When Your Light Turned On

Damn! Ye Zhiqiu couldn’t help but laugh silently.

He was talking about the swing, not that.

He just hadn’t had a chance to show Qin Jianhe his complete “new home” yet.

But right now, he couldn’t say anything else. He was pressed against the doorframe by Qin Jianhe, being kissed fervently.

The man pressed him firmly against the door, his lips and tongue fierce and greedy. His tall frame stepped forward without hesitation, completely enveloping him.

It carried a strong sense of plunder and possession.

For a moment, Ye Zhiqiu had the strange illusion that he was completely cut off from the world.

As if there was nothing left in their world except each other.

The air grew thin. The light overhead seemed to transform into colorful, misty clouds. Ye Zhiqiu felt himself becoming light.

As if he were about to float away, he instinctively stood on his tiptoes.

A very soft, very quiet laugh escaped Qin Jianhe’s lips. Ye Zhiqiu closed his eyes, half-annoyed, and pushed at his shoulder.

Qin Jianhe pulled back for a moment, but then leaned in again, holding him even tighter.

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against Ye Zhiqiu’s.

The room was quiet, only their slightly rapid breath.

After a moment, Qin Jianhe leaned down again and gently sucked on Ye Zhiqiu’s moist, red lips.

The usual coolness on his lips was gone, replaced by warmth and softness, carrying Ye Zhiqiu’s own sweet scent.

“Is this…” Ye Zhiqiu looked up with damp lashes. “Warming the bed before warming the pot?”

“Since I can’t be part of the official ceremony,” Qin Jianhe looked down at him, his dark eyes as thick as ink, “I can only warm the bed first.”

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

“Well, thank you very much, Qin Jianhe,” Ye Zhiqiu laughed, calmly turning the tables. “But you’re not the first to warm the bed. Jun Baobao and the others helped me this afternoon.”

Qin Jianhe: “…”

“You like them that much?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ye Zhiqiu said, smiling at him.

“And me?” Qin Jianhe bit his lower lip lightly, a hint of threat in his movements.

Ye Zhiqiu blinked, then laughed. “Different categories.”

“Is that a consolation?” A smile surfaced in Qin Jianhe’s eyes.

“Maybe.” Ye Zhiqiu stood on his tiptoes and kissed the corner of Qin Jianhe’s mouth. “This too.”

Then he was pinned down again, Qin Jianhe turning the tables, kissing him deeply once more.

“Will you stay here tonight?” A moment later, they reluctantly parted.

“Yeah,” Qin Jianhe’s voice had grown hoarse. “Yes.”

As he spoke, he couldn’t help reaching out to touch Ye Zhiqiu’s now-damp lashes.

“I just moved in. I haven’t had a chance to get you any clothes yet,” Ye Zhiqiu, tickled by his touch, smiled and blinked. “I’ll run downstairs and buy you a couple of sets.”

“No need. I’ll have Wei Jie bring some over,” Qin Jianhe said, taking his wrist and leading him to the balcony. “First, let’s see your swing.”

“This swing looks a bit like the one in my family’s yard,” Ye Zhiqiu said, pulling Qin Jianhe to sit with him. “The one in my yard was about this big, could fit two people. When I was a kid, I loved lying on it at night, watching the stars.”

“You still can,” Qin Jianhe said, pulling him close and pushing off with his feet. The swing chair swayed back and forth. “This is a good view.”

But Ye Zhiqiu shook his head.

“You can hardly see any stars in the sky anymore,” he said, then laughed. “But it’s good for sunbathing, or looking at the moon.”

Across from the swing was a plant stand, floor to ceiling, filled with all kinds of greenery, from cacti to orchids.

Beside the floor-to-ceiling window was a large lounge chair, also covered with a soft cushioned pad, looking very comfortable.

Next to that was a small round table, with two chairs on either side. A good spot for coffee or just relaxing.

Although he had picked out everything himself, Wei Jie had arranged some of it. Qin Jianhe looked at it quietly, approving.

“This layout is rare in this neighborhood,” Qin Jianhe said, turning to Ye Zhiqiu. “You’re lucky.”

Ye Zhiqiu’s eyes curved, and he nodded in agreement.

“You know what?” he said. “The cookware in the kitchen, the bed in the bedroom, they’re all brand new. I was the one who tore the plastic off the bed.”

He propped his chin on his hand. “I bet the landlord had someone he really loved, but something changed before they could get married. Heartbroken, he moved away, but couldn’t bear to sell this place, so he decided to rent it out.”

Qin Jianhe pressed his lips together, forcing himself not to smile.

“Oh?” he asked, his expression unchanged.

This kind of innocent playfulness was something Qin Jianhe rarely saw in Ye Zhiqiu.

He must be in a really good mood today, showing this softness hidden under his thick, hard shell.

He must really love this place.

Or perhaps… having lost his mother at a young age, he had never truly experienced the feeling of a home, never had a real sense of security.

He really wanted a home of his own.

His thoughts drifting deeper, Qin Jianhe’s eyes darkened involuntarily.

Not noticing his expression, Ye Zhiqiu tilted his head and thought for a moment. “Because the original door code was 5212121.”

Even though there was no one else in the room, he instinctively leaned closer to Qin Jianhe’s ear, lowering his voice.

“And that huge, new bed…” Ye Zhiqiu pressed his lips together, the smile in his eyes unmistakable. “That’s why I guessed that.”

“Mm.” Qin Jianhe turned to look at him, the gloom in his eyes gradually fading, leaving only a faint smile. “I think so too,” he said. “He must have someone he loves very, very much.”

Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu propped his chin on his hand again, lost in thought.

“What about,” Qin Jianhe suddenly asked, looking at his fair profile, “the door code now?”

“68…” Ye Zhiqiu caught himself after two numbers. “Hey, Qin Jianhe.”

Seeing his wide eyes, Qin Jianhe laughed.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” he said. “You don’t seem very guarded around me.”

“I’m not,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “I just slipped up.”

“Mm.” Qin Jianhe nodded. “Just don’t slip up around anyone else.”

As they were laughing and swaying on the swing, the doorbell rang.

“That’s Wei Jie,” Qin Jianhe said, standing up and pressing lightly on Ye Zhiqiu’s shoulder. “I’ll get it.”

Wei Jie didn’t come in. He spoke quietly with Qin Jianhe at the door, then the door closed again.

Ye Zhiqiu stood up and saw Qin Jianhe turn around, carrying a small bag.

Although they hadn’t done much, the evening seemed to fly by. Ye Zhiqiu checked his watch and was a little surprised to see it was already nine-thirty.

“Shower?” he asked with a smile.

“Together?” Qin Jianhe said, coming over to take his wrist.

Ye Zhiqiu’s wrist was slender, but soft in his grip, a little cool.

Qin Jianhe let go, went to the window, and closed the open half a bit more.

“But my bathtub isn’t big enough,” Ye Zhiqiu said, leaning against the wall with a laugh. “It’s only for one person.”

“That’s more intimate,” Qin Jianhe said, taking his wrist again. “I’ll hold you.”

“Screw you,” Ye Zhiqiu laughed. “Do I have to do all the work too?”

“Can I?” Qin Jianhe asked, the smile in his eyes deepening.

“In your dreams,” Ye Zhiqiu laughed. “You take the tub. I’ll shower.”

That was the plan, but whenever they ended up in the bathroom together, one of them inevitably ended up lying down.

And without exception, that person was always Ye Zhiqiu.

He was carried to bed by Qin Jianhe, too tired to even move a finger.

“Still okay?” Qin Jianhe asked, his hot lips brushing the reddened corner of his eye.

“What do you think?” Ye Zhiqiu retorted, not pleasantly, his usually clear voice now slightly hoarse.

Pulling him into his arms, Qin Jianhe leaned down and kissed his dark hair.

“Professor Ye,” he said, “shouldn’t you be exercising more?”

Ye Zhiqiu played dead, not even twitching an eyelid.

“Hey, Professor Ye,” Qin Jianhe called him softly, his hoarse voice making the title especially sexy. “Let’s exercise together sometime. Build up your stamina.”

Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu buried his face in his chest and covered his mouth with his hand.

Qin Jianhe laughed, taking the opportunity to kiss his pink palm.

Not only his palm, even his fingertips were a soft pink. Seeing them could soften even the hardest heart, it seemed.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” Qin Jianhe asked, his voice a little muffled, “when are you coming back to the office?”

Ye Zhiqiu turned over in his arms, his voice already heavy with sleep. “Monday.”

Qin Jianhe didn’t reply. He reached over and turned off the main light, leaving only a small wall lamp.

Only after a long time did he lean down and kiss Ye Zhiqiu’s forehead.

“Good night,” he said. “Ye Zhiqiu.”

“Good night, Qin Jianhe.” Ye Zhiqiu thought he said it, but he was too tired to make a sound. He soon drifted into a deep, sleep.

****

When he woke again, it took Ye Zhiqiu a moment to realize where he was.

The other side of the bed was empty. Ye Zhiqiu habitually reached over to feel the warmth.

The sheets were almost cool. Qin Jianhe must have been up for a while.

The big round bed was very comfortable, soft and springy. Ye Zhiqiu rolled over to Qin Jianhe’s side and buried his face in the pillow, closing his eyes again.

The pillow still held a trace of Qin Jianhe’s scent, minus the cologne. It was a very light, clean, slightly cool scent of grass and trees. Much like the man himself.

He lay there quietly for a while, then stirred and sat up.

The curtains blocked the light well; only a faint glow came through. Thinking it was still early, he was surprised to see the time on his phone.

Almost nine in the morning.

He got up and opened the closet to find his clothes. The drawer where he kept his undergarments now held several sets of light-colored pajamas and underwear.

They were Qin Jianhe’s clothes.

Mixed with his own, crowded together, giving an indescribable sense of intimacy, without even clear boundaries.

Ye Zhiqiu was taken aback for a moment, then the languor in his eyes slowly turned into a soft smile.

He bent down, grabbed a casual suit, put it on, and went out.

The living room smelled of food, but there was nothing on the table.

Ye Zhiqiu looked around and spotted Qin Jianhe on the balcony, in the swing chair.

He was holding a tablet, looking down at something quietly, his eyes slightly lowered, deep in thought, very focused.

The morning light fell on his profile, catching his thick, long, dark lashes. The straight line of his jaw was somewhat sharp in his concentration.

He looked like a perfect statue.

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t say anything. He walked over quietly.

When he was just two or three steps away, Qin Jianhe’s lashes fluttered, and he looked up.

“You’re awake.” He smiled and reached out his hand to Ye Zhiqiu.

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t move, so Qin Jianhe leaned over, took his wrist, and pulled him into his arms.

“Sleep well?” he asked. “Hungry?”

“I thought you’d already left,” Ye Zhiqiu said, not answering his question.

With no classes or work lately, his sense of time was a bit off. When he first woke up, he thought Qin Jianhe had already gone to the office.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you,” Qin Jianhe said, leaning down to kiss him. “Any plans for today?”

“I’m staying home to organize my workspace,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “The tools I ordered should arrive today, and…”

He looked down, counting on his fingers. “Read the script. Director Zhou wants me to familiarize myself with it as soon as possible.”

“What about you?” Ye Zhiqiu looked up and met Qin Jianhe’s smiling eyes.

He was looking at Ye Zhiqiu’s hand.

Ye Zhiqiu pulled his hand back, suddenly feeling childish for counting on his fingers.

Then, realizing he seemed especially concerned about Qin Jianhe’s opinion, he pulled his hand back out of his sleeve.

But Qin Jianhe just looked at him, his smile deepening.

“Ahem,” Ye Zhiqiu cleared his throat, changing the subject. “What about you? What are your plans for today?”

“Visiting my grandfather at the nursing home,” Qin Jianhe said, his voice very soft.

Although he didn’t say it, judging by the two wild ducks he brought last night and the sausage Nie Fengjun had made, Ye Zhiqiu guessed he had spent Saturday at the villa with her.

One day with his mother, one day with his grandfather…

Qin Jianhe seemed cold, but he really took care of his family.

Because of his own experiences, Ye Zhiqiu was easily drawn to family-oriented men.

The smell of food wafting from the kitchen, he couldn’t help thinking that if Qin Jianhe was this attentive to him, with their kind of relationship, how much more would he cherish someone who was actually his family?

But then he lowered his eyes, thinking of his past life.

He was enjoying this. Life was short. He just wanted to enjoy this for as long as it lasted.

The path ahead was full of thorns. He had already walked it once, and ended up battered and bruised.

He didn’t want to go through it again.

Even if this time, the outcome might be different, it was still a no.

The truth was, he was already aware that he really liked Qin Jianhe.

The pleasure he felt seeing their clothes together, the comfort of lying in his arms, too lazy to move.

But feelings were feelings, reason was reason. The scar-tissue line in Ye Zhiqiu’s heart would always be there.

It was a boundary, and a principle.

“What are you thinking about?” Seeing him silent, Qin Jianhe reached out, smiling, and cupped his face, resting his forehead against his.

“I’m hungry, Qin Jianhe,” Ye Zhiqiu said, looking up.

Qin Jianhe laughed, took his wrist, and stood up.

The table was soon covered with food.

Qin Jianhe had gotten up early to make duck soup with radish, multigrain rice, steamed a sausage, and made a cucumber salad.

After putting everything on the table, he went back to the kitchen and came out with a small dish of snacks.

Chocolate, preserved plums, cookies…

The dish wasn’t big, and the portions were small, but when it was placed in front of him, Ye Zhiqiu’s heart still skipped a beat.

That feeling of happiness spread through him again, unchecked.

Ye Zhiqiu picked up his bowl to drink the soup, and put a piece of radish in his mouth.

It was cooked until soft, soaked with broth, and melted on his tongue.

“Delicious,” he said. “Were you working on the balcony this morning?”

“Reading Meng Da’s email,” Qin Jianhe said.

Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu checked his watch again.

Today, Q.L.’s exhibition team would officially move to Milan. In another week, they would be heading home.

“They should still be on the plane, right?” Ye Zhiqiu calculated.

The Paris shows had gone very smoothly. Even without Ye Zhiqiu, with Meng Da overseeing, Wang Ru and Gao Yang were becoming more proficient.

Of course, Zhou Hui and Wei Tingjin deserved special mention.

With each show, their recognition and value rose.

The fashion world knew a few new stars had emerged. Many agencies and brands had taken notice.

Ye Zhiqiu’s designs had certainly made them, but their brilliance, in turn, benefited Ye Zhiqiu, in both design and recognition.

After the second show in Paris, M.H.’s fashion director, Matthieu, had specially come to Q.L.’s backstage to meet Ye Zhiqiu.

“You should have seen it,” Gao Yang had said excitedly on the phone. “Years ago, Zhou Lang met Matthieu at a fashion event. This time, when Matthieu arrived backstage, Zhou Lang immediately got up excitedly to greet him, thinking he’d come to see him. He was so proud. And then, Matthieu said he’d specially come to see you!”

“You should have seen how ugly Zhou Lang’s face was later,” Gao Yang said excitedly.

Ye Zhiqiu had also received an invitation from M.H. after the international fashion competition.

But because the location conflicted with his studies and future plans, he had already eliminated those foreign brands.

Matthieu was probably trying to recruit him.

“Mm.” Across the table, Qin Jianhe looked up with a smile. “Your influence in Paris was even greater than the last two shows. You also got the most orders at the post-show sales event.”

Ye Zhiqiu knew. Wang Ru and Gao Yang updated him almost daily.

By phone, text, or email.

He just smiled faintly.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” Qin Jianhe said. “You’re about to become a little rich man.”

When he signed with Q.L., one of Ye Zhiqiu’s conditions was to receive dividends and commissions based on the sales of his designs.

The more he sold, the more he would make.

“What?” Ye Zhiqiu’s eyes curved. “Are you jealous, President Qin?”

“Mm.” Qin Jianhe smiled. “Don’t you want to find someone to take care of you, now that you’re rich?”

Before Ye Zhiqiu could respond, he continued.

“Like me,” Qin Jianhe said, a smile surfacing in his eyes. “I could cook for you during the day, and warm your bed at night.”

“What do you think, Ye Zhiqiu?” he asked.

Ye Zhiqiu laughed and kicked him under the table.

“Well?” Qin Jianhe asked again.

“Eat,” Ye Zhiqiu said, putting a duck leg in his bowl.

Qin Jianhe looked down, and after a moment, the corner of his mouth curved up with pleasure.

****

After Qin Jianhe left, Ye Zhiqiu took the script and went back to the balcony to read.

The story was really interesting. Just two people constantly clashing, but the writing was already very intense.

Imagining Bai You and Meng Qingyan in the roles made it even more so.

He was engrossed, and only when the doorbell rang did he realize it was already noon.

Not many people knew he had moved, and even fewer knew his new address.

Thinking it was a delivery, he was surprised to see a food courier at the door, who looked equally surprised.

The courier was stunned by Ye Zhiqiu’s striking appearance.

Ye Zhiqiu was confused because he hadn’t ordered anything.

“I didn’t order anything,” he said, puzzled.

“The address is correct,” the courier quickly checked and confirmed, reciting the phone number on the order.

“That’s me,” Ye Zhiqiu blinked. “Wait a moment. Let me get my phone and check.”

He fetched his phone from the balcony and saw, among several notifications, one from Qin Jianhe.

[QIN: I ordered you some takeout. Remember to accept it.]

“Oh,” Ye Zhiqiu looked up, a little embarrassed. “It is for me. A friend ordered it. Thank you.”

He took the food inside and opened the containers.

Two light dishes, a bowl of spinach and pig liver congee. Still hot, very fragrant.

He sat down to reply to Qin Jianhe: There’s still half a pot of duck soup here, so why…

Then he deleted the words one by one.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: Thanks, just got it. Smells great.]

[QIN: Their congee is very good. Even better in person. I’ll take you sometime.]

Ye Zhiqiu smiled and didn’t reply.

After lunch, the tools and worktable he had ordered arrived.

He spent the afternoon setting up his workspace.

Then he handled a few emails from Zhang Mian.

When he looked up again, the sky had turned grey.

The top floor had a good view. Ye Zhiqiu stood up and watched the last remnants of red in the western sky slowly fade as dusk crept in.

Then, from far to near, lights began to appear in windows.

Like stars slowly rising in the dark sky.

Instinctively, Ye Zhiqiu looked toward the neighboring complex.

Qin Jianhe’s apartment was in the center of the next compound, blocked by taller buildings, so he could only see a bit of grey roof.

He stood there quietly for a moment, then, remembering something, went into the bedroom.

From this angle, standing at the window, he could just see Qin Jianhe’s windows.

Although the complexes were adjacent, there was a fair distance between them. From here, his windows looked very small, like a birdcage.

Amused by his own thought, he laughed.

Then his eyes widened.

As if by telepathy, the dark window suddenly lit up.

Like some switch had been accidentally tripped, Ye Zhiqiu was unexpectedly flooded with a strong sense of joy that caught him off guard.

Then his phone rang.

He didn’t move at first, only pulling the phone from his pocket after a long moment.

It was Qin Jianhe.

He cleared his throat softly, adjusting his voice, then answered.

“Hello, Qin Jianhe,” he said, his voice betraying nothing unusual.

“I’m back,” Qin Jianhe’s low, pleasant voice said, tapping softly in his ear. “Ye Zhiqiu, come over for dinner tonight?”

Ye Zhiqiu pressed his lips together.

“No,” he said. “You’ll just lure me over and kill me.”

“I’ll let you rest tonight,” the man on the other end laughed, his voice very low. “I promise.”

Ye Zhiqiu paused, suddenly realizing something was off.

Wait, wasn’t his principle that when they were together, they should do it?

How was it that now Qin Jianhe was promising not to, just to get him to come for dinner?

Huh?

“Ye Zhiqiu, are you coming?” Qin Jianhe’s voice was alluring. “The crab will be perfectly steamed by the time you get here.”

Crab? Ye Zhiqiu hesitated.

“But,” he said after a moment, “I still have half a pot of duck soup on the stove.”

A very low laugh came from the other end, carrying a hint of helplessness, and a hint of indulgence.

All the emotions were buried deep, gone before they could be noticed.

“In the cabinet above the stove, left side, there’s a thermos,” Qin Jianhe said. “Bring the duck soup. It won’t go to waste.”

Ye Zhiqiu had come in a bit too quickly and hadn’t turned on the light.

While they were talking, the room had gone completely dark.

Looking at the window across the way, glowing with warm orange light, something surged uncontrollably in his heart.

“Alright,” he said. “Remember to make the dipping sauce, with plenty of ginger.”

“Okay,” Qin Jianhe replied, his voice warm with a smile. “Whatever you say.”