The street outside Yang Zi's apartment seemed to dim, receding into the shadow of Shi Wang's imposing presence.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, a picture of effortless elegance in a deep maroon suit that whispered of bespoke tailoring and exorbitant expense. His expensive leather shoes, polished to a mirror sheen, gleamed even in the fading light.
On the other side of the threshold, Yang Zi was a stark contrast – a whirlwind of domestic chaos. His t-shirt, drenched and clinging to his chest, was stained here and there with cleaning product, and his half-length shorts threatened to slide further down his waist. A damp towel was gripped tightly in his hand, his hair a wild, sweat-soaked mess.
"What are you doing here, Shi Wang?" Yang Zi demanded, frustration plain in his voice, his chest still heaving from exertion.
Shi Wang, unperturbed, allowed his gaze to drift from Yang Zi's disheveled hair to his precarious shorts, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
He cleared his throat, pushing off the doorframe.
"Me? Oh, I just... I just had some other business nearby, and it seemed a shame not to stop by and say hello."
The lie rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, his true motive was definitely to see Yang Zi.
"Some other business?" Yang Zi scoffed, rolling his eyes as he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple.
"What are we, Shi Wang? Why do you even want to meet me?"
"Ah, come on," Shi Wang said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest, "don't you invite me inside? My legs are simply aching from standing."
"No. Go home. I'm busy." Yang Zi immediately rejected the theatrical plea, his voice firm.
But Shi Wang had driven all this way. To be turned away at the door? Unthinkable. A slow, devious smile spread across his face, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Nonsense. I'll wait for you to finish your work. I'm in no hurry."
He took a step forward, intending to slip past. But Yang Zi stood his ground, a stubborn mountain, holding the gate tightly, blocking the entrance.
"I. Said. Go. Back. To. Your. Home." Each word was enunciated with deliberate force, a clear warning.
Shi Wang, however, was equally stubborn. With less than half his actual strength, he pushed gently against the door.
Yang Zi, determined, held the doorknob with a vice-like grip. It was a silent tug-of-war, a battle of wills played out in the narrow doorway.
Then, with a sudden, jarring lurch, something snapped.
A loud, splintering CRACK! echoed through the quiet apartment as a hinge gave way under the combined, opposing forces.
The door flew inward, taking Yang Zi with it.
A gasp tore from Yang Zi's lips as he stumbled backward. Shi Wang, caught off guard by the sudden collapse, pitched forward, his momentum carrying him directly into Yang Zi. They collided with a sickening thud, a tangle of limbs and sudden weight.
THUMP!
Both men fell to the floor in a heap, Yang Zi's back hitting the hard tiles with an audible oof. Shi Wang, reacting on instinct, twisted mid-fall, cushioning Yang Zi's head with his arm just before impact, preventing a nasty injury.
They lay there, sprawled on the cool floor of the apartment entrance, Shi Wang's body stretched precariously over Yang Zi's, a heavy, warm weight.
The air crackled with a sudden, electrifying tension. Their eyes, wide with shock, met. Time seemed to warp, the world outside shrinking to just the two of them.
Shi Wang's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum against Yang Zi's chest. Blood rushed to his head, a dizzying tide, sending a primal, overwhelming urge through his veins.
Yang Zi's scent – sweat, lemon cleaner, and something uniquely him – filled his senses. The softness of Yang Zi's skin beneath his hand, the vulnerable curve of his neck, the slight parting of his lips... Shi Wang wanted nothing more than to lean down, to bridge the tiny gap, to kiss him, to pour every unspoken feeling, every suppressed longing, into that single, desperate embrace.
But before he could even think of moving, before the moment could fully solidify into something profound, Yang Zi let out a strangled sound of disgust.
With a furious grunt, he yanked the dirty, sweat-damp towel from his hand and slapped Shi Wang squarely across his handsome face.
The rough fabric, smelling faintly of stale lemon cleaner mixed with Yang Zi's honest, hard-earned sweat, thoroughly assaulted Shi Wang's nostrils and stung his skin. The spell was violently broken.
"Get off me!" Yang Zi cried, pushing with all his might, the sudden surge of adrenaline lending him unexpected strength.
Shi Wang scrambled backward, his face stinging, a faint red mark forming where the towel had struck. He pushed himself up quickly, feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.
"I... I'm sorry," he stammered, fumbling for a pristine white handkerchief from his suit pocket to dab at his face.
"I shouldn't have applied so much force to the door."
Yang Zi, still on the floor, watched him with a mix of fury and something akin to disbelief. His gaze then dropped to Shi Wang's expensive maroon suit, now adorned with a distinct streak of grime from the fall. A flicker of... concern? passed through his eyes.
"Your suit," Yang Zi said, his voice flat, not quite looking at him. "It's dirty. Go wash it in the bathroom."
Shi Wang's eyes lit up, a brilliant, opportunistic gleam. "Are you serious? Does that mean I can stay? Yes!"
"No way!" Yang Zi retorted immediately, pushing himself to his feet, grumbling as he dusted off his shorts.
"I'm cleaning my house. You can't stay here. Go home after you're done washing up."
"Cleaning?" Shi Wang repeated, brow furrowed. "You're cleaning alone? By yourself? This whole place?" He gestured vaguely at the apartment.
"No, I was cleaning with Yu Han. I think he's in the washroom." Yang Zi snatched up a broom, already resuming his task.
"Yu Han? Really?" Shi Wang raised a skeptical eyebrow. "But, a few minutes ago... I think I saw him. He was running outside. Looked like he was in a hurry."
Yang Zi froze, the broom clattering against the floor. His eyes widened, a deep crease forming between his brows.
"That... that bastard!" he growled, the realization dawning on him. "He ditched me!" He gripped the towel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"I'll kill him when he comes back home!" he cursed Yu Han, a vein throbbing in his temple.
Shi Wang chuckled nervously, taking a strategic step back. He'd never seen Yang Zi quite this angry. The normally composed, if grumpy, man was positively fuming.
"I... I'm going to the bathroom now," he announced, practically fleeing from Yang Zi's wrath.
Inside the bathroom, Shi Wang leaned against the closed door, wiping fresh sweat from his forehead.
"Ugh, what has gotten into Yang Zi? I think I've come at the absolute wrong time."
He took in his surroundings. The bathroom was a disaster zone. Piles of clothes overflowed from the laundry basket, spilling onto the floor in haphazard heaps. Other garments lay scattered here and there, a testament to neglect.
"Since how many days have they not washed their clothes?" Shi Wang murmured, a mix of amusement and mild horror coloring his tone. This was a far cry from the immaculate order of his own home.
His gaze then fell upon a particularly egregious item: a pair of underwear, proudly displayed on the washbasin like a forgotten trophy. It was emblazoned with a cartoon character – Shin-chan.
"Huh?" Shi Wang squinted. "Who wears this type of underwear? Are there no kids at home?"
He picked it up, genuinely puzzled. It even had a few small holes. He was admiring this unique 'piece of art' when, suddenly, a hand snatched the masterpiece from his grasp.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?!" Yang Zi yelled, his face a furious red, hastily tucking the offending garment behind his back. "Didn't I tell you to leave, huh?"
"Ohhh…" Shi Wang smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So that was yours." He gave Yang Zi a thumbs up. "Great choice, Yang Zi."
"Get lost! I have more important things to do than listen to your bullshit!" Yang Zi pointed an accusing finger at the door.
"But, Yang Zi, how can you do so much cleaning all by yourself?" Shi Wang asked, feigning concern, ignoring the command. "Don't you feel tired?"
"I'll manage my work. You can go now." Yang Zi said, already tossing another armful of clothes into the washing machine.
"Tsk, tsk, Yang Zi. No, I'll help you," Shi Wang offered casually, stepping forward.
"I don't have anything better to do, either."
"No need, I don't need your help." Yang Zi continued to throw clothes in, almost aggressively.
"Ugh... please let me help, na?" Shi Wang insisted, a hint of genuine earnestness creeping into his voice.
"Remember that New Year's Eve? You brought me food late at night. It's my chance to pay you back."
Yang Zi sighed, a long-suffering sound, and rolled his eyes. The argument clearly wasn't worth the effort.
"Do whatever you want," he grumbled, adding detergent to the machine. "Just don't give me a headache."
"Excellent!" Shi Wang beamed. "Then let me borrow some clothes. My suit is incredibly uncomfortable for manual labor."
In the hours that followed, a strange, domestic rhythm settled over the apartment. Both men, Shi Wang in a borrowed, slightly-too-large t-shirt and track pants, and Yang Zi in his usual cleaning attire, attacked the mess with surprising efficiency.
Dust bunnies vanished, floors gleamed, and the mountain of laundry dwindled as the washing machine hummed continuously. Shi Wang, despite his initial reluctance, proved to be a surprisingly adept helper, even assisting Yang Zi in hanging the freshly washed clothes on the drying rack.
Amidst the scrubbing and folding, the initial frustration and anger that had clung to Yang Zi like a second skin slowly began to recede, dropping by at least ten percent, replaced by a grudging acceptance, and perhaps, a faint spark of something warmer.
Finally, the last chore done, Yang Zi got the chance to shower.
Meanwhile, Shi Wang, rummaging through the fridge, discovered a forgotten packet of cup noodles.
He decided to cook them, boiling water and a couple of eggs, pouring the steaming liquid into the cups, and covering them with chopsticks, a domestic picture of unexpected competence.
Just as he was absorbed in his culinary efforts, sitting on a kitchen chair, Yang Zi emerged from the bathroom.
He was shirtless, wearing just his shorts, water droplets still clinging to his damp hair, tracing paths down his toned back.
He moved with a quiet grace, stealthily approaching the oblivious Shi Wang.
"I like to add eggs to my noodles," Yang Zi said, his voice a low, unexpected rumble from directly behind Shi Wang.
The sudden proximity, Yang Zi's voice speaking directly into his ear, made Shi Wang jump in his chair, a startled yelp escaping his lips.
Seeing Shi Wang's exaggerated reaction, Yang Zi burst into laughter. It was a clear, unrestrained sound, bubbling up from deep within him.
"Hahahaha! I... I... I never thought you'd be scared by just a voice!" he chortled, clutching his belly as he leaned against the counter, tears of mirth welling in his eyes.
"Hmph," Shi Wang grumbled, his face inflating like a balloon, a defensive pout on his lips.
But then he truly saw Yang Zi. The laughing figure, head thrown back, shoulders shaking, eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. This was Yang Zi unbound, fully cheerful, fully alive. The sight struck Shi Wang with the force of a physical blow. He had never seen him like this before – so free, so radiantly happy. A profound sense of satisfaction, warm and sweet, spread through his chest.
"Finally," he mumbled to himself, almost imperceptibly, "my hard work is paying me."
"Okay, okay, cut the crap," Yang Zi said, still chuckling, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Let's eat."