CH 11

Unlike ordinary chairs, the reclining chairs on the balcony were designed for leisure. The horizontal seat leaned backward, giving one the feeling of sinking into the chair when sitting completely inside it. Du Chi’s lower back was tightly pressed against the backrest, but his upper body leaned slightly forward, creating an angle of less than ninety degrees between his thighs and chest.

The constrained space felt intense, and Xiang Mo even had the illusion that he had sunk into Du Chi’s embrace.

“I don’t need that.” The air was filled with a dangerous vibe, and Xiang Mo instinctively rejected the situation. He wrinkled his brows, supporting himself by placing his hands on Du Chi’s shoulders, trying to stand up. However, the hand around his waist prevented him from moving.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Du Chi slightly parted his lips, looking at Xiang Mo.

Due to their seating arrangement, their height difference seemed reversed. Xiang Mo’s head only reached Du Chi’s nose before, but now Du Chi was tilting his chin slightly upward to look at Xiang Mo, making the line of his neck exceptionally prominent.

Inattentively, Xiang Mo thought, that line was the sternocleidomastoid muscle.

The relationship between the head and neck was determined by the naturalness of that muscle’s depiction. Just a few strokes could outline the rough form of the human body, and Xiang Mo loved drawing figures because he was addicted to this process.

His hands itched to draw.

“Teacher Xiang?” It seemed Xiang Mo’s distraction was excessive. Du Chi lifted his leg with a touch of displeasure, forcing him to focus. “To your room?”

“Huh?” Suddenly brought back to reality, Xiang Mo didn’t understand why their conversation had shifted to his room. He could only produce a monosyllabic sound.

“Or,” Du Chi continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “would you like to come to my room?”

His fingers gently moved on Xiang Mo’s waist, indicating his intentions.

Xiang Mo was taken aback, thinking, how could this person be so casual?

Thirty minutes ago, he had casually watched Xiang Mo’s entanglement with Tan Song, seemingly uninterested. Yet now, he was embracing Xiang Mo and making an overt invitation.

Objectively speaking, Xiang Mo considered Du Chi quite attractive. His face and figure perfectly matched Xiang Mo’s aesthetics, and their thinking seemed to be on the same wavelength. There probably wouldn’t be any more ambiguous entanglements.

But that wasn’t the point.

Xiang Mo and Du Chi had only known each other for two weeks; they weren’t familiar enough to be rolling around in bed together. Xiang Mo didn’t consider himself to be a casual person and couldn’t seamlessly connect like that.

“I don’t need a new bed partner.” As the grip around his waist loosened, Xiang Mo stood up from Du Chi’s embrace. He focused on tidying up the art supplies, avoiding looking at the person who had made his heart race, but he suddenly heard a soft chuckle.

“Teacher Xiang.” Du Chi sounded extremely amused. “I was talking about drawing, going to your room to draw. If you don’t want to, you can come to mine. Where did your mind wander?”

Daydreaming during class and not paying attention to the lecture—Xiang Mo was now like that.

Being attracted to the line of Du Chi’s neck had caused a break in his train of thought. He only heard “your room” and “my room” in Du Chi’s words, and then…

He let his imagination run wild.

Fortunately, the sunset had completely set, and the balcony was only illuminated by the streetlights. Xiang Mo’s cheeks blushed from embarrassment, but it wasn’t as noticeable in the faint light.

“Could it be you have a habit of sleeping with models?” Du Chi touched his chin, continuing to tease. “So, I come with a different price tag?”

Embarrassed, Xiang Mo suddenly realized that something didn’t seem right.

Why did their conversation suddenly shift to him sleeping with models? Why was Du Chi holding him and talking about this?

Initially, he thought it was a retort to Du Chi’s playful attempt to wipe his face, so he didn’t feel it was too inappropriate. But now, in retrospect, it seemed that Du Chi’s intentions were far more than just a “retort.”

As mature adults, neither of them were naïve. How could Du Chi not be aware that his actions might be misleading?

Even if he was genuinely discussing drawing figures, Xiang Mo believed there was certainly an undertone of probing in his words.

If Xiang Mo agreed, they might have already ended up in bed; if he disagreed, then it would simply be about drawing.

Du Chi was playing it both ways, effortlessly and deftly. At this moment, Xiang Mo realized that this bad dog was even more wicked than he had imagined.

“Du Chi.” Not Mr. Du or Teacher Du, Xiang Mo called Du Chi’s name directly for the first time.

Raising his chin slightly, he looked down at Du Chi, calmly asking, “Don’t you want to sleep with me?”

Even though the light was dim, Xiang Mo saw a flicker of surprise in Du Chi’s eyes, likely not expecting such a straightforward question from him.

Compared to the ambiguous words they had exchanged earlier, this was an overt invitation.

But this invitation was, in fact, a trap, because Xiang Mo had no intention of letting Du Chi sleep with him.

Du Chi didn’t immediately respond, seemingly seeing through Xiang Mo’s intention. However, he still raised an eyebrow, studying Xiang Mo’s expression and hesitating whether to take the plunge into this trap.

At this moment, the sounds of chaotic footsteps interrupted their inexplicable confrontation.

Sanmei dashed out of the corridor, followed closely by Sanmao, running wild.

This cat and dog duo always engaged in parkour-like activities, and seeing Sanmei about to run towards the easel, Xiang Mo quickly bent down to pick her up. This time, Sanmao slowed down and squatted beside the reclining chair where Du Chi sat.

Sanmei began meowing again, as if complaining to Xiang Mo that this smelly dog always bullied her.

Xiang Mo gently put down the cat and dog on the balcony and turned to walk back into the corridor. He stroked Sanmei’s back and advised her, “Don’t provoke the bad dog.”

Sanmao stuck out his tongue, looking at Du Chi with grievances.

Once Xiang Mo’s figure disappeared, Du Chi finally shifted his gaze away from the animals and rubbed Sanmao’s head. He chuckled softly and said, “He’s talking about me.”

The easel was still upstairs, but Xiang Mo couldn’t suppress his itch to draw. He took out a piece of paper and placed it on the desk, quickly sketching the head and neck of a figure.

The face of the figure didn’t have specific features, only two intersecting centerlines. However, the neck’s lines were exceptionally detailed, especially the prominent Adam’s apple, exactly the same as what Xiang Mo had seen up close.

Now that he had calmed down, Xiang Mo found it inexplicable why he had to compete with Du Chi.

Before, Du Chi had teased him with mere words, but this time, he had directly touched his face and even exposed his chest, leading to the escalating loss of control.

Looking at it now, it seemed like he was the one being unreasonable.

His thoughts suddenly halted, and Xiang Mo put away his paintbrush. He had achieved his purpose of easing the itch in his hands, so there was no need for further self-reflection.

As the new week began, Luo Yang invited Xiang Mo to try some new dishes.

Xiang Mo was curious why it wasn’t Du Chi coming to call him this time. However, when he arrived at the “Eight Jins” restaurant, he saw Du Chi already seated behind the counter with a laptop in front of him.

“Teacher Xiang, come and take a look at my new sign,” Luo Yang waved at Xiang Mo.

On the other side, Du Chi looked up from the screen when he saw Xiang Mo enter the restaurant. He straightened his body from a slightly leaning posture and greeted Xiang Mo, “Teacher Xiang.”

The incident from the previous evening didn’t affect their neighborly relationship at all. Clearly, Du Chi, like Xiang Mo, had no interest in disrupting his daily routine.

This could be considered a kind of “understanding.” They could joke around and kill boredom, but once they crossed that line, they returned to their separate lives.

“What sign?” Xiang Mo came to the bar, leaning his elbows on the table, and looked at the screen of Du Chi’s laptop.

The screen displayed a design software, and in the center were the two large characters “Eight Jins.” The font appeared to be meticulously designed, with the strokes being thicker in the middle and thinner on both ends, giving it an interesting look.

For some reason, when Xiang Mo saw these two characters, he felt they perfectly matched the restaurant’s ambiance.

“How is it? Designed by Du Ge,” Luo Yang asked Xiang Mo cheerfully, “Doesn’t it look great?”

Whether something was good-looking or not depended on personal aesthetics, and it was difficult to find a unified standard for such matters, especially when it came to something as common as text. Finding beauty in such things was quite challenging.

But as Xiang Mo gazed at the neat baseline on the screen, he inadvertently became captivated.

The simple two characters were not just written casually; each stroke and stroke end could be traced back to the baseline’s pattern.

For example, the diagonal strokes perfectly adhered to a certain angle of a spiral, and the horizontal and vertical strokes were accurately calculated in terms of length. The baseline dissected the two Chinese characters into numerous geometric forms, inexplicably highlighting a sense of geometric beauty.

Xiang Mo loved this sense of neatness, just like his meticulous sketch lines. Du Chi’s designed font was the same—each part was just right, not a single stroke too many or too few.

“Is it okay?” Du Chi’s voice interrupted Xiang Mo’s thoughts.

Xiang Mo withdrew his gaze and looked at Du Chi, asking, “Aren’t you not good at designing artistic fonts?”

“Just helping out,” Du Chi replied casually.

“Du Ge is really helpful,” Luo Yang added, seeming to remember the reason he called Xiang Mo over. He quickly brought two plates of food from the kitchen and said to both of them, “Try the new dish, Cheese Toast with Caviar.”

The caramelized toast was topped with a layer of black caviar, and the aroma of butter filled the air, whetting the appetite.

Xiang Mo picked up a piece of toast and put it in his mouth. The caviar burst between his teeth, akin to the salty sea breeze blowing in, accompanied by the sweet and sour taste of cheese, creating an excellent flavor.

After putting down his fork, he was about to say “It’s delicious,” when Du Chi suddenly asked, “Is it domestic caviar?”

“Yes, how does it taste?” Luo Yang asked.

“It’s good, domestic caviar is just as good as the imported ones,” Du Chi said, picking up another piece of toast and tasting it. “But overall, it’s a bit greasy. It might go well with champagne.”

“I still don’t want to pair it with alcohol,” Luo Yang said, “I’ll adjust the toast.”

Listening to their conversation, Xiang Mo realized that he was an outsider.

He didn’t care much about the intricacies of food, at most, he could only tell if something tasted “good” or “bad.” As for caviar, he naturally couldn’t discern its flavors since he had never tried it before.

It wasn’t because he couldn’t afford it, but he always felt that these luxurious ingredients were too distant from everyday life and not necessary to deliberately indulge in.

However, Du Chi seemed to be very knowledgeable about Western cuisine.

He could afford to rent an old villa at such a high price and own an expensive heavy motorcycle, which at least indicated that money wasn’t an issue for him.

Xiang Mo wasn’t someone who liked prying into other people’s lives, but he suddenly found himself curious about Du Chi—

Curiosity was the beginning of falling into something.