That Man Is a Little Wild - Chapter 13

Li Cang could hardly hear him. His mind was blank, his breath caught somewhere between a sob and a sigh. The intensity of what had just happened left him trembling, his body still humming with aftershocks that seemed to reach down to his bones.

Chi Ye’s hand rested against his waist, steady and grounding, the warmth of his touch contrasting with Li Cang’s shivering skin. The world around them had gone completely still — the faint hum of the car engine, the rhythm of their breathing, the dim light filtering through the window.

When Chi Ye spoke again, his voice was low, almost tender.
“Was it good?”

Li Cang blinked up at him, eyes still glazed from exhaustion. After a moment, he nodded faintly.

Chi Ye’s lips curved with a quiet smile. He brushed a kiss against the corner of Li Cang’s mouth and murmured, “Should I take you home… or to a hotel?”

Li Cang tried to gather his thoughts he had work the next morning, a difficult client still waiting for revisions, but before he could answer, Chi Ye leaned closer, his breath warm against Li Cang’s ear.
“Or,” he whispered, “you could come with me.”

Li Cang barely had time to process the words before the world tilted again, warmth, closeness, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs. When everything finally quieted, he found himself being carried through a doorway, wrapped in a blanket.

He caught a glimpse of the place, the entryway, the dimly lit interior, the modern furniture arranged with almost careless precision. Despite the fatigue clouding his mind, he still managed a faint, hoarse murmur:
“This place… looks awful.”

Chi Ye laughed softly, the sound low and genuine. He brought Li Cang to the bathroom, the scent of warm water and soap rising between them.
“Then design me a better one,” he said.

Li Cang leaned back against his chest, eyes half closed, the water easing the tension from his limbs.
“Sure,” he murmured sleepily. “Pay first.”

Chi Ye chuckled but said nothing more. By the time he looked down, Li Cang had already drifted off, the corners of his lips still faintly curved.

He dried him gently, carried him to bed, and for a long moment simply watched him, the curve of his shoulder, the stillness of his face, the faint traces of exhaustion softening his usual sharpness.

For the first time that night, Chi Ye did nothing but pull him closer, his hand resting lightly over Li Cang’s heart as he closed his eyes.