BIAC CH 2

Chapter 2: Come On, Be Wild – There’s Still So Much Scenery to Enjoy

Tang He hung up on Lin Yan, certain now that the man wouldn’t be showing up tonight, so he decided to head home. He had come out buzzing with energy—so much so that not even his usual bed partners could have satisfied him. He was craving something more… thrilling. Something out of the ordinary.

Too bad, though—so far, not a single sexy stunner had caught his eye.

He was about to give up. He thought he’d just go home and sleep it off, not even bothering to make do with anyone. It was like craving Din Tai Fung’s signature xiaolongbao^[1] all day—when you couldn’t get it, even the thought of settling for the dumplings from Old Wang’s shop next door was unbearable. If you caved and ate them anyway, the moment that dumpling hit your tongue, it would only double your craving for Din Tai Fung. Better to not eat at all.

Just as he politely turned down what might’ve been the sixth or seventh person who hit on him—and was planning to down his last sip and leave—a loud commotion suddenly erupted from one of the bar’s corner booths. The atmosphere in the bar was lively to begin with, with people shouting here and there, but this particular uproar kept escalating, drawing in a curious crowd.

Tang He perked up his ears—it was the sound of people playing finger-guessing games. And not just any game, but a traditional Taiwanese-style version rarely heard these days. This kind of game demanded quick reflexes, sharp eyes, and—most importantly—booming, dramatic chants that stirred up the crowd.

He looked over at the group in the thick of the fun—they seemed to be down to the final round, battling for the title of “fist king.” Two men had been hyped up and pushed onto the table to duel it out. One of them was already flushed from drinking, the hem of his blue shirt hanging unevenly, one side pulled out more than the other. He had taken off his tie and wrapped it around his forehead like a headband, clearly declaring “victory” as he rubbed his fists together with anticipation.

The other one didn’t seem as drunk. His eyes were sharp and blazing, body slightly leaned forward, a smile playing at his lips as he stared down his opponent. Several buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the elegant lines of his collarbone. His slender fingers flexed rhythmically, as if warming up for the match.

A bar security guard had wandered over but, seeing the group laughing and enjoying themselves without any signs of troublemaking, decided to let them be for Christmas Eve. He simply stood nearby and kept a casual watch.

Once the contenders were ready, someone let out a long, exaggerated yell full of momentum: “Yooouuuu—see!” And then the chant battle began, fast-paced and rhythmic:

“Single palm, triple stars!
Double joy, lucky seven!
Four meets six in sequence!
Triple stars strike again!
Always double joy!
Eight immortals, seven clever moves…”

The rhythm sped up, their voices rising in volume. One was high-pitched and crisp, the other low and hoarse—it was easy to tell who was saying what. It was also clear that the one with the sharper, clearer voice had the upper hand. After a few exciting rounds and plenty of cheering, the champion emerged—the young man with the bright voice and beautiful collarbones.

Laughter and cheering continued to fill the air.

“Hey, we had a deal—the loser has to go up and sing a song! Don’t play dead now!” someone teased, nudging the guy who had the tie on his head and was now slumped dazedly on the sofa.

“Forget it! If we make him sing, we’re the ones being punished, not him. I didn’t win all those rounds just to suffer now,” someone else quipped lazily, their voice soft and drowsy.

The others, hearing the champion speak, realized he had a point. The tone quickly shifted:

“Then you go sing! You haven’t been on stage in forever. It’s Christmas Eve—go up and bring the party alive!”

One after another, they goaded him on, their words overlapping until a chorus of cheers erupted.

That kind of cheer could only mean one thing—someone was about to put on a show.

And sure enough, after the noise faded, a smiling young man stepped out from the group. He glanced around the room, clearly enjoying the attention from the crowd surrounding him. Standing at the center, he raised both hands and gently fanned them outward, signaling everyone to make way. Then, with elegant steps, he walked forward.

“What a captivating devil…” Tang He couldn’t help but praise inwardly.

This guy left him with only one impression: a bewitching presence.

Not effeminate. Not repulsive. Not perverted. Just… otherworldly.

Tang He had seen flamboyant types before—but someone who could exude such unearthly charm so naturally, so captivatingly, like he belonged on a stage dazzling all of Jianghu^[2]? This was a first.

Fuelled by just the right amount of alcohol, Du Jianyou grew even bolder under everyone’s gaze, eyes sweeping over the crowd with seduction in every glance. He was a regular at this bar, and he’d even filled in for the live singer for a while, so many people knew him.

As the crowd whooped and hollered, he moved slowly toward the small stage next to the bar. Whether it was intentional or not, as he passed Tang He, their shoulders brushed—just perfectly timed. From behind, Du Jianyou leaned in close, speaking softly by his ear, “Is it you?”

A warm breath brushed against Tang He’s sensitive earlobe.

“…?” Me? Tang He blinked in confusion.

“You came to hear me sing.” This time, Du Jianyou didn’t ask—it was a statement. And it was only then that Tang He realized: this sensual, provocative, collarbone-revealing man was the same singer he had once listened to—the one with a clear, slightly shy voice. He’d changed his hairstyle, and in the dim bar lighting, Tang He hadn’t recognized him right away. Who would’ve guessed that after a few drinks, he’d turn into this seductive minx?

“Hope you don’t mind,” Du Jianyou said lightly, not giving Tang He any time to respond. His arm slid around from behind, casually taking the glass from Tang He’s hand and downing the rest of the drink in one go. Then he elegantly placed the glass back in Tang He’s hand, threw him a sideways glance, raised a brow with a teasing smile, and jumped onto the stage.

Up on the stage, Du Jianyou leaned lazily against the mic stand, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the crowd. With lips curled into a smile, he asked sweetly, “Ready, my children?”

“Yes, Captain!” the crowd responded in unison, like they’d rehearsed it.

“Too quiet.”

“YES, CAPTAIN!” they roared.

“…”

Tang He was left both speechless and stunned. What is this? A SpongeBob fan club meetup?

Du Jianyou’s lips quirked up in a mischievous grin—playful, almost adorable. He turned around, back facing the crowd, and murmured a few words to the band. They nodded in sync and began playing the intro.

And just like that, with his back to the audience, Du Jianyou began swaying to the beat, graceful as a willow in the wind.

His movements were sinuous, evoking a sensual grace with a hint of feline mystique. He turned his head slightly, revealing half of his face, his gaze drifting downward toward the corner of the stage. Then, his languid voice rang out:

“She is a fleeting sunset glow—
Wishing, wishing, someone would know.
He has a window of endless blue—
Waiting, waiting, for someone to view.”

Screams erupted from below the stage.

“She is a lingering melody—
Hoping someone knows how to sing.
He holds a world of tender light—
Waiting, waiting, for someone to ignite.”

Du Jianyou sang as he subtly gestured with his hands, slowly twisting his waist in rhythm as he turned to face the crowd.

Tang He stared in a daze. The mischievous “Captain” had chosen a song laced with femininity and allure. He’d heard it before—the original singer was a woman. But never had he imagined a man could perform it with such captivating charm and layered emotion.

“Come on, enjoy—there’s so much time to kill.
Come on, love—so much foolishness to spill.
Come on, wander—so many ways to thrill.
Come on, be dramatic—so many lights to fill. Ah… itchy…”

Holding the mic in one hand, Du Jianyou raised the other high, palm up, fingers curling inward one by one in a teasing motion. His long fingers then traced along his Adam’s apple, slid down to his collarbone, and flirted at the edge of unbuttoning his shirt. Every move was slow and lazy, yet deeply seductive, riling up the crowd to a fever pitch.

“Itchy?” he asked during the instrumental break, voice thick with provocation. His gaze swept over the crowd and finally locked onto Tang He, his eyes dreamy and twinkling like starlight.

“ITCHY!” The audience roared, pounding their chests like they were possessed by an unbearable itch crawling beneath their skin.

Tang He was startled, glancing around at the crowd, half-crazed with frenzy, then turned back to the man onstage with the slender figure and narrow waist. He had to admit, the little singer knew how to work a crowd. Onstage, his elegant swaying blended exaggeration with natural ease. It didn’t feel like an act—it felt like this seductive nature was etched into his very bones. Anything less would seem fake.

His voice had a kind of magic. Just earlier, when he whispered in Tang He’s ear, it was clean and clear. But now, it exuded lazy sensuality as he sang.

Seeing how enthusiastically the crowd responded, Du Jianyou gave a confident, charming smile and continued singing:

“Love openly—what’s wrong with surface charms?
Chase dreams recklessly—don’t worry, no harm.
The more panicked, the deeper you yearn.
The itchier, the more you scratch and burn…”

He lingered on that last note, like a tiny claw scratching into everyone’s heart. Suddenly, Tang He could feel the itch too.

“Itchy?” Du Jianyou narrowed his eyes and smirked. “Then scratch it yourself.”
Just before stepping offstage, he tossed out that line with an arrogant raise of his brow, triggering another wave of whistles and screams.

As Tang He watched his performance, he also studied the man himself. The drunk, flamboyant performer onstage tonight was so different from the proper, restrained singer he’d seen before. His voice was always clean and soothing—something Tang He had genuinely liked. But until now, he had never examined his features closely.

Now that he had, there was no denying it—this man was good-looking. His facial features were well-defined yet delicate. Under the stage lights, his skin glowed with a gentle luster. His eyes, like a helpless fawn’s, now sparkled with mischief as he teased the crowd. Though every gesture was seductive, his lips curled in an innocent smile, giving him a strangely contradictory beauty.

The clash of extremes—purity and seduction—somehow harmonized perfectly within him. A contrast that would be absurd on anyone else looked effortless and mesmerizing on him.

By the time Tang He realized he’d just given this man an unusually high evaluation, the performance had ended. Though the crowd was still buzzing, the man onstage simply smiled, bowed politely to the band, and stepped off the stage with graceful ease.

And he appeared to be walking straight toward him.

Tang He smiled faintly. He had no intention of giving this man a chance to strike up a conversation. He had already rejected too many people tonight—this one would be no exception. This time, though, he didn’t even feel like voicing the rejection aloud.

Just as Tang He was paying the bill and preparing to leave, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. The singer was being stopped by a short, burly drunk. At first, Tang He assumed the man was a friend. But something felt off.

Looking closer, it seemed the singer didn’t know him at all. His mouth clearly formed repeated apologies as he tried to get past the man, but was being pulled back. The two were struggling—an obvious case of unwanted attention.

Tang He watched the singer’s face darken, brows furrowing. That previously lazy, relaxed expression was now replaced with disgust and hostility. Glancing toward the singer’s table, Tang He saw his friends were either drunk or passed out—clearly in no state to help.

Tang He didn’t usually meddle in other people’s business. But just as he stepped toward the exit, he heard the drunk yell, “You sissy little slut, stop acting like you’re too good for me! I bought you a drink—that means you owe me. Don’t be such a fucking bitch!”

Tang He whipped around just in time to see the drunk reach his greasy hand toward the singer’s crotch. The singer flinched away, avoiding the grab, but his face flushed with shame and fury, his eyes brimming with tears.

Tang He saw the singer point at the drunk and yell something back, though he couldn’t hear the words. But the sight of him being humiliated like that lit a fire in Tang He’s chest.

He stormed over and shoved the drunk to the ground. The man sprawled out in a mess of overturned tables and chairs, trying to get up but failing miserably.

Tang He turned to the now wide-eyed singer—oh no, no longer the seductive siren. At this moment, he looked more like a frightened rabbit with red-rimmed eyes.

“Do you know him?” Tang He asked.

The red-eyed bunny shook his head.

“Do you want to leave with him?”

The bunny’s eyes widened in panic and he shook his head more violently.

“Then come with me.”

Before either the drunk or the rabbit could react, Tang He grabbed the singer by the wrist and took off. Security guards were rushing in, and Tang He could still hear the drunk cursing and crashing into things behind them.

Not wanting to risk the drunk or his cronies chasing after them, Tang He spotted a taxi by the curb and shoved Du Jianyou into the back seat. After a second’s hesitation—figuring it wasn’t right to just leave him there—he got in too.

The driver asked where they were going. Tang He was momentarily at a loss, then told the driver to take them somewhere nearby to rest. At the very least, he needed to let the shaken man calm down.

The driver, clearly experienced with bar pickups like this, gave them a knowing smile full of innuendo…

The driver smiled, “You two just came out of Moonlight Bar, right? You should have a receipt. I can take you to ‘Hunter’s Desire’ just up ahead—it’s affiliated with Moonlight. If you show your receipt, you’ll get a discount.”

Hunter’s Desire was a motel chain near the bar district. The taxi driver kindly offered the tip, then drove off toward the destination.

Tang He nodded noncommittally and replied offhandedly, “Alright, thank you.”

Little Red-Eyed Bunny glanced up at him in surprise when he heard they were going to a motel, but he held back from saying anything. He lowered his head and looked at the wrist still being held in Tang He’s hand. He gave it a gentle twist. Only then did Tang He realize he was still holding onto him and quickly let go.

It was unclear whether the man was too drunk or if the tension had suddenly lifted, causing the alcohol to surge. Either way, in less than fifteen minutes of driving, the little singer had dozed off leaning against him. When they arrived and had to get off, he was still in a daze, letting Tang He support him, register them at the front desk, and half-carry, half-drag him into the room.

Though Tang He was a solid man standing over 180 centimeters, the man beside him was no delicate little girl. He wasn’t as tall as Tang He, but with those long legs, he had to be over 180 as well. His build was lean, but as he leaned against Tang He’s arm, all Tang He felt was firm, well-toned muscle. Tang He struggled to half-carry him and muttered inwardly that this guy was damn heavy.

While cursing under his breath, Tang He finally managed to bring him to the bedside. He was just thinking of tossing him onto the bed when the man suddenly stirred—not fully awake, more like a burst of sudden clarity. He flipped over in a flash, pinning Tang He beneath him, straddling his body. Grabbing Tang He’s collar, his hazy eyes locked on his, and in a sweet, nasal voice, he asked, “You brought me here… what do you want to do?” Before Tang He could answer, he added, “You’re really good-looking.” Then leaned down toward him.

Tang He realized this man was trying to kiss him. He tried to push him away but couldn’t—drunk people were surprisingly strong. In a panic, he turned his head to avoid the kiss, but the man ended up planting kisses all over his neck and ears instead. He especially latched onto his earlobe—sucking, licking—warm breath brushing against his sensitive skin, igniting the fire Tang He had been suppressing all night.

Furious and flustered, Tang He tried to turn his head and reclaim his ear, only to have his lips captured instead.

When his lips were covered by another man’s, Tang He’s eyes flew wide open in shock. He couldn’t believe he was actually kissing a man. His eyes were forced so close to the other’s that he was nearly cross-eyed. No wonder people always kissed with their eyes closed—like the other guy was doing… No, wait! I’m not supposed to be kissing a man!

At first, Tang He was furious, but then a new thought struck him: So men’s lips are actually this soft.

Du Jianyou’s tongue gently traced the shape of Tang He’s lips. While Tang He was caught off guard, his tongue slipped inside, tangling with his, exchanging breath and saliva in a whiskey-laced kiss.

Tang He got lost in it. He closed his eyes and simply indulged in the kiss. It started soft, then grew increasingly rough with exploration. Their breathing grew heavier, their breaths uneven. Just when Tang He felt like he could no longer withstand this drowning kiss, something embarrassing yanked him back to reality.

The man straddling him began to slowly grind his hips, and even through their clothes, he was… aroused?! Tang He first noticed his, then realized he was too…

Tang He was truly, and completely, sobered up now.

He shoved the man off him with all his strength, sending him rolling to the other side of the bed. Worried he might crawl back, Tang He clenched his fists, ready to knock him out if he dared come near again.

The man lay on his back on the other side of the bed, completely motionless. Tang He found it strange—had he knocked him out with that push? Just as he was about to get up and check, he heard faint, steady snores coming from the other.

He… actually fell asleep? After teasing him like that, he just fell asleep? Was kissing me that boring? He—he really fell asleep? That had to have been a final burst of energy before passing out.

Tang He felt all kinds of frustrated, his head filled with nothing but echoes of “he actually fell asleep,” “he actually fell asleep.” Of course, it wasn’t like he was expecting anything to happen next. Even if the guy were willing, he wouldn’t be! But for the other person to just fall asleep like that… this was a first. It made him start to doubt whether he had any charm at all.

Now the two of them lay side by side on the double bed. The awkwardness gnawed at Tang He’s chest. He was angry at himself for letting another man arouse him, and the culprit was now snoring like a pig beside him.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure which part made him angrier. That realization only made his frustration worse. His body remained tense, and like an ostrich, he wanted to bury his head and escape reality^[3]. He didn’t want to admit that he was aroused because of another man. It must’ve just been the stress from being too busy lately, not having a proper release for a while—so now, it just flared up too easily.

He refused to go to the bathroom to deal with it. He forced himself to endure, telling himself it would fade on its own. If he just waited, it would be like it never happened. Just a little longer… a little longer…

Tang He turned his head to glance at the man sleeping soundly next to him. Long eyelashes fluttered softly with each steady breath, like butterfly wings gently fanning a breeze, brushing right into his heart. The faint upward curve of the man’s lips looked like an inviting smile. Whatever he was dreaming about, it must be sweet—he was smiling even in his sleep.

Tang He stared in a daze, thinking, He’s really good-looking.

Ah! No. He was getting even more tense. Quickly, he averted his gaze. Just wait a bit longer… just wait…

As his consciousness started to fade, Tang He raised his phone and captured the peaceful, serene sleeping face.

(To be continued…)

Note:

Song: Itchy

Performed by: Huang Ling

Lyrics by: Meng Nan

Composed by: Meng Nan