Chapter 88 Barbecue Is Perfect

The hotel suite door clicked shut.

Lu Er couldn’t wait and pounced into Song Jingmo’s arms, wrapping his hands around his neck, rising onto tiptoe, and pressing a precise kiss onto those slightly cool, thin lips.

Song Jingmo was bumped back against the cold door panel, instinctively wrapping his arms around Lu Er’s waist.

The touch on his lips was soft and urgent, carrying a hint of red wine sweetness and Lu Er’s unique scent.

Quickly taking control, Song Jingmo deepened the kiss.

From the doorway to the living room, then to the spacious balcony by the floor-to-ceiling window, their steps were tangled and chaotic, their breathing mingling hotly.

Eventually, Lu Er was pressed onto the sofa. His fingers unconsciously clenched the fabric of Song Jingmo’s shirt, letting out a soft whimper.

“Song Jingmo…”

Lu Er’s eyes glimmered with a seductive flush, his voice soft and sweet, full of obvious longing. “I want…”

Song Jingmo’s gaze darkened like night, desire rolling within it, but the last remnants of reason acted like the final dam.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the surging blood, voice hoarse: “No.”

Lu Er’s peach-blossom eyes shimmered with tears. “Why not? Your week-two test came back negative, right?”

As he spoke, his fingers poked restlessly at Song Jingmo’s chest. “In theory, there’s no problem. I studied medicine—you’re not lying to me.”

“Theory is theory,” Song Jingmo said, grabbing Lu Er’s wandering hands. “Week four, week eight, we still need retests. The whole process needs continuous observation for six months. The probability is low, but I won’t risk you.”

Lu Er’s beautiful face fell immediately. Counting on his fingers, he grew more and more frustrated: “Six months is way too long! I can look but not touch… I’ll go crazy.”

Refusing to give up, he continued to tease, fingers sliding down, mumbling, “Even if… you know, with precautions, it could be avoided…”

At the same time, he deliberately brushed his knee against Song Jingmo.

Feeling Song Jingmo’s obvious reaction, he twisted his waist even more boldly, tilting his head to lick and kiss his Adam’s apple.

Song Jingmo, almost losing control from such blunt provocation, looked at the little firestarter in his arms and sighed helplessly.

As if resigned, he lowered his head and punished Lu Er with a heavy, relentless kiss.

Only when Lu Er went completely soft under him did he pull back, gasping.

The callused pads of his fingers brushed Lu Er’s delicate waist, eliciting a light shiver.

“Don’t move,” Song Jingmo’s voice was hoarse, carrying a dangerous restraint Lu Er had never heard before. “I’ll help you.”

…

After it all subsided, Lu Er was so exhausted his fingers wouldn’t move. He collapsed on the sofa like a cat whose fur had been smoothed down.

Though drowsy, he struggled to lift his tired hands, mumbling: “A return of favors… I’ll help you too…”

But after much effort, there was little effect.

He was left panting, his hands limp and powerless.

“Song Jingmo… are you made of iron?”

Lu Er groaned and buried his face in the sofa in self-abandonment.

For hours, they had tussled like kindergarten children. Eventually, Lu Er couldn’t hold on any longer, his head gradually falling into Song Jingmo’s embrace.

Song Jingmo looked at the lingering flush on Lu Er’s face, both amused and aching.

Resigned, he picked up the sleeping little rascal and went into the bathroom, carefully cleaning him, drying him with a towel, and gently tucking him into the blanket.

Lu Er murmured a few times, nuzzled the pillow, and sank into deeper sleep.

The next day, with no work scheduled, they lounged on the hotel living room sofa watching an old, cheesy romance movie.

On the screen, the male and female leads kissed passionately in the rain, with melodramatic music swelling.

Lu Er suddenly nudged Song Jingmo’s calf with his toes. “Hey, Song Jingmo.”

“Hm?”

“Isn’t your family hoping you’d go into politics? Why did you go into medicine? And orthopedics, the toughest and hardest field?”

Turning his head, Lu Er looked at him curiously. “Is touching bones really more fun than handling official seals?”

Song Jingmo’s gaze shifted from the screen to Lu Er’s face.

He extended his left hand, naturally intertwining fingers with Lu Er, palms touching, warmth mingling.

“You used to get into fights at school or break bones playing basketball. Every time we went to the hospital, you’d grab my clothes and cry loudly, saying the doctor was too rough.”

Then he traced Lu Er’s features with his right hand, his eyes full of fated exasperation and adoration: “Back then I thought… if only I were a doctor, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Lu Er stared, heart gripped by a warm hand, bittersweet and full.

Such a crucial choice in Song Jingmo’s life had been influenced by Lu Er’s youthful recklessness and fragility.

What he thought was his alone in the chaos of youth had, so early on, already been shaped by this silent current.

“Song Jingmo…” Lu Er’s voice was hoarse, tinged with regret and frustration. “Did we miss so much time?”

Song Jingmo turned, holding him close like calming a sulking child.

Kissing the top of his head, he said firmly: “Not too late. Now is the best time.”

On screen, other people’s joys and sorrows played on, but they were lost in each other, kissing again.

When Lu Er came back to his senses, they had tumbled onto the soft sofa, clothes disheveled.

Song Jingmo’s hands seemed magical, igniting sparks wherever they touched.

Lu Er quickly succumbed under the skilled ministrations.

Though Song Jingmo’s breath was heavy, sweat dotting his temples, he remained vigorous, showing no sign of stopping.

Lu Er, seeing the stark contrast, felt severely demoralized. Collapsed on the sofa, he muttered, frustrated and self-doubting:

“Do I have a problem? Why is it always like this…? You’re fine… Should I see a urologist?”

Song Jingmo looked at him, almost laughing at the mixture of grievance and seriousness.

Suppressing the smile, he touched Lu Er’s hair seriously, reassuring: “Completely normal. My technique is just good, that’s why you respond faster.”

Lu Er: “…”

Was that reassurance? Or… bragging?

Angry, Lu Er lunged and bit Song Jingmo’s collarbone, leaving a shallow mark.

Song Jingmo cleaned him up simply, straightened his disheveled clothes.

Looking in the mirror at his water-bright, flirtatious peach-blossom eyes, Lu Er belatedly felt a wave of embarrassment.

“All your fault!”

Song Jingmo hugged him from behind, a smile in his eyes: “Yeah, my fault.”

In the elevator, Lu Er lazily leaned most of his weight against Song Jingmo, peach-blossom eyes glistening, corners tinged with lingering red.

The elevator stopped midway. Outside stood Yan Huaijin, in a sharp suit.

Seeing Lu Er’s flushed, post-coital look, his eyes darkened briefly but softened quickly.

“What a coincidence,” Yan Huaijin said casually, stepping in. “I know a nearby barbecue place. Want to go?”

Song Jingmo pulled Lu Er closer, meeting Yan Huaijin’s smiling gaze, replying lightly: “He’s tired. Needs to restore his energy. Barbecue is perfect.”