"Mom, where are you? Not coming back tonight?"

Static crackled through the receiver, muffled laughter and chatter bleeding from the other end.

"After a whole month of grinding, my author finally launched their book! They insisted on treating us editors to dinner—I couldn’t refuse. I’ll be late tonight," Mom’s voice drifted, half-drowned by noise.

"Ugh, Jiang Muqing’s still here! Leaving just me alone with her is a bad idea!" I nearly shouted.

"Silly boy, I trust you. Be good. No funny business," Mom chided lightly, zero urgency in her tone.

"Get home early, or you’ll be a grandma by midnight, Mom!" I snapped.

"Grandma at my age? That’s some pressure…" She chuckled.

"Mom!"

"Alright, you’re a grown boy now. Some things you handle yourself—but the right way." Her voice shifted to lecture-mode at my grumbling.

"And what’s the *right way*? Your goddaughter’s been glued to my side all evening, Mom!"

"Ah! My girls are calling me for drinks—figure it out yourself. Just don’t cross any lines!" Her "warning" sounded like permission.

Do I look like a vegetarian lamb? Even if I were, Jiang Muqing’s shoving meat straight into my mouth! Ever heard of cows catching mad cow disease from eating meat?

"Just… come home safe," I muttered, defeated.

"Okay, bye."

Click.

Useless. I’d hoped Mom would chat with Jiang Muqing, comfort her—but she’d just worked and slept while Jiang Muqing wandered our apartment like a ghost. Mom preached "no funny business," yet her absence screamed *do whatever you want*. Jiang Muqing was happier, sure—but the blame for any disaster landed squarely on me.

"Totally irresponsible," I grumbled.

"Auntie’s not coming back tonight?" Jiang Muqing had been perched nearby, straining to catch every word of my call.

"No, just running late." I avoided her gaze.

"So… we’ll be alone for a long time?" Her eyes sharpened—a starving wolf spotting easy prey.

"What are you planning?" I edged back.

"Dinner!" She snapped her gaze away, pointing at the microwave-reheated dishes on the table.

Jiang Muqing’s cooking was actually great. Starving, I devoured my meal—until the silence thickened. She sat across from me, chin propped on her palms, watching me eat. Her untouched rice steamed beside her.

"Why aren’t you eating?" I paused.

"Watching you enjoy my food leaves no time for me," she sighed, blissful.

"Eat, or I’ll finish everything." I waved my chopsticks.

"Go ahead. Seeing you full fills me up too." She cupped her flushed cheeks.

"Then I’m stopping too." I slammed my chopsticks down, leaving half my rice.

*Her* cooking, *her* refusal to eat—it made no sense.

"Lu Fan! Don’t be like this…" Panic flickered. She finally picked up her chopsticks, but set them down after two bites.

"If I look down to eat, I’ll miss seeing you savor my effort. Unacceptable!" Her lower lip trembled.

"Want me to feed you while I eat?" I joked absently.

Her eyes ignited.

"Yes!"

*Did I just dig my own grave?*

She bounced beside me, mouth open like a fledgling bird.

"Lu Fan, the meat."

"Here."

"Rice."

"Okay."

"Soup."

"Got it."

…

My arm never stopped moving. I shoveled food into her mouth while barely tasting my own, sweat beading on my forehead. She beamed.

*Fair enough. She waited hours for me—I owe her this.*

No complaints.

Until—

"Lu Fan, the shrimp."

"Shrimp?" I eyed the golden stir-fried river shrimp.

"Right here." I peeled the tough shell off one, revealing tender flesh, and popped it into her mouth.

Before I could pull back, her lips closed around my finger.

"Hey—wait!" I yelped.

Her small mouth held my fingertip.

*Held it.*

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard.

Warmth seeped through my skin—a jolt shot up my arm, rattling my self-control. My mind spun wild, dangerous thoughts. I yanked my hand back, leaning away.

"Lu Fan," Jiang Muqing murmured, reading my panic. "While Auntie’s gone… let’s finish what we started last time."

"I’m… not ready. Can we wait?" I froze.

"Do you even like me?" Her smile vanished. She leaned close, studying my face.

"I’ve always liked you…"

"Then let’s get closer tonight, Lu Fan." She rose, heading for the bathroom, leaving me trembling on the couch.

I blasted the TV—a war film’s gunfire and screams roared from the speakers. I cranked the volume, drowning out the shower’s patter.

But my ears hunted the water’s rhythm between explosions.

*I should slap myself.* My mind screamed *wrong*, but my body thrummed with anticipation.

*Get out. Now.* I’d chat with the old folks cooling off in the courtyard.

I killed the TV and reached for the door—

"Lu Fan. Where are you going?"

The shower stopped dead.

"Just… getting air. It’s stuffy." I called toward the hallway.

"*Air?* You’re leaving *now*?" The bathroom door flew open.

Jiang Muqing stood wrapped only in a large white towel, clinging to her slight frame. Water glistened on her bare shoulders. One look sent heat flooding my head.

She stalked over on dripping slippers, face stormy.

"Are we even dating?" she demanded, tilting her chin up.

"Technically… yes." I retreated.

"Then *act* like it! I don’t feel your love at all!" Her voice cracked.

"I—"

"I’m all yours, Lu Fan. But this distance? I can’t take it anymore. I *need* all of you." Years of pent-up emotion burst free.

"I *do* like you, but—"

"Prove it! Be a man!" Her eyes turned fierce.

I stumbled back, speechless.

She locked onto my gaze—then grinned, twisted and sad.

"I see the fear in your eyes… You’re scared of me. You hate me. You only stayed because I forced you. I’m such a bad woman…" Her words frayed.

"No, Jiang Muqing—"

"This desperate mess… you must prefer quiet girls. But I can’t pretend anymore. I just want to love you properly. To know you better than anyone." She stared at her towel-clad body, laughing bitterly.

"I never thought that!"

"You’ve lied since day one. Even that last kiss was a lie. How could I believe it? I’m such a fool."

"It’s not like that! Never!" Panic shredded my thoughts.

She’d seemed so stable living here. I thought gentle guidance would heal her. But without Mom… this was her true self. Worse than before.

I’d missed it completely.

"Lu Fan. Are you impotent?" she screamed.

"What? No!"

"Frigid?"

"No!"

"If you like me even a little… give me hope. I’ve tried so hard. I’m tired." She slumped against the wall, raw and shaking.

She’d cornered me.

A man’s pride—attacked like this. She’d crossed a line.

"Jiang Muqing! You want hope? Tonight, I’ll make you regret those words." Her frenzy infected me.

Screw the rules. She’d meet the raw, pent-up force of sixteen years of manhood.

I lunged forward, hoisted her light frame onto my shoulder, and strode to my bedroom. I tossed her onto the bed.