***Warning Sexual Contents***
Guozhao Zhiqiang waited a day, his patience thinning, but Hu Dingxiang didn't show up. Then, as evening draped its shadows, Hu Dingxiang still didn't appear. He sat at the small table impatiently, his gaze fixed on the door, a growing unease in his heart. He made up his mind that if Hu Dingxiang didn't show up by midnight, he would stealthily sneak into Snow Sector to find him, but then a soft, tentative knock on the door made him look up. He quickly got up, walked over, and opened the door. He felt a pang of disappointment when he saw it wasn't Hu Dingxiang, but Servant Li, his face etched with panic.
"Master," Servant Li said, his voice trembling, "my master ran away! Everyone is looking for him. I'm afraid he's in danger... he... his eyes is unable to see!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang's brow furrowed with immediate worry, his stoicism momentarily forgotten. "He can't see; what is he thinking?" he muttered, a hint of frustration in his tone. "Where do you think he would go?"
"Actually, sir, this guesthouse belongs to my young master," Servant Li replied, his voice a little calmer, offering a clue. "He likes to stay here to clear his mind when he thinks too much, a place of solitude. You can try looking for him in the back. I'll go look for him over there by the other hunters, in the main village."
Guozhao Zhiqiang spent an hour meticulously looking for Hu Dingxiang in the secluded bamboo groves. Just when he was about to give up, a flash of red amidst the green, he saw Hu Dingxiang standing motionless in the middle of the woods, a blindfolded, solitary figure. He stood there and watched Hu Dingxiang for a while, a strange fascination holding him. The wind blew past Hu Dingxiang, and his long red hair danced wildly with the wind, a vibrant swirl against the deepening twilight, making his heart tremble with a strange, undeniable excitement. He approached Hu Dingxiang, his steps soft, and gently took his hand. He hugged Hu Dingxiang's waist with his right hand and grabbed Hu Dingxiang's left hand with his left, pulling him close.
"You shouldn't be out for too long," Guozhao Zhiqiang said softly, his deep voice filled with genuine concern. "I'll take you back." He gently led Hu Dingxiang back to the bamboo guesthouse, a beacon of safety.
When they arrived at the guesthouse, Servant Li, who had just returned from his search, acknowledged them with a relieved smile. Servant Li waved a silent, grateful farewell at Guozhao Zhiqiang, then quietly left, his worry eased.
Guozhao Zhiqiang asked Hu Dingxiang to sit down at the table, his movements careful. He poured him a cup of hot tea, its steam rising gently, and slowly cooled it by blowing on it, a tender, thoughtful gesture.
"Are you hungry?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice soft.
Deming, still blindfolded, heard the man's deep voice ask if he was hungry. As far back as Deming could remember, no one had ever asked him such a question—no one had ever cared about his basic needs. He felt a profound mix of sadness and terror in his heart, the unfamiliar kindness almost overwhelming. He could only nod weakly in response.
"Servant Li brought some food," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice reassuring. He took the plates from the basket, the aroma of savory dishes filling the air, and carefully put them on the table.
Deming, accustomed to fending for himself, instinctively stretched out his hand and began to pick up the food with his hand and stuff it into his mouth, eating quickly, ravenously.
Guozhao Zhiqiang gently but firmly stopped Deming's hand. He took out his peach blossom embroidered handkerchief and, with an incredibly gentle touch, wiped the oil stains from Deming's hands, then from his mouth.
Guozhao Zhiqiang scoffed softly, a faint, almost tender, amusement in his voice. "I'll feed you," he murmured, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
Deming turned his blindfolded head towards Guozhao Zhiqiang, utterly surprised. "You'll what?" he whispered, disbelief in his voice.
"I'll feed you," Guozhao Zhiqiang repeated, his voice unwavering.
Deming felt the man gently wipe the grease from his mouth again. The man then fed him slowly, patiently, morsel by morsel. In his heart, a profound, aching realization blossomed: this was the first time someone had treated him so well, with such unexpected tenderness. He wondered, with a mixture of hope and dread, if this truly was the one he had to sleep with. Why should everyone treat him so cruelly, while this stranger treated him with such kindness? Knowing that no one outside this room loved him or wanted him, his heart grew even sadder, a profound loneliness washing over him. If he slept with this man, then he would be free, and his life would no longer be controlled by anyone but himself. Thinking of this overwhelming possibility, hot tears slowly fell from his eyes, tracing paths down his cheeks, mingling with the last traces of oil.
"Why are you crying?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice gentle, sensing the deep sadness emanating from Deming.
"Nothing," Deming choked out, trying to compose himself. "I've been thinking about it until now; you're the first person willing to feed me, to care."
Guozhao Zhiqiang stretched out his hand and, with infinite tenderness, wiped Deming's tears away. "Don't cry," he murmured. He reached behind Deming's head, gently pulling him closer. Guozhao Zhiqiang then softly kissed Deming's eyes, then his forehead, and finally hugged him tightly, a profound, comforting embrace. "If you want," he whispered, his voice filled with a promise of escape, "you can leave with me. In a faraway land, there is a city up in the clouds. There lives a Goddess who would always welcome me with open arms, a haven of peace."
"Can I really go there?" Deming asked, his voice thin, filled with a fragile, desperate hope.
"I will take you there," Guozhao Zhiqiang promised, his voice firm, unwavering. He gently stroked Deming's hair with his fingertips, a soothing gesture.
Deming, overwhelmed with emotion, stretched his arm around Guozhao Zhiqiang's waist and sobbed, burying his face in Zhiqiang's shoulder. "Please take me there. Please... I don't want to stay here, not anymore."
"I will take you," Guozhao Zhiqiang affirmed, his voice resolute. "We can live there peacefully. In spring, you can smell the sweet fragrance of peace blossoms when the wind blows past the blossom trees, a scent of new beginnings."
Deming tightened his grasp around Guozhao Zhiqiang's waist, clinging to him desperately. "You promise?"
Guozhao Zhiqiang gently rubbed the back of Deming's head and smiled, a soft, reassuring expression. "I promised," he whispered, sealing the vow. He then gently kissed Deming on his lips, a tender touch. "Don't worry about the competition," he added, a hint of protectiveness in his voice. "I'll be by your side. Once we win, you can leave here with me, forever free."
Guozhao Zhiqiang gently picked up Deming and carried him into bed, laying him down carefully. He came back to the table, blew out the candles, plunging the room into near darkness, climbed onto the bed, and pulled down the curtain drapes, creating a private, secluded space. He looked down at Deming's pale, slightly bruised skin, illuminated by the faint moonlight. He could hardly resist the overwhelming temptation to have this body, to claim this fragile being. His heart was burning with a powerful, consuming desire.
"May... may... I kiss you?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked softly, his voice a deep rumble, hesitant yet longing.
Deming was terrified deep down, a cold knot of dread in his stomach, but he knew with chilling clarity that if he wanted to be free, truly free, he had to endure this humiliation, this final act of submission. He swallowed his pride, a bitter taste in his mouth, and nodded, tears silently tracking down his face.
Guozhao Zhiqiang gently kissed Deming's lips, his tongue flowing slowly, sensually, into Deming's mouth. He twisted his tongue, exploring, and hovered over Deming's tongue, a tender dance. He slowly took off Deming's robe and belt, then undressed himself, his movements deliberate. The two young men lay naked on the bed, their bodies illuminated by the faint moonlight.
Guozhao Zhiqiang kissed Deming's nipples, teasing them gently with his tongue, and reached out to Deming's member with his right hand, slowly moving it up and down, caressing him. Then he went back and kissed Deming's lips once more. Guiding his tongue down Deming's chest, he took Deming's member into his mouth and slowly moved his head up and down, tasting him. Deming groaned, a soft, involuntary sound.
As Guozhao Zhiqiang sucked faster, his movements becoming more urgent, Deming released inside Guozhao Zhiqiang's mouth, his body trembling. Guozhao Zhiqiang then used Deming's fluid to smear around Deming's back door, lubricating him. With a soft groan, he inserted a single finger into it, then a second, slowly preparing him, and then, with a deep breath, thrust.
"It hurts!" Deming snorted painfully, his body tensing, a desperate whimper escaping him.
Guozhao Zhiqiang breathed heavily, his voice strained. "Relax, don't fight it," he urged gently. Then he inserted his second finger and slowly thrust, carefully stretching him.
"It hurts!" Deming grunted in pain again, tears streaming anew from his blindfolded eyes.
Guozhao Zhiqiang felt his own member grow harder and harder, throbbing with desire. He knelt between Deming's legs, carefully positioning himself. He brought Deming's hips close to him and slowly, agonizingly, inserted his member into Deming's virgin backdoor. He tried several times, gritting his teeth, before half of his member was able to go inside Deming's backdoor. He pushed bit by bit, slowly, agonizingly, until his entire member entered Deming's backdoor, a tight, painful stretch.
During the whole process that Guozhao Zhiqiang tried to insert his member into Deming's back door, Deming murmured, whimpered, and grunted in pain, his body stiff. Deming didn't like men. He never thought of having sex with anyone, especially a man. But he had to let go of his pride and his physical pain in exchange for his cherished freedom.
"Please... please be gentle," Deming grunted painfully, his voice raw. "This is my first time."
Guozhao Zhiqiang breathed heavily, remorse in his voice. "I'm sorry, I hurt you. This is my first time too." He pushed his entire member in at once, a sudden, decisive thrust.
"Ah...!" Deming grunted in pain, a sharp, choked cry.
Guozhao Zhiqiang began to thrust slowly, then bent down and kissed Deming's lips, a tender gesture amidst the pain. Throughout the process, Deming groaned and moaned, mostly in pain, sometimes with hesitant pleasure. In less than ten minutes, Guozhao Zhiqiang felt the pleasure of his whole body spread quickly to his member, a wave of ecstasy, and then he released inside Deming's backdoor, his body convulsing. After he released, he kept kissing Deming, his lips lingering, until his soft member slowly slipped from Deming's back door. Then he stopped kissing Deming and fell beside him, exhausted but content.
"Are you still hurt?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked with guilt, his voice soft, concerned.
Deming nodded, his voice small. "It still hurts."
Guozhao Zhiqiang wrapped his arms gently around Deming, pulling him close, pressing him into his chest. "I want to hug you like this," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet devotion. He kissed Deming's forehead. "Forever."
Early the next morning, the first rays of sun peeking through the bamboo, Guozhao Zhiqiang took Deming out for a quiet walk. Guozhao Zhiqiang didn't speak much, and Deming, still processing the new kindness, didn't speak either, the silence between them comfortable. For the first time in Deming's life, someone was so profoundly kind to him, treating him as a piece of precious jade, not a disposable object.
Guozhao Zhiqiang was afraid Deming might stumble or fall due to his blindness, so, without a word, he carried Deming gently on his back, his body a steady support.
Deming wanted to take off his blindfold many times, an overwhelming urge to take a good, long look at this man who treated him so kindly, but he was terrified that the boss, Hu Dingxiang, wouldn't give him freedom if he disobeyed, so he chose to obey, swallowing his curiosity.
That night, the two made love again. This time Deming didn't have as much pain. It was painful at first, a sharp initial sting, but then it gradually morphed into pleasure, a surprising warmth spreading through him.
"Does it hurt?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice soft, concerned.
"No... I feel good every time you thrust deeply," Deming moaned, his voice a soft, breathy whisper, continuing to moan, lost in the sensation.
Guozhao Zhiqiang's thrusts increased faster and faster, a rhythmic pounding. As Deming's moans became louder, more unrestrained, Guozhao Zhiqiang's thrusts became faster, deeper.
Guozhao Zhiqiang turned Deming onto Deming's hands and knees and kept thrusting Deming from behind, their bodies meeting with forceful, rhythmic pleasure. In the secluded bamboo guesthouse, sitting far away from other bamboo guesthouses, the only sounds that could be heard were the gasps of two young people, the rhythmic squeaking of the bed, and the wet, pulsing sound of bodies meeting against each other, a symphony of shared passion.
After Guozhao Zhiqiang released, his body shaking with lingering pleasure, he lay beside Deming, pulling him into his arms, holding him tightly.
"Can I... Can I touch your face?" Deming asked tentatively, his voice soft, filled with a longing to know the man who brought him kindness.
Guozhao Zhiqiang chuckled softly, a warm, deep sound of amusement.
"It's alright if you don't allow me," Deming quickly said, misinterpreting the chuckle, his voice tinged with resignation. "It's just that I really want to memorize your facial structure, to know what you look like, even if I can't see."
Guozhao Zhiqiang, his heart full, gently put Deming's hand on his face, guiding his fingers across his features. "Feel all you want," he murmured, his voice tender, inviting the touch.
Deming knew, with a pang of bittersweet sadness, that he would be released tomorrow, and he would likely never have a chance to see this man again. He wanted to feel his face, to remember it not just with his eyes, but in his hands and in his heart. This man was the first to treat him well, the first to show him kindness, and this man, this stranger, brought him his precious freedom. Deming's fingers drifted from Guozhao Zhiqiang's face to his left chest, feeling a slight, intriguing roughness.
"What is this?" Deming asked, tracing the outline.
"Protection magical circle," Guozhao Zhiqiang explained, his voice soft. "I'll tattoo one for you in the future, if you wish." He got up and helped Deming sit up gently. "Extend your left hand," he instructed. Deming stretched out his left hand. Guozhao Zhiqiang tied a thin, red string around his wrist. "Never take this off," he said, his voice serious, a deep promise in his tone.
"What is it?" Deming asked, curiosity overriding his fear.
"Red string," Guozhao Zhiqiang said. "It will protect you from being possessed by evil spirits, keep you safe."
Deming's tears fell again, tears of profound gratitude and overwhelming emotion. He stretched his hand to Guozhao Zhiqiang's face and pulled him closer, desperate for one last, intimate touch. Deming kissed Guozhao Zhiqiang's lips, a soft, lingering kiss. Guozhao Zhiqiang gently laid Deming back on the bed, climbed onto Deming, his tongue delving deep into Deming's mouth. Immediately afterwards, heavy moans sounded again in the silence of the night, inside the distant, secluded guesthouse, a symphony of rediscovered pleasure and profound connection.