CH 53.1

He Likes Boys

Translated by boilpoil

Edited by boilpoil

Upstairs, Bai Yao sees that Mu Mu’er is not in the mood for a shower. He grabs a wet towel to wipe him down instead, then persuades him to brush his teeth.

After that, he puts Mu Mu’er on to the bed and pulls up the blanket for him. Then he turns to leave.

The bedroom light is off, and only a bedside lamp is left on overnight. It only lights up the dim room faintly.

“Yaoyao, don’t go,” Mu Mu’er says with slightly foggy eyes. He’s not tearing up, but his eyes are still a little reddened.

No one can just ignore the harrowing plea from such a soft, good boy. Bai Yao sits back down at the side of the bed, and caresses Mu Mu’er on the back of his hand.

Mu Mu’er knows Bai Yao is not as happy as usual today. He knows it has something to do with him, but he does not understand the specifics.

He tugs at Bai Yao’s hand slightly, looks up, and sees that Bai Yao is unopposed. Relieved, he then holds Bai Yao’s hand and gives him friendly squeezes.

“It’s ok. Sleep now. I’m here,” Bai Yao covers Mu Mu’er’s eyelids gently with his hand.

Mu Mu’er seems to want more than just pulling hands. He pulls Bai Yao a little further onto the bed, and tries to lay him down next to him, “together.”

Mu Mu’er never throws tantrums. Even when he is in a foul mood, he will keep it to himself, until he finds the next happy thing to cheer himself up. He does not know to make white lies or make cutesy gestures, but always shows himself and expresses himself frankly.

“Mmhm, Mu’er, sleep,” Bai Yao coos.

Mu Mu’er is holding Bai Yao’s hand quite tightly, tight enough that Bai Yao can feel slight pain in his fingers. Mu Mu’er seems to be worried that he’d be gone when he wakes up.

It takes quite a while for Mu Mu’er’s breathing to become regular and relaxed. Bai Yao does not move away, but stays to watch his sleeping face. He then gently brushes a few stray strands of hair to the side of his face.

This brings his gaze towards that scar near the boy’s hairline. He recalls something.

Though the thought is interrupted when there is a slight creak from the wooden floorboards behind. It’s quiet enough to have gone unnoticed if it weren’t for the total silence in the room.

Bai Yao doesn’t turn around; worried he’d wake Mu Mu’er up, he says under his breath, “it’s not exactly polite to barge into someone’s home.”

Mu Yi is watching Mu Mu’er sleep from the bedroom door. He does not answer, as if he didn’t hear at all.

“I apologise,” he finally says, the veracity of the apology not exactly evident in his tone, when he isn’t even looking at Bai Yao, “but I need to talk to you.”

Bai Yao gives Mu Mu’er’s hand another reassuring squeeze before letting it go slowly and carefully. He leaves the bedroom, “we’ll speak outside.”

Mu Yi follows after, but not before shutting the door quietly behind him.

The hour is late. There is barely the faintest hint of the sun’s warmth even though it sets rather late this season. A few of the brightest stars are already dotting the night sky.

“A drink?” Bai Yao asks.

“Do you have bourbon?”

Bai Yao retrieves a bottle from the wine cabinet, and two glasses from the kitchen.

The small home kitchen upstairs doesn’t have ice, as they’re all in the ice tray in the industrial fridge downstairs. Bai Yao is too lazy to go, so he pours the bourbon straight into the glass from the bottle.

He pours only water for himself.

Outside the kitchen, Mu Yi is looking at the coastline from the window. It’s almost dark out, and the only things that can be seen lit up by the dim streetlights are the white of the waves lashing at the beaches.

His back is straight but lonely. Mu Yi, while a sentient sea otter himself, has an aura no less intimidating than those of apex predators, like lions or wolves.

Bai Yao observes him from the living room door.

How did this big icy sulk even have such a good and cute younger brother like Mu Mu’er.

“No ice. Make do,” he puts the glass on the coffee table, and sits down without waiting for Mu Yi, who turns around, and sits down on the sofa opposite Bai Yao. He does not touch the glass, but speaks first.

“A sentient snow leopard living next to the ocean?”

Bai Yao does not explain anything more than “few people around.”

Mu Yi has a scent almost identical to that of Mu Mu’er. Bai Yao does not know how of much that comes down to them being blood brothers than simply both being sentient sea otters.

“It’s been six years. He’s changed, but, also not. He should be in a university by his age,” Mu Yi is smiling, “he… he didn’t grow up much, at all.”

Mu Mu’er at 13 was almost the same height as he is now at 19. Quite the painful truth to swallow.

He’s only 1.7 metres or so. He’s not far below the national average, but still short, especially when compared to Mu Yi, who’s almost as tall as Bai Yao is.

He didn’t have enough food to grow up.

He starved. He was malnourished.

There was no food for the boy when he needed energy for his growth spurt. The little sea otter that should have been round and fluffy grew up more like a stray, unloved pup.

Bai Yao is hesitant, but decides not to go into details. It can’t change anything now no matter how many people knows.

“When I first met him, he was even more thin. He was little, and I thought he was a teenager,” Bai Yao is also smiling, “like a baby sea otter.”

Mu Yi says nothing, but his fingers gripping tightly on the glass and his expression suggests he is also struggling to come to terms with it. He changes the topic rather abruptly after that.

“You’ve been to the south of town?”

He bet it was Mu Mu’er’s older brother Jing Xiaoqing sensed the other day.

Mu Yi seems surprised he was suddenly asked that. He blanks out for a moment, before saying, “I did. I searched through Qiaohai, from the western side. I asked around, and people told me you were hosting a boy around that age. So I came.”

Actually, Mu Yi sensed Mu Mu’er when the two visited Xishi. Not just the sea otter scent, but the scent of his very own little brother.

He didn’t see them, but he was certain of the scent.

He had people search once more for a few days. There have been so many times throughout the years when he thought he found his younger brother, only to fall even deeper into hopelessness and dread. They actually produced a lead this time; no clue on the two’s identities, but they came to Xishi on the train from Qiaohai.

Mu Yi cancelled two crucial business negotiations to make time and search in Qiaohai personally. This time, he was finally right on the money.

The conversation dies. There is no sound but for the waters of the waves washing up the sands.