WP Extra 2

Si Shaorong had been thinking about something lately. After reading the latest update of Jiang Yibai’s Little Moments, that thought reached its peak.

He sent a voice message to his editor and said, “For my next book, I want to try writing a danmei novel.”

The editor went silent.

Then came: “???”

Followed by: “!!!!”

The editor cautiously asked, “Master Si, there’s something I want to ask, but I’m not sure if I should.”

Si Shaorong was biting the cap of his pen while scribbling ideas on a whiteboard. His voice was muffled. “Go ahead.”

The editor asked tentatively, “There’s a rumor going around in the circle. People are saying that you and… uh, Jiang Luanyu are a couple? That you’re living together now? And that Little Moments is actually based on your real life?”

The pen in Si Shaorong’s hand paused. He answered seriously, “It’s not true.”

The editor made a soft sound, somewhere between regret, disappointment, and disillusionment.

Si Shaorong followed up immediately. “I’m not always the one on the bottom. And I don’t get jealous like that. Half of what he writes is true, the other half is fiction. You can’t take it all seriously.”

The editor: “…”

She hung up and spent the next three minutes screaming into her hands. Once she calmed down, she opened the voice channel again.

“Master Si, that was unfair. You knew I was one of Jiang’ Luanyu’s fans. I even sent you a whole fan pack of his stories. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Si Shaorong thought about it. It seemed he really had never mentioned it to this junior editor. He smiled and said, face full of soft happiness, “We recently invited a lot of friends to help us move into our new place. I thought I had mentioned it at the time. My bad. Jiang… Luanyu is wonderful. He’s the best partner I’ve ever known. Gentle, thoughtful, funny, and endlessly charming. Life with him is never boring. He’s the reason I felt inspired to try writing danmei.”

That last part was not entirely true. The real reason was because About Me and Male God had gotten so out of character, Si Shaorong felt the need to salvage his own public image.

The editor, now full of unsolicited dog food, had no response.

In a quiet voice, they asked, “Does Zhen-jie know about this?”

“She doesn’t care what genre I write. Her job is to manage my brand. That’s all.” Si Shaorong answered. “As an assistant, she always knows exactly what’s within her responsibilities. That’s something I really respect about her.”

The editor thought for a moment and suggested, “Maybe try a new pen name? Start with a short story first?”

Si Shaorong thought the suggestion was actually pretty good. After finishing the chat with his editor, he went to the platform where Jiang Yibai usually posted and registered a new account.

But what should he write?

Most of the danmei he had ever read was written by Jiang Yibai. He was not confident in handling the genre or its conventions. Still, there was this persistent urge tugging at him, a need to preserve this feeling, whether as a keepsake or something to share. So he decided to start by writing an outline.

Compared to the outlines he had done in the past, this one was incredibly rough. It did not even have a detailed breakdown, just a broad concept.

He figured that if Jiang Yibai could write About Me and Male God, then he could write something similar. He would record their lives, weave together truths and fiction, and tell a modern-day story of how they met and fell in love.

There would be no earth-shattering drama. No betrayal or scheming. No overpowered protagonists or cheats. Just some setbacks in daily life, and a few hurdles that at the time had seemed impossible to cross. But in the end, everything would come together.

Si Shaorong tried writing an opening, but he was not satisfied with it. He deleted and rewrote it again and again, going through seven or eight different versions. In the end, he realized he had writer’s block.

It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling. How was it that he was already stuck before the story had even begun?

Still, he was not anxious. If he was blocked, he would just set it aside for now. He closed the laptop and left the bedroom to find his boyfriend.

Right now, his boyfriend was the source of all his emotional inspiration. Every spark of something new came from him. Those flashes of uncertainty, the waves of anxiety, the helpless confusion, the ache of heartache, the agony of wanting to protect but not knowing how.

But above all that, there was sweetness. A sense of peace. The kind of satisfaction that made everything feel worth it. The kind of happiness that made you want to laugh even while feeling exasperated. The kind of helpless affection that made you want to spoil someone endlessly.

He did not know how long those emotions would last. He did not know how long the other person’s love for him would hold strong. With time, would they start to fight? Would frustrations grow? But he believed that no matter when, no matter what kind of negative emotion arose, in the end it would always be defeated by the same thing.

That ache of not wanting to hurt him.

That unwillingness to be cruel. That inability to be cold. That fear of making him sad.

They had already been living in their new home together for three months.

Summer was coming to an end, and a golden autumn had quietly arrived. Fallen leaves paved the road toward a future filled with happiness. When he pushed open the kitchen door, he was not at all surprised to see his boyfriend wearing an apron, sleeves rolled up, bent over with a camera in hand, taking photos of something.

He leaned in for a look. A tuft of hair at the top of Jiang Yibai’s head was sticking up rebelliously. His side profile was full of focus and concentration, with a brightness in his eyes that made him look like he was glowing. The camera was pointed squarely at the countertop, where—was that a cake?

A vein twitched at Si Shaorong’s temple. A wave of helplessness washed over him from deep within, spreading across his limbs.

The countertop had been scrubbed clean until it shone. A blue-and-white checkered cloth was spread neatly across it. A cup of coffee sat to the side, next to a pair of rimless black glasses. A few kumquats were scattered nearby, the bright orange fruits creating a beautiful color contrast.

But none of those were the focus. The focus was the elegant white porcelain plate with gold trim, placed right in the center of the cloth… and the cake sitting on it.

Lately, Jiang Yibai had gotten very into baking. He loved taking photos of his creations and posting them on Instagram. But this particular dessert left Si Shaorong speechless. He had no idea what it was made of, but the base of the cake featured a towering shape that looked exactly like… a mushroom cap rising straight up from between a man’s legs. The realism was almost unsettling.

To make matters worse, the edges of the cake were decorated with adorable little buttercream rosettes. Si Shaorong could not help asking, “What are you doing? You’re photographing that thing too?”

Jiang Yibai grinned and replied, “Don’t overthink it. This is just the Armstrong Spiral Rapid-Fire Jet Armstrong Cannon.”

Si Shaorong almost bit his tongue. “The Arm—what?”

Jiang Yibai flipped through the photos on his camera and, still smiling, nudged his boyfriend out of the kitchen. “Finished talking to your editor? So you’re allowed to write danmei now?”

Si Shaorong nodded and was helplessly pulled into his arms. The two of them clung to each other like a pair of koalas, slowly shuffling their way over to the couch.

Their new place had excellent lighting in every room. The building was spaced out enough that it never felt crowded, and the whole atmosphere was comfortably spacious.

They tumbled onto the couch, still wrapped around each other. Soft sunlight settled into the corners of their eyes. Jiang Yibai laughed. “Oh my god, do you think your readers can handle it?”

“The editor suggested I use a pen name.”

“Hey, that’s actually not bad. What are you going to use?”

Si Shaorong had already registered one, but he decided to keep it a secret for now. He just smiled without answering.

“Seriously? Again? I haven’t even settled the score with you for the house surprise. You kept it from me for so long, I actually thought you didn’t want to decorate our new place together.”

“Why would I?” Si Shaorong paused, realizing that it really could have given that impression. He quickly explained, “I hired a designer and asked them to reference the layout of your old place. I thought you’d like it. If I had brought you in to help with the renovation, it would’ve spoiled the surprise.”

Jiang Yibai bit his boyfriend’s nose lightly. “I know. I was just teasing you.”

Si Shaorong said, “And you’re giving me grief? Didn’t you give me a surprise the very next day?”

Just thinking about it made Si Shaorong laugh all over again.

“It was the same group of people, stirring things up as usual. I really don’t know how they managed to switch locations and stay so in character without cracking up.”

“They’re all drama queens. Every last one of them. Each one more shameless than the last.” Jiang Yibai rolled his eyes.

The surprise Jiang Yibai had given him was right there on their hands, a matching pair of men’s rings worn on their fourth fingers. There were no flashy designs, just something simple and elegant, completely in line with the minimalist aesthetic Jiang Yibai always liked to call his own brand of “salt-style.”

Their fingers were intertwined. The rings caught the autumn light and shimmered softly. Jiang Yibai stared at them with satisfaction and asked, “So, what are you planning to write? You’ve got some free time right now, right? How about a short piece?”

“Around 150,000 to 200,000 words, definitely under 250,000,” Si Shaorong said. “I’m thinking of writing a contemporary urban story. It’s been a while.”

In his early days, Si Shaorong had started out writing modern urban fiction. His tone back then had been more subdued, his style straightforward and unembellished, with little in the way of dramatic highs and lows.

Jiang Yibai had actually liked that style quite a bit. It had helped pull him through some of his lowest moments.

“I’ll support you no matter what you write,” Jiang Yibai said.

Si Shaorong hummed softly, leaning against him. He spoke as he thought aloud. “I want to write a story about us.”

“Go for it. You can use About Me and Male God for reference.”

Si Shaorong paused.

He seriously doubted that was a usable reference. The thought made him laugh. “What if I ruin your character?”

“I butchered it myself, so that’s fine. You won’t.” In moments like this, Jiang Yibai transformed into his most blindly loyal little fanboy. As if to say, My male god could never mess up. Impossible.

His eyes lit up, and he leaned over to whisper in Si Shaorong’s ear. “You could use your ‘diary’ for inspiration.”

Si Shaorong froze.

His whole face turned red in an instant. Usually stoic, his expression now looked practically shell-shocked. “How do you… you???”

“How do I know about it?” Jiang Yibai found the reaction hilarious. He reached out and flicked his boyfriend’s nose. “You stuffed it right under your pillow. I found it when I was changing the sheets.”

“You peeked?”

“I didn’t,” Jiang Yibai said, looking perfectly innocent. “But when I picked it up, a condom wrapper fell out.”

Si Shaorong: “…”

It was the condom wrapper he had saved as a keepsake.

Jiang Yibai could not stop laughing. “Do you know what my reaction was when I saw that thing? I nearly jumped out of my skin. Thought you were hiding some dark fetish or something.”

He swore he had not meant to peek. He had just frozen in place out of shock, and his first instinct was to quickly stuff it back where he found it.

But somehow, that naturally led to opening the diary and seeing what was inside.

Jiang Yibai even teased him, “Weren’t you using that thing to jot down ideas and inspirations? How did it turn into an 18+ logbook? With what’s in there, you could self-publish a Complete Kama Sutra for Men. Can I use it for reference next time I’m out of inspiration?”

Si Shaorong still said nothing.

Instead, he pounced and bit him.

Jiang Yibai burst out laughing as he grabbed his boyfriend’s waist and slipped his hand down, taking the upper hand immediately.

After their roughhousing came to a pause, Si Shaorong looked at Jiang Yibai’s bright, laughing eyes and suddenly said, “I’ve thought of a title for the story.”

Jiang Yibai let out a soft hum in response.

Si Shaorong thought back to everything about how they met, the little moments leading up to this. Even if it had started with Jiang Yibai setting a trap, in the end, who had really caught who was anyone’s guess.

He laced their fingers together and said, “Willing Prey.”

Jiang Yibai was stunned for a moment, then broke into a grin. He rested his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder and said with satisfaction, “That works. Let’s go with that.”

Si Shaorong asked quietly, “And how does it end?”

Jiang Yibai leaned over and gently tugged at his lips, voice muffled as he said, “Isn’t it obvious? Of course he takes the bait.”

After a pause, Jiang Yibai added, “Hey, include my story in the extras. Free promotion.”

Si Shaorong gave him a look.

Jiang Yibai said, “Why not? We’re a couple series now.”

Si Shaorong let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll save a spot for you in the extras. With a big, bold ad.”