First-Class Lawyer

Whether or not it was on purpose, it was impossible for him to calmly go back to sleep now.

While Yan Suizhi had a mind to lie with Gu Yan in bed for a while longer, he just had to have his heart stirred into restlessness. And with him feeling restless, Gu Yan was naturally unable to rest easy either. 

In order to let Gu Yan sleep more soundly, Yan Suizhi overturned trunks and boxes to fish out an excuse—”Let me get a few bites first to keep me going. I have low-blood sugar when I wake up. Wouldn’t it be a bit unsightly to blackout midway fooling around and have to call for a doctor?”

This actually couldn’t be considered an excuse, really. He did have this indisposition.

Gu Yan, naturally, was aware of this as well. After all, when Yan Suizhi went to wash up every morning, his complexion would be chalk white, as though coming out of bed had drained all of the blood from his body. At times, Gu Yan was even worried that he couldn’t stand steady.

Though Yan Suizhi’s skin was suffused with a blush that ran from the base of his ears to his neck now, Lawyer Gu was well aware that this was obviously from his misbehaviour. 

Yan Suizhi had absolute confidence that this excuse, after being submitted, would be given the green light.

But when Gu Yan did move away, this incompetent monarch felt faint tendrils of regret.

“You’re not allowed to get up. Go back to sleep, I’ll return in a bit.” The incompetent monarch smothered that irresolute lick of regret, passing an imperial edict to his sleep-deprived incubus concubine, then tread in slippers to freshen up.

He’d already worked things out in his head. At the end of the day, even if Gu Yan wanted to fool around, his fatigue was still there. By the time he finished washing up and had a snack, Gu Yan would conveniently have gone back to sleep. Then, he could creep back into bed and lie with him for a while more.

And that would be a very pleasant morning for him.

The spacious living room was swathed in stillness, and the curtains on the French windows were only half-drawn. The violent gales and wreckage were kept outside, occasionally swept along by raindrops that came out of nowhere, rapping furiously against the glass in torrents.

The sky was gloomy and overcast. It was just past six, according to the clock on the wall.

Joe’s and Ke Jin’s cups were resting on the glass table next to the sofa. The two men were already in their rooms, and there was no disturbance at this time; they were obviously still asleep. 

Yan Suizhi didn’t turn on the lights either. He shoved the cups into the decontaminating cabinet in passing, and then opened the refrigerator.

The suite came with a large refrigerator that would be cleared out every other day and restocked with fresh food during housekeeping. Drinks, fruits, desserts, and so on—basically, some of the more popular ready-to-eat food items could be found.

Yan Suizhi glanced outside the window, unconsciously stretching his arm towards a glass bottle. It was his preferred brand of gin. With a faint undertone of cardamom, it was fresh and cool to the palate. He didn’t drink it often, only a half-glass every now and then.

There was even an ice bucket and a few slices of lemon inside to go with the gin. 

He poured a small glass, putting in a few ice cubes and a slice of lemon. Suddenly, his brain conjured Gu Yan’s frosty face, eyelids flicking up at him.

“…”

He reflexively set the glass down again.

Yan Suizhi propped his arms on the bar counter for a while, stunned, then burst into laughter. 

“What a pity…” he mumbled, and placed the wine back to one side, taking out a serving of strawberries from the well-stocked refrigerator instead.

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Yan Suizhi followed the sound over to find that Gu Yan had already finished washing up, and had just turned off the tap, straightening his body. His brows and eyelashes were sprinkled with water droplets, the contours of his face ever more pronounced, looking strikingly handsome. He had thin eyelids; the way he lifted his eyes, sweeping his gaze across lightly, always exuded an aloof and ascetic aura.

This man had a distinctively impassive appearance, yet had deeper passions than anyone else.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get up? Defying the edict is punishable by decapitation.” Yan Suizhi stepped up onto the platform, walking over to him.

“The monarchy died long ago.” Lawyer Gu didn’t show this incompetent monarch a smidge of respect, taking an antibacterial paper napkin and wiping his hands, frowning at the incompetent monarch’s hands. “Why are you eating cold food?” 

“I left it out for a while; it isn’t that cold anymore.” Yan Suizhi picked up a strawberry and stuffed it into the other’s mouth. “Eat a couple to stave off your hunger and go back to sleep.”

Gu Yan gazed at him, his eyes half-lidded and his voice still tinged with a lazy drawl. “Reason.”

“I even need a reason to urge you to sleep?”

“Mn.” 

“It’s only six in the morning on a stormy day; there’s not a single soul outside, and those two staying opposite us are probably still in dreamland.”

The two of them were very close to each other. His voice wasn’t loud, still carrying a touch of huskiness from waking that had yet to dissipate.

Gu Yan smoothed a finger over his lips, his gaze lingering for a moment before tilting his head, kissing him. Then, he drew back minutely, not even a hair’s breadth between them, whispering in the space where their breathing intertwined, “Not very convincing.”

As he spoke, his breaths swept across Yan Suizhi’s lips, even unintentionally brushing against them as his mouth formed words, before drawing back once more. 

The tiny bud of the morning nipped with much difficulty instantly rose again.

Yan Suizhi’s breathing became a touch heavier. He said in a low voice, “What other reason do you want to hear?”

Gu Yan, “You tell me.”

Yan Suizhi, “Why have you become the one quizzing me? Do you still remember who the teacher is?” 

But immediately after, he couldn’t resist moving in to kiss him, any airs of being a model teacher not even taking shape before scattering into nothingness.

The deeper they kissed, the denser the emotions that rose like a tide in their hearts, swelling so fully that it ached.

It was only then that Yan Suizhi noticed that he was actually, in his innermost nature, a person slow on the uptake. He had thought that after their identities changed from teacher and student into romantic partners, he would be the one who adapted quicker, and that it would be him who guided Gu Yan. Yet it was actually the opposite in reality. In actuality, he was the one being guided. And it was he who was gradually, in small steps, realising the depth of his feelings for the person before him.

Last night’s atmosphere was soft, overly so, layers of emotion building and blending gently into the sand. He thought that last night was the most contented he could ever be, but it was only in afterthought now that he realised that those emotions had never faded. All along, they had been accumulating there, waiting for an outlet to fully express themselves. 

Their heavy breathing knocked into the walls, against the sliding glass door that had been shut some time ago, and echoed loudly, filling the enclosed area where the washbasin stood.

Yan Suizhi was sitting on the glazed counter, his eyelashes dark and damp. The back of his head pressed against the mirror, his ebony black hair rubbing against the misted surface, leaving messy streaks across the vapour.

One of his hands clasped around Gu Yan’s arm, whilst the other held the side of the glazed counter.

The question that he’d casually asked earlier only now received a response. 

Gu Yan crowded in, kissing along the line of his neck that had suffused with colour, kissing up to his earlobes, at which time he said in a deep, throaty voice, “I haven’t forgotten that you’re the teacher.”

Yan Suizhi’s breath suddenly stuttered, and the hand that was gripping the glazed counter slipped, falling into the glass bowl.

And because of the subsequent movement, he raised his head against the mirror surface, his fingers unconsciously clenching.

The sweet fragrance of strawberries instantly dispersed, juice splattering and sliding between his fingers, sticky to the touch. 

Yan Suizhi’s brows creased subtly.

He couldn’t quite recall when he developed compulsive hand washing.

He was 25 when he quit diving, 27 when he encountered the medical case. It should have happened after that.

One day, he suddenly felt stinging pinpricks of pain when washing his hands, then found that cuts had appeared on the tips of his fingers from excessive and frequent wash. 

They were slender, interlaced on top of each other, seeping blood.

But he’d only looked at it for a moment before carrying on, washing all of the blood clean, wrapping them in healing tape, then, with abnormal calm, picked out a psychologist from his smart device and made an appointment.

The psychologist said that he had developed this habit out of his excessive demands on himself, and that he would occasionally have thoughts and behaviour outside the norm. It could also be as a result of being unable to fulfil a solemnly made promise, thus giving rise to feelings of self-loathing. This habit can be slowly corrected in incremental steps over a few months, the psychologist said, the most important thing is to eliminate the root cause.

Yan Suizhi listened to him without comment, thanked him, and left. Afterwards, he sent the psychologist a bottle of De Carma’s finest gin. 

Following which, he changed his hand sanitiser and antibacterial tissues, and prepared a whole box of healing tape. Then, in the week that he used up the healing tape, he forcibly reduced his frequency of hand washing to a third of what it originally was.

Just like how he had kicked his addiction to diving.

But the psychologist was right in saying that it was most important to eliminate the root cause when it came to these matters. Without any intrinsic change in his nature, it was impossible to completely rid himself of the compulsion.

Panting, his unfocused gaze landed on his fingers, flashing back to the day that he had first discovered this habit. His blood, when diluted, also looked like this. 

But someone caught his fingers before he could even turn on the tap.

“They’re not dirty,” Gu Yan uttered lowly.

He kissed along the gaps between his fingers to his fingertips, taking the crimson juice between his lips.

Yan Suizhi watched him blankly. The sensation of kisses between his fingers, little by little, covered the memory of that day, and suddenly he found that he couldn’t quite recall that scene anymore—he could only think of Gu Yan’s marginally angled profile. 

He watched Gu Yan for a long while, then he lowered his head and, little by little, kissed away the juice between his lips, saying hoarsely in an almost wistful sigh, “I understand why I always run into so much trouble now…”

“If I hadn’t hoarded enough luck, how could I have tricked such a good person?”

It was still stormy outside. 

Gu Yan, who harped on about getting out of bed, finally found a convincing reason to lean against the headboard, because Yan Suizhi was lazily pillowed on his shoulder, not permitting him to move around.

“I found this glass on the bar counter in the living room,” Gu Yan was holding the glass of gin that Yan Suizhi had poured casually. “Explain it to me, Teacher Yan?”

Hearing Gu Yan address him as Teacher called Yan Suizhi back to the antics they got up to just now…

The crushed strawberries in the glass bowl, the smudged mirror surface, and the glass counter that was cleaned up again could all be used as evidence. 

Naturally, he had disposed of the corpse and obliterated every trace by now.

“Don’t call me that,” Yan Suizhi touched his neck, willing the rising flush back down, saying indolently, “Who knows how this glass got there; maybe Joe was sleepwalking? In any case, it wasn’t me.”