Chapter 4 – Spring Day Cat

Yu Zhen’s selling point was his legs.

His legs were full and voluptuous, yet not overly thick, with a waist-to-hip ratio that could rival even today’s top models. This proportion had caught attention countless times during his job applications, with many studios telling him, “If only you were a woman.”

“Your legs are too beautiful.”

Even a renowned instructor in the industry had marveled at his legs when he was just fifteen or sixteen, praising their perfect symmetry, length, and golden proportions—flawlessly balanced.

This runway coach, who had trained countless models and seen countless top-tier physiques, was someone whose opinion carried weight. He had pointed Yu Zhen toward a clear path: lacking the broad, thick chest muscles needed to carry men’s fashion, his waist-to-hip ratio was instead outstanding among female models.

They said he was on the wrong track.

So, on a silent night, Yu Zhen held a hair tie between his teeth, gathered his hair in his hands, and stared at himself in the mirror for a long time before finally deciding to step into another, gender-defying world.

And he found considerable success.

This cross-over success made Yu Zhen never look back, even making him question whether he had wasted over a decade on the wrong path. From fumbling through his first women’s fashion collaboration to confidently mastering all kinds of skirts, it had taken him only a few short months.

Through these experiences, Yu Zhen had grown accustomed to others noticing his legs first, to their appraising gazes—whether envious, admiring, or covetous. He could always tell the difference. But today, it wasn’t his proud, perfectly proportioned legs that drew a stranger’s attention. The man was staring at his feet, a part of himself he had never particularly flaunted, now under such intense scrutiny that it made Yu Zhen uncomfortable. He pressed one foot against the other, his whole body stiff with unease.

He quickly moved aside, pulling an outer garment over himself. Chen Qinghuai might have had improper thoughts about him, but that was the extent of it. This man, however, wasn’t Chen Qinghuai. What would he think of him? How would he interpret his unconventional attire?

Yu Zhen felt slightly nervous.

The offense was already inevitable. In the silence between enduring the awkwardness and breaking it, Zhou Daosen solemnly said, “My apologies.”

At the same time, he averted his gaze.

When Zhou Daosen had come to view the property, the agent had mentioned that a “great beauty” lived next door—without specifying gender, playing a little word game. Since Zhou Daosen was a man, the agent likely thought this would be an enticing detail.

After all, the person before him was indeed beautiful. Even as a man, he was undeniably stunning.

Yu Zhen rarely blushed. His early years on the runway had made him adept at handling all kinds of stares. He had lived here for three years, and whether people knew about him or not, it never affected him. So what if he went out dressed like this? So what if people stared? At most, they’d mutter “freak,” but that meant nothing to Yu Zhen.

Yet right now, he could clearly feel the heat—his soles burning as if he’d been thrown into a boiling pot, his blood simmering along with it.

“It’s fine,” Yu Zhen said, though his body told a different story. He glanced briefly at the stranger, unsure if this was his new neighbor. The man who had come looking for keys during the day hadn’t been him.

This matter should probably be left in the past, not to be brought up again. Zhou Daosen glanced over—the other man kept his eyes downcast, showing no trace of anger. His nose was slightly red, as if brushed with blush, glowing and dewy. That face resembled the BJD dolls his older sister used to play with as a child.

Zhou Daosen lowered his gaze and twisted the doorknob.

Yu Zhen draped on his clothes, the silence burning between them. He kept his eyes down, fumbling with the buttons, his movements awkward and uncoordinated. “Did you need something?”

The man’s hands were strikingly attractive. The cup he held reflected glaring light, making it impossible to ignore.

“I came to borrow some hot water,” Zhou Daosen said, his gaze fixed on the floor. “If that’s alright?”

In the past, all sorts of inexplicable people had knocked on Yu Zhen’s door—some genuinely needing help, others less so. But Yu Zhen had never turned anyone away. After all, they were neighbors.

He fastened the qipao buttons—the fit was too tight, difficult to take off and even harder to put on. He handled it carefully, afraid of damaging the client’s sample, yet flustered by the current situation, making him appear somewhat bashful. “Give me the cup.”

Zhou Daosen quickly scanned his face before stepping forward and handing it over.

Yu Zhen took the clean glass and walked to the coffee table. The kettle held freshly boiled water. “All hot?” he asked considerately.

“Yes,” Zhou Daosen replied, watching his fingertips.

Satisfied with the answer, Yu Zhen confidently poured the boiling water into the glass, leaving just enough room to avoid scalding his hands before returning it.

Their eyes met.

Zhou Daosen didn’t leave. Holding the cup, he added, “I might also need some vinegar.”

Yu Zhen paused. Borrowing water was understandable, but vinegar? That was a first. Still, he didn’t dwell on it. He led the way to the kitchen, each step graceful and swaying. Zhou Daosen’s gaze lingered on that cinched waist, making the short distance feel deceptively long.

“I can handle it from here,” Zhou Daosen said, not wanting to trouble him further. Yu Zhen didn’t object, stepping aside to let him pass. Zhou Daosen easily found the vinegar—sealed in glass jars, neatly arranged. The kitchen was spotless and orderly, a testament to the man’s meticulous nature.

Unscrewing the cap, Zhou Daosen hesitated, realizing he had nothing to carry the vinegar in.

“Just take it all,” Yu Zhen said, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t need it right now.”

Zhou Daosen glanced back. “Are you sure?”

Yu Zhen nodded. “Mm.”

Clutching the vinegar jar, Zhou Daosen turned and thanked him.

They stood close.

A scent filled the air.

The stranger was tall—exceptionally so. Yu Zhen, a model, already stood out among men, but this man towered over him even more. During the day, his posture hadn’t seemed particularly straight, but now Yu Zhen noticed just how powerfully built he was.

The fabric stretched taut over his chest, barely containing the defined muscles that threatened to burst through at any moment. His plain white casual pants accentuated his imposing physique, the contours of his thighs subtly visible, exuding raw masculinity. The veins on his hands pulsed with restrained strength, every sinewy line radiating a latent, almost predatory allure. To be gripped by such hands…

With Yu Zhen’s years of experience navigating the fashion industry, he could confidently say this was a top-tier male model’s physique—one built through training, but more importantly, blessed by genetics.

Curious about the man’s profession, Yu Zhen studied him further.

Zhou Daosen was still puzzling over that unusual fragrance—or rather, studying that face. He couldn’t blame Lu Pingwei for judging by appearances. This was truly a beauty that blurred gender lines, more refined than the women who pursued him yet softer than the men who professed their love. Zhou, who never judged by looks or hastily condemned others, found himself at a loss for words. The only descriptor that came to mind was “nation-toppling allure” to capture the strange fascination this face evoked.

“You… just moved in?” Yu Zhen asked.

Zhou Daosen snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the voice. His gaze involuntarily dipped to the other man’s cinched waist before quickly lifting to rest on those thick lashes. “Yes, I’m your new neighbor.”

“The one next door?” Yu Zhen still hadn’t looked up, his eyes fixed on the other’s pectorals. “The one who came looking for keys earlier…”

“That was my friend,” Zhou said, lowering his eyes. “My apologies.”

So polite.

It wasn’t really his fault anyway—today’s mishap was entirely Yu Zhen’s own carelessness. With a faint smile, Yu Zhen said, “No worries.”

Both men were remarkably reasonable. Zhou had no intention of stirring up trouble—after all, his move to this place was already tied to his previous neighbor. He hadn’t expected such an unexpected encounter.

“Lock your door at night. Whatever you’re doing, it’s safer to be cautious,” Zhou advised, thinking of the card on the door. “The hallway can be unpredictable.”

Yu Zhen tightened his robe around himself, about to offer some explanation, but the man’s inscrutable eyes merely swept over his unconventional outfit without comment. Yu Zhen had faced many scrutinizing gazes in his time, but this one was impossible to read—neither admiration nor distaste.

The height difference didn’t help. That downward angle could easily be mistaken for condescension, yet it also gave Zhou a perfect vantage point to admire the view. Yu Zhen’s buttons weren’t all fastened, the hint of collarbone just barely visible—a full display available if Zhou had chosen to look.

But he didn’t.

Should Yu Zhen be grateful for his gentlemanly restraint, or regretful that he’d missed the show?

Such a striking face, such gentle concern, such a wild physique…

Hugging his own waist, Yu Zhen murmured, “Thanks, noted.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Zhou said.

Yu Zhen nodded.

And just like that, they brought the awkward encounter to a civil close.

The man left.

Yu Zhen watched his retreating figure from the kitchen doorway, motionless until Zhou had fully exited his apartment. Only then did he step forward, gazing down the now-silent hallway.

Absently, he ran his fingers over the lock, pressing the latch a couple of times, lost in thought.

Cheng Xin was asleep.

By the time Zhou returned, the shouting in the apartment had ceased.

One of her shoes had been kicked off, landing at the foot of Zhou’s bed where the dog now lay, pawing at the toe as if to silently plead innocence.

Zhou beckoned, and the dog trotted out from the bedroom. After shutting it in the living room, he set out hangover medicine and a glass on the bedside table, casually removing the silver hairpin from Cheng Xin’s head as he did.

That hairpin, incidentally, had been Zhou’s pick.

On Valentine’s Day, Lu Pingwei was agonizing over choosing a gift for his then-partner. He had narrowed it down to a silver hairpin or a pocket watch. Unable to decide, he sought Zhou Daosen’s opinion, who casually remarked, “I’d pick the hairpin.” And so, the silver hairpin became Cheng Xin’s gift.

That hairpin wasn’t originally meant for Cheng Xin. At the time, Lu Pingwei was still into men and had taken up with a cross-dressing cosplayer. When Zhou Daosen learned the hairpin was for a man, he was baffled, but Lu Pingwei insisted it would be useful—the cosplayer loved role-playing with him, and a wig would do the trick.

If the hairpin had only been used on a wig, Cheng Xin would have been lucky. But there was every chance those two depraved beasts had put it through far filthier motions.

Clink.

Zhou Daosen tossed the silver hairpin into the trash.

Cheng Xin had fallen asleep, rendering the hot water and vinegar Zhou had fetched useless. Waking him would have been easy, but Zhou refused to subject himself to the mental garbage Cheng Xin would inevitably dump on him.

He unwrapped a brand-new blanket and draped it over Cheng Xin before retreating to the living room to thoroughly organize his new living space.

He didn’t much care for the environment or the atmosphere in this building—it was a far cry from his last place. The only upside was that there were no perverts here begging him to fuck them.

Or were there? Had he spoken too soon?

An image surfaced in Zhou Daosen’s mind—what he had assumed was a heavily made-up masterpiece turned out to be someone’s bare skin, the flush spreading across it entirely natural.

No embellishments, save for a touch of red on the lips. Even the dampness between the fingers was real.

See no evil, question no evil. Yet he couldn’t wrap his head around it—why would a man lactate?

Soft, melodious music played in the bathroom.

Bubbles and desire swirled down the drain together.

Yu Zhen’s hands braced against the cold tiles, his flushed neck, face, and slender wrist adorned with a pure silver bracelet burning as if branded.

Knees pressed to the wall, forehead resting against the cool ceramic, the steam in the bathroom veiling his impassioned expression—the emotional void of the late-night hours bombarding his instincts and mind.

Blinding camera flashes, envious gazes, the hunger to possess and the ruthlessness to scheme—memories of those who had pursued him with complex intentions, their facades hiding nothing but the urgency to ruin him.

He couldn’t stand those looks.

The images flickered relentlessly in his mind—from that dog to that hand, the veins stark against rope-bound skin. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be gripped by such a sensual hand. Just the thought alone drove him mad…

There was no shame in being leered at by another man. The problem was, Yu Zhen was an unapologetic, insatiable homosexual—the kind who looked down on everyone else.

Now that his desires had crystallized in his mind, Yu Zhen realized his days of bland abstinence were over.

He rinsed off hastily, tossing the items onto the shelf. The vanity mirror reflected the night’s folly—a body sculpted to perfection, admired and enjoyed by no one but himself.

What a waste.

Leaning against the icy tiles, Yu Zhen contemplated the three lonely years he’d spent in this city, in this very apartment.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, Wang Baoshu’s call came through.

The first call went unanswered.

Yu Zhen wiped his hair dry as he called back. As soon as the line connected, Wang Baoshu got straight to the point: “Zhen, I can come over this weekend.”

Wang Baoshu had no idea what Yu Zhen was doing.

Yu Zhen slowly sat down, habitually running his fingers through his long hair—only to remember that those beautiful locks had been cut off long ago. The mirror reflected his bare face, his almond-shaped eyes naturally alluring and seductive, often giving people the mistaken impression of unrequited love without meaning to. This was also why Yu Zhen had dealt with so many misunderstandings during his school days—people would often approach him late at night, asking, “Do you like me too?”

“Too late,” Yu Zhen said, wrapping his hair in a towel as he delivered the less-than-ideal news. “The room I saved for you has already been rented out. The tenant moved in today.”

Wang Baoshu sounded surprised, his tone tinged with regret. “Really? Ah, damn my supervisor—they’ve been working me to the bone lately… Well, if it’s already rented, then never mind. I’ll try to come over this weekend and see if there are any other places available near you.”

“Why do you insist on living near me?” Yu Zhen countered. “Shouldn’t you and your girlfriend stay as far away from me as possible?”

Wang Baoshu’s girlfriend hadn’t been easy to win over—he’d pulled some tricks, and he knew it. Even though their relationship had been stable for years, Wang Baoshu still refused to introduce her to Yu Zhen.

The reason was simple: anyone with eyes could see how they’d compare—Wang Baoshu versus Yu Zhen, who had been a child model.

“I found a new job in your area. I’ve had enough of my current company—it’s suffocating.” The sound of a lighter flicked through the receiver. “Are you smoking?” Wang Baoshu asked.

Yu Zhen preferred mint-flavored cigarettes, though he wasn’t much of a smoker. He rarely indulged, probably not even finishing a pack in a year. Most people didn’t like his brand of cigarettes anyway. Back then, someone had specially customized them for him, but now that circumstances had changed, the ones on the market either had overpowering mint that burned the throat or were too weak to mask the chemical aftertaste.

Finding a type he liked was difficult.

Just like his standards for a partner.

Yu Zhen crossed his legs. He was only wearing a bathrobe, his long legs resting against the edge of the table. “Yeah,” he replied indifferently. “Nothing better to do.”

Wang Baoshu knew his work was flexible—freelance modeling didn’t require socializing. If Yu Zhen wanted money, he could always find jobs whenever he pleased. This had once made Wang Baoshu lament the unfairness of the world—why had his mother, once crowned the “factory beauty,” and his father, who carried the aura of a celebrity’s child, produced someone as ordinary as him?

“Anyway, forget about the apartment. Don’t worry about it—I’ll figure it out myself when I get there,” Wang Baoshu said, not wanting to trouble Yu Zhen further.

Yu Zhen wasn’t keen on taking on extra responsibilities either. The fewer connections he had with the people in this apartment complex, the better—this place was full of hidden talents.

The cool mint filled his nostrils as Yu Zhen’s thoughts drifted far away.

“My new job should be close to you. It’ll be easier to meet up often. Fang Suyi reached out to me the other day and asked about you. Are you still in touch with them?” When no response came, Wang Baoshu paused. “Yu Zhen?”

What was his background? A gym trainer? A former athlete? Or maybe a male model too? Damn… he must have a girlfriend, right?

“Zhen?” Wang Baoshu’s anxious voice came through the receiver. “Are you still there?”

Yu Zhen snapped back to attention, lowering the hand holding her cigarette. The silver bracelet clinked against the table as she pulled an ashtray closer, tapping the cigarette holder before replying, “Still here.”

Wang Baoshu said, “You weren’t saying anything. Are you busy? If you’re very busy, I won’t disturb you.”

Just before the call ended, Yu Zhen stopped him: “Baoshu, could I trouble you with something?”

Having just received a favor from her, Wang Baoshu wouldn’t refuse—especially with their years of friendship. Whatever it was, he’d take it on without hesitation. “Go ahead,” he said.

He never could have guessed what Yu Zhen would ask of him.

“That soldier you mentioned to me last time,” Yu Zhen said eagerly, “do you still have his contact information?”

There was a brief silence on Wang Baoshu’s end before he decoded her meaning, his tone turning teasing. “Professor Yu, from the sound of it…”

“I want to fall in love,” Yu Zhen stubbed out her cigarette, running her fingers over her silver bracelet in self-admiration and self-mockery. “Perhaps spring is coming. Like the cats outside the building, I’m feeling a bit… in heat.”