SYU 6. Wasn’t The Live Version Better?

In the days when his eye was nearly healed, Wu Jinshan finally felt like jerking off again.

After all, every adult has basic physiological needs. For someone like him, young and brimming with testosterone, lasting two weeks was already the limit of his self-control.

Jerking off in the boys’ dorm was nothing unusual. Most guys were open about it. Watching porn together and exploring the mysteries of life as a group was par for the course.

But Wu Jinshan was different. The kind of porn he watched had a different orientation, which meant he couldn’t exactly join the others. And given his already antisocial nature, he usually took care of it alone during his showers.

That day, his left eye had mostly healed, and his face had finally returned to its usual handsome state. As he stood in front of the mirror, taking in his reflection, his mood visibly lifted.

Wu Jinshan was a little narcissistic. He had the right to be. For eighteen years, he had lived as a straight-laced, rule-abiding student. His only indulgence was watching gay porn and getting himself off. And because of that, he had pretty high standards for the looks of the actors in gay videos.

He had even gotten himself a high-capacity phone, and before the semester started, had copied over some of his favorite clips from his computer’s hard drive. Call it nostalgic or obsessive, but he kept going back to the same few videos. All because of one shou he liked. No matter how many times he watched, he never got tired of him.

But this time, things were different.

Staring at the vigorous scenes on screen, Wu Jinshan suddenly realized he had a wandering heart. His dick just wasn’t interested in that shou anymore. No matter how much he scrolled or rewound, none hit the same. His skin wasn’t as soft. His waist weren’t as flexible. And most importantly, he didn’t sound as good when he moaned.

Someone else had taken over his mind.

His brain conjured up a vivid image of Chen Xiucheng beneath him that night, the memory of that body etched into his senses. Every touch, every sound, every tight, warm pulse of pleasure came rushing back. How could a hand possibly compare?

Wu Jinshan grabbed a towel and wiped the fresh sweat off his chest. He had just showered, but he was already sweating again. In desperation, he pulled up a dozen more clips online, but not a single one worked. His dick remained uninspired, limp, completely dead.

Wu Jinshan had recorded that night.

Not on purpose, of course.

He didn’t even know when he hit record. He figured it must have happened during the initial scuffle, when he accidentally pressed the screen recording button while wrestling with Chen Xiucheng.

When he later discovered a video file over two hours long, the screen was pitch black, probably because the camera had been facing down. But the audio was crystal clear. The rustle of bodies, rapid panting, the slick sounds of skin against skin, the obscene rhythm of thrusting. Every detail could be heard.

Once back in the dorm, Wu Jinshan converted the video into an audio file and tucked it into his default music playlist. Whenever he felt like it, he would play it as “study material” and savor it all over again.

And now seemed like the perfect time to put it to use.

The dick that hadn’t stirred through eight videos finally twitched back to life the moment Chen Xiucheng’s breathy moans poured into his ears. Just two whimpers, and it stood up tall and proud, raging and ready to go. Twenty centimeters of weapon-grade heat, sparking against his palm like a gun firing off round after round, until every last bullet from the past two weeks had been unloaded.

It felt incredible.

It was the kind of pleasure that surged from his toes to the top of his skull, leaving his whole body trembling.

So good it could lift him into the sky. So good it could make him ascend to immortality. So good he could shake hands with the fucking sun.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get to enjoy that bliss for long.

His hard-won euphoria was shattered by a death-knocking bang on the bathroom door.

And then came the one voice he hated most in the world, shouting from outside the bathroom…

“Who the fuck’s been hogging it in there? You gonna let anyone else take a damn shower?”

Damn it, the dorm only had four people. Three were outside. Who was in the bathroom was obvious.

Wu Jinshan pulled up his pants with a scowl, took a deep breath to settle his nerves, and genuinely couldn’t understand how one person could sound so different when moaning compared to when shouting.

That voice kept squawking. He quickly cleaned up all evidence, rinsed the sink and his hands, then turned and opened the door.

Standing right outside was Chen Xiucheng, deadpan as ever, not even sparing him a glance. He shoulder-checked him hard as he passed, brushing right past and into the bathroom.

Ever since that night, Chen Xiucheng had not spoken to him once. If he needed something, he didn’t even say his name. It was always “that guy” or “some person,” pointing like he didn’t even know him.

Wu Jinshan clenched his jaw, holding back the urge to fight. Normally, he would have gone straight in and demanded an explanation, but right now…

He turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of Chen Xiucheng’s back as he walked into the bathroom. That fluffy crown of hair. The pale nape of his neck. The soft, grabbable waist. And the round, bouncing ass that swayed with every step.

Then came the clang of the lock, the sound of a door slamming shut on all his wild thoughts.

Wu Jinshan blinked, scratched at his temple, then slowly took off his earbuds.

Why the hell was he listening to a recording when the real thing was right in front of him?

Wasn’t the live version better?