(M) Chapter 52 – The Tattoo
Novel Title: 一屋暗灯 (Ephemeral Light)
Author：麦香鸡呢 (McChicken)
Translator: K (@kin0monogatari)
Protagonists: 宋谨 (Song Jin -MC), 宋星阑 (Song Xinglan -ML)
*Please read at Novels Space.space, the original site of translation. TQ*
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If Song Jin had known what consequences his words would bring, he might have chosen a more tactful way of saying it. Unfortunately, it was too late.
It was his first time kissing to the point of dizziness and disorientation. His breath was filled with the rich scent of wine. Song Xinglan’s hands roamed over his body countless times, and Song Jin finally lost all sense of self. He didn’t even know when his pants had been taken off.
It was as if his senses had failed. His ears were filled with the sounds of heartbeats and breathing while his vision was a blur of countless flickering lights. His body felt hot, his breath was hot, and every touch sent a shiver through him. Although nothing had really started yet, Song Jin was already desperately trying to suppress his voice.
He was left with only an open shirt, messily covering his reddened body. Song Xinglan kissed his neck. Song Jin didn’t dare touch him. Both of their bodies were too hot, as if sparks would fly upon contact.
“Xing… Xinglan…” Song Jin raised his hand to cover his eyes, breathing heavily. He felt a strong sense of suffocation. He just wanted to call a halt, to catch his breath. “I…”
“We’re just getting started.” Song Xinglan took off his own shirt and spread Song Jin’s legs. He then pressed down on him. “Ge, relax.”
“No… I can’t…” Song Jin closed his eyes and took deep breaths, unconsciously licking his own hot lips. He groaned softly in pain. “I feel uncomfortable…”
“Where do you feel uncomfortable?” Song Xinglan removed Song Jin’s hand from his eyes and pressed his forehead against Song Jin’s to check his temperature. “Is it hot?”
Song Jin nodded with his eyes closed.
In fact, besides the heat, there was more tension, panic, and confusion. Some emotions were impossible to articulate. They existed, couldn’t be ignored, and couldn’t be explained. The closer they got, the stronger they became.
“Ge,” Song Xinglan brushed Song Jin’s eyelashes with his fingertips, asking, “Didn’t you want to see my tattoo?”
Song Jin slowly opened his eyes, focusing on Song Xinglan’s features for a moment before nodding slightly and softly murmuring, “Mm.”
He looked very obedient, seemingly aware that Song Xinglan was giving him some time to adjust. He followed along without any defence, not realising this was just another trap.
When Song Xinglan held his waist and changed his position to kneel on the bed, he was still in a daze.
Song Xinglan leaned against the pillow in a half-sitting position. Despite his upward gaze, his oppressive aura was strong. He pulled Song Jin’s hand to his belt buckle, saying, “See for yourself.”
Song Jin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he moved his fingers. With one hand not strong enough, he straightened his body slightly forward and used both hands to unbuckle Song Xinglan’s belt.
As he pulled the zipper down, his hand inevitably brushed against the already responsive area. Panicked, Song Jin looked up at Song Xinglan’s eyes, only to find that it was even worse than not looking at him. His brother’s gaze was terrifyingly dark. It was as if he was enjoying the prey’s last struggles before the kill. He was suppressing his desires while relishing in the sight of his opponent’s helplessness at the edge of despair.
The waistband of the suit trousers was pulled down, revealing the edge of the underwear and a small section of the tattoo. The last time Song Jin saw it, he only saw a little bit but felt it was familiar, though he couldn’t remember exactly what it was. So, he was curious—just a bit curious—but Song Xinglan held onto this curiosity tightly.
The underwear covered the perfect lines of Song Xinglan’s waist. Kneeling between Song Xinglan’s legs, Song Jin hooked his fingers around the waistband and slowly pulled it down. The tattoo gradually revealed itself, stretching over the pale skin and muscular lines, with no other colours—just black and grey. The shape was hard to describe. It was like a small burning flame but more like…a piece of ash, with scattered dots around it, as if they were floating debris.
Song Jin stared almost entranced at that spot. A thought surged from distant memories, making him look up at Song Xinglan with disbelief and ask, “Is it…”
Before Song Jin could say what it was, Song Xinglan replied, “Yes.”
Song Xinglan’s tattoo was Song Jin’s birthmark.
When Song Jin was born, he had a faint birthmark on the back of his neck, barely visible unless looked at closely. When they were young and bathed together, Song Xinglan noticed the birthmark and said, “Gege, you have dirt here.”
“That’s not dirt,” the nanny overseeing their bath said with a smile. “That’s your brother’s birthmark.”
It was then that Song Jin first heard about his birthmark. Curious, he turned to the nanny and asked, “What’s a birthmark?”
The nanny thought for a moment before saying, “It’s a small black spot on your skin.”
Song Jin immediately felt a bit repulsed and frowned, saying, “That sounds ugly.”
After their bath, Song Jin lay on the bed, feeling unhappy. After thinking for a while, he asked Song Xinglan, “What does my birthmark look like?”
Song Xinglan looked seriously at the back of his neck. But, being so young, he couldn’t describe it clearly. So he said, “It’s like something burned by fire, whoosh, all at once.”
Song Jin felt even more unhappy, burying his head in his arms and muttering, “It must be ugly.”
After a while, Song Xinglan was silent. Children’s emotions pass quickly. Song Jin began to come to terms with it. He lifted his head and said, “Never mind. I can’t see it anyway.”
Song Xinglan didn’t reply. Song Jin saw him kneeling beside the bed, concentrating on drawing.
“What are you drawing?” Song Jin asked.
Song Xinglan continued to brush strokes on the paper, then lifted it up to show Song Jin. “I’m drawing your birthmark!”
The drawing skills were still immature. The finished product made Song Jin’s birthmark look a hundred times uglier. But Song Jin remembered laughing happily at the time and said, “You’re lying. It couldn’t be this ugly.”
“It’s not ugly,” Song Xinglan looked at his own drawing and commented, “I just didn’t draw it well.”
Children often forget things easily. As they grew up, the birthmark on the back of Song Jin’s neck faded away completely. Song Jin hadn’t thought about that birthmark for years, nor about how his brother had once tried to draw it, albeit poorly.
But Song Xinglan remembered. He remembered that vague mark. Eighteen years later, he tattooed the faded birthmark from his brother’s skin onto his own.
Why did he do that?
Song Jin felt like he knew the answer but dared not confirm it because it was too heavy, pressing upon the immutable line of blood ties. It weighed on him just as heavily as when he realised the truth within himself. All he knew was, it was over.
They were both over, and had been over for a long time.
A hand interrupted Song Jin’s thoughts. Song Xinglan pressed down on the back of Song Jin’s neck, pushing him downward. Simultaneously, something brushed against the corner of Song Jin’s mouth through his underwear. Song Xinglan whispered softly, “You’re done looking? Time for something else.”
***
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It was late at night. Exhausted, Song Jin lay face down on the bed while Song Xinglan got up to the bathroom to run hot water. He then held him and brought him over to join him in sinking into the bathtub.
Song Xinglan rested his hands on the edge of the tub while Song Jin leaned against him from behind. Steam rose around them, blurring the bruised marks and hickeys on their skin. They didn’t speak. They just quietly stayed together.
Song Xinglan didn’t speak because he generally didn’t talk much. Song Jin didn’t speak because after four to five times of being fucked, he had no strength left. If he hadn’t finally sobbed and pleaded that he couldn’t continue, he might have collapsed unconscious on the bed. Now, he just wanted to lie down and sleep.
“What about the sheets?” After a long silence, Song Jin asked weakly with his eyes closed.
“I’ll send them to be washed,” Song Xinglan replied.
“Forget it.” The sheets were a mess of marks from them having sex. Song Jin couldn’t bear to send them out to be cleaned. In a hoarse voice, he said, “I’ll wash them.”
Song Xinglan said, “Then throw them away.”
“They’re expensive.” Song Jin half-opened his eyes, turning to glance at Song Xinglan with a hint of reproach.
“Let Grapefruit wash them,” Song Xinglan decided finally.
Song Jin pursed his lips and smiled, saying, “Then you wake Grapefruit up early tomorrow to wash the sheets.”
“Mm.” Song Xinglan kissed the corner of his eye.
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*Author’s Note:
Song Xinglan: I know my brother still has concerns. So I showed him my tattoo. It moved him, didn’t it?
-McChicken
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*Translator’s Note: Well, SXL knows well how to soften SJ’s heart. Heh. -K
Next update: -Daily-
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