Singlehood Syndrome

The more obvious nonsense, the less Xiang Mo believed that anyone would take it seriously.

In fact, the man in front of him indeed showed an incredulous expression, but his anger seemed to surpass everything else.

Xiang Mo followed his gaze to his waist, where he noticed Du Chi’s hand casually resting there. It wasn’t just a suggestive touch; it was actually firmly pressed against him through the fabric, fitting the curves of his waist.

“How is that possible?” The man took a deep breath, his eyes filled with a sense of grievance as he glared at Du Chi. “You said you wouldn’t date anyone!”

Being inexplicably turned into a tool, Xiang Mo found himself in Du Chi’s embrace. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to move or not.

Thinking about dealing with the person upstairs later, Xiang Mo hesitated for a moment before relaxing and allowing Du Chi to hold him.

Still, he maintained an indifferent expression as if he were just a bystander, idly watching a ping-pong ball bounce back and forth between the two young people.

“How could you know?” Du Chi retorted, his tone tinged with impatience. “Then what’s the meaning of you wanting to be with me?”

He is just a passerby, after all. Xiang Mo’s mind wandered idly.

“Why him?” The man’s gaze shifted to Xiang Mo, his tone resentful. “What’s so good about him?”

It seems that he believed Du Chi’s nonsense.

What’s so good about this old man? He must be a good Samaritan. Xiang Mo thought lazily.

“Oh, he’s an artist,” Du Chi said nonchalantly, glancing at the quiet Xiang Mo in his arms. “I just like artists.”

Xiang Mo noticed that whenever Du Chi used a casual “Oh” in his statements, he was probably just making things up. Even though “artist” is a term of praise, it somehow felt like Du Chi was teasing him when it came from his mouth.

Perhaps it’s a lingering effect of the erotic artist incident.

“What kind of artist? I could be an artist too—”

“Enough, Ye Xing.” Du Chi cut off the man’s words. “It’s getting late; go back and rest.”

In general, Xiang Mo felt that Du Chi was more considerate than himself. If someone like Tan Song pestered him, he would just send a “block and delete” combo without patience.

“Let’s go.” Xiang Mo’s wrist was suddenly grabbed, and he heard Du Chi’s casual voice. “Let’s go and see the room you tidied up.”

As if he really intended to show him.

Playing the full act, Xiang Mo let Du Chi lead him forward. After turning the corner, the world suddenly seemed quiet again. Without waiting for Xiang Mo to remind him, Du Chi let go of him.

It was only then that Xiang Mo realized that Du Chi was wearing flip-flops too. The two of them walked side by side, the sound of “pata pata” accompanying their footsteps, like a harmonious nocturne.

“Thanks.” After a while, Du Chi explained the situation that just happened. “Today is his birthday, and he insisted I give myself to him.”

“You’re so cruel on his birthday,” Xiang Mo replied nonchalantly.

In fact, he didn’t care much about the situation. Since they were still a distance away from his home, and Du Chi brought it up himself, he didn’t mind chatting with him.

“I gave him a birthday present,” Du Chi shrugged listlessly. “He wasn’t satisfied.”

Xiang Mo guessed that the two of them were probably very familiar with each other. After all, he didn’t even know Tan Song’s birth month.

He didn’t respond immediately. Perhaps he didn’t want to overthink it, but Du Chi looked at him with a faint glance and added, “I’m not a scumbag.”

It’s hard to say. Xiang Mo casually asked, “Didn’t you sleep with him before?”

If not, then it meant that Du Chi was entangled with at least two people.

If yes, then it meant that their emotional entanglement was unresolved, and Du Chi had slept with someone else.

Neither of them was a good option.

“It was only him.” Du Chi said, “We agreed not to talk about feelings, but who knew he took it seriously.”

Okay, Xiang Mo retracted his previous thoughts. It seemed that the emotional entanglement was an unexpected situation for Du Chi.

Perhaps many people couldn’t accept a relationship that was purely physical without feelings, but Xiang Mo was okay with it.

Before he and Tan Song became regular bedmates, they both went to the hospital for health checks, unlike some casual encounters who were reckless.

He took it seriously, and that’s why he felt annoyed when Tan Song crossed the boundaries.

After all, a physically and mentally healthy, decent bed partner was hard to come by.

Since Du Chi’s situation was similar to his own, Xiang Mo naturally had no grounds to criticize others.

But then again, he never intended to seriously discuss this matter with Du Chi.

“Oh.” He imitated Du Chi’s casual tone, finally finding an opportunity for retaliation. “Scumbag.”

Du Chi stopped in his tracks, looking at Xiang Mo with a smile. “Are you imitating me?”

Xiang Mo didn’t respond further, as the two of them had already reached the doorstep.

Dim yellow streetlights shone into the courtyard, creating a different scene compared to the daytime elegance. They entered the house, not being very close to each other, so there was no need to continue the conversation.

The sound of footsteps echoed with the creaking of the wooden staircase, waking up San Mei who was already asleep. She looked at the two of them, lazily yawning, then closed her eyes again.

In the dim light, Xiang Mo carefully stepped up the stairs while keeping an eye on the floor. It was then that he suddenly remembered something and turned to look at Du Chi behind him. “By the way.”

“Hmm?”

Du Chi seemed a bit distracted. If Xiang Mo wasn’t mistaken, Du Chi’s eyes were lingering on his waist during that brief moment he turned around.

The narrow and steep wooden staircase of the old house was challenging to climb. Xiang Mo was in front, and Du Chi was behind, only two or three steps apart. As long as Du Chi slightly lowered his gaze, he could see Xiang Mo’s waist and hips.

“Can the students draw your motorcycle in the advanced sketching class this weekend?” Xiang Mo said, not paying too much attention to it. After all, the staircase’s structure made it unavoidable for Du Chi to see.

“Sure,” Du Chi replied generously. “They can draw it however they like.”

The size of the Ink and Brush Studio was small, only accommodating five students during weekdays. If some of Xiang Mo’s former students returned for the weekend classes, the studio could accommodate a few more.

On Saturday afternoon, Mr. Li arrived at the studio as usual.

Although Xiang Mo arranged for him to sit next to the motorcycle, which was a change from the usual background, some familiar students still complained, “Why are we drawing Mr. Li again?”

“What’s wrong with drawing me?” Mr. Li sat upright on the stool, adjusting his tie. “Back in the day, when I was doing commercials, it was a sensation throughout the country.”

“Hmph, it’s famous all over the country,” the students interrupted in unison.

“Ha, you know it.”

Although he was almost seventy years old, Mr. Li still had an upright posture and an air of a gentleman. Just sitting there, he fit perfectly with the atmosphere of the old house.

However, the students’ complaints were not entirely unjustified. He had indeed been a model for Xiang Mo for a long time, and not only were the students tired of drawing him, but Xiang Mo also noticed that Mr. Li had a few sets of clothes that he had already memorized.

“Teacher Xiang, how about letting us draw you next time?” After the class ended, Meng Yun tidied up her art supplies while chatting with Xiang Mo.

She was once Xiang Mo’s student and was now a freelance illustrator. During weekends when the studio was busy, she occasionally came to help with the classes.

The person who posted the portrait of Xiang Mo’s face in her friend circle was her.

“I can’t be a model; then how can I teach the class?” Xiang Mo arranged the chairs in a mess, and on a whim, he looked at Meng Yun and said, “Or maybe you can sacrifice yourself?”

“I can’t sit for three hours.” Meng Yun quickly declined. “But we should consider changing the model. When I was a student, it was always Mr. Li. I could draw him without looking; you could just ask me to draw him from memory.”

“That’s because of your skill.” Although he said this, Xiang Mo also realized that as a business, it was essential to consider the students’ feelings. After all, painting was already a boring task, and maintaining interest was crucial.

After closing the studio, Xiang Mo returned to his room and turned on the computer.

He hadn’t written anything for a long time, and he stared at the flashing cursor for a long while before finally pressing the keyboard slowly.

Model Recruitment:

Requirements: Any gender, 18 years or older, with distinctive features, able to sit steadily for more than three hours.

Salary: 100 yuan per hour

Wait a minute.

Xiang Mo suddenly felt that something was wrong. Models were people, how could he use the term “salary”? It made it sound like some improper transaction.

He deleted the word “salary” and changed it to “payment,” which sounded simpler. Then he added a line: Special individuals can negotiate payment.

Thinking about it, the word “special” should be “outstanding.”