Chapter 2

Baru lay pressed against the wall.

Aunt Ling sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him as she slowly peeled off her clothes—outer robe, inner layers, one by one. Soon only a black undergarment remained, revealing the smooth, alluring curve of her spine. Her hands hooked the waistband of her trousers. She lifted her hips slightly, and the fabric slid down the full swell of her thighs. With every inch of black that vanished, a strip of pale skin emerged.

Baru flattened himself against the icy wall, hiding his flushed face beneath the quilt. His heart hammered against his ribs. *Don’t look*, he told himself. Yet moonlight spilled through the window, and his eyes stayed locked on her.

A fierce, restless urge surged in his chest—to rush forward and crush Aunt Ling in his arms.

Her body was pure temptation.

Strangely, this feeling hadn’t existed before—not even during bath time.

Just then, Aunt Ling turned. Baru snapped his eyes shut. He didn’t want her catching him staring.

*Like a pervert*, he thought bitterly.

The quilt lifted from the other side. Aunt Ling slipped beneath the covers.

Baru instinctively shrank deeper into the wall.

Aunt Ling noticed. Amusement flickered in her eyes. She leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on Baru’s cheek. "Sleep now," she murmured.

That kiss nearly shattered his control.

Aunt Ling stifled a giggle, her gaze playful. Unusually, she offered no further affection. She simply turned away, presenting her back to him, and closed her eyes.

Baru froze. Disappointment twisted into a sharp, childish ache. *She used to hold me every night.*

He opened his mouth—to ask for her arms around him—but the words died in his throat. Instead, he clenched his fists, squeezed his thighs tight, and shut his eyes.

Silence filled the tiny room.

Minutes crawled by.

Baru’s eyes flew open. Frustration pinched his face. Normally, he’d be asleep by now. But tonight, the faint, sweet scent drifting from Aunt Ling’s side kept him wide awake.

For the first time in years, he knew insomnia.

Moonlight pooled brighter through the window, gilding the pale column of Aunt Ling’s neck. Baru’s breath hitched.

*Is she asleep?*

He swallowed hard. Slowly, silently, he inched toward her. His movements were feather-light; even his breathing stilled.

He hovered behind her. Her warmth brushed his skin. Hesitantly, he leaned closer and inhaled the scent of her neck.

Heat flooded his veins. Every hair on his body stood rigid.

He hadn’t touched her—yet his chest heaved, ragged breaths tearing from his throat. Bloodshot eyes burned in the dark. A devilish whisper coiled in his mind: *Hold her. Hold her now.*

Then—Aunt Ling sighed in her sleep. A soft, dreamy "*Mmm*." Her body shifted. The thin quilt slipped from her shoulder, unveiling a stretch of satin-smooth back and the elegant slope of her shoulder.

Baru’s control snapped. His nose threatened to gush blood. A trembling hand reached out—hovering over that flawless shoulder—shaking violently in the final struggle.

At last, his fingers curled into a fist. He yanked his arm back.

Pressing himself against the cold wall, he thumped his own head with a muffled groan.

Time blurred.

Dawn broke.

Sunlight kissed Baru’s cheek. He frowned in his sleep.

He didn’t recall drifting off. Now, half-conscious, he felt cradled in something soft and fragrant.

He blinked open his eyes. His vision filled with blinding whiteness—too close to focus. He tried to pull back but was held fast, trapped.

His mind exploded. He opened his mouth to cry out—

Aunt Ling pressed his face firmly against her chest.

"Aunt Ling! Let me go!"

"Hush now," she murmured, still drowsy. She nuzzled his hair, then draped a plump thigh over his small frame, locking him tighter.

Baru detonated with frantic wriggles—but her embrace was iron.

Aunt Ling stirred, puzzled. *He never fights this hard before.* Her voice was thick with sleep. "Baru? Do you need the toilet?"

"Aunt Ling, I—"

His body convulsed violently. Then went limp. The world drained of color.

Aunt Ling jolted fully awake. She stared down at Baru’s flushed face, his dazed, wrecked expression.

She sniffed the air once.

A faint, musky scent hung between them.

...

Aunt Ling sat at the table, chin propped on her palm. She watched Baru shuffle out of the bathroom, head bowed. Her eyes danced with suppressed laughter.

Clearing her throat, she adopted a stern tone. "Did you wash your underwear properly?"

"Yes," Baru mumbled, nodding fast. Humiliation burned his cheeks. *Wetting himself like a baby—at his age.* He’d never live this down.

Aunt Ling rose. She’d swapped her nightclothes for yesterday’s vibrant attire. Kneeling before Baru, she pinched his nose gently. "I’m off to work. Wash the dishes on the table. Stay home. No wandering. Understand?"

Baru nodded obediently. "Understood."

She kissed his cheek, smiled, and left.

Baru stood frozen, wiping the lipstick smudge from his face. His pulse raced.

*Stay home?*

*As if.*

The moment Aunt Ling’s footsteps faded, Baru dove under the bed. He dragged out the iron box holding his meager savings.

He stuffed the coins into a small pouch, hid it under his shirt, and bolted out the door.