Swaying, swaying…
Like drifting in a gentle lake of warmth, every wrinkle in his soul was smoothed out. When Jiang Chenglan woke up, for a moment, he couldn’t tell where he was.
“Sleep well?” Li Que asked. “Sit up when you wake. There’s an iced Americano in the cup holder.”
Jiang Chenglan stared blankly at the car’s ceiling for a while before he realized he was in a car. When he looked down, he finally understood why he felt so warm. Li Que had wrapped him tightly in a weighted blanket, like a little caterpillar, and carried him into the back seat.
It was the kind of blanket meant to help with sleep, slightly heavy and fitting the body’s curves. The comfort it gave made Jiang Chenglan feel as safe as a baby swaddled in cloth.
Li Que was driving that same German sedan. It couldn’t glide as smoothly as the Maybach, so there was a faint, rhythmic bumping as it moved along.
And that gentle rocking had lulled Jiang Chenglan awake naturally.
He slowly sat up.
There were wet wipes within reach. Still dazed, Jiang Chenglan pulled one out and wiped his face sluggishly, then used a super-strong mint mouthwash before finally feeling awake.
“You carried me here?” he asked, rubbing his eyes softly. “Where are we going?”
“Back to Long Island,” Li Que replied.
“Oh.”
Jiang Chenglan blinked blankly for a few seconds. When Li Que reminded him again that he could have some coffee and snacks, he finally lifted the cup of melted iced Americano, bit the straw, and slowly started sipping.
Li Que couldn’t recall where he’d read that people who liked to bite their straws tended to have higher libido…there was supposed to be some scientific basis for that?! But Jiang Chenglan certainly was greedy enough.
As he thought of certain images, Li Que caught sight of the young man’s face in the rearview mirror. The once fine, clean lines of his features were now slightly swollen, especially his eyelids, which looked red and puffy.
Li Que asked, “How do you feel? Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Mm…” Jiang Chenglan, still wrapped in the blanket, looked up at Li Que’s handsome profile. After last night’s indulgence, was Li Que really not a top after all?! Ugh… His face flushed red as he murmured, “It’s okay… The back doesn’t hurt. But the front does.”
He said it very softly, but in the small space of the car, Li Que heard every word clearly and couldn’t help but laugh.
Jiang Chenglan wasn’t sharp-tongued at all right now; just being able to speak was already using up all his strength.
Last night… really was too much!
He bit down on the straw, flattening it completely, and grumbled, “Why do you have so much stamina… Aren’t models supposed to not eat?!”
When they were together, Li Que ate far less than Jiang Chenglan, and there were many foods he wouldn’t even touch.
Li Que replied, “Eating less doesn’t mean taking in less energy or protein. Fullness and nutrition aren’t the same thing. Besides, I work out.”
Jiang Chenglan didn’t say another word. The more he thought about it, the redder his face became, as if all his veins were about to burst. So he gave two little whines, wrapped himself tighter in the blanket, and retreated to the back seat, pulling out his phone to kill time. In the end, he logged onto a domestic website and started scrolling through his favorite cute-cat videos while replaying last night in his head.
He wouldn’t admit he was two-faced…though he had moaned and cried, deep down, he’d felt incredible. But still, the embarrassment!
Last night, Li Que had used only his fingers to make Jiang Chenglan come twice in ten minutes. And Jiang Chenglan realized Japanese comics really were realistic, with no exaggeration at all. In just ten minutes, he’d completely lost his mind. When Li Que gently patted his cheek to bring him back, his eyes had rolled up, and his tongue was hanging out.
“Like that?” Li Que asked.
“…Yeah,” Jiang Chenglan whispered, crawling up to pounce on him again, pressing close until every breath he took was filled with Li Que’s scent. Like a cat sniffing its owner, its mouth slightly open and tongue tasting the air, he looked up with round, bright eyes.
But Li Que was a dog person. He stroked Jiang Chenglan’s hair and scalp with a large, gentle hand, then slipped his fingers between the younger man’s lips, forcing him to let go.
“You didn’t win,” Li Que said softly. “I just love you.”
His tone was gentle and full of affection, a quiet surrender. And after that, Jiang Chenglan finally got exactly what he wanted.
It was probably just instinct, male instinct at that, but Li Que was good at every role, no matter top or bottom. Therefore, Jiang Chenglan had the most perfect experience imaginable. Even Li Que’s way of making love was as satisfying as his looks.
The wrinkles of his soul were smoothed out by something entirely different. And when Jiang Chenglan’s mind had gone completely blank, he heard Li Que say, while holding him: “Nice job.”
…And just like that, the designer, whose stamina was already nowhere near that of a model’s, had moved on to gettingridden three times.
Three times!
Li Que was such a menace! When Jiang Chenglan had gotten up to shower, he’d screamed once. The skin felt so tender, it was probably rubbed raw.
“Are you some kind of sadist?!” he’d glared.
Li Que just raised an eyebrow and poured some soothing essential oil into the bath.
That terrified Jiang Chenglan. He half-believed Li Que might really pour in peppermint oil or something equally cruel, just to “teach him a lesson.”
“…Thank you,” Jiang Chenglan muttered weakly.
In the end, since Li Que’s stamina far outmatched his own, he handled all the cleanup afterward. When Jiang Chenglan turned over later, he thought Li Que smelled good, and that he himself did, too.
……………..
It was still Thanksgiving break. Jiang Chenglan had no schedule today; the “working late” excuse from yesterday had been to set up last night’s surprise.
Last night had been the gift he prepared for Li Que, a confirmation of their relationship. Back at the bench by Lake Ontario, Jiang Chenglan had already decided he wanted to give something back.
He’d enjoyed being courted for over two months. He couldn’t have been happier, so the plan was to confess last night.
Li Que was like a luxury item in a display case, the kind of man everyone desired but few could have. Strictly speaking, there was nothing about last night that he didn’t like. Everything was perfect.
But if they could have gone just one less round, it would’ve been better. The only flaw in that perfect night was that he’d been both done and ridden until he cried.
Li Que had even teased him: “Was it fun? Being my pillow princess?”
Now Jiang Chenglan couldn’t even bear to hear those two words again.
And he’d completely forgotten to confess, too busy panting to form a coherent sentence.
“Sigh…” Jiang Chenglan let out a melancholy breath.
Li Que glanced at him through the rearview mirror, saw him still playing on his phone, and guessed it was one of those sentimental moments again, so he didn’t interrupt.
Jiang Chenglan was a deeply empathetic person, one who would cry watching emotional talk shows on Sichuan TV. Li Que had found that out when they’d finished Desperate Housewives, and Jiang Chenglan had recommended those family programs over dinner.
But Li Que was Li Que, a strong, composed man who simply accepted his lover’s quirks.
After a while, Li Que slowed the car. Jiang Chenglan noticed they were now driving through a road lined with golden autumn leaves, surrounded by elegant houses. They were already on the island.
Then it hit him. “Wait…why are we going back to Long Island?”
Wouldn’t it be nicer to spend the holiday downtown, with all the festive decorations and atmosphere?
Li Que said calmly, “My mother and uncle want to meet you. They flew over from Toulouse to spend Thanksgiving with us. They’ll arrive tonight.”
“What?!”
In the end, Jiang Cenglan tried to jump out of the car and run, but failed because Li Que wouldn’t unlock the door for him.
Li Que parked the car precisely in its spot, then got out, opened the back door, and personally carried the squirming little “caterpillar” in his arms.
Because they were expecting important guests that evening, Li Que hadn’t, as he had months ago when he waited in ambush for Jiang Cenglán, sent the servants away. Therefore, the butler was already outside to greet them as soon as the car pulled in.
“Bring in the two sets of formalwear from the passenger seat,” Li Que said.
Then he walked inside, holding the “caterpillar” who didn’t want to be seen by anyone.
At that point, there was no use complaining that Li Que hadn’t warned him earlier. After all, Li Que had only just gotten the call from his mother, so it was better to just focus on getting ready.
“I didn’t prepare any gifts,” Jiang Cenglan said miserably. And yet, Li Que told him seriously. “My mother is wealthier than I am,” he answered. “Ordinary gifts mean nothing to her. But if she sees the two of us together, in harmony, she’ll like you and accept you, sincerely.”
His blunt words actually soothed Jiang Cenglan’s nerves.
After lunch, Li Que mentioned that he had booked a stylist to come over. Only then did Jiang Cenglan realize that the man had also brought the formalwear and the original prototype version.
“I guessed that you’d be wearing the prototype,” Li Que said gently, kissing Jiang Cenglan’s miracle-working hands, one beautiful fingertip after another. “It looks great on you, and you know, that’s the one you designed for me yourself.”
When he’d watched that racy video earlier, Li Que hadn’t realized, because, with all the necessary filming elements present, Jiang Cenglan hadn’t really been wearing much of anything.
It wasn’t until he came back, opened the door, and saw Jiang Cenglan dressed so formally, so breathtakingly handsome, he looked like he’d stepped out of a movie, that Li Que realized that the suit wasn’t from his own wardrobe.
It was the prototype. What else could it be? There was only one answer.
Li Que felt a sharp rush of arousal, and in that moment, with such beauty before him, he didn’t mind switching roles for once.
“Of course, it’s your suit,” Jiang Cenglan laughed. “A million-yuan suit, and you’re really going to wear it for the first time today?”
Li Que nodded.
Of course.
Spending time with his lover and family together was far more meaningful than any charity gala.
The prototype had already looked perfect on Jiang Cenglan, so obviously, Li Que wanted to wear it today himself.
The stylist arrived that afternoon; both of them got their hair and makeup done, then went to the dressing room to change. And yet, Jiang Cenglan didn’t have Li Que’s habit of displaying his body at all times. It took a long time for him to strip off his loungewear and slip into the prototype. He had long planned to keep it for himself, and though he didn’t say it was a prototype, it passed easily for a custom suit. The texture wasn’t bad either, though it still couldn’t compare to the lotus-fiber cashmere blend of Li Que’s.
As he was pulling up his trousers, he caught Li Que watching him with that appreciative gaze, and, blushing furiously, he hurried him along before the man could say something like “nice job.”
Only then did Li Que leisurely begin unwrapping his own garment.
Jiang Cenglan had carefully folded the finished suit and placed it in a large gift box; Li Que hadn’t yet opened it, but from the card tied to the ribbon, he’d recognized it as his own.
He opened it carefully, only to find that the formalwear inside was white.
An almost milky, off-white spring-summer suit, made of luxurious fabric with a faint pearly sheen. It didn’t have the heavy, jeweled look of most fancy suits; instead, its beauty was subtle and effortless. Anyone could tell it was not linen, since its elegance was inherent, its material luminous enough without embellishment.
“A spring-summer piece?” Li Que murmured, gazing at the deep V-shaped neckline. “I remember…”
“The prototype and the final piece are a little different,” Jiang Cenglan explained. “There’s a navy striped shirt that goes with it, so you’re not flashing your chest to some random, flirtatious bottom out there!”
Li Que, though stunningly beautiful, had an old-money air about him; his grace was bone-deep, and Jiang Cenglan consoled himself: most people would think Li Que was the top; at worst, no one would assume they were a perfectly matched pair of… switches.
But still, Li Que! After all, he was dazzling wherever he went… just like his Senior had once teased, thinking Li Que must be the dominant one, and envied Jiang Cenglan’s “good fortune.”
While Jiang Cenglan was still thinking about that, Li Que had already changed into the white suit. The lazy, flowing style made even his slippers look appropriate.
He stood before the mirror, studying himself.
On Long Island, half the year was full of sunshine, and today was a gentle autumn day. Warm light poured in, and underit, Li Que finally noticed the subtle detailing of the garment.
Behind the pristine white fabric, around the waistline, were traces of embroidery: raised to the touch, yet visually recessed, running in vertical lines.
On the front, they curved outward from the underarm in spiraling patterns.
“This is…”
“Ionic columns, the classical Roman kind,” Jiang Cenglan said softly, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Li Que’s waist. He nuzzled the back of Li Que’s neck, then lifted his head; in the mirror, Li Que saw that his ears were bright red.
Then, finally voicing the confession he’d long been preparing, Jiang Cenglan whispered, shy but resolute: “Li Que, in China, there’s a saying: ‘Xiao Ming takes twenty minutes to walk from home to the youth center, but for me, it takes twenty years.’ It means, for kids from less privileged families, to get something, they have to work a hundred times harder.”
“My family isn’t poor. But for the kind of person I wanted to become, for my dreams, I still have to walk a long, hard road.”
“Did you know? Before I ever dreamed of becoming a designer, my very first dream was this: to have the man who suddenly burst into my world, the man named Li Que, wear something I designed.”
“And now, you are.”
Li Que could feel Jiang Cenglan trembling slightly with emotion. Truthfully, he was moved too.
After a moment, he said, “In the West, there’s a similar proverb: ‘All roads lead to Rome.’ But now everyone knows: the road to Rome is long and difficult, unless you were born there.”
He hadn’t meant much by it, just something to continue the conversation. But as the words left his mouth, he suddenly understood… The Roman columns. Jiang Cenglan had anticipated it, and he had long led him here.
“Li Que,” Jiang Cenglan said, “you are my Rome.”
“It took me seven years to reach you. I drew countless designs along the way, all in devotion to you. I don’t believe in God, but to me, you are the Roman Empire that every believer longs for.”
“Thank you for letting me stand before you.”
They looked into each other’s eyes through the mirror, wordless for a long while.
Then Li Que drew a deep breath, turned, and pressed Jiang Cenglan against the mirrored wardrobe.
The cold glass made him shiver.
“What are you…”
“Doing you,” Li Que said, glancing briefly at the watches in the display cabinet to check the time. “They’ll arrive in three hours. Three hours, Jiang Cenglan, enjoy them fully.”
…………….
By dusk, they were standing side by side at the villa gates, waiting to greet Li Que’s family, but after only a few minutes, Jiang Cenglan’s legs were shaking uncontrollably.
He leaned toward Li Que, complaining: “Hold me a little, will you…”
Li Que placed a steadying hand on his waist, subtly supporting him upward, and Jiang Cenglan finally felt better.
“Didn’t I tell you to wait inside?” Li Que sighed helplessly.
“That would be rude,” Jiang Cenglan insisted.
“My mistake,” Li Que murmured. “Next time, I’ll restrain myself…”
“No, no! Hell no!” Jiang Cenglan blurted, horrified. “Don’t! You mustn’t! I mean… You must! There must be a next time! Li Que, you’re such a beast!”
Li Que: “…”
He dropped his hand.
He swore he wouldn’t be so impulsive next time, and decided, when they got back, to sign Jiang Cenglan up for fitness training. Improving stamina would now be a top priority.
After all, if one of them had to be the “beastly top,” Li Que still hoped that Jiang Cenglan could evolve into one beautifully, with proper guidance.
As Jiang Cenglan was still rubbing his sore waist, two beams of headlights appeared in the distance.
Sensing something, he turned toward Li Que.
Li Que nodded. “It’s them.”
Jiang Cenglan immediately tensed up. “What do I do, Li Que? I’m so nervous,” he whispered.
Meeting the family was naturally nerve-wracking; Li Que understood that perfectly. His therapist, Dr. Brown, had once said that when emotions grew too strong, the best way to regain control was to redirect attention.
Li Que decided that Jiang Cenglan needed some redirection now.
So he said quietly, “Jiang Cenglan, you interrupted my plan. You confessed first, which forced me to postpone this until now.”
“Wait, no, Li Que, don’t! They’re almost here! I know you love me, but now’s not…”
“It’s not a confession,” Li Que said with a soft laugh. “It’s a proposal. Check your suit pocket.”
“…”
Jiang Cenglan instinctively reached toward the side where Li Que had just held his waist, and sure enough, he felt a small, hard object hidden there.
He pulled it out, squinting at it.
“I told you,” the man said, smiling lazily, “I’m a traditional sort. Once I decide on someone, marriage comes soon after. I checked the calendar, and today is auspicious. So are tomorrow and the day after. In fact, the whole next month looks good. I plan to marry you before I turn thirty. What do you think? Are you free?”
Jiang Cenglan couldn’t stop the flood of tears. Sobbing, he slipped the engraved diamond ring, bearing both their names, onto his finger.
And said, “Yes! I love you too.”
“Wrong,” Li Que murmured, kissing his cheek. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you, Li Que.’”
And as every proposal should end, they kissed, while no one paid the slightest attention to the car that had just pulled up in front of them.
End of main story
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