Chronicles of the Beginning of Love

Qiu Huaijun knew He Qingchuan’s demand— to do as he was told.

He defied He Qingchuan in all respects. Aside from throwing orange peels at him, he poured water on him and sat high up in the branches of a tree, looking down at him. These thorns wouldn’t hurt He Qingchuan, and neither would they harm He Wang. But they were enough to slice a boundary between them. Today he agreed to listen to He Qingchuan, but that didn’t mean that Qiu Huaijun would pull all the quills from himself.

If He Qingchuan wanted to get close to his quills, get close to his defenses— then it served him right to get hurt and bleed.

Sunday’s rainstorm failed; until ten, it was still a clear and boundless sky. He Qingchuan left the bedroom at 10:13. Just before he left, he asked, “Do you need help washing yourself? It’s all fluids inside.”

“Fuck o— no need.” Qiu Huaijun ducked away from the hand that was coming to rub his hair, the corners of his eyes jumping. “There’s no need to fake being nice.”

He swallowed the “fuck off” of the second half. He Qingchuan didn’t get angry, either; he simply left, taking the revolver with him. Qiu Huaijun stared at that gun. The shadow of the doorway enveloped it, then devoured it. It could no longer be seen.

Regarding this absurd event, Qiu Huaijun hadn’t completely taken it all in yet; so much so that he still believed it was a dream. He sat on the side of the bed for a long time again, then stood up and pulled the window curtains closed. In the dim light that entered through the curtains, he took off his pants and pulled out his soft dick, inspecting the horrid state between his legs. There were red marks all over; his knees were rubbed red from the friction. Qiu Huaijun cursed, “Fuck, He Qingchuan, are you a dog… you’ve actually gone insane.”

Come flowed from his hole, dirtying his inner thighs and pants. Qiu Huaijun was utterly disgusted and picked up a napkin. The wet perineum and swollen clit rubbed past the paper, actually bringing pleasure. Self-pleasure, to Qiu Huaijun, was a foreign thing. The most he did was jerk off. He didn’t bother touching the abnormality between his legs; conflict was inevitable.

Qiu Huaijun swallowed his saliva. Underneath the dim sunlight, he rubbed his clit. His breathing slowly became rougher, his cock rising as well. Pleasure piled up in layers to drown him; it felt so good his scalp was numb. So slippery, so hot. Qiu Huaijun bit his lips tightly, pushing out his lower back. The range of his wrist’s movement became larger. He quickly came to a trembling orgasm. He took large breaths; he had come in the front, too, dirtying the entire bed.

His original objective was only to clean himself, but now he’d made himself even dirtier. When he got off the bed, his legs nearly went soft. He put on his pants with a reddening face, taking a moment to breathe deeply. It was probably impossible to get clean by only wiping, so he had to go to the bathroom to avoid having a musky scent all over. Just as he pulled open the bedroom door, he met a pair of eyes. Qiu Huaijun instantly went on the defense. “He Wang— He Wang?”

He Wang kept his about-to-knock position, laughing, “I was just about to knock.” He put down his hand. “Seeing that you still haven’t gotten up when it’s so late, I came over to take a look. I left breakfast for you.”

Qiu Huaijun needed to go to the bathroom, so he didn’t wish to delay. He gave He Wang a glance, his tone still the same as before. “There’s no need to manage me.” He closed the door, but his legs went weak; He Wang supported him with a forceful hand on his waist. His voice was hot at the side of Qiu Huaijun’s ear, carrying a bit of ambiguity. “What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t like he could say that it was because he’d been fucked sore inside and out. Qiu Huaijun was afraid that he’d smell the odor on him, hurriedly shoving him away. The corners of his eyes were slightly red; he gave a few perfunctory responses and began to walk away. Two steps were hardly taken before he suddenly paused, turning back to look at He Wang. He narrowed his eyes, probing for information. “Last night…”

“Last night?” He Wang seemed like he didn’t understand. “Last night, I caught a bit of a cold, so I asked for leave from independent study to come back early and sleep. What’s wrong?”

For a time, Qiu Huaijun breathed a sigh of relief. He waved his hand. “It’s nothing. You don’t need to call me for lunch, either. You and da-ge can eat, I’m going to take a shower.”

The overcast outside came down. He Wang watched, full of interest, as he entered the bathroom. The surroundings once again became peaceful. He turned, pushing open the door to Qiu Huaijun’s bedroom. The bedsheet was practically a complete mess, fluids still on top. The scent of fresh desire still hung in the air; an obscene sort of musk. He Wang walked in slowly, his fingers touching the soft, wet traces. His gaze was dark; he laughed lightly.

In the afternoon, the weather became gloomy. Qiu Huaijun had already finished bathing by that time; he stayed in his bedroom for nearly three hours, not doing anything, just pouring a basin of water and handwashing his bedsheets. As he rubbed, he cursed He Qingchuan. When he used to live with Qiu Yuehe, he often washed clothes in the empty, bare courtyard. It was fine in the summer, but in the winter the water that came out of the fountain was especially cold. After just ten minutes of washing, one had to shake their hands.

He didn’t dare to let the housekeeper clean. After he finished, he hung them on the balcony of his room. It wasn’t a clear day, so they'd probably get humid and smell bad— but that was nothing.

He’d hardly eaten anything all day, so Qiu Huaijun was hungry; but he didn’t want to go downstairs and face He Qingchuan. Yet when it was dinnertime, He Qingchuan came upstairs to call him. He knocked on the door, his tone mild. “Time to eat.”

Qiu Huaijun had no way to resist him; he could only say unwillingly, “I’m coming.” He added a stiff term of address, each word separated by a space, “Ge, ge.”

He dilly-dallied for a while, cleaning up. Before exiting the door, he checked if his exposed skin had any visible marks. Last night, his breasts became swollen, so he had to wear a binder. In the suffocating heat of summer, it almost made it impossible to breathe. The him in the mirror had nothing different from before— except for the wound on his cheek that hadn’t healed yet.

The dining room was on the first floor. As he descended the stairs, Qiu Huaijun immediately saw He Qingchuan. At school, He Qingchuan had the appearance of a model student with a good figure; whether he wore a school uniform or other clothes, he looked good. At least in Qiu Huaijun’s class, there were many girls that had secretly given He Qingchuan milk tea and small slips of paper.

But He Wang should’ve gotten more, since no one liked to press up against a cold face. A warm rejection was better than a cold gaze.

“It seems like I haven’t seen you for an entire afternoon.” He Wang was setting out the silverware and sent a smile his way. “Aren’t you hungry, not having eaten for an entire day?”

Qiu Huaijun controlled his gaze, not looking at He Qingchuan. His attitude towards He Wang became noticeably better. “It’s alright.”

Originally, he was going to sit further away from He Qingchuan, but He Qingchuan easily saw through his thought process. He laughed, so lightly it could hardly be heard, and said in a plain tone, “Sit down.”

Qiu Huaijun could only sit down beside He Qingchuan. He didn’t catch He Wang’s gaze. His nearness to He Qingchuan made Qiu Huaijun almost instinctively stiffen his back. He picked up his chopsticks. Bright yellow light shone down from above, the corners of the dining table refracting the glass's light. The dishes were indeed the ones he liked to eat; Qiu Huaijun was so hungry that his stomach hurt. He buried his face in his food, only wishing to leave sooner.

Normally, this dinner could end in ten minutes, but Qiu Huaijun didn’t expect He Qingchuan to be so bold. He’d only taken two bites before a hand touched his pants, wriggling inside. Qiu Huaijun’s entire body went stiff; he stared at He Qingchuan. He Qingchuan was still unhurriedly eating congee, and said, “Dad should come back the day after tomorrow.”

The hand’s temperature was rather low, nearly drawing a shiver from him. Yet it was like it started burning, the palm pressing against his perineum through his underwear. It started to rub, neither lightly nor heavily, bringing pleasure with it. Qiu Huaijun bit his lip, once again subconsciously looking towards He Wang. He Wang was currently ladling soup and not looking in his direction. “Didn’t he say that he’d be back next week? Is Mom coming back at the same time?”

“Should be,” said He Qingchuan.

The speed at which Qiu Huaijun placed food into his mouth slowed down, nearly to a grain-by-grain pace. He clamped his legs together tightly; he could clearly feel the fluid trickling out from his hole. He Qingchuan was insane! He Wang was right in front of him, yet he still dared to do this.

“Huaijun,” He Wang suddenly said. “Dad probably knows about your truancy. When he talks to you later, remember not to start a conflict with him. Bear with it.”

If it was still before, Qiu Huaijun would probably talk back. Why should he bear with it? But right now he couldn’t say anything. He pressed down his pants, his hands shaking slightly, and nodded. He didn’t want to admit that he received pleasure from He Qingchuan’s hand, but the truth was that his underwear was soaked. The rims of his eyes were slightly wet too; he wanted to cry.

“Why’s your face so red?” He Wang suddenly said, leaning forward. His hand touched Qiu Huaijun’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

The hand entered his underwear. Qiu Huaijun received a shock, staring at He Wang in a startled way. He hurriedly shook his head, pushing away He Wang’s hand, and said in a small voice, “There’s no problem, I don’t…”

Qiu Huaijun didn’t know how obvious his aroused appearance was. He was already pale; when he was aroused, the tips of his ears would flush deep red, along with the corners of his eyes becoming like rouge, his gaze glassy. He endured the torture; the fingertips that held the chopsticks became white.

The pads of He Qingchuan’s fingertips rubbed at his clit, spreading pleasure from his tailbone to his entire body. Yet at this time He Wang started talking to him, asking him, “What were you doing this afternoon in your bedroom?”

“I was…” The second Qiu Huaijun’s voice came out, he found that it shook severely, even bringing along gasps. He forced himself to just barely steady his tone and continued to say, “I was, was making up homework.”

More and more fluids came out, drenching the dry underwear that was switched on just this morning. He Qingchuan’s hand was probably wet, too. Qiu Huaijun hated this body of his, so sensitive and easily wet with hardly any use. It was only other people’s advantage over him. He responded to He Wang’s questions, his voice becoming weaker and weaker. When he was just about to orgasm, irrepressible moans came from his mouth. He heard He Wang say, “If you aren’t feeling well, then it’s better to go rest for a while.”

He Qingchuan’s hand was retracted. Qiu Huaijun gave him a ferocious, gouging glare. His body hadn’t reached orgasm; he could distinctly feel the pain of having his desire unfulfilled. He vented his anger by eating some more. Just as he was about to stand up, He Qingchuan leaned over to pick up the dish in front of him. His voice was so soft that only the two of them could hear. “Wait for me tonight.”

Qiu Huaijun paused, then stood up. Afraid of being found out, he didn’t dare to look at He Wang as he turned towards the stairs.

Author's note

_(:з」∠)_ tonight [can't say for sure] there will be another update

Translator's note

Tonight [for sure] there won't be another update