Hearing You Say Love chapter 16
Super Handsome!
As usual, there was a post-match dinner that night. Zou Beiyuan didn’t want to be forced to drink, so he transferred the money to Xu Jiadi and slipped away with Su Ming.
That day both of them didn’t drive; the two crossed the street and walked slowly along the riverside.
The calm, dark water reflected the colorful lights decorating both banks, and a breeze blew from the river, bringing a damp, fishy smell.
Su Ming’s nose itched, and he sneezed.
“Are you cold?” Zou Beiyuan turned to look at him.
Su Ming used sign language to say: Not cold.
After making the gesture, he remembered that Zou Beiyuan couldn’t understand sign language and shook his head instead.
Zou Beiyuan’s eyes fell on the two buttons of Su Ming’s shirt that he had buttoned himself, and he said in a low voice, “Let’s walk to the bridge up ahead to get a taxi; it’s hard to get one here.”
Riverside Road was a one-way street, opposite the direction of their home.
After walking a short distance in silence, Zou Beiyuan’s phone rang; it was Xu Jiadi.
“Beiyuan, where the hell are you? Everyone’s waiting to drink with you; where did you run off to?”
“You guys go ahead,” Zou Beiyuan said lazily. “I transferred the money to you; just take care of everyone tonight. If it’s not enough, I’ll send you more.”
Xu Jiadi’s voice was loud enough for Su Ming to hear, “Damn, this is your celebration dinner; you’re not coming?”
Zou Beiyuan sounded uninterested, “Yeah, I’m skipping it.”
Xu Jiadi let out a sound of annoyance, “So where are you right now?”
“On my way home.”
“What time is it? You’re going home already?”
Zou Beiyuan glanced at Su Ming, just then finding an excuse to brush off Xu Jiadi, and said casually, “Su Ming drank too much; I’m taking him home.”
“Su Ge is with you?” Xu Jiadi moved the phone away a bit to yell at someone else, “Chen Ge, Su Ming is with Zou Beiyuan; don’t look for him anymore!”
Su Ming heard this and took out his phone to check. Sure enough, Chen Muchao had sent him several messages and made a call.
Chen Muchao: [Xu Jiadi asked us to go for a midnight snack together.]
Chen Muchao: [Where are you?]
Chen Muchao: [Didn’t you say you went out for a smoke? I couldn’t find you.]
Chen Muchao: [Where did you go?]
Su Ming typed back: [I’m with Zou Beiyuan… now you know.]
Chen Muchao must have been busy talking to others because he replied with an “ok” emoji.
Zou Beiyuan also hung up the phone and caught a glimpse of Su Ming’s phone screen, saying, “Chen Ge seems very worried about you.”
Su Ming nodded, pulling up the notes to show him: [Chen mom isn’t just a nickname.]
Zou Beiyuan laughed and asked him, “Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”
Su Ming typed: [I’m not hungry. Are you?]
“Yeah,” Zou Beiyuan said, “a little.”
Su Ming glanced at his wound and typed: I’ll make you something when we get back.
He was so focused on his phone that he didn’t notice a bollard in front of him and nearly kicked it.
“Be careful!” Zou Beiyuan grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
Su Ming wasn’t prepared and bumped into Zou Beiyuan’s muscular chest.
…So solid and springy.
Zou Beiyuan glanced at Su Ming’s phone screen and pressed the power button to turn it off, saying, “Don’t look at your phone while walking; you can text when we get home.”
Su Ming obediently put his phone in his pocket and fell silent.
Zou Beiyuan’s hand slid from his arm to his wrist, leading him for a while until they reached a clear area before letting go.
Taking a taxi back to the community, Su Ming asked Zou Beiyuan in the elevator: [What do you want to eat?]
Zou Beiyuan looked at his expressive face and, remembering how Su Ming looked eating yam porridge, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he said, “Tomato and egg noodles.”
When they reached the sixteenth floor, Zou Beiyuan didn’t head back to his own home first but followed Su Ming into his apartment. The spare pair of slippers at Su Ming’s place had practically become Zou Beiyuan’s personal pair.
Su Ming had him sit on the sofa, then took an ice pack from the fridge, wrapped it in a clean towel, and handed it to him.
Zou Beiyuan didn’t react at first, “What?”
Su Ming pursed his lips and leaned in seriously, pressing the cold pack gently against Zou Beiyuan’s swollen cheek.
Actually, this little injury didn’t really matter. Zou Beiyuan could take a beating. With a hit like this, it would heal in a week without special treatment.
His first instinct was to refuse, but Su Ming’s gaze made it impossible for him to say no.
He started learning boxing at the age of six, and ever since stepping into the ring for his first match at thirteen, few people cared if he was hurt or not. They only cared about whether he fought well and could win.
Su Ming looked at him without saying a word, but from his expression and eyes, Zou Beiyuan understood his intention.
“Thank you.” He took the ice pack and pressed it against his face.
The ice pack, wrapped in a towel, was a bit big, and when he took it, he accidentally grasped Su Ming’s fingers too. Su Ming’s hand, which usually held a paintbrush, was long, delicate, smooth, and soft—like a woman’s hand. Zou Beiyuan could easily wrap it entirely in his own.
Su Ming quickly withdrew his fingers, leaving an indescribable sensation in Zou Beiyuan’s palm.
In just a few minutes, the sound of chopping vegetables echoed from the kitchen. The rhythm was fast yet steady. Su Ming was particularly skilled at these tasks. Whether it was due to years of sign language or not, his fingers were incredibly agile. Zou Beiyuan thought that if there were an Olympic event for string figures, Su Ming would surely win a gold medal.
Zou Beiyuan held the ice pack to his face and strolled to the kitchen door to watch him. Su Ming had put on that light green apron again, tying his hair into a low ponytail with a black hair tie. He was still wearing the white shirt he had worn to the bar, with two ornate rings still on the hand holding the chopsticks.
On one side, he was charming; on the other, homely—both sides harmonizing perfectly in him.
After about ten minutes, the extractor fan turned off. Su Ming used oven mitts to bring a bowl of tomato and egg noodles to the table.
The broth was golden yellow, with sautéed tomatoes that had been reduced to a grainy texture and a beautifully fried sunny-side-up egg floating in the broth. Su Ming used the thinnest noodles, cooked just right, each strand soaked with the broth. Garlic shoots replaced green onions, and with sesame oil and white pepper, the aroma evoked a deep sense of home.
Zou Beiyuan hadn’t felt very hungry at first, but the aroma made him immediately starved.
Su Ming set the bowl down, fetched some chopsticks from the kitchen, and then pulled out a chair, sitting opposite Zou Beiyuan.
“You’re not eating?” Zou Beiyuan asked.
He shook his head, got up to fetch a spiral notebook, and wrote: I’m not hungry.
Under his gaze, Zou Beiyuan took two bites, then paused. “I feel a little awkward with you watching me eat.”
Su Ming smiled slightly, lowered his head, and wrote: Then I’ll leave you alone to eat.
Zou Beiyuan twirled the noodles and said, “You should keep watching me.”
So, Su Ming really did prop his chin on his hand and watch him for a while. Both of them couldn’t help but chuckle. Su Ming wrote on the paper again: Are you sure it’s okay to eat high carbs at night?
“Huh?” Zou Beiyuan laughed, “Are you afraid I’ll get fat?”
Su Ming wrote: Don’t athletes have to manage their diets?
“It’s fine. I exercise a lot. Besides, there probably won’t be any matches this year.”
Su Ming remembered overhearing someone mention that Zou Beiyuan had a match with a boxing champion this year, so he asked, “Why not?”
“I had some issues…” Zou Beiyuan hesitated before saying, “… with my promotion company.”
Su Ming didn’t quite understand what that meant and didn’t press further, seeing that Zou Beiyuan didn’t want to elaborate. Instead, he lowered his head and continued to sketch and scribble.
A few minutes later, he pushed the paper over to Zou Beiyuan—a quick sketch of him in the boxing ring.
There was only Zou Beiyuan in the picture, but he recognized it as the moment when he knocked down Inoue Junya with a left hook.
Su Ming had sketched quickly, the lines a bit chaotic, but he had captured light and shadow, speed and stillness, bringing a sense of dynamic motion to the paper.
This was how Su Ming saw him. Zou Beiyuan thought the “filter” was a bit thick—he wasn’t nearly that handsome.
Su Ming seemed to notice his thoughts and raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together while bending his ring and pinky fingers. He then pointed to the left and quickly traced a line to the right under his chin, wearing a look of pure admiration.
Zou Beiyuan raised an eyebrow and asked, “What does that mean?”
Su Ming didn’t take back the notebook. He just wrote in reverse, one stroke at a time: Super handsome!
Zou Beiyuan laughed at his seriousness. Yet, seeing how skilled he was at writing upside-down, he couldn’t help but feel a bit soft-hearted. He wondered how many times Su Ming had done this to become so good at it.
“You think I look cool when I box?”
Su Ming nodded.
“Want me to teach you?” Zou Beiyuan said half-jokingly, half-seriously. “A lot of people box for fitness these days. You need the exercise anyway. How about I take you to try it tomorrow?”
Su Ming froze for a moment, and the image of them shirtless in the ring together flashed through his mind.
… A bit too stimulating.
But then he remembered that the area where he had his cochlear implant couldn’t be injured, so he shook his head and pointed to his right ear, writing: I can’t. I have an implant there, no collisions allowed.
Zou Beiyuan instinctively wanted to say, “I’ll protect you,” but stopped short, realizing that telling another man he’d “protect” him sounded a bit odd.
Finishing the last bite of noodles, he said, “Then I’ll run with you tomorrow.”
Su Ming: ?
“The doctor said you need exercise,” Zou Beiyuan reminded him. “Otherwise, your shoulder won’t get better.”
Su Ming: …Spare me, please.
“You can choose—run in the morning or evening,” Zou Beiyuan didn’t give him an option to refuse.
Since Su Ming couldn’t wake up early, he had no choice but to agree: Evening it is then.