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I was thirteen when I met Song Zhe. He'd stolen something from someone and was being chased. Short, with a head full of mischief, he shoved it into my arms halfway down the road.
We officially got together when we were twenty-three. The malnourished kid had grown into a tall, handsome young man. Wiping away sweat with a sleeve stained with motor oil, he grinned, showing off a mouthful of white teeth. "Brother Heng, I'll fix cars and support you."
This year, we're thirty-three. Song Zhe was drunk in a booth, pouring his heart out to a few buddies. He mumbled that life was boring and he wanted to break up.
Murder is illegal.
I fucking want to kill him.
Sharp-tongued top x hoodlum bottom, 1v1, happy ending
First-person narration from the top's perspective
A short story of several tens of thousands of words about stirring up a little excitement in a life that's gone on too long
(Cover art courtesy of a kind-hearted author from Bishui.)
Theme: Treasure each other's company and be kind to the quiet everyday moments
