Chapter 6: The Ninth Night

Ji Wenzhou had planned the ninth night in writing, with contingencies.

The plan did not include being carried up a staircase in front of the housekeeper.

It did not include liking it.

Rongan set him down inside the wedding chamber, between two thick red candles, and the door shut behind them with a soft click.

"Rule two," Rongan said, rueful.

"There's nobody here." Wenzhou took his glasses off and put them on the lacquer chest. "Take off your jacket."

Rongan took it off.

Under the lantern light he was enormous. The white shirt stretched across his shoulders, and the scar showed through at the left blade.

Wenzhou unbuttoned it himself, one button at a time, standing on tiptoe for the collar.

He had calculated everything but this.

Rongan's chest was wide and hard and scarred in three places, and it rose and fell too quickly under his hands.

"You're afraid," Wenzhou said.

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'm not used to being looked at." Rongan's voice was low. "Not like this."

"Get used to it."

Wenzhou pushed the shirt off his shoulders. It fell. He laid his palms flat on Rongan's stomach and felt the muscle jump.

"Bed."

Rongan sat on the edge of it, which put them nearly level. Wenzhou stood between his knees and kissed him slowly.

It took a long time to undress him. It took less time to undress himself.

When they were both bare, Wenzhou pressed him back on the red quilt and knelt over him on all fours.

Rongan's cock lay hard against his belly, thick and long, dark at the head.

Wenzhou took a small jar of oil from the bedside and warmed it in his hand.

"I'll go slowly," he said. "You tell me what you feel. Say it in words."

"It's cold."

"It won't be."

He slid one finger into Rongan with great care.

Rongan's whole body clenched, then loosened. Wenzhou waited. He added oil, and a second finger, and curled them forward.

"There?"

Rongan made a sound Wenzhou had not heard from him before.

His thighs fell open wider. His hands knotted in the quilt.

"Yes. There."

"Good."

A faint scent rose from the sheets. It was cedar, and warm rope, and something underneath that was new.

Wenzhou breathed it in and stopped moving.

"Rongan."

"What?" said Rongan.

"You've started to smell."

"Is it bad?" Rongan sounded stricken.

"No." Wenzhou's voice was not his own. "It's the first honest thing in this house."

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