Chapter 3176: Chunshu Lane's Bitter Summer 18

He was given a surprise.

Chenshu asked Jin Chen whether they should take the sculpture home, but Jin Chen refused, saying he wanted the sculpture to stay here, in this room.

Chenshu responded with a sound, then suddenly fell silent, moved closer, and slowly embraced Jin Chen.

His arm wrapped around Jin Chen's waist, his chin resting on Jin Chen's shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "Xiao Chen, I'll be away for a week. I'm going home to take care of some things."

"..."

The gentle softness on Jin Chen's face gradually faded.

He stared blankly at Chenshu's eyes, looking at him in confusion, as if he didn't understand the words, and that confusion slowly turned into an unbearable stubbornness.

"Are you leaving me?"

"Are you leaving me, brother?"

Jin Chen repeated the question.

"No, it's not." Chenshu hurriedly said, his hand stroking Jin Chen's nape, gently rubbing behind his ear, "Just one week, I'll come back."

The moment Chenshu heard the news, he knew comforting Jin Chen wouldn't be easy.

Their relationship had reached this point; his indulgence predominated—indulging Jin Chen's dependence, his possessiveness, his obsessive, distorted emotions. He willingly indulged, and he liked the feeling of being relied upon.

But at this moment he suddenly realized the cost of indulgence: when he needed to step away briefly, Jin Chen would feel as if his support had been pulled out, teetering on the brink of collapse.

Jin Chen's reaction was more anguished and agitated than he had anticipated.

His consciousness seemed to detach from his body, hovering in midair, observing himself and Chenshu before him, together with that sculpture……the sculpture that had just reassured him now looked like a tombstone.

Jin Chen's eyes grew wet, his nostrils inexplicably sour, his throat felt as if hot oil had been poured in, agonizing, as if something vital had been ripped from his chest, leaving a hollow through which wind rushed, howling, and even the goldfish seemed about to drown.

His soul seemed to have been seized.

Chenshu felt heartbroken seeing this; he leaned in and lightly kissed Jin Chen's lips, as if using the kiss to mend an invisible wound, kissing his brows and eyes, his furrowed forehead.

"We agreed on seven days; on the seventh day I will definitely come back. All right?"

Jin Chen's skin pressed against Chenshu's shoulder blades, his face buried in Chenshu's neck, his nose touching the collarbone, "You must remember to come back."

Jin Chen was smart; he knew Chunshu Lane could trap him but not Chenshu, nor could Ling City. Chenshu's world was far larger—there were clay sculptures, sketches, names of artists he didn't understand, and a chaotic home in another distant city.

His heart felt like twisted flesh, a piercing pain that spread along his blood vessels to the extremities, making even his fingertips ache.

Helpless, Jin Chen lowered his head again to kiss Chenshu, unable to stop the trembling.

"Brother, you took my heart with you; bring it back when you return."

Chenshu was bitten on the neck by him.

Jin Chen kissed while still panting; the breath exhaled between his lips and teeth seemed to carry scorching heat, flushing Chenshu's neck red. Chenshu could feel how, as his own body grew cool, he trembled in Jin Chen's arms, feeling the way Jin Chen's lips roamed his skin with relentless pressure.

Chenshu soothed Jin Chen's back with low murmurs, his palm rubbing up and down the spine, until he too could hardly bear it, biting his fingers sideways between his teeth, head tilted back against the sofa's backrest, as if Jin Chen wanted to taste every part of him.

Reason evaporated with the sweat. Past kisses had always been restrained, but today was different—Jin Chen's breathing grew heavier, his fingers curled and uncurled as if hesitating, his expression turned painful, his forehead pressed against Chenshu's shoulder, gasping urgently, as if he didn't know whether to continue.

Chenshu closed his eyes, consenting to his abandon, actively wrapping his arms around Jin Chen's neck as he tried to rise, pulling him back, his gaze unfocused as he watched Jin Chen's dazed brows and eyes, an unconscious sensuality that made him blush and his heart race on its own.

"Xiao Chen." He looped his arms around Jin Chen's neck, swaying to meet him, his voice soft and wet, "Be good, I'll come back, don't be afraid."

Jin Chen lowered his head to kiss his wet lips, "You will come back. You must come back to save me."

"Brother, please don't go back on your word."

Chenshu finally narrowed his eyes in a smile, the moisture in them squeezed into thin crescents, his lips slightly parted, emitting intermittent sobs that could not be told whether they were pain or pleasure; after he had his fun, he began to tease Jin Chen.

"Xiao Chen, you've knocked me and it hurts," he said, turning his face to blow a breath into Jin Chen's ear, his voice soft yet mischievous, "Give me a smile."

Jin Chen's consciousness was split in half—one half drifting in pain, the other floating in pleasure; the two sensations intertwined, climbing from his spine into his skull, leaving him dazed and dizzy.

He wanted to choke Chenshu's neck, feeling most alive only when his hands actually closed around his lover's throat; his fingers truly made contact, thumb and forefinger loosely encircling that slender white column, pausing there, yet in the end he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Those surging, intense, dark feelings—even he feared them—swelled inside his chest, threatening to burst his ribs.

Jin Chen looked up at Chenshu pleadingly, smiling, but his eyes were sorrowful and brimming with tears.

"Brother," he said, "please save me……"

……

The morning Chenshu left.

A taxi pulled up outside Building 3; Chenshu hauled his small suitcase out of the stairwell, glanced back toward the third floor, but saw nothing—Jin Chen didn't dare come out to see him off, afraid he couldn't control himself.

Jin Chen hid behind the balcony curtain, watching through the gap as he opened the rear door, bent to get in, then the car door shut, the taxi turned around, drove over the potholed concrete lane, slowly exited the alley, turned onto Riverside Road, and vanished.

All day Jin Chen did nothing, pacing back and forth in the room, taking a few steps, stopping, then turning back; by evening he entered Chenshu's home.

Chenshu left the key for Jin Chen, saying he should help water the pot of pothos—though the pothos didn't need daily watering, Chenshu knew that without giving Jin Chen a reason, he wouldn't know how to enter his empty home.

Under the evening glow, the camphor tree's leaves fluttered in the wind, their green undersides flashing silver-white; summer seemed to have faded away as well.