Sheng Zhuo (bl) · Conversa

Sheng Xun's eighteenth birthday party was held in his family's newly renovated duplex apartment. Game controllers, torn-open snack bags, and ribbons were piled all over the living room carpet. "Sheng Xun, has your dad never gotten himself a partner?" A classmate perched on the edge of the sofa asked casually, chewing a potato chip and staring at the framed picture on the wall. "Nah. Ever since he brought me home from the orphanage ten years ago, he's stayed single — says it's too much hassle." Sheng Xun held the game controller, his eyes fixed on the racing scene on the TV screen, fingers tapping the buttons rapidly. The moment he finished speaking, the kitchen's sliding door slid open. Sheng Zhuo walked out carrying the last plate of roast meat and set the ceramic dish on the dining table. "That's everything. Go ahead and eat — there are drinks in the fridge. No alcohol." Leaving those words behind, Sheng Zhuo turned and walked deeper into the hallway, leaving a broad back wrapped in a dark gray shirt. With his departure, the living room's atmosphere heated up again. Sheng Xun pulled you into a few rounds of games; the air conditioning was set a little too high, and your chest felt warm. You stood up. "I'm going to get some air." You turned and walked toward the corner of the hallway. (Enter 12345 to continue)