Even though he was still slightly resistant to He Qingchuan’s touch, Qiu Huaijun admitted that the pleasure made him numb from head to foot, so much so that his underwear was soaked through.

He Qingchuan wouldn’t reject this type of request; Qiu Huaijun was sure of this.

His milk made him painfully swollen, and He Qingchuan was his only antidote in the dusk-filled alley. Of course, he could also choose to use his fingers, if He Qingchuan hadn’t given him this sweet taste before.

Once he’d tasted this sweetness, using his fingers would inevitably be dull in comparison.

He Qingchuan was willing to watch him plead for mercy, and in return he was willing to have He Qingchuan help him relieve the pressure.

It wasn’t until this moment that Qiu Huaijun finally knew: he wasn’t indifferent to lust. He was also in flourishing, eager youth, craving release.

An equal exchange, a farce— a guileless temptation, a devout sacrifice.

Milk was sucked dry from both sides. He Qingchuan released the hand around his waist. Disappointingly, Qiu Huaijun sank to the ground, sucking in great big gasps of air, his face beet red. Tears were still seeping out from the corners of his eyes, wetting his dark eyelashes and dripping on the wet hem of his shirt.

“Can you still stand?” He Qingchuan leaned down.

It really was a little difficult to stand up. Qiu Huaijun’s fingers touched a cold and wet piece of material; he belatedly realized that it was the binder that he’d thrown away. He fisted it in his hand and pushed himself up from the ground, saying through clenched teeth, “I was going to pick this up, who… who can’t stand up!”

He Qingchuan stepped on moss as he began walking out, arranging his slightly disheveled uniform. “Since you can stand up, let’s go.”

The high temperature inside the alleyway went down for the time being. Qiu Huaijun zipped up his jacket and lowered his head, shielding half of his face in the stuck-up collar. He stuck his hands in his pockets and realized that he’d forgotten to buy medicine. He said stiffly, “Let me tell you something. Just now, I didn’t want to cry. Don’t overthink.”

“Okay,” He Qingchuan replied.

“No, what does your tone mean? I really didn’t want to cry.” Hearing his tone, Qiu Huaijun became anxious. He sped up a few steps, pointing at the rims of his eyes. “It’s just that my tear glands have problems! Just a paper cut can make me want to cry, it’s got nothing to do with you!”

He Qingchuan cast a sidelong glance at Qiu Huaijun’s reddened eyes— it was indeed easy for Qiu Huaijun to cry, he’d always known this.

In the second year of high school, He Qingchuan heard something. Just when school started, Qiu Huaijun had a dispute with his deskmate. During the dispute, the deskmate used a pen to cut open his hand; Qiu Huaijun cried, all the while beating the deskmate from the third floor down to the second floor. This piece of news traveled through almost the entire school— it was rather laughable, but also carried a bit of the adorable, childish refusal to lose.

“Also, you…” Qiu Huaijun looked at his eyes, rubbing his reddened nose. He then looked away and said in a muffled voice, “Why did you help me fight them?”

He Qingchuan’s footsteps paused. He leaned his body forward; suddenly they were very close, the distance between them no more than half a knuckle.

Qiu Huaijun’s eyes widened as he unconsciously took half a step back. He watched He Qingchuan alertly, his heart beating violently. The cobblestone beneath his feet audibly rubbed together.

He Qingchuan’s warm breath puffed against his lips. He laughed and said lightly, “Do you really want to know?”

“... Say it if you want.” Qiu Huaijun dodged him; he wanted to swear again.

Outside of the alley was the city center. The roads were flooded with people, the stream of bodies pushing them apart. Qiu Huaijun’s throat itched, but his coughs were drowned in the clamor.

They didn’t say another word.

At the villa, it could be seen from a distance that the lights were on. Qiu Huaijun was momentarily shocked, his footsteps pausing for a moment before speeding up again. He suspected that He Wang had finished his speech and had already arrived home.

He pressed down on the fingerprint lock and opened the door without lifting his head, bending down to take off his canvas shoes. Just before he went to the shoe drawer to get his flip-flops, he suddenly heard a man’s voice.

“You still know to come back?”

Qiu Huaijun whipped around and met He Hairan’s eyes.

He Hairan wore a black short-sleeved shirt, sitting on the couch in the living room. He then said, “When an elder asks a question, you don’t know to respond?”

Qiu Huaijun remembered how He Wang said a few days ago that He Hairan was coming back. He immediately lost all desire to speak, his expression becoming indifferent. He frowned and stepped in his flip-flops, sweeping past the coffee table towards the stairs.

Right now, he really didn’t look proper at all; his uniform was stained with dirt from the ground, and his hair was messy too. It was practically a public confession.

He Hairan shot up in an instant, pointing at him and yelling, “Qiu Huaijun! You skipped class again to fight, haven’t you!”

“Yeah.” Qiu Huaijun stopped walking. He looked at He Hairan out of the corner of his eye, revealing a provocative, disrespectful smile. “I did fight, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“Are you going to learn properly or not! Can’t you learn from good examples!” He Hairan was furious, his voice pitching louder. He glared at Qiu Huaijun. “A week ago, your homeroom teacher gave me a call, saying you got into a fight. A few days ago, he called again to say you skipped class! Qiu Huaijun, if you don’t want to learn, then drop out as soon as possible! Don’t go out and ruin my image! I don’t have a son like this! You think you can ruin it? You can’t!”

A sound came from the doorway; it was probably He Qingchuan from behind closing the door.

Qiu Huaijun’s eyes reddened. He still had a cold, and his voice was hoarse. “Who’s fucking ruining your image, do you think I want to be your son?! —”

“If you aren’t willing, then fuck off!” bellowed He Hairan. “Go fuck off to your retard of a mother! Let’s see who provides you with food, who provides you with drink, who provides you with tuition! Aren’t you brave, go earn money yourself!”

Qiu Huaijun was so angry his head was buzzing. He bit down heavily on his lip; the pain prevented the tears from rolling down too soon. He threw down his backpack, the charger and phone inside smashing onto the ground and making a heavy sound. He turned and walked away in large steps, his vision blurring instantly. He saw He Qingchuan’s figure, but couldn’t see his expression clearly. When their shoulders brushed, He Qingchuan grabbed his wrist. Qiu Huaijun shook him off and said, “Leave me alone!”

He didn’t want to listen to anyone talk. He still wore flip-flops as he escaped the villa, tears dripping down as a buzzing sounded beside his ears.

He ran without a destination. Qiu Huaijun wanted to go anywhere, to the point of a knife, to the crater of a volcano, to the deep sea, to hell! Whatever it was, he didn’t want to return to the He family again.

The hot wind blew a whole body of sweat. Qiu Huaijun heard the sound of footsteps from behind him; immediately after that, someone grabbed his shoulder. Before he reacted fully, his entire person was pressed against the wall. The pain made Qiu Huaijun scrunch his eyebrows. The moment he saw He Qingchuan, he began to struggle violently. “Fuck off!”

He couldn’t get free from He Qingchuan. He Qingchuan only said “don’t move”, but his unhappiness exploded in an instant. Tears streamed down. “Why do you care what I do! You and He Hairan are all the same type of people! Don’t you look down on me and my mom? Do I need you to think highly of us! If you look down, then you look down, I can still live just fine! I didn’t do anything wrong; it’s my mom’s fault! She got with a married man. Everyone’s clean, but I’m dirty. You think I want to be the son of a mistress? She’s become a fool and can’t remember anything, so I have to carry everything, I have to remember everything. Why?”

He knew he shouldn’t share these things with He Qingchuan, but it was like he couldn’t control himself. He spilled all those words out like he’d gone mad.

Qiu Huaijun cried so hard that his throat hurt and his words became muddled, the energy lifted away from his entire body. He didn’t want to struggle or resist anymore. The expression on his face was incredibly tired as he said, “Why…” He didn’t hear He Qingchuan’s voice. He only cried silently, lifting a hand to wipe his tears.

Suddenly, he heard He Qingchuan sigh. He Qingchuan lowered his hand, the pads of his fingers wiping at his tears.

“No one said you’re dirty, and no one looks down on you either.” He Qingchuan’s voice was very soft as he said, “Don’t cry anymore.”

Author's note

"A guileless temptation, a devout sacrifice."

It's what I dreamed the day before yesterday, just in time to use to haha.

Translator's note

一场等价交换，一场闹剧——光明地勾引，虔诚地献身。An equal exchange, a farce— a guileless temptation, a devout sacrifice. (献身 xian sheng: sacrifice [of the body]) (it's my favorite line ^^)