Yan Qing liked small animals. They couldn’t speak, but he knew they liked him.
Whether through their gestures or their gazes, they expressed it with all their might.
He liked people who didn’t make him guess.
From the moment Yan Qing saw Ding Qi, he noticed the other’s unabashed gaze.
It was a kind of instinctive, unaware focus—Ding Qi himself might not have noticed it immediately. Even if he consciously looked away, his gaze would quickly return to Yan Qing.
Ding Qi might be a natural hunter: direct, decisive, and impossible to ignore. His looks and physique made him nearly irresistible.
Yan Qing wasn’t sure if he was merely playing along or being genuinely drawn to the chase, but his thoughts were clear now—there was no reason to let things continue ambiguously.
“You probably still have something to say to me, don’t you?”
Yan Qing didn’t intend to leave right away. A flicker of hope reignited in Ding Qi’s eyes, but his body tensed, as if facing a life-altering test. He was determined to deliver the perfect answer—or risk regretting it forever.
“You might not think much of me,” Ding Qi began, sitting upright on the bed, his hands resting on his knees, “but I really do like you.”
“I work at a prison outside the city, four days on, three days off. Once I’m inside, my phone is confiscated. Our work phones can only access the intranet, so I couldn’t message you.”
During his breaks, he could call from a limited list of approved family numbers, but Ding Qi had misremembered a digit in Yan Qing’s phone number. So, no matter how hard he tried, the calls never connected—a mistake too embarrassing to admit.
The moment his shift ended, Ding Qi rushed back to the city to find Yan Qing.
“I actually didn’t plan on bringing you here… okay, maybe a little. I didn’t want you to think I only have one thing on my mind, but it seemed like you’d already lost interest in me. I didn’t want things to end like that.”
“Even if… even if all you think about is my body, I’d take it—that’s how I was thinking. But then I fell asleep…” Ding Qi covered his face with one hand, as if he could see a dark cloud physically hanging over his head.
Yan Qing propped up his chin, silently watching him. So, that was all?
“In your eyes, disappearing without saying anything is less serious than falling asleep in bed?”
Ding Qi glanced at him, then lowered his gaze again. The corners of his eyes drooped, making his otherwise sharp features look like those of a helpless animal.
“I thought too many messages would make me seem annoying.”
Yan Qing frowned. “I never said that.”
“You have so many people to deal with every day. I didn’t want to be just another one of them.” Ding Qi averted his eyes, his brows furrowing with a stubborn determination.
“That’s not a good reason to not give me a heads-up,” Yan Qing said calmly. “Aren’t you the one who said you wanted me to understand you?”
“… Ding Qi, twenty-five years old, born March 28. Local. Both parents alive, only child, currently living alone. You already know my job. Any other questions?”
Ding Qi finally met Yan Qing’s gaze.
Yan Qing stared at him for a long moment before speaking slowly.
“Do they really use sewing machines in there?”
Ding Qi blinked at him, momentarily stunned. He scooted closer on the bed, propping himself up on his hands. “They do.”
He slid off the bed, crouching in front of Yan Qing and gently placed his rough hand on Yan Qing’s smooth knee, lightly rubbing it. “Every day there’s a production quota. But if you don’t finish, there’s no overtime. The schedule inside is very strict.”
Yan Qing’s eyes followed Ding Qi’s hand as it moved up to his thigh. “So, it’s more structured than working outside?”
“At least you don’t have to pull all-nighters,” Ding Qi replied, leaning in to plant a kiss on Yan Qing’s knee. His eyes burned with desire as he gazed up from below, giving his stare a touch of fierceness.
Yan Qing pressed a hand over Ding Qi’s. “I’m hungry. I’m going out for breakfast.”
Ding Qi froze, watching Yan Qing walk past him, pulling on his pants to cover up everything. Yan Qing quickly dressed, his smile serene. “You can think of this as revenge.”
His gaze drifted downward. “Don’t forget to put on your pants before leaving.”
Ding Qi: “…”
At a breakfast shop near the hotel, they each had a bowl of noodles. Ding Qi exhaled deeply, his earlier wild energy now tamed. “Where are you going next? I’ll take you.”
“Work. Where else?” Yan Qing stifled a laugh, maintaining a deadpan expression.
He couldn’t afford to miss work. With a full schedule of surgeries in the morning, how could he spend all day fooling around with someone who had just been released?
Ding Qi nodded. “Alright.”
The black Kawasaki came to a stop outside the pet hospital. Ding Qi kept the bike steady, waiting for Yan Qing to dismount.
The warmth on Ding Qi’s back disappeared, leaving a chill. He lingered in place, inspecting his fingernails for hangnails.
Yan Qing handed the helmet back. “Do you want to date?”
The glossy black helmet snapped toward him, Ding Qi’s eyes shining like stars.
“Yes! Of course, yes!”
“See you tonight,” Yan Qing said flatly. “Don’t wait outside the door—it’s too conspicuous.”
“I’ll wait at the corner.”
Ding Qi revved the bike, his body practically vibrating with excitement like the first time he’d ever ridden it. Even with the city’s speed limits, he felt like he was flying.
Yan Qing watched him go, the corners of his mouth curling up. He turned to enter the hospital but stopped when he saw Xiao Gao standing at the entrance, looking in his direction.
Staying calm, Yan Qing approached. As expected, Xiao Gao spoke first.
“Dr. Yan, I saw you! You got off that motorcycle!”
“Mm.” Yan Qing decided not to explain anything.
Xiao Gao followed him inside, exclaiming, “Oh my god! I’ve heard of people using sports cars for rideshares, but someone with such an expensive motorcycle doing it? That’s insane!”
Yan Qing nearly laughed out loud.
The idea of Ding Qi being mistaken for a rideshare driver lifted his already good mood even higher.
By midday, the gossip had spread throughout the hospital. “Dr. Yan took a super cool motorcycle to work this morning” became the talk of the town.
Everyone marveled at how, in tough economic times, even rideshare drivers had raised their standards.
Confirming their relationship was meaningful in a practical sense. It gave them a title, a sense of legitimacy, making many things feel more justified.
It also expanded their options for dates. Ding Qi could now openly ask Yan Qing out.
When they were together, Yan Qing spent less time on his phone and finally gave Ding Qi his full attention.
Ding Qi was especially satisfied with this.
Most of the time, though, their dates were limited to a meal or a movie.
That’s when Ding Qi realized how absurd Yan Qing’s work schedule was. He only had four flexible days off each month, worked 9 to 8, and sometimes stayed past midnight dealing with emergencies, like he was on a night shift.
His hands were constantly scratched or bitten by cats and dogs. Each time they met, Ding Qi noticed new injuries. He frowned, but Yan Qing didn’t mind—such was the nature of his job.
“Animals are just animals,” Ding Qi said. “They bite the person helping them. So ungrateful.”
Yan Qing shrugged. “Plenty of doctors for humans get stabbed, too.”
Ding Qi thought for a moment. “…Fair point.”
They became night-time lovers, wandering the city lights together, searching for food, and then retreating to some hotel to lose themselves in passion.
One night, Ding Qi lit a cigarette, watching Yan Qing nap beside him. The dim bedside lamp softened Yan Qing’s face, making it warm and gentle. Leaning down to kiss him, Yan Qing instinctively parted his lips in response.
“Maybe I should adopt a cat.”
Yan Qing opened his eyes. “What?”
“The cat from the first time we met. Did anyone adopt it?” Ding Qi asked.
“It’s long gone,” Yan Qing said bluntly. “And you don’t even like cats.”
Caught, Ding Qi wasn’t embarrassed. “True. I like people more.”
“We’re talking about pets.” Yan Qing thought for a moment. “I have a cat, but I’m more of a dog person.”
Yawning, he added, “I’m sleepy. Let’s nap before heading out.”
Ding Qi whispered gently, pulling Yan Qing into his arms. “I’ll wake you in two hours.”
Yan Qing nodded, curling up slightly and closing his eyes again.
Ding Qi brushed stray hair from Yan Qing’s face and neck, smoking silently as he watched the curling wisps of smoke, lost in thought.
