The room's temperature rose by degrees, and soon Hu Xiaoyu was a sleek, bare little fish.
Ordinarily, that wasn't a big deal—his true form never needed clothes, and even in human form, slipping free of fabric felt wonderfully easy. But lying under Yu Tan—fully dressed, perfectly composed—filled him with a sudden, inexplicable shyness.
Still, there was something more important than embarrassment.
He asked for the third time whether Yu Tan would turn the temperature back down.
Mouth at Hu Xiaoyu's collarbone, savoring with patient focus, Yu Tan murmured, "Is it that important?"
"It is," Hu Xiaoyu said, neck ticklish, shifting restlessly. "Cold is bad for your health."
Yu Tan paused and held his chin.
His grip was firm enough that Hu Xiaoyu truly felt like a beached little fish, lips parted, unable to close.
Then came a deep, heavy kiss. "Say one more word," Yu Tan warned, voice rough, "and you won't be getting out of bed tomorrow."
The threat was blatant; the implication, unmistakable. And yet a thought slid through him—no one else in the world could be this dense about seduction and make him want to bully them more.
Breath breaking, Hu Xiaoyu bit his finger in protest.
"You're going back on your word, aren't you?"
Yu Tan studied the neat bite mark, helpless and—somehow—solemn. "I'm not."
After that, Hu Xiaoyu stopped resisting and let himself be guided.
He'd already decided to give himself, so of course he tried his best to make Yu Tan happy.
Even if he was a fox spirit who'd stumbled here from a century ago—narrow-minded by modern standards and woefully inexperienced—he cooperated as earnestly as he could.
The night itself, remembered later, felt like scattered fragments: nothing quite a continuous line, and yet etched too deeply to ever forget. At first, everything felt strange; then there was a bit of pain; later, he clung to Yu Tan and refused to let go.
No wonder foxes repaid kindness with their bodies first—it turned out… it really was quite wonderful.
He noticed the sesame-sized red mole at Yu Tan's chest and couldn't resist touching it.
He felt it immediately: the fox tail he'd given away… was nestled here.
He barely brushed it before his wrist was pinned above his head.
Looking up, he saw a drop of sweat hanging from the proud line of Yu Tan's nose, the usual coolness stripped from his face. His lips were darker than usual, his eyes bright and black—like he might devour him whole, and also like he wanted to hold him in the center of his palm.
Maybe he imagined it, but when Yu Tan hit his hardest, it sounded like he whispered, Little Fox.
And Yu Tan's strength—he didn't seem to tire at all, flipping him this way and that.
Hu Xiaoyu thought vaguely of that barbecue with Jinbao; now he felt like the skewer, rolling back and forth over the flame, with no idea when it would end.
He didn't know how long that unruly rhythm lasted. In the end, two fox tears slipped down his cheeks.
He didn't want any more—but Yu Tan only got worse, refusing to stop.
Much later—
When clarity finally returned, Yu Tan gathered the unconscious boy close and kissed his forehead again and again.
He wasn't in the habit of kissing anyone—least of all on the forehead—but somehow, it came naturally.
A deep, unnameable satisfaction filled him; he didn't move for a long, long time.
During the cursory after-check, irritation flickered through him—rare for him. The little fool had tasted better than he'd imagined; he had lost control in a way he never did. Even now, he still wanted…
Water woke Hu Xiaoyu—he hated baths.
But if Yu Tan was the one washing him, maybe it was… bearable.
He was exhausted and oddly restless, sore everywhere and unsure his legs belonged to him. One thought chimed in again and again: Absolutely, do not transform.
Yu Tan had never tended to anyone afterward. The people he'd taken to bed were always sent out; others handled the rest. But with Hu Xiaoyu, even the way he nodded off on his shoulder felt… interesting.
Wrapped in a towel and lifted back to bed, Hu Xiaoyu blinked awake.
He scooted closer, damp head nudging Yu Tan's bare thigh. "Uncomfortable."
"Hurts?" Yu Tan smoothed a hand down his back.
Hu Xiaoyu shook his head. He'd used a whisper of spiritual energy after waking; he still ached, but not sharply. Mostly, his "fur" was wet. It was horrible. "My hair isn't dry."
Yu Tan understood and got up to fetch a dryer, carefully blowing his hair warm.
Afterward, they slipped beneath the covers together.
Pillowed on Yu Tan's arm, Hu Xiaoyu sneakily tapped that tiny red mole again, feeling the answer stir in his spiritual tail.
He didn't get more than two touches in before Yu Tan wrapped him up tight like a silkworm.
"Move again," Yu Tan frowned, "and we'll go another round. Think you can handle it?"
Hu Xiaoyu tucked his head down and went very still.
He did think it felt wonderful… but he was wiped out. And that scalp-prickling, soul-floating feeling—his tail had nearly popped out.
So no, not too often.
Still, some things needed saying.
He watched Yu Tan with bright, expectant eyes, waiting for praise the way he had when handing over a gift. "Do you like it?"
"What exactly?" Yu Tan asked.
He glanced meaningfully downward. "Sleeping with me. That… part."
Yu Tan brushed the flush from the corners of his eyes—he couldn't tell if he'd bullied him into it or made him cry in pleasure. Either way, it was tempting.
"And you?" he asked. "Crybaby."
"That was…" Hu Xiaoyu searched for a suitable phrase, earnestly correcting him, "tears of joy."
He didn't quite know how to describe it, and he certainly didn't realize those first tears had been purely reflexive. Later, he'd learned that crying for mercy sometimes made Yu Tan slow down—or stop for a moment—though not reliably.
And then Yu Tan laughed.
He didn't laugh often; when he did, it was usually thin and cool—a pressure worse than a cold stare.
But now his eyes curved, a low sound moving in his chest.
Handsome, clear, and clean—like a shaft of fair weather through cloud; like the Yu Tan from the past.
Hu Xiaoyu loved seeing him like this.
Still swaddled, he wriggled closer and made it plainer: "I like it a lot. We can do it often. Just… not too long. It's tiring."
Yu Tan parted his lips and still couldn't say the two words.
Like. Love.
All fatal things—unreliable and beneath his belief. People changed. He preferred control to exchange.
But the little fool's eyes were so bright—like they held a nameless flame that could burn.
He covered those fox's eyes with his palm—the eyes that laid out their trust and honesty like an offering—and said, unusually gentle, "Be good, and I'll always satisfy you. Remember that."
Hu Xiaoyu couldn't see the heavy possessiveness in his gaze, nor did he understand what those three words, be good, would mean in the future.
He blinked, lashes brushing Yu Tan's palm. "No, I'm the one who should satisfy you."
Repaying kindness meant meeting one's benefactor's every thought and need.
Yu Tan didn't argue.
If Hu Xiaoyu had been a dispensable toy before, now he understood just how rare and perfectly matched this toy was—and he had decided to treasure it.
Hide it. Keep it close. Play with it day and night, for a very long time.
Hu Xiaoyu had already been sleepy; with his eyes covered, drowsiness swept him harder.
With the last of his strength, he rubbed his forehead against Yu Tan's palm and fell deeply asleep.
Listening to the boy's even breathing, Yu Tan sat on the edge of the bed and smoked a cigarette.
Then he lifted the quilt.
The flawless, unguarded body was laid bare in the air.
To him, every new mark on that skin was part of perfection.
Desire stirred again, but he knew the little fool couldn't take anymore. So he only looked at his fill—slowly, thoroughly—and kissed every finger, one by one.
After that, he applied medicine with care, tugged the blanket back up, turned off the light, and left the room.
He took the green jade from the nightstand to his study, his face as unreadable as ever.