Desire

Sighing was one thing, but they still had to eat. Qu Banqing, having shirked the duty of cooking, suggested they head out since it was still early, and together they found a breakfast stall on a nearby street.

A bowl of vegetable congee cost just three yuan. A long table held about twenty large rooster-patterned porcelain bowls, each piled high with different side dishes: shredded potatoes, chilled lotus root cubes, pickled long beans scrambled with egg, preserved olive vegetables—an array of toppings free for the taking.

They each bought a bowl of congee, added a richly marinated tea egg, and ate their fill. On the way back, they stopped by the deli to buy a dozen large chicken drumsticks to bring home for the fox cubs.

Ning Zhixia hesitated. “Do you think if we keep feeding them this stuff, they’ll start shedding?”

“So what if they do?” Qu Banqing was all about making the most of everything. “I’m working on some felt crafts—”

“You wicked stepmother!” Ning Zhixia protested indignantly.

Qu Banqing just snorted, turning crisply and heading off in the other direction.

“Where are you going?” Ning Zhixia called.

Without looking back, Qu Banqing replied, “To the supermarket. Gotta buy pig feed for Ning Luoluo!”

“Hmph!”

Ning Zhixia wrinkled his nose, hefted the bag of drumsticks, and headed home.

The fox cubs had played too late and were still sleeping heavily. Ning Zhixia left the drumsticks in their room with instructions not to go downstairs during the day. His only reply was a few seaweed-like tails waving languidly in the air.

A client had scheduled a manicure for the morning, so Ning Zhixia didn’t have time to fuss with tails. He went downstairs, threw open the main door, and watered the flowers as he went.

He had sharp eyes; even across the street, he spotted the client getting out of a car. Just as he raised his hand to greet her, a woman from the scalp treatment shop next door burst out, all smiles, and hurried to intercept her.

“Oh, Zhang! Here for your nails? You haven’t been in so long you probably don’t know—we do manicures now too!” The owner of the scalp shop took the client’s arm affectionately, shot Ning Zhixia a sly glance, and winked conspiratorially. “Only eighty-eight yuan, any style you want. All that building and care stuff is just a money pit. While you’re at it, you can get a facial and some scalp therapy—so convenient!”

Sister Zhang was no match for such enticing offers and, half protesting, allowed herself to be led inside. Not a minute later, Ning Zhixia received a message apologizing for canceling her appointment.

“Hm...” Ning Zhixia stared down at the message, sullenly kicking a pebble at his feet.

Clients were free to go wherever they liked, and thankfully his shop’s focus was different—plenty of young people still preferred the Monster Manicure Shop. Business wasn’t really affected. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a burr of irritation at the couple’s aggressive, underhanded tactics.

“Tch. What’s so great about a scalp shop, anyway?” he muttered.

A chocolate stick between his lips, he watched a tutorial on his tablet, carefully following along as he practiced on a mannequin head before him.

“From the temple to the crown... gentle, gentle, firmer... Ha! Simple as that!” he declared confidently.

Sunlight poured into the room, casting layered shadows in the corners, so bright it was almost blinding. Ning Zhixia kneaded the mannequin’s head with great vigor, as if working dough.

Suddenly, the light dimmed. He assumed some kittens had jumped onto the windowsill and turned to look—only to find an unexpected visitor in his line of sight.

Aldrow was leaning comfortably by the window, the spider plants beside him swaying in the spring breeze. A few tendrils brushed against him, and he closed his eyes with pleasure, idly twining a leaf around his finger.

Sensing Ning Zhixia’s gaze, Aldrow turned, pale blue eyes shifting to meet his.

“You—how are you here?” Ning Zhixia exclaimed, surprised. He hadn’t made a sound; when had he arrived?

Aldrow raised the elegant cake box in his hand.

He was more generous than last time, his attention entirely drawn to the mannequin head in front of Ning Zhixia. After a moment’s inspection, he asked, “What is this?”

“A head model,” Ning Zhixia replied, patting it like a ball, grinning. “I’m practicing scalp therapy!”

Aldrow nodded as if he understood, then asked, “Is it comfortable?”

“It’s alright,” Ning Zhixia admitted. Since the topic had gone this far, he asked, “Want to try?”

Aldrow agreed readily, pushing open the half-closed door and strolling over.

He looked down at the mannequin resting on Ning Zhixia’s knees, poked it, and turned his face. “Should I lie on your lap too?”

Dream on.

“That’s a different price,” Ning Zhixia said, pointing to the recliner across the workstation. “Go over there.”

The electric, foldable recliner had not come cheap—a gift from Old Ning during renovations. They had bought two, with the other placed upstairs by the bookshelf.

Aldrow clearly appreciated such comfortable furniture and lay down without protest.

Ning Zhixia scooted his wheeled chair into place behind the recliner, adjusting the height and sneaking glances at the tutorial on his phone.

The tutorial insisted that a good scalp massage required guests to be utterly relaxed, body and mind.

Piece of cake.

Ning Zhixia fancied himself an expert in relaxation, confidently swiping through his tablet.

Soon, the room was filled with the infectious laughter of a yellow sponge.

“Ahahaha, Patrick, let’s go jellyfishing together!”

“...?”

Aldrow, who had just closed his eyes, slowly opened them again.

“Keep your eyes closed and just feel it,” Ning Zhixia instructed by the book, covering Aldrow’s beautiful, slightly confused eyes with his palms, then sliding them down.

There. Eyes closed.

Satisfied, he nodded.

The recliner was so comfortable that Aldrow decided to ignore the other’s odd little habits and relax as those hands pressed and kneaded his scalp.

His long, silvery hair was smooth and cool, each strand slipping between Ning Zhixia’s fingers, shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Even the most diligent salon-goer could never achieve hair like this.

Ning Zhixia’s fingertips wandered, toying with the hair splayed on the pillow.

“You’re distracted,” Aldrow said suddenly, catching Ning Zhixia’s wrist in a cool, firm grip.

Startled by the touch, Ning Zhixia looked down.

Aldrow’s light eyes were open, gazing at him without emotion.

“Ah, sorry…” Ning Zhixia’s heart skipped a beat at being caught, and he hurriedly resumed the acupressure steps from the tutorial, mumbling, “It’s just, your hair is so cool and smooth, I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s normal,” Aldrow said, his fingers pressing lightly on Ning Zhixia’s wrist. He glanced at him, then released him. “I’m not human, after all.”

True enough, that made perfect sense.

Ning Zhixia muttered, “I almost forgot.”

Aldrow smiled faintly, his gaze steady. Suddenly, he asked softly, “You spend so much time with nonhumans—aren’t you afraid?”

“What’s there to be afraid of? I’ve been doing this so long, my mental threshold is way up there.” Ning Zhixia’s eyes curved with ease as he returned to massaging Aldrow’s head in earnest.

“Is this pressure alright? Want it harder?” he asked, all businesslike.

Aldrow played along. “Harder, please.”

“Alright! Keep your eyes closed. Immerse yourself!”

With gusto, Ning Zhixia fiddled with the video’s progress bar.

But this time, Aldrow didn’t cooperate.

His slender, taut neck was completely exposed, pale skin lit by sunlight, faint blue veins visible beneath. It was hard to look away.

After a moment, Aldrow suddenly reached up and touched the smooth, vulnerable line of Ning Zhixia’s throat. His Adam’s apple moved under those fingers with each breath.

So fragile, so defenseless.

He could almost imagine what would happen if he broke through that thin skin. Like small fish gliding underwater—the gentlest nudge could pierce through their gills, split them open, scales swirling in bloody water like beautiful, vicious jewels.

If he did the same, what would become of this foolishly smiling young man?

The vicious instincts in Aldrow’s genes stirred. His fingertips traced the skin, pausing over the Adam’s apple, tapping it twice.

He narrowed his eyes, pondering the strange thoughts crowding his mind. For now, he couldn’t quite distinguish what this new, warm sensation meant.

His fingers lingered too long on Ning Zhixia’s neck. “What are you doing?” Ning Zhixia asked, puzzled.

Aldrow’s eyes shimmered with pure curiosity as he asked softly, “Doesn’t this scare you?”

“It does,” Ning Zhixia said, leaning back and rubbing his neck vigorously. “It’s ticklish, that’s why!”

Aldrow looked at him for a moment, then withdrew his hand in mild disappointment.

Ning Zhixia regarded his uncooperative client sternly. “Move again and I’ll eat your cake!”

Aldrow blinked. “So fierce, boss.”

“That’s right! They call me the Snack Terminator. You’d better behave!” Ning Zhixia straightened his head and flexed his wrists, resuming the massage.

Now, where was I? Oh well, let’s start over!

The tutorial’s progress bar was dragged back and forth several times. Ning Zhixia shook out his hands, then ran his fingers through that silken hair one last time, declaring, “All done!”

He couldn’t wait to ask, “How do you feel?”

“Quite comfortable,” Aldrow replied, sitting up and leaving a slice of strawberry cheesecake from the box on the table before settling back into the recliner, lazy as a cat.

Ning Zhixia smirked in secret—if Aldrow was willing to share his limited-edition cakes, he must be satisfied.

“Oh, by the way,” Aldrow said, picking up the tablet and swiping over the still-playing cartoon, “Number Nineteen has been absorbing a lot of energy lately. In a few days, it’ll probably connect to a new plane.”

Ning Zhixia paused. “Really? What kind of plane?”

Aldrow didn’t look up. “Guess.”

“I’m not guessing,” Ning Zhixia pouted. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He took a bite of cake, then noticed Aldrow still sprawled on the recliner watching cartoons. “Aren’t you leaving today?”

“No.”

With a tap of his finger, the cheerful theme of Bikini Bottom filled the room again.

“I’ll watch another episode,” he said contentedly.

Ning Zhixia hesitated, then scooted his stool over to join him—

I want to watch too!

That evening, after dinner, Ning Zhixia was feeling invincible from all his practice. Standing with hands on hips, he announced that they’d be adding scalp treatments to the menu.

Qu Banqing kicked him off the sofa with a boot to the backside. “Forget it. Those two are shameless—you won’t gross them out with this little stunt.”

“Boo-hoo-hoo, but why not? If their scalp shop can do nails, why can’t we do scalp massages? I can’t swallow this humiliation!” Ning Zhixia flopped dramatically on the sofa, spinning a square cushion with his feet.

“Don’t be childish.” Qu Banqing’s brow twitched. Watching him was like watching a rebellious child. He rubbed his forehead. “We don’t even have a license.”

“No problem, I’ll just get one!” Ning Zhixia kicked the cushion away, boasting, “I even practiced on Aldrow. He said I was great!”

He grabbed the mannequin head and demonstrated his “superb” technique.

The silicone head was dented with every press—ten tortures couldn’t be worse.

Qu Banqing took a deep breath. “Ning, enough. The mannequin did nothing to deserve this.”

Ning Zhixia pouted. “I didn’t do it right? But Aldrow said—”

Qu Banqing patted his head affectionately. “Silly boy, he’s not even human. How is that a reference?”

“...!”

Ning Zhixia froze, blinking in confusion.

Confronted with such heavy reality, he wilted instantly, collapsing on the sofa like a caterpillar who’d lost its dreams.

Woe is me, I’ll behave now.