PGV Chapter 2

By the time Yan Qing finished work, Ding Qi had already been waiting at the hospital’s entrance for half the day. As he stood up, his stomach let out a loud growl.

“Almost starved to death at the entrance of your hospital,” Ding Qi joked to himself.

Yan Qing chuckled, “You’re a grown man. Can’t even figure out how to grab a bite when you’re hungry?”

“You’re not exactly eating either. Besides, if I grab something now and can’t eat later, that’d be super awkward,” Ding Qi replied. “So, where are we going to eat?”

Yan Qing shrugged innocently. “You’re the one who said you wanted to thank me, so of course it’s your decision.”

Not wanting to go too far and being unfamiliar with the area, Ding Qi eventually let Yan Qing pick a place. It was close by—just at the next street corner.

They ordered three dishes and each got a bowl of rice. To Ding Qi’s surprise, the food suited his taste quite well. He quickly polished off his rice and raised a hand to ask for a second bowl.

While Ding Qi was focused on filling his stomach, Yan Qing was much more distracted during the meal. His phone sat right next to him, buzzing now and then. Each time it vibrated, he would pause his eating to respond to messages one by one.

After finishing his food, Ding Qi put down his chopsticks and looked around. The dining hall was almost full, with customers occupying nearly every seat. At a table diagonally across, a woman sat with a child. Ding Qi’s fingers lightly tapped the edge of the table, holding back the urge to smoke.

Instead, he shifted all his attention to Yan Qing.

Yan Qing seemed to be texting several people at once, his head constantly lowered as though the messages were endless. When he managed to eat, his chopsticks always went straight for the duck blood dish.

That duck dish was indeed impressive, Ding Qi thought.

When Yan Qing finally put his phone down and looked up, he noticed Ding Qi had already stopped eating. He blinked in surprise. “You’re done already?”

“I eat fast. No rush, take your time,” Ding Qi said.

Without much explanation, Yan Qing quickened his pace.

Ding Qi noticed that when Yan Qing focused on eating, he seemed to genuinely enjoy the food.

Ding Qi’s first impression of Yan Qing had been that he probably saw meals as a necessary task, only bothering with the bare minimum to stave off hunger. But in reality, Yan Qing had a clear fondness for meat.

With neat teeth, Yan Qing tore the meat off the bones, the texture of the duck pulling into visible strands. His cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed, and his Adam’s apple moved visibly as he swallowed, exuding a unique and vibrant energy.

Even though he was full, Ding Qi found himself wanting to eat a little more.

“I’m done,” Yan Qing announced, setting down his chopsticks. Ding Qi discreetly swallowed, then spoke.

“I know a place where their duck blood dish is even better than this one. I’ll take you next time?”

His tone was completely natural, accompanied by a small, easy smile.

Yan Qing wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Thanks. Courtesy demands reciprocity, so next time, my treat.”

After paying the bill, they stepped outside. The sky had turned completely dark, with neon signs lighting up the streets and forming ribbons of light cutting through the city.

Ding Qi pulled out a warmed cigarette pack and his metallic lighter. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Yan Qing lightly shook his head and turned away. The wind caught his hair, sweeping it to the sides and exposing the clean line of his jaw.

Ding Qi lit a cigarette, the flame flickering as he inhaled. Smoke curled thinly, stretching toward the space between them, as if forming a tenuous bridge before the wind scattered it into nothing.

“Thanks for the meal. It’s getting late, so I’ll grab a taxi home,” Yan Qing said with a calm smile. “You came on your motorcycle, right? Be careful on the way back.”

“Yeah, you too. Take care,” Ding Qi replied, holding up his cigarette, now half-burned. “I’ll head off once I finish this.”

Yan Qing extended a hand, and Ding Qi took it in a polite, friendly handshake.

Yan Qing got into a taxi parked at the curb, his figure vanishing as the car door closed. Ding Qi looked down at his palm, where a warm business card now lay.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an identical card. Flipping over the new one, he found a handwritten string of numbers. A faint smile appeared in his eyes as he took another puff of his cigarette, suppressing the grin threatening to spread across his face.

Pulling out his phone, Ding Qi typed into a group chat, “Which restaurant in the city has the best duck blood dish?”

“Dunno.”

“No idea.”

“Shun Wang De.”

“Never had that stuff.”

The question stirred up a flood of responses, one of which actually provided a proper answer.

The name seemed familiar. Looking up, Ding Qi saw the neon sign above him bearing those very three characters.

“…”

Ding Qi silently stubbed out his cigarette in the trash bin, climbed onto his Kawasaki, and snapped on his helmet.

Hopefully, Yan Qing had a short memory and would forget what he’d said. He vowed to himself: No more showing off next time.

In the taxi, Yan Qing received a friend request. After accepting it, he was greeted with a meme of a panda riding a coin-operated kiddie ride, captioned “Speed of Lightning.”

After some thought, Yan Qing replied, “Let me know when you’re home safe.” Feeling inexplicably happy, he closed his phone and leaned back, enjoying the night breeze through the car window.

Ding Qi glanced at the vibrating phone screen and involuntarily widened his eyes. Was he being treated like a vulnerable little thing now?

What was Yan Qing thinking when he sent that message? Ding Qi lay awake half the night wondering.

A week later, Ding Qi messaged Yan Qing again, inviting him out for another meal. They chatted casually over food with no particular agenda.

Neither of them was particularly talkative, but the silences weren’t awkward. If one of them spoke, the other would naturally pick up the conversation. Their interactions were smooth and comfortable.

Yan Qing occasionally checked his phone during the meal, replying to messages. Ding Qi prided himself on being a mature adult and refrained from prying.

This casual dynamic seemed to become their default activity—no small talk over messages, just an unspoken agreement to meet for a meal whenever someone reached out. Yan Qing never turned him down.

Aside from eating, they did nothing else. After the meal, they went their separate ways, like two food enthusiasts perfectly matched in taste.

But remaining stagnant was impossible.

Across a table of empty dishes, both men set down their chopsticks.

Sitting in a quiet corner, unnoticed by others, Ding Qi shifted closer to Yan Qing and broke the silence. “What do you think of me?”

Yan Qing studied him for a few seconds. “You’re a good person.”

Leaning in slightly, Ding Qi pressed, “Anything else?”

Yan Qing replied calmly, “The rest would need further understanding.”

“Do I have the chance for further understanding?” Ding Qi asked.

Leaning back against his chair, Yan Qing tilted his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Gripping his metal lighter tightly, Ding Qi leaned so close their foreheads almost touched. Yan Qing’s breath hitched, his heartbeat quickened, yet he maintained unflinching eye contact, as if the connection between their gazes had become something tangible.

“I want you to get to know me,” Ding Qi said.

Perhaps agreeing to Ding Qi’s request in the first place had been a small step toward losing control. Yan Qing hadn’t intended for things to progress this far—or at least he hadn’t thought he did.

When they entered the hotel, things spiraled out of hand. Yan Qing wasn’t used to this sort of situation. Strictly speaking, he had never been in one before.

The hotel room’s warm yellow lighting cast a cozy glow over the cramped double room. Yan Qing’s heart seemed to beat against invisible walls, its rhythm loud and erratic.

With his back turned, Ding Qi removed his shirt.

His back muscles were striking, taut like those of a robust chestnut horse. A faint sheen of sweat glistened under the light, his skin smooth and radiant like silk.

As Yan Qing watched, Ding Qi turned around. His toned chest and defined abs were flawless, the result of excellent fitness discipline. Yan Qing couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious in comparison.

Ding Qi offered no hesitation, allowing Yan Qing to touch and explore. He presented himself fully, leaving nothing concealed.

“Wait,” he suddenly said, pulling out his phone and holding the screen up for Yan Qing to see.

“What?” Yan Qing looked closer—it was a medical report.

Ding Qi explained, “It’s my health certificate. Proof that I’m clean.”

Yan Qing sighed. “I didn’t prepare anything like that.”

Wrapping an arm around him, Ding Qi reassured, “I never doubted you.”

For Ding Qi, this was meticulously planned. For Yan Qing, it was a moment of impulsive surrender.

Under the hot spray of the shower, they kissed deeply, bodies pressed tightly together. The coolness of the tiles contrasted with the searing heat between them.

Water blurred Yan Qing’s vision, forcing him to blink repeatedly. In the chaos of overheating emotions, he sought out Ding Qi’s eyes.

It wasn’t hard to find them.

Those eyes had been locked onto him all along, burning with intensity, never straying for even a moment.