Chapter 34 - Deeply In Love With You [Quick Transmigration]

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Chapter 34: Practice (2)

 

 

Crescent Island, just as Zong Que had said, was worth the trip. The vibrant, untouched ecosystem felt like a step into some pristine jungle, each path a little slice of paradise.

 

There was no need for a tour guide. Zong Que seemed to already know this place like the back of his hand.

 

"How much research did you actually do?" Lin Heng couldn't help but ask.

 

"A lot. Though some of it wasn't accurate," Zong Que said, eyes on the scenery.

 

Despite the good preservation, the human touch still changed the place, just enough to make it slightly less wild than the real thing.

 

The camera in his hand swung slightly, turning toward the boy nearby who was eagerly exploring. Zong Que took a few steps back and captured the moment, framing the light and motion with quiet precision.

 

After the lake, they made their way to the cultural street. But after sampling a couple of local snacks, Lin Heng's enthusiasm started to fade.

 

"What's wrong?" Zong Que asked.

 

Leaning closer, Lin Heng whispered, "They're not very authentic."

 

He'd traveled enough to know the difference. The so-called "local flavors" here didn't come close to what he'd tasted in his own city. It was just a gimmick.

 

"Want to head back?" Zong Que asked.

 

"No need. This street's packed—there's got to be at least one authentic place." Lin Heng scanned the crowd, then tugged Zong Que's arm. "The one with the longest line has to be it. Let's go."

 

The shop was tiny. From afar, even the signboard looked a little faded. But among all the places selling similar food, this one had by far the longest line.

 

They queued up at the end. Their striking looks drew plenty of attention, though Zong Que didn't spare anyone a glance. Lin Heng, watching the slow progress of the line, pulled out the camera again and leaned in close to whisper, "You took a lot of great photos today. When we get back, let's go print them out."

 

"Mm." Zong Que, glancing at the photos Lin Heng was flipping through, shifted his gaze toward another long queue nearby. He gently patted Lin Heng's shoulder. "That one probably isn't bad either."

 

Lin Heng followed his gaze, then tilted his head and smiled. "Let's head over after this one."

 

"I'll go queue there first. It'll be quicker that way," Zong Que said.

 

Without thinking, Lin Heng caught him by the arm. "Do you have something urgent to get back to?"

 

"No," Zong Que replied.

 

Lin Heng chuckled. "Then let's wait and line up together."

 

"It'll take more time this way," Zong Que pointed out.

 

"But I want you to stay with me," Lin Heng said, looking at him.

 

More than the food, what he cherished was the feeling of sharing it with this person.

 

"Mm." Zong Que responded softly and gave him a nudge. "Move up a little."

 

Lin Heng smiled and stepped forward with the queue.

 

Though there were only a few truly authentic dishes, most of the food on this street was heavy on oil and salt—enough to fill anyone up.

 

"Lemon water," Zong Que handed him a cup.

 

Lin Heng took it, sipping to ease the grease. "You really can't eat too much of the stuff here."

 

"It's past nine. Want to head back?" Zong Que checked the time.

 

"Yeah," Lin Heng replied, walking beside him. As night thickened and the crowd swelled, he reached for Zong Que's hand.

 

Back at the hotel, not many guests had returned yet. They hadn't eaten much, but a stroll through the busy streets had left them covered in the smoky scent of grilled food.

 

The elevator opened. Their room was just steps away. Lin Heng's fingers curled slightly as he pondered the night's plans—when suddenly, he heard the man beside him ask, "Do you want to sleep together tonight?"

 

The joy of the day faded into the background as Lin Heng's thoughts flashed back to the kiss that afternoon. His breath deepened.

 

"I won't do anything to you," Zong Que said, watching the shift in his expression.

 

Lin Heng looked at him. Before this afternoon, he had believed that. But now? He didn't doubt Zong Que's self-restraint—he doubted his own.

 

It was as though something in him had been switched on, an irresistible desire to draw closer to this person.

 

"Or, if you'd rather sleep on your own, that's fine too..." Zong Que continued. For him, it didn't really matter. Whether someone was beside him or not didn't affect his sleep.

 

"Let's sleep together. I'll bring my suitcase over. Leave me half the wardrobe," Lin Heng said.

 

"Alright," Zong Que replied.

 

Still, Lin Heng took a shower in his own room before dragging his suitcase to knock on Zong Que's door.

 

The room was brightly lit. It was still early, and they hadn't eaten much since their walk. Lin Heng settled on the sofa, tapping away at his laptop as he transferred photos to both his laptop and phone, carefully picking out the ones to print and share on social media.

 

Zong Que confirmed their route and alarms for the next day before picking up a book and sitting on the other side of the sofa.

 

There were so many beautiful photos—it took Lin Heng quite a while to choose. After posting to his feed, he looked over at the man beside him. Closing his laptop, he walked over and asked, "You brought a book on this trip?"

 

"Mm," Zong Que replied.

 

"Most people just use e-readers to read stories these days…" Lin Heng sat beside him, glanced at the book, and suddenly froze.

 

It wasn't a novel. Inside were precise anatomical illustrations. Lin Heng recognized the organ names, but the content clearly went far beyond high school-level biology and delved deep into specialized knowledge.

 

Ever since 1314 appeared, Lin Heng had begun doubting his own academic drive.

 

"Reading off a screen too long damages your eyes," Zong Que said.

 

"Mm… fair point," Lin Heng admitted, already wondering if he should start previewing college-level material.

 

Truthfully, most competition-level content already exceeded the scope of high school, and his chosen major—optoelectronics—would require a professor's guidance. Or perhaps he could get a private tutor once back home.

 

"Do you understand it?" Lin Heng asked.

 

"I do. But only the theory. Clinical practice still requires hands-on experience," Zong Que replied.

 

This was a medical textbook generated by his system—it just happened to be in printed form. He had to study it seriously and learn by doing.

 

"Hands-on…" Lin Heng couldn't help but feel that phrase carried an eerie undertone at this late hour.

 

Zong Que looked up and explained, "I mean dissection. One has to know the human body in detail—"

 

Before he could finish, Lin Heng reached out and covered his mouth. "Alright, I get it."

 

Any more of that, and Zong Que would be pointing to different parts of his body, trying to explain them in detail.

 

"Are you scared?" Zong Que gently took his hand away.

 

"I heard most people are when they first get into it," Lin Heng murmured, leaning against him and feeling the warmth of his body.

 

After all, the average person rarely encounters anything truly bloody. Even if they've helped butcher livestock before, in human consciousness, people and animals just aren't the same.

 

"There's no need to be scared. Those organs are just beneath the skin, wrapped and hidden. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there," Zong Que stated matter-of-factly—only to have his mouth covered again.

 

"Stop researching me," Lin Heng muttered, half in resignation.

 

He had a sinking feeling—this guy really was studying the structure of his body.

 

"Alright." Zong Que looked at the almost-pleading expression on his face and closed the book. "I'll continue when we're back."

 

"I'll try to get used to it," Lin Heng said, lightly touching Zong Que's cheek.

 

"No need to force yourself," Zong Que replied, getting up to put the book away.

 

Some people could accept these things. Others couldn't. It was part of the profession, not their relationship.

 

Lin Heng watched him and sighed quietly. He felt like he'd said the wrong thing. Medical study did start with anatomy—how could one treat the human body without understanding it thoroughly? Zong Que being serious and studious was a good thing.

 

He just wanted to share in that part of his life—his future studies, his career, his little daily moments. Everything.

 

"I'm not forcing myself. People just need time to adjust. I'll adapt—slowly…" Lin Heng said, watching Zong Que sit back down with his laptop.

 

But Zong Que could still see how reluctant he was and replied gently, "There's no need to force yourself to adapt to certain things."

 

Love was supposed to bring happiness—not pressure or discomfort.

 

He tapped a few keys and pulled up a video.

 

"It's not that…" Lin Heng began to speak—until a soft, wet sound came from the laptop's speakers.

 

A squelching, sticky sort of sound—like a knife cutting through flesh.

 

So… not reading anymore, now it was time for a dissection video?

 

Lin Heng took a deep breath, trying to convince himself to be brave. He was a grown man. What hadn't he seen before? Just some bloody tissue—tons of doctors dealt with it daily. He could, too…

 

Then his eyes landed on the screen, and his brows twitched violently.

 

The video wasn't anatomical at all. It showed two people in a heated kiss, entangled and reluctant to part. The imagery was very real, very detailed, and very intense. And yet, the man beside him watched it with the same detached, focused look he'd used to study that medical text.

 

"What are you doing?" Lin Heng asked, heart thudding. He already had a bad feeling.

 

"Studying," Zong Que replied, glancing up. "I accidentally bumped into your lips today."

 

A flush crept into Lin Heng's cheeks. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. He wasn't sure how other people navigated their relationships, but he was pretty sure it didn't look like this. Was this supposed to be sweet, or… unhinged?

 

"Who told you that this is how you learn to kiss?"

 

"This is theoretical knowledge," Zong Que replied, calmly rewinding the video. "For example, here—this movement…"

 

"What about practice?" Lin Heng really didn't want to interrupt him again, but anyone in his shoes would be unable to just sit there and listen.

 

Zong Que looked at him. "Once I understand the theory, I'll be better equipped for hands-on practice."

 

Lin Heng felt utterly defeated. "…"

 

Sure, it wasn't weird for guys to watch this kind of thing, and the video itself didn't even cross any boundaries. But what was weird was his boyfriend watching it with him right there. And he was so serious—it was for studying.

 

Studying.

 

"Don't people say that true knowledge comes from practice? Studying theory can't compare to actually trying it out. A few real attempts are more useful than all the theory in the world," Lin Heng murmured, his breath slightly unsteady. His cheeks were so hot that he didn't need to touch them to know. "Isn't this a better learning method?"

 

"There might be failed attempts," Zong Que said.

 

"Failure is the mother of success," Lin Heng muttered, unsure what he was even saying anymore.

 

"As long as you don't mind." Zong Que closed the laptop and set it aside.

 

Lin Heng's fingers tightened. His palms were damp with sweat, but his heart pounded insistently, urging him forward.

 

His fingers brushed the switch behind the sofa. The curtains quietly drew shut, sealing out the night beyond the windows. The main light dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of a spotlight casting a hazy ring of light on the wall.

 

Lin Heng stood. Under Zong Que's calm gaze, he straddled his lap. Strong hands steadied him by the waist.

 

He lowered his head slightly—his breath now only inches from the other's.

 

"Why did you turn off the lights?" Zong Que's fingers pressed lightly against the side of his neck.

 

The pulse beneath was wild, each beat echoing his nerves and excitement.

 

"Because romance needs a little atmosphere," Lin Heng said, his neck tingling under Zong Que's touch.

 

Dim, hazy lighting always seemed to stir the deepest desires in people—giving them courage, stripping away any hesitation.

 

As if unseen, anything was still within the bounds of control.

 

Atmosphere.

 

Zong Que took note of it.

 

Then he kissed him.

 

It began softly. A brush of lips. But theory soon gave way to practice, detail by detail.

 

Lin Heng had rested his hands on Zong Que's shoulders, but as the kiss deepened, his thoughts blurred into a haze. This man wasn't just diligent—he learned fast, and he knew how to practice.

 

His arms tightened unconsciously, and his fingertips accidentally brushed against Zong Que's Adam's apple. Lin Heng's breath caught, brows knitting slightly at the sudden sensation.

 

The kiss slowly broke. Zong Que's breath was a little uneven as he touched the corner of Lin Heng's lips and asked, "Did I hurt you?"

 

The Adam's apple was a vulnerable point in any man. A cartilage-covered structure—pressing too hard could bruise the windpipe… or worse.

 

Lin Heng's touch had been featherlight, but there had been something different about the sensation—more than a tickle.

 

His breathing uneven, Lin Heng took a moment before he replied. "It's fine. Just… where did I touch?"

 

"My Adam's apple," Zong Que said.

 

"So that's your weak spot." Lin Heng rested his forehead against his, eyes falling to that place, fingers unconsciously reaching out—only for Zong Que to catch his hand.

 

"Don't touch that," Zong Que warned.

 

"I won't. But… can I kiss it instead?" Lin Heng was lightly sweating now. He knew full well that sometimes, the more someone told him not to do something, the more he wanted to.

 

His words, barely above a whisper, hung between them—intimate and teasing. Zong Que saw the glint of mischief in his eyes and knew that words would do nothing to stop him.

 

He shifted his gaze, tightened his hold around Lin Heng's waist, gently tilted his chin up—and kissed the delicate hollow of his pale neck where his Adam's apple rested.

 

It was barely a touch, but Lin Heng shivered instinctively, his fingers clenching tight: "Zong Que, don't…"

 

When Zong Que let go, a single tear slid from the corner of the boy's eye.

 

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