OAS 7

Even though He Ziwei felt tormented, time still passed in a flash. In what felt like the blink of an eye, it was already Saturday. He had worked up the courage countless times to suggest pushing it back, but every time he hinted at the idea, Tang Zhou would smile at him while pulling out his phone and say, “Shall we admire my greatest masterpiece in photography?” He Ziwei would immediately shut up, not daring to utter another word. In just a few days, Tang Zhou had completely overturned the cheerful and generous image he had built over three years. Before the infamous “buyer’s review,” He Ziwei had never realized Tang Zhou could be such a bastard.

As usual, the weekend meant it was just the two of them. Normally, Tang Zhou would be out of the dorm early in the morning and only return at night to sleep, while He Ziwei would be battling it out in his online games. But this Saturday was clearly different. When He Ziwei woke up, it was already nearly ten. After washing up, he grabbed a pork floss bun and was about to tear it open when Tang Zhou grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t eat that. I’m taking you out.”

Tang Zhou brought him to a trendy private kitchen restaurant just off campus. It was newly opened, a little artsy in decor, and the food had a good reputation. He Ziwei had seen several girls post about it on their social media. Tang Zhou skimmed through line after line of recommended dishes, then casually ordered a claypot congee and, after a moment’s thought, added two light vegetable sides.

The wait for the food to arrive was awkward and unbearable. It seemed like this was the first time they had ever sat alone at a table together. Both just stared at each other, speechless. He Ziwei forced himself to break the silence.

“I didn’t bring my wallet.”

Tang Zhou looked at him, deadpan. “I’m treating. I’m paying.”

“Oh… thanks?” He Ziwei replied.

“Mm,” Tang Zhou responded coldly.

That was the end of the awkward chit-chat. Neither spoke again, though somehow the atmosphere felt a bit more relaxed. As He Ziwei let his guard down, his brain began to drift aimlessly. Why was Tang Zhou treating him to a meal? Probably because he was going to fuck him afterward. Was this the awakening of human kindness or the last flicker of a conscience? Was this basically a whore’s fee?

He glanced at the bill sitting next to the table number card. 126 yuan. He suddenly felt cheap. For just 126 bucks, Tang Zhou was going to fuck him. How was this any different from fucking for free? The thought reminded him of that viral news story from a few years ago, the six-yuan spicy hotpot scandal. Clinging to that, he barely salvaged a shred of self-worth.

The meal itself was fast. Efficient, even. During the meal, they exchanged a few lines about the food.

“Tastes good?”

“Yeah.”

“Then eat more.”

“Okay.”

It was like being forced into a partner speaking exercise during elementary school English class. All He Ziwei could think about was the phrase “last meal before execution.” He ate without tasting a thing. By the time they left the restaurant, he could barely remember what he had eaten. The chicken in the congee had tasted pretty good… Wait, was it chicken? Or duck?

Still hung up on the chicken-or-duck debate in his mind, He Ziwei snapped back to reality only when Tang Zhou pulled him toward the hotel room. A wave of nervousness hit him, mingled with vague regret and melancholy. As the door shut behind him, one thought crossed his mind: That whore’s fee really went to waste. What a fucking free meal.

“You or me first?” Tang Zhou pointed casually at the bathroom.

“I… I’ll go first,” He Ziwei said, swallowing hard.

Tang Zhou nodded, opened the backpack he had brought with him, and dumped a bunch of items onto the bed. Everything was thoroughly prepared. He Ziwei stared as Tang Zhou casually handed him a hollow silicone bulb with a short tube attached. He had no idea why, but somehow, a flash of intuition told him exactly what it was for.

He stammered, trying to put up one last struggle. “The back… has to be cleaned too?” His voice actually trembled a little, which was rare.

Tang Zhou gave him a long look and said nothing, just gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the bathroom.

He Ziwei washed up with meticulous care. He even brushed his teeth thoroughly. He had no idea why he was doing all this, maybe just because his pride couldn’t bear the thought of Tang Zhou picking out any flaws. But he tried to eliminate that possibility entirely.

When everything was done, he finally picked up the enema device. He didn’t want to look at it a second time, just started filling it with water. The tube was stiff. He crouched over the toilet for a long time but couldn’t get it in. He gritted his teeth and tried to shove it in, but that only made it worse. His sphincter instinctively tightened, sending a sharp jolt of pain through him.

If the damn tube was this hard to insert, how terrifying would the real thing be? He Ziwei fell into an abyss of despair and reflection. And somehow, even at a time like this, he still had the mental space to remember how Tang Zhou had ordered all those light, easy-to-digest dishes earlier. That was some serious fucking foresight. No wonder girls liked him. So thoughtful, so gentle… Like hell he was!

He Ziwei bit down and started circling the rim of his hole with the middle finger of his right hand, alternating pressure as he massaged. His index finger rubbed softly at the puckered center. The sensation from that untouched, private place was strange. It tingled and tickled faintly, but there was something else beneath it. Maybe it was shame, or maybe something more obscene. It felt like a hidden craving, coiling through his veins, growing and spreading until it reached his heart and set his blood ablaze.

Under the coaxing of his fingers, the tight hole slowly started to relax. He used one hand to pry himself open and slowly slid the tube inside. He had taken so long to prep that the water had already gone cool. The instant it surged into him, He Ziwei nearly jumped off the toilet. But he didn’t want all that effort to go to waste, so he grit his teeth and forced the water in. The sensation of warm water flooding through his passage was impossible to describe. He felt overwhelmed with embarrassment, burning with shame, but buried somewhere inside that fear was a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of anticipation.

The first time, the water was too cold. The second, too hot. It wasn’t until the third try that he finally got the temperature right. He only stopped when the water that came out ran clear. Under the gentle yet firm pressure of the warm water, his intestines felt loose and pliant.

He Ziwei was a little weak in the knees. His cheeks were probably burning red. He felt utterly hopeless about what was about to happen. Even his stomach felt queasy. But he didn’t dare waste too much time. If he took too long, Tang Zhou would definitely kick the door in and drag him out.

He splashed cold water on his face, steeling himself like a man headed to the gallows, and yanked the door open.