CYNTM CHAPTER 80

“Because I once received an engagement ring, I thought you had fallen in love with someone and I didn’t know about it. But at that time, I never had the chance to ask who the ring was meant for, so I comforted myself by thinking it was intended for me.”

“What? When did I ever buy a ring! The only thing I ever bought was a watch, and that was for you…” Hunter paused, then furrowed his brow in realization. “Oh—are you hinting that I should get you an engagement ring!”

“Well, you can take it as my hint.”

Winston’s voice was calm, but his eyes seemed to stir with thoughts from a distant past, like a thousand horses charging forth, engulfing Hunter.

The man’s desire was real, even if others didn’t understand it.

“Well… you could also consider it my engagement ring, even though the size might not be perfect.” Hunter touched his nose, his cheeks flushing faintly.

He didn’t look into Winston’s eyes, his ears burning.

“Really?” Winston extended his hand toward Hunter. “If you actually have a ring for me, I can find a way to make it fit.”

Winston’s expression was serious.

This made Hunter’s heart beat nervously.

The tension felt like racing on the final lap of a track.

He wanted to suppress his nervousness but couldn’t help taking a deep breath.

Winston’s hand remained extended, refusing to move until he got what he wanted. He would wait as long as it took.

Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out something.

The sound of metal clinking made his nerves lightly tremble.

At that moment, Hunter felt as solemn as if he were making a lifelong low on a sacred altar.

He cradled Winston’s fingers with his left hand and slowly slid the metal ring onto Winston’s middle finger with his right hand.

Below the metal ring, there was a key and a Bluetooth transmitter.

Winston seemed to realize something, and his fingertips trembled along with Hunter’s hand.

“I… I bought back the place where I grew up. Here’s the key to that place and the garage. I promised you that I would leave a spot for you in the garage. But now I realize, I don’t just want to leave the garage for you… I know you must have many beautiful big houses… perhaps even a grand castle in England. My house might be small for you… but for me, it’s home. And… how can home be without the person I love most?”

Hunter’s voice was soft, even growing fainter as he spoke. His eyes were red, and he didn’t let go of Winston’s hand.

Winston turned his palm and grasped Hunter’s hand.

“Now, that’s our home.”

“Mm, yeah!” Hunter nodded vigorously.

“After we finish eating, let’s go see our home.”

“But there’s nothing in the house.”

“I’ll buy it with you.”

“Okay!”

Hunter took a big bite of his cheese chicken roll and asked Winston, who was sitting across from him, “Is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s delicious.” Winston ate slowly. Although his demeanor was elegant and refined, Hunter couldn’t resist teasing him.

As soon as the tip of Hunter’s shoe brushed against Winston’s calf, Winston looked up with a playful smile on his lips.

“You mentioned that the house is completely empty. Is there a bed?”

“…Huh? Why are you suddenly asking that… I haven’t bought one yet…”

“If there’s no bed, don’t tease me under the table,” Winston said seriously. “Unless… you like doing it on the floor.”

Hunter immediately withdrew his leg. “I… I didn’t mean to touch you!”

“Also, these kinds of things are better done in leather shoes, not sneakers,” Winston corrected Hunter calmly.

“Give me back the keys to my house.” Hunter stretched his neck.

“Not giving them back.” Winston pulled out the keychain from his pocket and deliberately waved it in front of Hunter.

Hunter let out a chuckle. It was the first time he had seen Winston act so “willfully.”

After lunch, Hunter and Winston arrived at a villa neighborhood. Hunter’s father had been a well-known stockbroker, and they had lived in one of New York’s more affluent areas.

Occasionally, luxury cars drove past them.

“You should have brought your Ferrari.”

“Yeah, just to park it in the garage.”

Hunter couldn’t help but laugh.

The villa was a three-story house with front and back gardens. It was built twenty years ago, and its style was less modern compared to the new villas they had passed.

The yard had become overgrown, and the “For Sale” sign had been removed.

Standing at the door, Hunter took a deep breath and turned to Winston. “Hey, I should be glad that no one bought it over the years… Maybe the fact that a well-known stockbroker lived here and eventually went bankrupt made people think it was unlucky?”

Winston reached out and patted Hunter’s head. “I’ll open the door. Let’s go inside and take a look.”

“Okay,” Hunter nodded.

When they opened the door, the interior was empty. The sofa, television, dining table, and cabinets had all been moved out when Hunter’s father filed for bankruptcy.

The floorboards were old and worn, etched with the passage of time. Each step elicited a creaking sound, like something deep within memory was fracturing.

“There used to be a big sofa here! My dad would always lie on this side with his head in his hands, and my mom would sit with me and watch cartoons,” Hunter said.

“Mm. Was the television placed here?” Winston asked.

“Yep.” Hunter walked to the wall and pointed. “There was a cabinet here with lots of photos. Graduation pictures from elementary and middle school, photos of me winning junior karting races, and images of my parents holding me when I was just born… But now, I don’t know where they went…”

Hunter rubbed the back of his head.

“Let’s go upstairs and take a look. I’m curious about your bedroom.”

“Sure!”

Hunter went upstairs and opened a room on the second floor.

The room was small, with a window that faced the backyard. There was a sycamore tree in the garden, its branches extending right up to Hunter’s window.

The room was empty. Hunter opened the window and stuck his head out.

“You know, when I was a kid, I always dreamed of building a treehouse in this tree. Whenever I made my dad angry, I’d climb up and hide, pulling the ladder up after me. But the tree was too small back then to support a treehouse. Now it’s grown a bit, but I no longer dream of a treehouse,” Hunter said with a smile.

“Was your bed in this spot?” Winston asked.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Because there are marks on the wall where posters used to be. Whose posters were they?” Winston asked, tilting his head, “Bunny girls?”

Hunter paused. He didn’t dare to admit that the posters had been of Owen and Ciel, who, still with Lotus, had won first and second place in the final race of the season, securing the championship for Lotus that year.

“Not bunny girls. It was my dream from elementary to middle school. It seemed far away back then, but now it feels quite close… because I met you,” Hunter laughed.

Winston leaned in and kissed him on the ear.

“Your expression is very sincere. It doesn’t seem like you’re lying.”

“You’re going to make me dislike you if you keep this up.”

“What else is on this floor?”

“My dad’s study. He would often lock himself in there after dinner, studying stocks and investments. I can leave it for you… You must have a lot of books, right?” Hunter said while smiling.

Winston put his hands in his pockets and looked around. “It’s quite large.”

“Yes, it can hold many books.”

“I don’t need to put any books here.”

“Why not?”

“For me, a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to fully understand you. What’s the point of filling it with books as decorations?”

Hunter paused and turned back. “But you seem to really enjoy reading.”

“I liked reading when I was bored and didn’t have you around.”

“Oh? Then what would we do with this room?”

Winston came over to Hunter, put his arm around his shoulder, and answered seriously, “How about a ping-pong table? I really enjoy watching you pick up the balls.”

Hunter: “…Can we choose something else?”

“A billiards table could work too. For instance, you could bend over the table to take a shot, and I could watch you from behind, and then…”

“Enough, enough…”

“Or a racing simulator.”

“That option sounds good!”

“But I don’t like that option. I still prefer a ping-pong table or a billiards table.”

Winston’s voice was low and husky, making Hunter’s heart flutter and his ears red.

“Let’s go upstairs and check out the master bedroom.”

“Sure.”

The master bedroom was spacious and had a terrace.

“The bed used to be here, and over there was my mom’s vanity…”

Hunter remembered everything from the past with vivid clarity.

“Mm, if it’s just the two of us, we can skip the vanity, but we’ll need a bigger walk-in closet. What do you think?”

“You must have a lot of suits.”

“Not really. I want to put a big mirror in the closet, then lock the door and do it in front of the mirror. It should feel quite good.”

Hunter deliberately took a step back and stepped hard on Winston’s foot with his heel.

Before he could apply more pressure, Winston wrapped his arms around Hunter’s waist and lifted him up. Winston’s breath was warm and tickled Hunter’s ear.

With Winston’s deep laughter, his chest vibrating with each chuckle.

“Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“To buy furniture. Let’s fill up our home.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. We won’t be able to stay here for a few days. We’ll pick out the furniture today, have it delivered tomorrow, and the day after, we can enjoy our home properly.” Winston’s expression was absolutely serious.

“Alright! Let’s go!”

They went to the most expensive custom furniture center in the city. Hunter had never been to such a place before.

“Hey, this furniture must be super expensive! And they probably won’t be able to deliver it in time for tomorrow!”

“Money can solve everything,” Winston replied.

“Huh?”

“Can I choose the furniture?” Winston asked.

“Sure. Actually, I don’t mind!”

Several designers surrounded them, presenting their pieces. Winston took their catalogs, selected furniture, and suggested modifications. When words fell short, Winston grabbed a pencil and sketched his ideas in a notebook.

Hunter was amazed because the sketches Winston drew looked strikingly similar to the furniture that used to be in the villa.

It was as if Winston had been to Hunter’s home before or had seen those exact pieces.

Since most of the furniture involved modifications of existing designs, Winston paid three times the usual price to ensure they would rush the work and deliver the pieces by tomorrow night.

As Winston held Hunter’s hand and they were leaving, Hunter stopped him.

“Hey… have you been to my house before?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know what my old furniture looks like?”

As the two walked hand-in-hand through the streets of New York, Winston was unconcerned about the stares from passersby and intertwined his fingers with Hunter’s.

“I realized I can’t live without you, so I pay attention to everything about you. There was an article after you won the junior karting championship. It included details about your childhood and a few photos of your home.”

“Do you remember all of this?”

“Can you remember every word I’ve said to you?”

“I’m sure I can,” Hunter answered confidently.

Even though he wasn’t a big reader, he remembered every poem Winston had recited to him.

“Then why doubt that I can remember everything I’ve seen about you?”

Winston smiled gently.

Hunter said nothing, just continued to look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It just feels… every time I see you smile at me, it seems like life becomes brighter.”

Winston turned his face away. “If you always speak to me like this, I’d want to run laps too.”

“Haha!” Hunter glanced at the time. “It’s almost dinner time, but I’m not hungry. What should we do?”

“How about we choose a mattress? The bed will arrive tomorrow, but we need a mattress.”

“OK!”

They went to the bedding center.

Winston took Hunter to another high-end store. As a child, Hunter’s parents had always made these choices for him, so he had no memories of it.

But when he saw a white-collar couple choosing a mattress with their child, who was jumping and rolling on it, Hunter was suddenly reminded of himself.

The vague memories became clearer.

Back then, he had happily bounced on the mattress while his parents stood nearby.

“Evan seems to really like this mattress.”

“Haha, is it because he can jump high on it?”

At this moment, Winston was already lying on a mattress, his arms spread out.

“Hunter, are you sure you don’t want to lie down and feel it?”

“Is it supportive?”

“You’ll find out once you lie down.”

Hunter smiled slightly and, ignoring the looks from others, lay down on Winston’s arm.

“Is this mattress comfortable?”

“It’s quite nice,” Hunter replied, squinting his eyes.

“If it’s comfortable, can I sleep next to you?” Winston asked seriously.

Hunter’s face began to flush again, and he nestled his head against Winston’s neck.

“No.”

“Oh, what a pity.” Winston’s voice carried a hint of amusement.

“Because you’re much more attractive than the mattress,” Hunter replied.

“What were you thinking about earlier when you stood by the bed?”

“I was thinking about my childhood. My parents took me to choose mattresses, and I refused to get off, just kept jumping. My mom would say, ‘Evan, that’s a mattress, not a trampoline.’”

Winston turned his face and kissed Hunter’s forehead, then his eyes.

“So, my Evan, do you like this mattress?”

Hunter was taken aback.

He had imagined countless times what Winston would sound like saying his name. Even though they were already quite close, hearing Winston say “My Evan” slowly and clearly still made Hunter’s heart flutter as if it were about to overflow.

It was clear and deep, like the sound of a cello.

“Say my name again.”

“Evan.” Winston’s fingers lightly stroked the back of Hunter’s head.

“Say it again.”

“Evan.”

Hunter smiled.

“I really like this mattress now.”

“Then call me by my name.”

“Vann.” Hunter suddenly felt happy and sat up. “Aha! There must be very few people who dare to call you by your name! Everyone must think they need to be extremely respectful of you! And you have a title too, right?”

“So you can’t just call my name casually.”

“Ah… Do I need your permission to call your name?”

“Yes. You must maintain absolute respect for me. You can only call my name when you feel very, very much in love with me and really want me.” Winston lay back, smiling gently at him.

“So calling your name has to meet two conditions?”

“Yes. First, when you love me very much, and second, when you want me.” Winston propped himself up slightly, chin tilted, looking into Hunter’s eyes. “This way, I know I can be a bit arrogant, a bit unruly, and a bit tough with you.”

Hunter propped his chin up and turned his face away. “I suddenly don’t want this mattress anymore.”

Winston let out a deep, pleasant laugh that captivated Hunter’s hearing.

“Should I set a rule for you too?”

“What?”

“You can call me Evan when you love me a lot and really want me?”

“That rule doesn’t make any sense.”

Hunter immediately understood what Winston meant.

“Well then, let’s change it. You can only call me that when you’re incredibly happy, excited, and can’t contain your joy at seeing me. Also, you have to ask for my permission to hug me. And you can only do it once a month.”

“You’re really a bad boy.”

“This bad boy is hungry and wants dinner!”

“Alright then.”

In the end, Winston chose this mattress.

As they walked through the streets of New York under the night sky, Hunter felt for the first time that his life in New York could be fulfilling and satisfying.

Since they didn’t have any furniture and the mattress in Hunter’s small New York apartment had been ruined by jumping the last time they were there, they stayed in a hotel.

When Hunter came out of the shower, he saw Winston leaning against the windowsill, talking on the phone.

His figure was beautiful, with smooth yet firm lines.

Though he was only a few years older, Winston had an aura of absolute maturity and steadiness.

“Who are you on the phone with?” Hunter asked as he leaned beside him.

“My assistant, Miss Anne. I had her send some of my things over.” Winston wrapped his arm around Hunter’s shoulder. “Our home must have some of my things too, right?”

Hunter couldn’t help but smile.

The next morning, Winston accompanied Hunter to his old apartment, where they packed all his belongings into suitcases.

As they passed the bodybuilder’s door, his girlfriend heard the sound of suitcases being dragged back and forth in the hallway and opened the door.

“You… are leaving?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Hunter replied with a smile.

“Is it because we disturbed your life?” Her expression showed genuine guilt.

“No, it’s because I’m going home.”

She glanced at Winston, who was pulling a suitcase on each side. “Are you going to live with him?”

“Yeah. Besides him, I can’t think of anyone else who would put up with my willfulness.”

She smiled knowingly. “Well, you don’t have to worry that he’s just tolerating you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He loves you. As a woman, I can tell from the way he looks at you that his world revolves around you. Be happy, Mr. Willful Hunter.”

“You too.”

When they returned to the villa, some custom furniture that didn’t need much modification had already been delivered.

They directed the workers to place them in the designated spots.

Hunter flopped onto the sofa and laughed, “Hey, it’s really hard to find vintage sofas like this nowadays!”

Winston sat beside him and put his arm around him.

The furniture was carried in piece by piece, including the TV cabinet and dining table.

Winston had even ordered kitchenware, with plates and teacups reflecting a British style.

By mid-afternoon, a package from Winston’s assistant, Miss Anne, was also delivered.

Hunter eagerly tore into Winston’s boxes. Inside were some personal clothing and carefully wrapped picture frames.

Hunter curiously opened the package and found a photo of his parents holding him as a baby right on top. It was the same photo used in media interviews when he won his first junior karting championship.

The photo was meticulously vacuum-sealed in its frame, with colors still vivid and without any creases.

Hunter’s eyes welled up again.

“Where did you find this?”

“I told you, after I realized I loved you, I began collecting everything about you. I bought this magazine, which had this photo, at a high price from one of your fans.”

Winston embraced Hunter from behind. “I never thought my collection would come in handy one day.”

Hunter covered his mouth and laughed, though tears nearly fell.

“You must have loved me for a long time.”

“Mm… far longer than you can imagine. And the time I was without you is much greater than the time we’ve been together. So, from now on, you can’t leave me. You must make me feel secure that everything is behind us whenever I recall the most painful and regretful times.”

“Alright.”

Hunter placed the photo on the cabinet where it used to be.

Next to it were other photos: one from when he first won a Formula 1 Grand Prix, another where he and Winston stood together on the podium, and photos of them together at the London Eye and the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

“Hey, I suddenly feel like this cabinet is a bit small.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because we’re going to need to display a lot more photos here in the future! And also, our trophies.”

Winston smiled.

The mattress had arrived, but the bed had not. Hunter was reluctant to stay in a hotel again, so they spent the night on the mattress.

By noon the next day, the bed was finally delivered.

The workers placed the bed in the master bedroom, and Hunter and Winston put the mattress on top.

Anne had already prepared clean sheets. Winston efficiently made the bed, tucking in the pillowcases as well. Even the closet in the master bedroom was neatly organized.

When Hunter thanked the movers at the door, he turned and saw Winston unhurriedly walking down the stairs.

Winston wore a beige sweater that accentuated his attractive neckline. His long legs were elegantly displayed even in casual pants.

He turned to look at Hunter and softly said, “Everything’s ready.”

Hunter stood there, unmoving.

“What’s wrong?” Winston frowned slightly.

“It’s nothing… I just think the lighting in our home is particularly nice. You look radiant standing there. And only I can see it.” Hunter walked over, his gaze fixed on Winston.

Winston reached out his hand to him.

Hunter grinned and ran up to him in a few strides.

Winston, however, took a step back, allowing Hunter to stand on the higher step. Then, suddenly, he scooped Hunter up in his arms, lifting him off his feet.

“Hey! Be careful not to drop me!” Hunter clung to Winston’s neck.

Winston simply smiled at him. “My Evan… you look dazzling in the light of our home.”

Hunter’s heart skipped a beat.

He certainly remembered what it meant when Winston said his name.

“You said before that if I won, you would make nice sounds for me to hear. Even though I lost to you, if you want me to call your name now, you have to coax me properly.”

Winston looked into Hunter’s eyes and smiled.

He carried Hunter slowly up the stairs.

With each step, Hunter held onto him tightly, afraid that any sudden movement might cause both of them to fall down the stairs.

But Winston’s arms were so strong, steadily supporting Hunter, like a fortress that would never collapse.

“How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto. Never easy, but we try. Sometimes our happiness is captured. Somehow, our time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts and always will. Minutes turn to hours, days to years then gone…”

Without any music, Winston’s voice was deep, as if he was gathering all his emotions and encasing them into “forever.”

Hunter remembered his childhood when his father brought home roses, his mother’s joyful expression, and how they would embrace each other and dance to jazz in the living room.

When everything fell apart and Hunter no longer believed in the concept of “forever,” Winston picked up the pieces, making it seem almost too perfect to be real.

He softly sang “How Does a Moment Last Forever”¹



in Hunter’s ear, and Hunter felt as though he had entered eternity.

“I want to be with you forever, Vann,” Hunter spoke as Winston held him, leaning against the door of the master bedroom.

Winston suddenly kissed him, his kiss as deep and prolonged as his soft singing voice. His tongue wrapped around Hunter’s like a silent river suddenly boiling and burning.

His sucking sealed Hunter’s breath and heartbeat, his hands searing as if to leave a mark on Hunter. Hunter responded recklessly, his back pressed hard against the door as Winston’s passionate frenzy nearly crushed him into it.

Hunter’s chin lifted under the pressure. Winston kissed his chin, and Hunter had to free one hand to twist the door open.

Hunter fell backward, and Winston supported his lower back with one hand while holding him securely with the other.

Winston’s embrace was tight, almost like a strangulation, but it gave Hunter a profound sense of security.

Winston fervently sucked Hunter’s neck. When Hunter landed on the mattress, Winston eagerly pressed on top of him.

Their kissing was no longer a battle of possession and defense but a desperate union.

Hunter supported himself, trying to get closer to Winston. Winston pressed his lips against Hunter’s with fervor, and Hunter kept moving backward until he was pressed against the headboard.

Winston turned his face to the side, kissing him deeply, his hand pressing firmly against Hunter’s ear. It felt as though the entire world had shrunk to just this man’s embrace.

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The author has something to say:

Hunter: Is your house in England big?

Winston: Yes. And there are many rooms, enough to satisfy our novelty.

Hunter: What novelty?

Winston: For example, doing it in front of different windows to see varying views.

Hunter: …

Winston: My study is also large, with many books. Amidst the smell of paper…

Hunter: Enough, I don’t want to hear any more!

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