39. The Sleeping Gypsy Part 2

Lu Zhengming was an early sleeper and an early riser.

He got out of bed quietly, washed up, and then returned to continue admiring Yin Yan’s sleeping face. Only when he was asleep would that face drop its guard, and even the shadows cast by his features softened, becoming gentler than usual. Lu Zhengming suppressed the urge to kiss him, patiently waiting for him to wake.

“Zhengming…”

Yin Yan’s eyes were hazy with sleep, and the first thing he saw was Lu Zhengming, looking fresh and full of energy. Then, he was greeted by a kiss—one that had clearly been brewing for a while. His drowsiness melted away under the kiss, morphing into the same sticky desire that Lu Zhengming exuded. Yet, the latter rejected his advance, teasing him with a grin. “If we do it now, we’ll miss the exhibit.”

“Then we won’t go.”

Yin Yan kissed him again, knowing full well that Lu Zhengming would give in to his whims. He deliberately said it with a playful, half-serious tone.

Lu Zhengming, predictably, took him seriously. “Really?”

“Just kidding.” Yin Yan laughed as he got out of bed. “Rembrandt’s better-looking than you.”

Lu Zhengming laughed too and got up after him, though he couldn’t resist cuddling Yin Yan for a little longer. This feeling was too wonderful. Rarely did even their lovemaking feel this intimate, and he found himself craving it.

“I had a dream last night,” Lu Zhengming said, standing in the bathroom as he watched Yin Yan shave. “I dreamed I was like a mannequin in a mall, standing motionless in a display window, with a price tag hanging off me. But it wasn’t the price of the clothes. It was the price of me. Everyone had price tags.”

Yin Yan glanced at him through the mirror. “How much were you worth?”

“I forgot. It was pretty expensive, though,” Lu Zhengming said, rubbing his chin as another detail came to mind. “I think it was the starting bid for an auction.”

He mocked himself with a wry smile. “Like merchandise, priced and labeled.”

Yin Yan washed his face and chuckled softly but didn’t comment.

Lu Zhengming continued, “Outside the system, price becomes the measure of value. No matter what kind of artwork it is, in the end, it all turns into a string of numbers.”

“At least numbers are objective.”

“It’s not that simple. There are plenty of tricks, like hype and money laundering. Some of it is practically a Ponzi scheme.”

“There’s room for manipulation with institutional awards too.”

Yin Yan gave him a meaningful look, then walked out of the bathroom and changed into his outfit for the day.

Lu Zhengming knew some awards were predetermined, and some nominations were secured through connections, but he didn’t know the specifics. Nor did he care to investigate the murky dealings of the art world, just as he disdained looking too deeply into commercial schemes.

He followed Yin Yan out the door, slipping on the sweater Yin Yan had bought for him. When he saw that Yin Yan was wearing a matching one, a warm feeling bloomed in his chest, and for a moment, he was tempted to forget the day’s plans and spend the whole day lounging around the hotel with him instead.

The streets were quieter than usual due to the holiday season. Many migrant workers had gone home to celebrate the New Year, leaving the city drained of half its usual energy. Not wanting the hassle of finding a parking spot along Chang’an Avenue, they opted to take the subway to the National Museum.

Inside, a permanent exhibition displayed artifacts reflecting the country’s history. Its glories, shames, and rise and fall over the centuries. These pieces had no price tags, no awards, and, for the most part, no known creators. Only vague dynastic attributions and names given by later generations according to certain conventions.

They moved silently from exhibit to exhibit, their reverence unspoken. It wasn’t until they were about to leave the gallery that Lu Zhengming broke the silence.

“Have you ever thought about your own work ending up in a museum?”

“You mean hoping your work outlives you?”

Yin Yan’s gaze settled on a bronze cauldron engraved with faint, ancient seal script, likely commemorating the deeds of some long-dead feudal lord. The lord’s body had long since turned to dust, but the cold bronze had outlasted time itself. Future generations could only piece together fragments of his long, complex life from those few lines of text.

“I don’t care either way.”

Lu Zhengming lived in the moment. His artwork mostly captured fleeting instances, tied only to his personal feelings. He wanted those moments to be seen, understood, and, ideally, sold for a good price so he could keep living happily. As for achieving historical acclaim, it had never crossed his mind.

He nudged Yin Yan, who was lost in thought. “And you? You still haven’t answered me.”

Yin Yan continued staring at the bronze cauldron. In his mind, the spider’s voice hissed, “You must do it.”

He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he turned to Lu Zhengming and said, “I don’t know.”

The spider, furious, thrashed inside his shadow, trying desperately to escape. But with Lu Zhengming’s arm draped around his back, it had no way out, unable to inflict its usual torment.

The special exhibit on 17th-century paintings was on the museum’s second floor. As soon as they stepped off the elevator, they saw a poster pointing the way. The poster featured a self-portrait of Rembrandt in middle age, his eyes quietly observing the passing visitors, just as they had for hundreds of years.

They followed the signs to the exhibition hall. While Lu Zhengming went to buy tickets, Yin Yan stood in front of the poster, locking eyes with Rembrandt until Lu Zhengming returned to urge him along.

“What are you staring at that for? There’s an original inside.”

Yin Yan nodded and silently followed him through the ticket check and into the gallery.

Lu Zhengming wasn’t particularly interested in classical paintings, but he patiently accompanied Yin Yan, watching as he carefully examined each piece, lost in contemplation. There was something fascinating about the seriousness, even reverence, with which Yin Yan regarded the works. He looked almost like a student, and in the presence of these masters, they were all, in some way, students. Yin Yan resembled a model class representative, while Lu Zhengming felt more like the kid who skipped class whenever he could.

This thought made Lu Zhengming smile, though Yin Yan was too absorbed to notice. He stood frozen in front of Rembrandt’s self-portrait, quietly gazing at the painting from behind the barrier.

Even if it was out of reverence, Yin Yan’s expression looked excessively solemn, almost grave. Lu Zhengming sensed that his thoughts weren’t entirely on the painting, that something deeper was stirring within him, but he didn’t know how to bring it up. And even if he asked, “What are you thinking about?” Yin Yan would likely answer with something technical about the artwork. He could talk about a single painting for half an hour, long enough for Lu Zhengming to forget why he’d asked in the first place.

Just as he was about to give up and wander toward the painting next to them, Yin Yan suddenly smiled and began discussing Rembrandt. As expected, it was the usual art talk: the treatment of shadows, his reflections on viewing the original piece after so many years.

Lu Zhengming had always felt that the dark tones in Yin Yan’s paintings were intricate and masterful, with a hint of Rembrandt’s influence. As he listened to Yin Yan compare the original painting to his own work, he realized that bringing him to this exhibition had been the right decision. It had been a long time since he’d seen Yin Yan this talkative, this animated.

Yin Yan looked genuinely happy, as though the solemnity from earlier had been nothing but a fleeting illusion.

Without realizing it, they spent the entire day at the museum. The moment they stepped out the main entrance, Lu Zhengming suddenly remembered Yin Yan’s delicate stomach and felt a twinge of regret.

Yin Yan didn’t seem to mind at all. They took the subway back to their place and casually found a nearby restaurant for dinner.

Before they knew it, the day had slipped away, and they’d spent hours inside the museum. As they stepped out into the evening air, Lu Zhengming suddenly remembered Yin Yan’s fragile stomach and felt a pang of regret.

But Yin Yan didn’t seem to mind at all. They took the subway back to their hotel and stopped at a nearby restaurant for dinner.

Lu Zhengming loved watching Yin Yan eat. No matter how hungry he was, he always ate with quiet elegance, never rushing, always composed. Tonight, Yin Yan seemed to be in high spirits. After dinner, he even suggested they visit a nearby bar for a drink.

To Lu Zhengming, everything about that evening felt perfect, almost dreamlike.

The dim, intimate lighting, the gleam of crystal-clear liquor, and the soft, lingering smile in Yin Yan’s eyes all brought Lu Zhengming back to the night they’d first met at a bar. Back then, Yin Yan had been cold and distant, his smiling lips delivering sharp, cutting words that left Lu Zhengming frustrated and intrigued.

Now, he had stripped away that thorny exterior, revealing only warmth and tenderness beneath. Lu Zhengming felt like a triumphant conqueror, basking in the sweetness of everything Yin Yan had laid bare just for him.

This was the first time Lu Zhengming had ever seen Yin Yan take the initiative. As soon as they returned to their room, Yin Yan pulled him into an embrace and kissed him in the darkness. His kiss was passionate, teasing, and carried a hint of aggression that had never been there before. Lu Zhengming felt intoxicated in an instant, trembling with joy and excitement as Yin Yan claimed him.

He thought Yin Yan would lead him to the bed, but instead, he was kissed all the way to the window, the same spot where they had embraced the night before. Pressed up against the glass, his lower body was quickly stripped bare, and a finger slid inside him.

Yin Yan’s movements were a little hurried, lacking their usual tenderness, but they ignited a burning desire in Lu Zhengming. Yin Yan’s need was so raw, so direct, and he was taking him with unrestrained passion. Lu Zhengming tried to relax, even spreading his legs on his own to let him in deeper, his moans signaling just how much he enjoyed it.

There wasn’t enough lubrication, only the thin coating from the condom. Yin Yan knew it would hurt, but he didn’t stop. He held Lu Zhengming’s struggling body in place and thrust into the deepest point.

Lu Zhengming gritted his teeth, holding back any sounds, overwhelmed by how unnaturally hard Yin Yan felt inside him. Usually, Yin Yan only swelled to this extent when he was close to climax, but this time, he was already at full hardness right after entering. The size was noticeably larger than usual, and Lu Zhengming struggled to endure it.

“Yin Yan… what’s wrong with you…?”

The answer came not in words but through hands that peeled off his shirt and went straight to pinch his most sensitive nipples. Lu Zhengming let out a moan as his lower body began to stir in response.

Reflected in the window was the image of their intertwined figures, one completely naked, the other fully clothed. Lu Zhengming had never imagined that being on the receiving end could be so exhilarating. The sight alone drove him wild, stripping him of any remaining shame as he bent his waist and pushed back to meet Yin Yan’s thrusts. Yin Yan remained silent, exuding a dominance that was completely unlike his usual self. The pleasure within Lu Zhengming grew clearer, reducing the pain to something insignificant.

Was it the alcohol? The lingering effect of the art exhibit? Or perhaps the glow of the city lights outside that made the whole scene feel unbearably romantic? Even as his body gave in, his mind stubbornly sought answers. “Why are you so… excited tonight?”

“I want you.”

Yin Yan’s reply was simple, yet it sent Lu Zhengming into a frenzy. It wasn’t quite what he had imagined. He had thought Yin Yan’s roughness might carry a hint of tenderness. Instead, there was a certain brutality to it, adding an edge of forcefulness to their passion. Lu Zhengming gave his full cooperation, yet Yin Yan still didn’t release the grip on his waist, driving into him with relentless intensity.

At first, Lu Zhengming managed to vocalize his cries, but before long, he could only manage breathy gasps. Sweat fogged up the window, turning the city lights outside into a swirling, abstract blur, like a hallucinatory painting.

“T-Touch me… touch me…” he murmured d
and turned his head slightly. The serious, focused expression on Yin Yan’s face made his heart ache with desire. He reached up, hooking his arms around Yin Yan’s neck, his mouth slightly open as he waited for a kiss. After a while, when no kiss came, he softly reminded him, “Kiss me…”

Before Lu Zhengming even realized it, he had begun to resemble the old Yin Yan, having to beg for caresses and kisses. But Yin Yan never made him beg in vain. Whenever Lu Zhengming reached out, Yin Yan gave him everything, satisfying him to the fullest. He sucked on Lu Zhengming’s tongue as his hands wandered across his body, attentively teasing every sensitive spot. His ten fingers pressed in with just the right strength, embedding scorching desire deep within Lu Zhengming, spreading it through every inch of him.

Lu Zhengming trembled uncontrollably, his legs buckling several times, only to be lifted again by Yin Yan. With one arm holding his waist, Yin Yan thrust into him with each step, driving him relentlessly toward the bed. The moment Lu Zhengming collapsed face-down onto the mattress, Yin Yan buried himself inside, reaching his deepest point. Lu Zhengming arched his back, and in an instant, he came.

Even as Lu Zhengming climaxed, Yin Yan didn’t relent. He kept thrusting into him, hitting that unbearably sensitive spot over and over again. Lu Zhengming’s voice grew hoarse from crying out, and he gasped for air, struggling to catch his breath. But before he could fully recover, Yin Yan flipped him over and plunged back inside.

“Fuck…” Lu Zhengming swore breathlessly.

His legs were lifted and placed on Yin Yan’s shoulders, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. Even so, he instinctively reached out, asking for a hug. Without that embrace, orgasming always felt a little incomplete.

Yin Yan leaned down, pressing his full weight against Lu Zhengming, giving him not just a hug but also a deep, heated kiss. But he wasn’t ready to stop yet. He kept moving, his thrusts prolonging the intensity. After the wave of his initial climax subsided, Yin Yan straightened up again, pinning Lu Zhengming’s legs down and quickening his pace. His hips drove forward in tight circles, grinding against Lu Zhengming’s freshly overstimulated passage.

Lu Zhengming’s resistance weakened, becoming little more than surrender. Even he couldn’t tell if he wanted Yin Yan to stop or to give him even more. Yin Yan’s hands kept exploring his body, sliding from his reddened nipples, down his contracting abs, to his now-hard-again cock, which stood as proof of just how much he still wanted.

Sweat dripped from his body onto Lu Zhengming’s chest, mingling with the sticky fluid leaking from Lu Zhengming himself. In that moment, their bodies seemed to merge into one. Every thrust and arch, every moan and gasp perfectly synchronized. Even their climaxes hit at the same time, as though they shared the same pulse.

Lu Zhengming’s hands slowly slid from Yin Yan’s back as his mind went blissfully blank. He felt Yin Yan begin to pull out and instinctively tightened around him, trying to keep him there. But he was too drained to hold on, and Yin Yan slipped free. A low, unsatisfied moan escaped Lu Zhengming’s lips.

A few moments later, he heard Yin Yan’s slightly apologetic voice: “It broke…”

“Hm?”

It took Lu Zhengming a moment to realize what had broken. He chuckled softly, reaching out to stroke Yin Yan’s face. “It’s fine… But what got into you tonight? You were so intense… doesn’t really seem like you.”

Yin Yan had already returned to his usual gentle self. He leaned down and kissed Lu Zhengming. “You didn’t like it?”

“I loved it.” Lu Zhengming pulled his head down and, with the last bit of strength he had, kissed him back. “Loved it to death…”

“As long as you did.”

Yin Yan smiled faintly and helped him up to take a shower.

When they returned to bed, it was Yin Yan who succumbed to exhaustion first, lying still with his eyes closed, seemingly drifting into sleep almost immediately. Lu Zhengming, having just regained his strength, wanted to talk to him but didn’t want to wake him. So, he quietly sat by his side, gazing at his sleeping face.

Above the headboard hung Rousseau’s The Sleeping Gypsy, a painting of a lion silently standing guard over a slumbering gypsy musician. It felt remarkably similar to the scene on the bed. Lu Zhengming gently lifted Yin Yan’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. He looked up at the painting, then back at Yin Yan, and thought to himself that he ought to be the lion. No matter what nightmares Yin Yan might be going through, he would stay by his side and guard him.

Everything was getting better. He had never opened himself up like this before, never asked for so much from anyone.

Everything was getting better. Lu Zhengming believed that firmly.

But in a place Lu Zhengming couldn’t see, in the space behind those closed eyelids, Yin Yan was seeing that pale spider again. She jabbed at his chest with her sharp forelegs. “You don’t even like Rembrandt.”

“So what?”

“Stop mourning that useless piece of trash. Even if he had lived to this day, he wouldn’t have amounted to much more than he was when he died. He thought he was Rembrandt, ha…”

The spider scuttled back and forth across Yin Yan’s body, her insect limbs digging into him. His body convulsed instinctively. To Lu Zhengming, it just looked like he wasn’t sleeping soundly, twitching now and then in restless slumber.

“You always like surrounding yourself with trash. Your useless father, your useless students… and now this one, a muddle-headed guy who drifts aimlessly, wasting time. Ever since he got mixed up with you, he hasn’t sold a single painting. He’s turning into trash, too…”

Yin Yan stopped responding to her, but she remained furious, hurling curses at him without pause.

He opened his eyes.

Lu Zhengming looked up at him in surprise as Yin Yan once again pressed him down, covering his body with his own. The spider was gnawing at his back, just as it had done earlier by the window. The only way he could drive out the pain was through the most intense movements, drowning out everything with Lu Zhengming’s gasping moans filling his ears. His chest burned with heat, while his back was ice-cold.

Above Lu Zhengming, Yin Yan braced himself with all four limbs, creating a small, tight space between them, just enough for an embrace.

“Hold me, Zhengming… Hold me…”

The warmth of those two arms wasn’t much, but at that moment, it was the only thing keeping him going.