570. Daily Life (4): Drawing

Translator: DragonRider

Yuwen Tong, though claiming that he wanted to draw a picture, was actually attempting to unclothe Ling Zhang, which instantly put the latter on full alert.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to draw a picture? Why are you disrobing me?” asked Ling Zhang as he gripped his own collar to prevent Yuwen Tong from stripping him.

“Because I want to draw a picture,” answered Yuwen Tong, as though explaining the obvious.

Ling Zhang, ” … ”

A You’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look of disbelief written all over his eyes, he did not slacken his grasp. Yuwen Tong, unable to continue undressing him, added resignedly, “Last night you agreed to let me draw a picture on your back.”

Ling Zhang’s eyes widened with amazement. Dr–Draw a picture on his back?

How was that possible? He would never agree to such … such preposterous request from Yuwen Tong!

“That’s ridiculous. You’re lying, trying to take advantage of my loss of memories of last night!” averred Ling Zhang.

Yuwen Tong said, “I’m not. You gave me your word. Last night you … ”

What Yuwen Tong recounted to him next instantly made Ling Zhang’s face flush with sudden heat, for Yuwen Tong’s account of the story was so embarrassing. Now he had also vaguely recalled some details about what happened last night. It seemed that he had indeed undertaken to do something for Yuwen Tong.

“That’s because I was drunk, and you wheedled me into agreeing to that. It doesn’t count as a promise,” demurred Ling Zhang hastily.

Yuwen Tong looked at him quietly for a moment. “Are you telling me you’re going back on your word? I’ve been expecting this since last night, and I’ve even got the pigments ready – I spent quite some time preparing them after the court meeting. I even went over in detail how to draw it several times in my mind.”

Ling Zhang glanced at Yuwen Tong’s reproving eyes and quickly looked away, feeling a trifle guilty. But this was not his fault. Clearly Yuwen Tong had cajoled him into agreeing to do that when he had been … been in that state. Why was Yuwen Tong acting like he, Ling Zhang, was the one in the wrong?

Yuwen Tong was still gazing at him silently. It was a few moments before Yuwen Tong said, “You’re really not letting me draw on your back?”

He sounded crestfallen, the delight on his face gone. Seeing that Ling Zhang refused to budge, he released his grip on Ling Zhang’s clothes and, head down, began to quietly stow away the paint set on the desk that had been in readiness for quite some time …

Ling Zhang watched as he silently put away the stuff. Though Yuwen Tong was not speaking, it was unmistakable that he felt hard done by.

Ling Zhang, ” … ”

Yuwen Tong was doing this on purpose. He was putting on a wronged-husband act!

“Okay, okay, stop sulking. I’ll let you draw it, but you must tell me how long my back has to bear that picture. I don’t want anything like that to stay on my skin forever. And don’t you dare draw anything indecent!”

Yuwen Tong stopped stowing things away and looked up at him. “Do I have your word?”

Ling Zhang, ” … You have my word.”

Asshole. Yuwen Tong sure as hell did that to guilt-trip him into relenting.

The moment Ling Zhang agreed, Yuwen Tong quickly returned everything to its original position and then held Ling Zhang’s neckband.

Ling Zhang was still clutching his collar, showing no intention to remove his hands.

Yuwen Tong just looked at him.

Ling Zhang, after a few moments’ silence, slackened his grip.

Yuwen Tong immediately disrobed him. He did it so quick Ling Zhang had a sneaking suspicion that Yuwen Tong could do magic.

When all Ling Zhang’s clothes had been taken off, Yuwen Tong’s burning eyes raked his body, the expression in them evidently different from how it had been a few moments ago.

“Let me get this straight – you’re not to do anything other than draw the picture,” said Ling Zhang hastily. His waist was too sore to endure any more strenuous exercise. They had made out for long hours last night, and then spent the whole morning doing the same thing; even when walking, he felt somewhat … ahem … weak. If they fooled around again, he might collapse.

Yuwen Tong scooped him up and made towards the soft couch on the side. After settling Ling Zhang on it, he said, “Lie prone and you’ll feel better.”

Ling Zhang, without feeling sheepish, directly rolled over and lay prostrate. Having agreed to it, he wondered what Yuwen Tong was going to draw on his back.

Yuwen Tong planned to draw a picture of blooming peonies on Ling Zhang’s back. He had some time ago worked out in his mind what the picture should be like. In fact he had been thinking about it from the moment he had come up with the idea of drawing it, and had gone over it in his head countless times. He was more familiar with Ling Zhang’s back than anybody else did. Even Ling Zhang himself did not know as much about his own back as Yuwen Tong did. Such was Yuwen Tong’s familiarity with every inch of his back as though a vivid image of it had been engraved in his heart. Every stroke of his painting brush was quite confident.

When the first stroke of Yuwen Tong’s painting brush landed on his back, Ling Zhang felt a weird sensation and somewhat itchy, and his body wriggled momentarily in spite of himself.

Yuwen Tong laid his free hand on Ling Zhang’s shoulder and said, “Don’t move.”

Ling Zhang restrained himself, lying still, but this whole thing still struck him as rather odd. He muttered, “Why do you suddenly want to draw a picture on my back? I mean, even I myself wouldn’t be able to see it. Actually you’ll be the only one who could see what it’s like. What’s the point of all this?”

Yuwen Tong, hunched, gently drawing on Ling Zhang’s back, replied, “That’s what makes it a treasure just for me.”

Ling Zhang, ” … ”

He rolled his eyes upwards, unable to understand what Yuwen Tong was thinking.

But he still could not help but tense his back. The touch of the soft, silky painting brush sliding across his skin felt itchy and peculiar. When the brush moved to the small of his back, in particular, he always involuntarily focused all his attention on it, his whole body tensing up in spite of himself.

Because of the muscular tension, the lines of his body became more perceptible. The perfect contours of his figure were like those of an elaborate statue. Every inch of his skin and the muscles beneath were in fine proportions. Though Yuwen Tong could not be more familiar with it and was able to draw a detailed picture of it with his eyes closed, he still could not help holding his breath.

The pigments were showing a sharp contrast with Ling Zhang’s white, smooth skin, which was an unduly intense visual stimulus.

Yuwen Tong could not even keep his breathing steady, but he was still unperturbed when he resumed drawing.

Slowly, Ling Zhang’s body relaxed and, lying prone on the couch, he set his mind at ease and began to review the previous few days. Surprisingly, after some time he got used to Yuwen Tong’s painting brush which had been moving around on his back. He felt somewhat sleepy, his eyes becoming watery with drowsiness, his eyelids growing heavier.

“You may have a nap if you want. I’d have finished the picture by the time you wake up,” said Yuwen Tong quietly, having perceived his sleepiness, his eyes still fixed on Ling Zhang’s back on which his painting brush was slithering steadily and lightly.

“Okay,” answered Ling Zhang in an undertone. Several times his drowsiness was dissolved by the force of a stroke when he was on the verge of falling asleep, because he still could not help but care about it. But after another few such moments, he relaxed completely again and drifted off.

Hearing Ling Zhang’s breathing become even, Yuwen Tong came to know that he had fallen asleep, put down his painting brush, gingerly wiped the sweat off his palm. Though he had been meaning to do this for quite some time, he still found himself faced with a big test when given an opportunity to fulfill his wish, and right now he was feeling faintly stressed.

It took him a long time to finish the picture, and Ling Zhang was asleep during the whole process.

When he woke up, Yuwen Tong had put the finishing touches to the picture.

The pigments were very special and dried quickly, and they would stay on Ling Zhang’s back for as long as a year unless someone used a particular potion to dissolve them.

Ling Zhang, having awoken, recalled why he was here. No longer feeling a painting brush moving back and forth on his back, he came to know that Yuwen Tong had finished the job, but it surprised him that the study was so quiet. He propped himself up on his elbows from the couch and, intending to find out whether or not Yuwen Tong was still present, twisted his head around only to see that Yuwen Tong was standing right behind him, staring at his back, enthralled.

Taken aback, Ling Zhang asked crossly, “Why the hell are you standing here like a ghost?”

All Yuwen Tong’s attention was drawn to the picture of blooming peonies on Ling Zhang’s back. Though he had known what the picture would be like when conceiving the composition of it in his mind, he was still awed by the beauty of it when it was finished.

The picture stretched from Ling Zhang’s left shoulder all the way down to the small of his back, with peonies blossoming in profusion on layers of overlapping green leaves, dignified and graceful. They were so beautiful as though they had come to life on Ling Zhang’s back. No, they were even more beautiful than real peonies, because they had the power to bewitch people’s souls.

When Ling Zhang was propping up his upper body, the picture, moving with his back, looked as charming and celestial as its owner.

Yuwen You did not make a reply to Ling Zhang but reached out a hand, which slowly stroked Ling Zhang’s back. Eventually, he smiled dreamily, “I would have drawn it sooner had I known it’d be so beautiful.”

Ling Zhang looked confusedly at him and was astonished at the sight of the fascination etched on Yuwen Tong’s face. “What are you talking about? It’s just a picture. Surely it doesn’t stack up against those drawn on paper? By the way, you still haven’t told me what you drew exactly.”

“Peonies.”

“Peonies?”

Ling Zhang was bewildered. Why had Yuwen Tong drawn peonies on his back? Wasn’t this weird? He was a man and did not have that kind of feminine charm. Wouldn’t a picture of peonies look awkward on him? But since Yuwen Tong appeared so entranced as though he could not even speak fluently, Ling Zhang’s curiosity was piqued.

He rose from the soft couch, grabbed his overgarment and threw it over himself. “I’ll go and check it out in a mirror.”

With that, he left the study and returned to the inner chamber where he took off his overgarment in front of a large dressing mirror.

Yuwen Tong followed him inside just in time to see him take off his overgarment before twisting his head around to look into the mirror which reflected the picture of blossoming peonies on his back. Yuwen Tong found himself holding his breath, his hands clenched.

At this time Ling Zhang, having got a clear view of the picture on his back, was momentarily stunned. He really had not bargained on Yuwen Tong drawing a picture of blooming peonies like this. To be honest, it was actually … pretty nice. Yuwen Tong had done a really good job.

But … he still found it somewhat eccentric. It would be understandable if a picture like this was on the back of a woman with unmatched beauty. He kept having this feeling that his back bearing such a picture did not feel quite right. He twisted his head around and said to Yuwen Tong, “When can I get rid of this?”

Yuwen Tong walked over and asked in a somewhat husky voice, “You don’t like it?”

Ling Zhang said, “It feels weird. Doesn’t a man having a picture of peonies on his back sound weird to you?”

‘Weird? No, it doesn’t strike me as weird at all,’ thought Yuwen Tong, considering intently the picture on his back.