Hearing You Say Love chapter 5
Big and Skilled
It had been raining for two days straight in Rong City, but finally, the skies cleared up.
Su Ming hadn’t left the house in these two days. He needed to finish the line art for Chapter 16, then spend two days coloring to make it in time for the next update.
Immersed in his story, he lost track of time, often going to bed in the middle of the night and waking up at noon.
Around 11 AM, Su Ming woke up and saw an unread WeChat message from Zou Beiyuan.
Sitting up and leaning against the headboard, he opened the message. Zou Beiyuan had asked him: [When are you free? I said I’d treat you to a meal.]
There was also an earlier message asking when he was free.
Su Ming had been too tired when he first saw it and had fallen asleep. After running into each other at the bar and the fight, he had forgotten about it.
Regarding Zou Beiyuan’s straight-man remarks, Su Ming had already gotten the feeling the first time he saw him that he wouldn’t be “one of us,” so from the beginning, he hadn’t wanted to get too close.
Not only was Zou Beiyuan straight, but he had many friends, lived a colorful life, and belonged to a completely different world. Su Ming was used to living alone, had a simple social circle, with his best friend being Chen Muchao. When faced with someone as socially dominant as Zou Beiyuan, he instinctively kept his distance.
But in the past two days, his creative flow had been exceptional. After being stuck for over a year, inspiration had finally returned. If he really traced it back, it probably started the night at the bar, after that close encounter with Zou Beiyuan.
After thinking for a moment, Su Ming admitted to himself that he was a sucker for good looks. He typed: [How about Thursday? I’m really busy these days.]
After the Thursday midnight update, he’d be able to take a break.
Zou Beiyuan didn’t reply immediately. Su Ming clicked on his profile picture—green boxing gloves, matching the green of his car.
Looks like he really likes green…
Just then, Zou Beiyuan’s reply came in: [Busy with what?]
Su Ming: [Work.]
Zou Beiyuan: [What kind of work?]
Su Ming: [Drawing.]
Zou Beiyuan: [You’re an artist?]
Su Ming replied without modesty: [Yes.]
A minute later, Zou Beiyuan sent a voice message: “Can I buy one of your paintings and hang it on my wall?”
Su Ming laughed silently, clutching his blanket.
I’d be willing to sell it. Are you brave enough to hang it?
Zou Beiyuan’s voice was lazy and a little deep. Su Ming put the phone to his ear and played it again.
There seemed to be the sound of cars in the background.
Su Ming: [Sure, I’ll give you one someday. Are you driving?]
Zou Beiyuan: “I’m at the repair shop.”
The voice message was followed by a picture of a green BMW, parked in the repair shop.
Su Ming didn’t know much about cars, only recognizing the logo: [Can it be fixed?]
Zou Beiyuan: [Yeah, but it’s going to take some time.]
Su Ming: [What are you going to do during this time?]
Zou Beiyuan: [They gave me a 3 Series as a runabout.]
Su Ming: [Oh.]
Zou Beiyuan was about to reply again when Xu Jiadi drove the white 3 Series over and called to him from the driver’s window, “Beiyuan, let’s go!”
Zou Beiyuan responded, turned off his phone screen, and held it in his palm.
After getting in the car, Xu Jiadi asked him, “Who were you chatting with so happily?”
Zou Beiyuan glanced at himself in the rearview mirror and denied, “No one.”
Xu Jiadi didn’t believe it. Zou Beiyuan was usually too lazy to text, and if something came up, he would just call. It was the first time he’d seen him so focused on chatting with someone. “Some beautiful girl? Met her at the bar?”
Zou Beiyuan fastened his seatbelt, leaned lazily against the seatback, and said, “Really, no one. Just drive.”
…
Su Ming waited for a few minutes, but when Zou Beiyuan didn’t reply, he got up, washed up, and had brunch.
When Chen Muchao came over to see him, Su Ming was washing the dishes. Chen Muchao sat on the single armchair next to the floor-to-ceiling window and waited.
Next to the armchair was a small black walnut side table, on which Su Ming’s sketchbook was placed. Chen Muchao picked it up and casually flipped through it.
He was two years older than Su Ming and had met him through the school’s sign language club.
Artists usually look down on each other, thinking no one draws as well as they do, but Chen Muchao truly admired Su Ming. That guy never sketched outlines but was incredibly precise with his forms, earning him the nickname “human printer” back in art school. Whenever Su Ming drew in the studio, there was always a crowd of onlookers behind him.
Lately, Su Ming’s sketchbook was filled with drawings of the same person, so much so that Chen Muchao had memorized them.
The last page depicted the person standing in the rain, water washing over his half-naked body, flowing down his finely toned muscles and pooling at his V-line, disappearing into the low waistband of his pants. His physique reminded Chen Muchao of a war god from Norse mythology—arrogant, dismissive, exuding both sensuality and restraint.
Chen Muchao shouted toward the kitchen, “Su, you’re really something! No wonder they call you the king of erotic comics!” Su Ming knew Chen Muchao was flipping through his sketches again but ignored him.
Curious, Chen Muchao rushed into the kitchen, leaned against the doorframe, and asked Su Ming, “How are things progressing with him?”
After being together for so long, they naturally understood each other. Su Ming didn’t ask who he meant. With his hands submerged in the water, he glanced at Chen Muchao, rinsed off the last plate, and placed it on the drying rack. Then, he signed with wet fingers: Inspiration’s flowing, drawing’s going smoothly.
“You know I’m not asking about the comics.”
Su Ming picked up a dry towel, carefully drying his fingers one by one, then signed: It’s just the comics. Nothing else is progressing with him.
Chen Muchao smirked, “Didn’t you two go for some ‘private mediation’ the other day?”
He deliberately emphasized “private mediation,” clearly making a suggestive joke. Su Ming kept a straight face and signed: Big and skilled. Felt pretty good.
Su Ming formed an exaggerated gesture with his right hand, mimicking an absurdly large size. Chen Muchao burst out laughing, “You seriously think a normal person could be as big as the ones you draw?”
Su Ming just smiled and said nothing.
“You talk big, but in reality, you’re totally timid,” Chen Muchao teased mercilessly. “I bet you didn’t even hold his hand.”
Actually, they did hold hands. Su Ming raised his eyebrows in a mock-mysterious way, neither admitting nor denying it.
Seeing this, Chen Muchao felt like he had guessed correctly and continued to tease, “I know you too well—an intellectual giant but a physical coward!”
Su Ming was completely roasted but had no way to refute it.
Who would’ve guessed that at twenty-eight, Su Ming’s only experience with intimate scenes came from watching videos…
It wasn’t that he hadn’t had any romantic prospects, but every relationship he’d had started strong and quickly fizzled out. The moment the other person wanted to take things further, he would immediately pull away, not giving them any chance.
Su Ming didn’t want to discuss the topic further. He tidied up the kitchen, walked over to his work desk, moved his things aside to make space for Chen Muchao, and brought over a chair to sit next to his. He knocked on the table, his gaze signaling to Chen Muchao: Let’s get to work!
Chen Muchao, who illustrated children’s picture books, didn’t have tight deadlines and long publication cycles, so his work was pretty relaxed. Sometimes, when Su Ming was too busy, Chen Muchao would help out by drawing backgrounds or coloring. Though he was straight, after working with Su Ming long enough, he had become desensitized to drawing male erotic art. At first, he was embarrassed, but now he spoke more freely than Su Ming.
“Hey, Su,” Chen Muchao said, swiping through his tablet to check the line art Su Ming had sent him. “Your brilliant storyboarding is wasted on erotic comics between two men. You should be drawing action-packed series—you’d definitely blow up.”
Su Ming put on his glasses, the lenses reflecting the white light from the digital screen. Without expression, he signed to Chen Muchao: What? My erotic comics aren’t popular?
Chen Muchao thought about Su Ming’s massive fanbase of over 1.5 million followers on Weibo and replied sincerely, “They’re definitely popular.”