OAS 15

Tang Zhou’s words turned out to be prophetic. The next day, He Ziwei really couldn’t get out of bed. Not because he had been fucked, but because he was sick. Well, to be precise, he had been fucked sick.

When Tang Zhou woke up with He Ziwei still in his arms, he felt that the body against his own was burning up. He pressed his lips lightly to He Ziwei’s forehead, called his name softly for quite a while before he finally heard a hazy, groggy reply, thick with congestion. Clearly even his nose was stuffed. Tang Zhou grabbed the thermometer. 38.6°C.

He got dressed and went out to buy flu meds and fever reducers, then picked up a serving of milk oat porridge. After placing everything on the table and lifting the lid, Tang Zhou rummaged through the cabinet for a thin blanket, wrapped He Ziwei up in it, and peeled him out of the covers. He Ziwei’s head was spinning, and the milky taste made him feel nauseous. He slumped by the table and took just a few bites before pushing the bowl away.

“Done already?” Tang Zhou pulled out a blister pack of pills and poured a cup of warm water. “Take your meds and go back to sleep for a bit.”

Burning up and completely drained, He Ziwei nodded halfheartedly, took the pills, washed them down with a sip of water, and set the cup down before trying to crawl back into bed.

“Drink a little more,” Tang Zhou frowned. “You barely drank anything. The pill might get stuck in your esophagus.”

“It won’t. It’s already in my stomach,” He Ziwei waved him off irritably, cocooning himself back up as he grumbled, “Plain water tastes bland. I don’t like it.”

Tang Zhou rolled his eyes internally. A sick person is king, apparently.

He Ziwei didn’t wake again until eleven. He still didn’t feel great, but the dizziness had mostly subsided. Tang Zhou was sitting at his computer, Word doc open, fingers typing away. A few books were laid out on the desk. He was probably working on his thesis.

“You’re up?” Tang Zhou heard movement and looked back. After finishing the sentence he was typing, he hit save and got up to bring over a cup of warm water he had left to cool. Before He Ziwei could say anything, Tang Zhou added on his own, “I put rock sugar in it for you.”

He Ziwei took a sip. It really was sweet. There hadn’t been any rock sugar in the dorm, so clearly Tang Zhou had gone out again. That gave him a little pang of emotion. For once, he didn’t talk back. Instead, he behaved and said thank you.

His temperature came in at 37.5°C. As he took the thermometer back, Tang Zhou asked casually, “What do you want for lunch?”

That cup of sugar water had perked him up a bit. He Ziwei answered without missing a beat, “Braised pork ribs!”

Tang Zhou nodded. The fact that he still wanted braised pork ribs at a time like this only proved he was really still sick. He handed over a container of lean pork and vegetable congee instead. That pushed He Ziwei over the edge. “I said pork ribs! Why is it always congee? This is the third time already. Are you trying to starve me to death?”

“You decide what you want. I decide what you get.” Tang Zhou looked at him calmly, completely unfazed by this level of rebellion. “You eating or not?”

“Fine!” Furious, He Ziwei channeled his wrath into the bowl like he was smashing class enemies. He demolished the entire thing, scraping the bottom clean.

Now full and idle, his mind began to stir. Lying on the bed, He Ziwei started to analyze the situation. He rarely got sick. This time it had to be because of all the mental stress lately, plus the round in the shower yesterday. He hadn’t dried off properly and caught a chill. One way or another, it was Tang Zhou’s fault. The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he felt. Why should he be the one paying the price for Tang Zhou’s mess?

He sat up and shouted, “Hey! We had a deal, didn’t we? That makes me a contracted worker at the very least. This is a work-related injury!” Reasonable, logical, emotionally charged. He was quite pleased with his own performance. “You owe me compensation!”

“You’ve clearly watched too much of the legal channel back home,” Tang Zhou scoffed at that whole self-righteous spiel and cut straight to the chase. “So? What kind of compensation are you looking for?”

He Ziwei hesitated for a while, then said awkwardly, “It’s not much, really. Just… reduce one box of condoms.”

“You’ve burned your brain, haven’t you? Are you fucking delusional? Did you skip your meds at lunch?” Tang Zhou laughed in exasperation. A box had twelve in it, and this guy always pushed his luck. Give him an inch and he’d blow it wide open. Show him a little warmth and he’d blow up like a balloon. If you didn’t keep him tightly squeezed, he’d start climbing all over your head. He clearly had no idea where the line was.

He Ziwei, who just now was righteously invoking the rule of law, immediately tucked his tail and crawled back into the slave class. But still, he wasn’t ready to give up. His voice came muffled from under the blanket. “At least knock off those three from yesterday.”

Tang Zhou watched him bundle himself up again. His brows drew together. The visible part of He Ziwei’s face was even paler now, sickly enough to look genuinely pitiful. After a moment, Tang Zhou said, “If you get better by tomorrow, I’ll take off a whole box.”

“Really?!” He Ziwei looked up, eyes sparkling.

Tang Zhou glanced at him, then looked away. His tone was cold. “Get better first. Then we’ll talk.”

A man needs faith. A country needs strength. And He Ziwei now had hope. Like a blade of grass nourished by rain, like a flower basking in sunlight. That box of condoms had taken root in his brain as a sacred mission. A flag had been planted in his mind, and with it came purpose, strength, and the will to fight! He was ready to wrestle with illness, march toward recovery, and break free of landlord oppression to step boldly into the glorious light of socialism!

The oppressed masses, once awakened to resistance, possess limitless power. By that night, after a full day of lying under the covers like an egg incubator, He Ziwei had miraculously recovered in his half-conscious on-and-off naps. He had sweat through his whole body, but as soon as he remembered that box of condoms being deducted, he felt instantly refreshed and full of life.

Tang Zhou had bought four boxes total. As long as they kept going at it like yesterday a few more times, he wouldn’t have to serve him anymore. He Ziwei could hardly wait to drag Tang Zhou into bed and go at it twice right now. But then he thought about his ass and decided maybe the revolution needed a long-term plan. Health first.

Because of that sudden illness, He Ziwei’s sheets were completely soaked and unfit to sleep in. So that night, the two of them squeezed into a narrow bed again. This time, it was Tang Zhou’s.

Tang Zhou’s quilt had just been aired out. It smelled like soap, sunshine, and something He Ziwei couldn’t quite describe, something uniquely Tang Zhou. He Ziwei blinked up at the faint outline of him in the dark, and somewhere in the middle of staring, he drifted off to sleep.

What you think of by day, you dream of by night.

In his dream, He Ziwei was powerful and commanding, waving his hand as sinners were dragged forward. Tang Zhou had been tied up like a roast pig and was kicked to the ground with a thud, kneeling at He Ziwei’s feet.

He Ziwei sneered, “The times have changed, Young Master Tang. When do you plan to repay all you owe me?”

Tang Da-shao looked humiliated and angry. He answered with stubborn defiance. “I’m not paying shit.”

He Ziwei snorted coldly. So he wasn’t afraid of death, huh? Then he pinned the man down and dragged him into a room, where he and Young Master Tang battled it out for three hundred rounds on the bed.

By the time their world-shattering duel was over, Tang Zhou was lying limp, lifeless as a corpse. He Ziwei smoothed out his robes and coldly declared, “Our score is settled.”

He flicked his sleeves and strode out with pride. As he left, the world behind him crumbled into ash.

He Ziwei didn’t wake from this bizarre magical realism dream until early the next morning. He felt weirdly annoyed and couldn’t understand why. Why the hell was I still the one getting fucked in the dream?

As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw Tang Zhou watching him with a strange expression.

“Did I not fuck you enough yesterday?” Tang Zhou asked.

He Ziwei froze. Then he felt Tang Zhou’s hand press down between his legs.

He had come in his sleep. Right there, in Tang Zhou’s bed.