The Peculiarities of Desire

Yuan Anqing placed the ice cream cake in front of Zhuo. “Would you like a bite?”

“No,” Zhuo replied, turning his head away with a resolute air.

Yuan Anqing slid to the other side of the sofa, facing Zhuo once more. “This is chocolate cake. Are you really not going to eat it?”

“I’m not hungry,” Zhuo insisted, twisting his head away again.

Yuan Anqing followed his movement, shifting his own position. “Are you still angry?”

“So you’re allowed to laugh at me, but I’m not allowed to be angry?” Zhuo retorted. “You were just laughing at me, and you couldn’t stop!” He had never imagined that Yuan Anqing’s first genuine, hearty laugh would occur at his most embarrassing moment.

Yuan Anqing crouched down, resting his hands on Zhuo’s knees. He then tilted his head back, placing it on the back of his own hands, to meet Zhuo’s gaze. “Your description of the dream was quite amusing.”

“You were mocking me!”

“I wasn’t mocking you,” Yuan Anqing clarified. “I just hadn’t realized your imagination was so vivid.” To this day, Yuan Anqing still couldn’t fathom why Zhuo would associate him with an old ox plowing a field; his horns didn’t even remotely resemble ox horns.

Yet, when Zhuo first recounted the dream, the initial image that had sprung into Yuan Anqing’s mind was of a shirtless, mud-splattered Zhuo, sitting by a field ridge, weeping as he gnawed on a steamed corn bun. The memory of Zhuo’s real-life tears from last night had left a profound impact on him.

“Your dream is far too unrealistic. I wouldn’t make you plow fields,” Yuan Anqing said, reaching out to touch Zhuo’s tail. “Nor would I ever ask you to sleep with me like that.”

“Besides, you cook far better than I do. And strictly speaking, I’m not really ‘feeding’ you anymore; you have your own job.” Yuan Anqing’s voice was soft, and his usually cool tone softened further, acquiring a gentle quality as he deliberately slowed his speech.

“I still haven’t figured out what that job is all about,” Zhuo muttered, shrinking his neck back. He wasn’t falling for Yuan Anqing’s placating tactics.

“But you learn very quickly.” Yuan Anqing stroked Zhuo’s tail, feeling the scales tighten and relax under his palm—a clear sign of Zhuo’s tension. “You are very talented.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Yuan Anqing reiterated. “Finding something interesting and mocking someone are two different things.”

“But you didn’t stop laughing when I asked you to,” Zhuo argued, convinced Yuan Anqing was merely making excuses.

“You didn’t stop crying when I told you not to, either,” Yuan Anqing countered. “Emotions are just there; you can’t simply turn them off like a faucet.”

There was some truth to that, yet Zhuo still felt a surge of indignation.

“Zhuo,” Yuan Anqing called his name softly.

Zhuo pressed his lips together, bracing himself. Yuan Anqing was about to start lecturing him again, playing the ‘experienced elder.’ Zhuo felt he couldn’t fall for it this time. He wouldn’t back down; he would fight for his rights.

Yuan Anqing looked earnestly into Zhuo’s red eyes. “Please don’t be angry, okay?”

Zhuo: “…”

“The ice cream cake will melt,” Yuan Anqing reminded him gently.

“Zhuo,” Yuan Anqing called again, his voice even softer.

“Alright! Don’t do that!” Zhuo swiftly stood up.

Yuan Anqing, who had been resting his head on Zhuo’s knees, lost his support and tumbled backward. However, he didn’t hit the ground; Zhuo’s whip-fast tail cushioned his fall.

“I’ll get a knife,” Zhuo huffed, helping Yuan Anqing up. He then shuffled into the kitchen, his head bowed.

He retrieved a fruit knife and sliced the massive cake directly in half. The cake was ten inches, enough for seven or eight people, but Zhuo intended to share it equally with his friend.

“I don’t want that much,” Yuan Anqing told him. “Just a small slice is fine.” He wasn’t particularly fond of sweets like cake; he had ordered it mainly to placate Zhuo, who had been completely flushed red with anger moments ago.

“You’re only eating that much?” Zhuo held the knife, unsure where to make the second cut.

“I’ll do it myself.” Yuan Anqing took the knife and cut a minuscule slice for himself. After he finished, he heard Zhuo mumble, “Just that tiny bit.”

“This much is enough for me to eat for a while. I’m just sharing a meal with you,” Yuan Anqing said, carrying his plate to the table opposite Zhuo. He also poured himself a glass of water. For Yuan Anqing, this meal was a sugar overload.

Yuan Anqing wasn’t particularly fond of sweets, but he didn’t reject them either. For him, cake was simply edible food. This logic was somewhat peculiar, but it was similar to his choices at various crucial stages of his life: if he didn’t dislike it and didn’t reject it, it meant he could accept it, and thus he could continue doing it.

Zhuo, on the other hand, loved sweets. He enjoyed every flavor except bitterness. He couldn’t taste spiciness; spiciness was a sensation of pain, and Zhuo’s true form felt almost no pain. When Zhuo bit into a chili, he could only taste the faint sweetness of the pepper itself.

However, this time, Zhuo ate his cake rather distractedly. He would take a couple of bites, then glance at Yuan Anqing, quickly lower his head to eat two more bites after meeting his gaze, and then look up at Yuan Anqing again.

Yuan Anqing felt helpless. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“Do you really only want a little bit? I can’t eat all of this,” Zhuo’s voice was very small.

Yuan Anqing raised an eyebrow, expressing his deep confusion. Zhuo’s appetite was astonishing. Since they had met, Yuan Anqing had never seen him leave a single meal unfinished. A mere ten-inch cake? Yuan Anqing believed Zhuo could easily devour three of them if he truly let loose. And now he claimed he couldn’t eat that much?

“I genuinely only need this much,” Yuan Anqing stated, his refusal firm.

Zhuo began to eat his cake again, burying his head in the dessert.

“Even sweets can’t comfort you?” Yuan Anqing asked him.

“I’m just wondering if I have romantic feelings for you,” Zhuo admitted honestly. He kept feeling that his recent dreams were rather unusual.

“I’m your first friend, so it’s normal for you to project those positive emotions onto me.” Yuan Anqing didn’t believe Zhuo was in love with him. Or rather, Zhuo’s ‘liking’ wasn’t the romantic kind humans experienced.

Zhuo extended his arm across the table toward Yuan Anqing. “Then touch me.”

We’re sleeping so close together, I’m already touching you, Yuan Anqing thought, but he still indulged Zhuo.

Yuan Anqing reached out and stroked Zhuo’s muscular forearm. “Do you feel anything?”

“Are you not putting any effort into it?” Zhuo felt something was amiss.

“If I put in any more effort, it’d be like gua sha,” Yuan Anqing said helplessly. “It’s not about effort; it’s that you genuinely don’t have that kind of desire for me.”

“But I had desire for you in my dream,” Zhuo pondered, confused.

Yuan Anqing was surprised. “The dream version of me threatened you with plowing fields, and that still made you feel desire?”

Zhuo thought seriously. “Even though the dream version of you was very domineering and annoying, the dream version of me still kind of liked you.”

“How peculiar.”

“It really is peculiar,” Zhuo agreed.

“What kind of desire was it? Did you want to sleep with me?” Yuan Anqing remembered Zhuo’s assessment of his dream as ‘perverted,’ which suggested the scenario might be similar to Yuan Zhanhui’s internal dramas.

“Not exactly,” Zhuo recalled carefully. “Although I was treated very poorly by you in the dream, every time I saw you lying on top of me, I had a strange sense of satisfaction. I wanted to bite you to pieces and eat you, but because there’s only one of you in this world, I couldn’t bear to.”

Zhuo truly wanted to eat Yuan Anqing; the stronger his positive emotions for him grew, the more he yearned to swallow Yuan Anqing whole. Yet, he also didn’t want to lose him.

Growing hungrier as he spoke, Zhuo began to devour his cake. Yuan Anqing wasn’t surprised that Zhuo’s emotions were tied to his appetite, given that Zhuo wasn’t, strictly speaking, human.

Zhuo continued, “After becoming friends with you, I don’t feel like eating anyone else. Even the former Savior couldn’t whet my appetite. You’re really important to me.”

“Many humans have had… relationships… with food,” Zhuo said, trying to find a comparison. “Whether it’s vegetables, fruits, pigs, or sheep—it’s all happened.”

Yuan Anqing: “…”

Sometimes, humans truly had too many peculiar pastimes.

“Every time I have a ‘relationship’ with you, I feel an inexplicable sense of satisfaction,” Zhuo added.

Yuan Anqing corrected him. “We haven’t had a ‘relationship’ yet.”

“Then can you try having one with me?” Zhuo asked.

“No,” Yuan Anqing refused. He believed Zhuo’s suggestion stemmed from pure curiosity, and such a frivolous act would be irresponsible.

Zhuo felt a hint of regret, but the refusal was within his expectations. “You’re really so rigid.”

“You should learn to protect yourself. Being powerful doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. Many powerful individuals eventually fall due to unforeseen circumstances.” Yuan Anqing believed he understood Zhuo well enough; the monster’s personality wasn’t that carefree, nor was he completely unburdened by worldly matters. If he were to be deceived in matters of the heart, Zhuo would be deeply saddened.

“Then would you hurt me?” Zhuo asked him.

Yuan Anqing shook his head.

Zhuo understood. “So, it’s okay for me to try with you.”

“No, that’s not how consent works.” Yuan Anqing felt a headache coming on. He didn’t believe there was romantic love between them, and for ordinary friends to end up in bed was simply preposterous. “Whether or not you get hurt by emotions doesn’t depend on me, but on you—on whether you feel you’ve received the feedback you desire.”

Zhuo gazed at Yuan Anqing with his clear red eyes, clearly not fully grasping the abstract corporate HR explanation.

“Personally, I don’t mind trying.” Yuan Anqing finished the last bit of cake on his plate, then used a tissue to wipe his mouth. “If it absolutely had to be done, how to do it, and with whom—I don’t particularly care. Do you understand?”

He neither liked nor disliked it, which meant he could just do it. Just like his work, or the act of eating sweets.

“But I’m very aware that my detached attitude would hurt you,” Yuan Anqing told Zhuo.

Zhuo finished his last bite, even though his portion was significantly larger than Yuan Anqing’s. “If you sleep with someone else, I’ll eat that person! Chew them to pieces! And eat their head last!”

His expression instantly shifted from fierce to pitiful. “But if I eat them, I’ll be caught by the authorities and locked in jail, where I won’t get enough to eat, and the food will be spoiled.”

Zhuo was feigning pitifulness, and he was doing it very deliberately; Yuan Anqing could see right through it, but he was helpless. “You can’t be so unreasonable.”

“I am reasonable, but if you sleep with someone else, I’ll still eat them,” Zhuo declared. “After I eat them, then you can talk sense into me. I like it when you talk sense into me.”

Yuan Anqing sighed in resignation. He pulled out a tissue to wipe the crumbs from Zhuo’s mouth.

“Humans don’t taste good,” Zhuo said pitifully, leaning his head closer to cooperate with Yuan Anqing’s actions. “I want to eat cake, not people.”

Yuan Anqing wiped Zhuo’s mouth clean.

Zhuo then asked softly, “You won’t sleep with anyone else, okay?”

“Alright,” Yuan Anqing said, giving Zhuo’s head another tired pat.

Zhuo was clearly issuing a threat, yet he insisted on acting like a victim. As for Yuan Anqing, he found himself quite fond of Zhuo in this particular manipulative stance. A fierce beast retracting its claws, shrinking its massive body, and feigning harmlessness.

“Zhuo, give me your tail,” Yuan Anqing extended his hand.

A thick, scaly tail slapped onto his hand with a soft thud. Zhuo hadn’t used much force, only making Yuan Anqing feel a heavy, substantial weight, without causing him any pain.

“What do you want my tail for?” Zhuo inquired. He had offered it without knowing Yuan Anqing’s purpose at all.

“Just wanted to touch it.” Yuan Anqing lowered his gaze, his fingers tracing the fine, cool scales on the tail.

“My tail is great, isn’t it?!” Zhuo preened.

“Yes. It’s great.”