Hot flashes

Zhou Heng leaned back slightly against the door frame, a very small movement, as if he needed to brace the back of his head against the door to keep his balance.

He looked at Song Yu's lips, watching the curve and the words flow from those sharp lips.

"Your dad's annoyed," Song Yu's voice came from across the room, like pebbles being dropped into a cup, each one landing in the same spot, piling up little by little, "tell someone to kick her out."

Zhou Heng's knuckles turned white as he gripped the doorknob.

Seeing his reaction, Song Yu's expression flashed with excitement. He took another half step forward, and his voice came from that closer distance: "She was crying and making a scene at the door, throwing a tantrum like a madwoman."

Song Yu's gaze was fixed on Zhou Heng's face, like a cat staring at a hole, waiting for something to crawl out. "The servants were all gathered around watching. Your father was ashamed, so in the end he gave her the money and had her put in the car and driven away."

Zhou Heng's expression remained unchanged. His lips were slightly pursed, and his breathing remained even, like a calibrated machine whose internal gears operated steadily at the same speed regardless of external disturbances.

Song Yu looked at him, the smile on his lips widening slightly. "However," his voice lowered further, carrying an almost whispered intimacy, as if the two were sharing a secret, "your mother's method really works. Getting you into this house is like having a mosquito in your face."

His voice slowed, as if he were carefully choosing the placement of each word, ensuring they would pierce Zhou Heng's skin precisely, "Pierce your mouthparts into the flesh, and as long as you're here, you can continuously suck blood."

Zhou Heng's eyelashes fluttered, and his fingers tightened their grip on the doorknob.

He looked up and his gaze fell on Song Yu's eyes.

"Are you done talking?" Zhou Heng's voice came from his throat as he spoke, his hand tightening slightly to close the door.

Song Yu's face finally darkened.

He reached out and braced himself against the door, pressing his fingers against the edge of the door and pushing it outwards with force.

The door stopped under Zhou Heng's pull, then was pushed open half a foot by Song Yu's force, widening the gap again. He squeezed in sideways, his shoulder brushing against the door frame, and entered the room, standing in front of Zhou Heng.

The distance between the two people shrank from an arm's length to half an arm's length. The light from the corridor shone in from behind him, casting his shadow long on Zhou Heng.

Zhou Heng raised his hand and placed it against his chest, his palm pushing outwards against the fabric of his hoodie. "Get out."

Song Yu glanced down at Zhou Heng's hand pressed against his chest. The wrist was slender, the knuckles slightly white, and the nails were neatly trimmed, gleaming a healthy pink under the light. He reached out and grasped the wrist, his fingers closing around it, the pads pressing against the protrusion of Zhou Heng's wrist bone.

"Why are you being so stubborn with me?" Song Yu's voice came from above, lower than before, carrying a hint of displeasure. "Aren't you and your son the same kind of people? From the same lineage."

Zhou Heng's wrist was gripped by him, and he tried to break free but failed.

He raised his other hand, trying to push Song Yu's shoulder away, but Song Yu was stronger than him, and when he pushed him, the other man's body only swayed.

Song Yu held Zhou Heng's wrist, his gaze slowly sliding down Zhou Heng's face, sweeping over his collar, shoulders, and waist, before returning to his eyes.

That gaze was like a cold, damp thing crawling across the skin, neither fast nor slow, each inch carrying a sense of careful scrutiny.

"But the difference between you and your mother is," Song Yu's voice lowered, the smile on his lips shifting from playful to more direct and undisguised, "that you have a haughty face. You're much better at pretending."

As he spoke, he moved closer, reducing the distance between them from half an arm's length to a fist's width.

Song Yu's breath hit Zhou Heng's forehead, warm and carrying a hint of the sweetness of the orange juice he had just drunk.

His voice came from where it was almost touching Zhou Heng's skin: "It's just money, right? I have that too."

Zhou Heng looked into Song Yu's eyes and saw the malicious light emanating from the two dark wells.

Song Yu chuckled, his gaze sliding down and then back up his face. "Otherwise," he said, his voice trailing off, as if deliberately drawing out each syllable, "you let me play once, and I'll give you 50."