[Beijing Story] ≮7-8≯

Chapter Seven

Lan Yu's situation was bothering me, but business was giving me an even bigger headache: a batch of imported cars was stuck in my hands.
Due to policy reasons, I had to sell them before the Spring Festival next year, even if it meant losing money. On Saturday noon, just as I
was about to go out, Liu Zheng told me that Lan Yu hadn't been to the construction site for a week.

It had been almost two weeks since our last breakup. At first, I was surprised that he was still working at the construction site; he was
really unfazed. But now that he had suddenly stopped, I couldn't help but feel a little suspicious. As dusk approached
, I decided to call his school. Perhaps because of the holiday, it took a long time for someone to answer the phone
. After another ten minutes, I learned that room 815 was empty; everyone had gone home for the holiday.
That night, I had originally planned to meet with some clients, guys who wanted to buy cars. I changed my mind at the last minute; I
had to go to "Huada" (a university in Taiwan).

Walking into Building 8, a stench hit me—a smell I hadn't felt in a long time. I remembered
the distinctive stench emanating from the public toilets in the men's dormitories during my university days. The light was dim, and I
found "815" by following the number. I knocked on the door a few times, but there was no answer. I knocked a few more times, still no sound.
A little disappointed, I casually turned the doorknob, about to turn and leave, when I realized the door wasn't locked.

The room was pitch black and completely silent. By the moonlight, I could see eight bunk beds
and a long table in the middle. Suddenly, I noticed someone lying on a lower bunk near the window. A
strong sense of fear washed over me, and I almost dared not move forward.

"Lan Yu! Lan Yu!" I called tentatively, urgently, twice, but there was no reply.

I was even more terrified. I had to desperately suppress my fear and walk to the bedside. It was
him, though I wasn't entirely sure, but I was certain it was Lan Yu. I had never been
so . I calmed myself down and reached out to touch his face; it wasn't cold as I had imagined, but burning hot.
I found his hand and felt his pulse; it was weak and rapid. I heard his breathing; he was
alive . I breathed a sigh of relief. I tried to pick him up, but I couldn't. I rushed into the hallway and shouted,

"Is anyone there? Can anyone help me?"

"What's wrong?" Two heads popped out from a room at the same time.

"Help me, a classmate needs to be taken to the hospital quickly," I said.

As they helped me lift Lan Yu up, they whispered among themselves,

"What class is he in?"

"He's from 'Jian A', his name is Lan Yu, he hasn't gone home this year either."

"Oh! The one dressed like a Japanese guy, I think he has relatives in Beijing?"

"I think so, he's quiet, we don't know much about him."

"Are you his family?" one of the boys asked me.

"I'm his brother." I didn't care about their conversation.

It was already past nine o'clock at night, and the emergency room of the Third Hospital was still crowded. A young,
pretty female intern doctor wearing glasses was examining Lan Yu.

"Why did it take so long to bring him here?" the young doctor said softly, with dissatisfaction. It sounded like there was no
hope.

Looking at Lan Yu's tightly closed eyes and dry, pale lips, I couldn't hold back anymore. I grabbed
his hand, my eyes reddening.

The young doctor gave me a strange look, and I had to hide my emotions:

"This is my brother. If he dies, how can I face my parents!"

The young doctor quickly understood and told me sympathetically that he was probably in a coma due to a high fever caused by tonsillitis , and was severely dehydrated. As she spoke, her eyes swept over
Lan Yu's extremely haggard but still handsome face. 　　It was a sleepless night. I stayed by Lan Yu's side all night, constantly wiping his body with alcohol to lower his temperature. I observed his expressions, listened to his uneven, rapid breathing, and watched the IV drip . The young doctor was very responsible, taking Lan Yu's temperature every half hour. It wasn't until after 5 a.m. that the young doctor smiled and said that his temperature had dropped to 38 degrees Celsius and he was out of danger. I suddenly felt incredibly relaxed, so sleepy that I could barely keep my eyes open... 　　He was so young; by noon the next day, he was already sitting up, hungry and wanting to eat. In the afternoon, I took him from the hospital observation room to the "temporary village." I turned the air conditioning down, gave him a large glass of water, then laid him down and covered him with a blanket. I told him to rest more and sleep a little longer. I touched his forehead; it was cool. I held one of his hands and sat on the bed looking at a draft agreement for thirty imported cars that Feng Yikuan (one of my deputy managers) had given me—their achievement from the night before. 　　Lan Yu lay flat, and after a few minutes, he turned over, facing me. I felt his hand on my penis, and he rubbed his leg against mine: 　　"Stop it! Sleep properly!" I scolded him with a laugh. 　　He didn't stop; his hand continued to stroke my "thing." 　　I looked down at him; he was smiling at me. 　　"Why are you being so indecent?" I smiled back. 　　He went even further, starting to stroke my penis. 　　I suddenly grabbed both of his hands, raised them, spread them apart, pressed them tightly against the pillow, and rolled over to straddle him. The position had a hint of rape: 　　"Are you looking for death? You asked for this, don't blame me for being impolite!" I laughed, my eyes fixed on him. 　　He had that infatuated look in his eyes again, but with more joy: "What do you want?" His voice held a man's provocation. 　　"I'm going to fuck you!!" I said fiercely, leaning down to kiss his lips, my movements extremely rough ... 　　He rarely made a sound during sex, and the more excited he became, the less he spoke, only breathing rapidly. Perhaps because he was recovering from a serious illness, this time he was almost out of breath. 　　I kissed his face, his neck, his chest, his pubic hair, his... I grabbed his legs with both hands , roughly separating them, and quickly buried my head in licking him... 　　His hands reached into my hair, grabbing haphazardly, and I felt a pleasurable pain.I gestured for him to turn over, lying on his side with his hips arched and his upper leg slightly raised. My hand touched his anus, and as I did, he gently twisted his body and licked my arm . He turned his head, his fascinated eyes observing my expression…

I knew I shouldn't be anally performing on him when he was still so weak, but my desire had already overwhelmed my thoughts.
...I moistened my penis with enough saliva and slowly inserted it...

I also lay down on my side at the same time, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and then my entire arm around his upper body,
holding him tightly with all my might. I began to thrust, and he actually moved his
lower body slightly in response to my movements. This was the only anal sex position he liked; perhaps this position didn't make him feel
embarrassed .

I grabbed one of his hands that was stroking his penis and said to him,

"Try not to ejaculate, otherwise it will be too exhausting."

"I won't!" He didn't listen to my advice at all; he was completely immersed in the frenzy of sex
.

With my thrusting and his own masturbation, we both ejaculated...He looked completely
exhausted , lying motionless on the bed, panting heavily. But his spirits were excellent.

In the bathroom, I had him lie in the bathtub and gently washed him. We talked about the young female
doctor :

"That girl kept looking at you; it was quite interesting," I teased him.

He seemed unimpressed: "She's so old!" Then, as if remembering something, he added,

"In the hospital, she told me that when you were unconscious, your brother was almost crying with worry." He
spoke with a childlike smugness, his eyes intentionally fixed on me, as if watching my reaction.

I avoided his gaze and gave a self-deprecating smile. My heart ached: he was so easily
satisfied!

He didn't ask for much, but it was exactly what I feared giving.

My relationship with Lan Yu had entered a new phase. He was starting school in a little over a week, and
although I was preoccupied with business, I still spent a lot of time with him. He began to readily
accept my money and gifts, but my feeling was that he was just trying to make me happy.

He never mentioned the day I kicked him out, nor how much it had hurt him
…

I finally found a "fool," someone I knew, who bought all my troublesome cars
. I don't like "taking advantage of acquaintances," but sometimes I have no choice. I inadvertently told Lan Yu about this
, and he scoffed, "Money can drive people crazy."

The New Year's bells rang amidst our revelry in bed. In my excitement, I vowed to stay with
him forever, no one else. But I didn't keep that vow.

It was an extraordinary year, for me and for the entire country…

Chapter Eight

February 16th, I received a call from my younger sister:

"Brother! Dad's dying! Come quick!" she sobbed.

"When? What happened?" I couldn't believe it; just two days ago he was scolding me for neglecting my duties.

"He was fine last night, but Mom found out Dad was dying in the early morning!" My sister cried even harder
.

Two days later, my father passed away from a cerebral hemorrhage. I, his eldest son and only
son hadn't even had a chance to cry a few tears before being busy with his funeral arrangements. No matter what, Dad had been
a somewhat influential figure; the memorial service, the condolences, the sympathies… I was utterly exhausted. My mom is twenty years younger than my dad
, but she looked much older in just a few days. I had to stay home every day to
comfort her.

It was a weekend when Lan Yu called, asking if I was coming back to the "temporary village." I really wanted to avoid the somber atmosphere
at home , so I told him I'd come over that evening.

I opened the door and saw Lan Yu sitting on the sofa reading. When he saw me come in, he put down his book
and looked at me with concern, asking,

"Is Mom feeling any better these days?" He used to call my mom "Auntie," but I told him that in Beijing,
guys call each other's mothers "our mom.

" "She's alright," I said listlessly.

"Let's go out and get something to eat," I said again.

"Forget it, I don't think you're in a good mood. I'll buy some cooked food and we'll eat at home!"

I noticed a lot of paper packages on the table, and even a case of Yanjing beer on the floor. He's
so thoughtful.

I picked up a bottle of beer and laughed, "We used to do this back in college."

"Still the same now," he said with a laugh.

After a few drinks, I felt more comfortable than I had in the past few days. My mind kept wandering to my father
; his death was indeed too sudden.

"Grandpa used to always have a stern face, and it felt comfortable without him at home. But now it feels so lonely.
" I said, as if to Lan Yu and also to myself,

"I never liked him when I was little. He always scolded me and hit me, and he didn't care where he was, he'd hit me anywhere
... As I grew older, he became much better. He even liked to talk to me, but I didn't like to talk to him... I remember the year
I got into Nanjing University on my own, he was so proud that he drank too much, saying that among his comrades, only his son
got in on his own... I never felt that he was good to me, but now that I think about it, during those years when I was starting my business,
Grandpa　　 helped me a lot..."

I took a sip of my drink and glanced at Lan Yu. He was listening intently; he was the best listener.
I continued, "Before he died, he suddenly opened his eyes. I think it was a final burst of energy before death. He looked at each of us
, and finally his gaze fell on me. He must have wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He probably really
liked me..." I got a little emotional and couldn't continue.

After a long while, I heard Lan Yu say in a low voice,

"I don't think he was too sad when he passed away. Mom, you, and your two younger sisters were all by
his side. He should have been content..." He paused, "When my mother died, no one was with
her. She took a whole bottle of sleeping pills by herself..."

I looked up at him. This was the first time he had spoken of his mother's death. She committed suicide; no wonder he never
talked about it. His expression was strange, though saddened, it carried a coldness:"Although my parents live in the Northwest, they aren't locals. My mother is from Hangzhou, and my father is from Northeast China..." So he has the features of a Northern man, yet also the delicate features of a Southerner, I thought, looking at him. 　　"They are both teachers at the 'University of Technology.' My family was always well-off when I was young, and my father especially liked..."

Playing. He always played with me and my mother. He taught me to play the erhu, took me stamp collecting, and did arithmetic
word problems with me. By the time I graduated from elementary school, I had already completed the second year of junior high school, all taught by him. My mother
didn't talk much; she was kind to everyone. I had never heard them argue before. The only time was when my mother
said my father was a chauvinist and didn't help with housework at all, but then she smiled and told my father, "I
don't care about you."

He smiled sweetly as he spoke. He took another big gulp of wine:

"After the reform and opening up, my father was one of the first intellectuals to jump into the business world. He developed
a fan and was hired by a township enterprise. Our family became the richest in the school. We were the first to have
a refrigerator and a color TV. Everyone in the school envied us..." I had already guessed the ending of this story;
such .

"My father was different from you businessmen. He didn't know how to play; when he played, he was serious.
I saw that woman before my mother passed away. She was actually very beautiful, but to me, she was incredibly ugly...
I was twelve years old and didn't understand what was happening in my family until my mother had a stroke." The doctors all said she was only forty years old
, too young for this. I visited her at the hospital every day after school; my father rarely went. Lan Yu was
clearly drunk, otherwise he wouldn't have said so much. I didn't try to stop him; this was too good
an opportunity.

She was actually fine, discharged, but she still died. She left a long letter,
written to me, and also to my father: she hated money, saying it could make people cold, selfish, and
heartless. She said the most precious thing to her was affection; she would rather be a broken jade than a whole tile. Listening, my heart
trembled.

She told me to study hard, to get into a university, to leave the environment of "Technology University," she
wanted me to be independent, to be a man of integrity. Lan Yu stopped abruptly
, his slightly reddened eyes staring at me. I thought I saw resentment.

This was impossible now. He lowered his head, one hand holding his wine glass, the other fiddling with
a bottle cap. He continued,

"My mother never imagined that less than a year after her death, my father's career would
plummet , and he'd lose all his savings. Yet he and that woman were already married and had a daughter.
He went back to being a university professor, and everyone laughed at him: 'He drove his wife to her death and became poor again
.' I felt they were laughing at me too…"

"That woman was nice to me at first, but then she became very mean. In my senior year of high school, the school
required us to pay for printing mock exams every day, and she argued fiercely with my father about it, saying she had no money. Later, when I got into 'Huada University,'
she couldn't tolerate me anymore. She told me that our family was struggling, and that her and my father's salaries were barely enough to eat
. My father doesn't care about anything else, he's obsessed with Go, and he's already an amateur sixth dan." Lan Yu smiled
helplessly and poured himself another glass of wine.

"Drink less!" "I tried to dissuade him.

He completely ignored me and continued, 'I borrowed a hundred yuan from an uncle in Hangzhou to come to
Beijing, and that's how I met Liu Zheng, and then you.' He looked at me again and smiled meaningfully.

'Damn it, why am I so unlucky?' he suddenly cursed bitterly. I didn't know if he was referring
to his parents or to meeting me.

'Don't drink anymore, you'll get drunk if you drink any more.' I said, taking his glass away.

'It's okay, I'm not drunk.' He stood up and went into the bathroom, leaning against the wall.

When he came back, he lay on the sofa, looking at me with a flirtatious expression and asked,

'Want to play a game?'

I shook my head: 'Not in the mood.' I really wasn't in the mood.

'No one has been this nice to me since my mother died.' he muttered to himself.
I think he must be referring to me!

...

Strong sunlight streamed through the curtains, making the bedroom very bright. It was already eleven in the morning, and we
were both awake.

'My head hurts so much, I really drank too much last night.'" "He said.

"No, you've been quite sober the whole time."

"That wine was originally for you, but I got drunk." He smiled sheepishly.

I didn't respond. I studied him from the side, looking at his thick, dark eyebrows, bright eyes
, and long eyelashes.

He noticed my gaze, turned to look at me, and asked,

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just looking at you." I said.

"Are you sick?" He said with a slightly flushed smile, completely like a Beijing boy.

"I'm sick, I'm really sick!" I said, almost to myself.

He looked at me, then leaned in and gently kissed my lips. We kissed very tenderly and gently, and he kept
looking at me as he kissed me. He pulled away from my lips and began to give me oral sex. I closed my eyes, feeling that
dreamlike dizziness...

"Handong." He called me softly.

I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me with a puzzled expression. My unusual demeanor must have made him suspicious.

"Continue!" "I encouraged him and closed my eyes again.

He continued to give me oral sex. After a while, I asked him to move closer so I could give him
oral sex too… He ejaculated after only a few strokes.

I still didn't ejaculate. He looked guilty and wanted to continue giving me oral sex, but I stopped him. He
lay down, his body pressed against mine, hinting that I should have anal sex.

I hugged him from behind and said I didn't want to ejaculate, I just wanted to hold him like this.

He didn't say anything. We stayed like that for a long time…

I really didn't want to have sex. I was thinking about what he said last night. He became more and more confused and said a lot of
things, saying he was afraid of the teachers and classmates around him, afraid they would find out about his affair. He said he only felt relaxed when he
was with . He said he was beyond saving…

He shouldn't blame me. If I dragged him into this in the first place, then this time, I was also …"I've been dragged down with this. I accept it!!! 　　I'm thinking of my deceased father and grieving mother again…

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/212802.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=212802&aspx=1

Previous Page : ●The Legend of Ruyi Jun (The Tale of Love and Entertainment)

Next Page : The Deer and the Cauldron - All-Out Eating Chapter 2

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

[Beijing Story] ≮7-8≯

comment Open a new window to view comments