Chapter 8: Silly Text Messages
In the days after the Ha Giang trip, Ngan returned to her luxurious apartment, while Tung returned to the gym and a simple life. Their connection now took place through the phone screen, an invisible thread stretching between two different worlds.
Ngan was sitting on the sofa, her feet up on the table, lazily scrolling through her phone. She smiled as she read Tung’s text. He was at the gym, resting between sets, texting her short, somewhat dry but sincere lines. Their goal was to maintain and strengthen their connection after the trip, to turn it from a situational relationship into a habit. The difference in their worlds and expressions – Ngan’s sophistication and Tung’s simplicity – was what created the attraction.
Ngan’s phone vibrated. It was a text message from Tung.
**Tung:** “Did you get home safely?”
Ngan smiled, her fingers flying quickly over the keyboard.
**Ngan:** “I’m home. I’m so lazy right now. Thanks to the ‘hero’ from yesterday.”
**Tung:** “Yes. Are your legs tired?”
**Ngan:** “Of course. I’m so tired. Now I just want someone to massage my back :(”
Tung “seen” the message and replied after a long while.
**Tung:** “Or should I go?”
Ngan laughed. This younger brother was too honest. She knew he didn’t mean anything, or perhaps, the fact that he didn’t mean anything was the most adorable thing. She refused, but inside she felt a pleasant warmth. This relationship was safe, happy and undemanding, a comfortable silence in her calculating life.
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Ngan’s apartment on a weekday evening was filled with the delicious smell of food. The atmosphere was cozy and private, a far cry from the usual coldness.
Ngan wore a comfortable yet sexy home outfit: silk shorts and a tank top, her hair tied up in a loose bun. She was cooking, looking like a very capable older sister, occasionally turning to smile at Tung. Tung sat at the dining table, looking a bit out of place in the elegant space of the apartment. He wore a T-shirt and joggers, his body still smelling of the gym. He silently observed Ngan, his eyes unable to hide his admiration. He sat there, big and strong, a complete contrast to Ngan’s softness and elegance and the surrounding space. He felt a bit awkward, like a wild animal lost in a royal garden.
Ngan put the plate of food on the table. Just a few simple dishes: boiled meat, stir-fried vegetables, egg soup. She smiled. “I don’t know how to cook. You can eat this.”
Tung didn’t say anything, just focused on eating. He ate very heartily, very deliciously, as if it had been a long time since he had a proper home-cooked meal. The sound of bowls and chopsticks clanking together was the only sound in the room. After finishing the third bowl, he looked up, his voice sincere. “It was delicious, sister. It’s been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal.”
His honest words made Ngan pause. She looked at him and saw a different loneliness, a very “manly” loneliness, unlike hers. A loneliness of strong people who rarely show their emotions.
Dinner ended. He took over the task of washing the dishes. Ngan leaned against the door, watching his sturdy back as he busied himself at the sink. A strange sense of familiarity crept into her heart. This “little brother” was gradually taking up a place in her world, a place she had never expected.
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A few days later, in Ngan’s bedroom, the air was thick with silence, only the hum of the air conditioner could be heard. She was struggling with a solid wooden wardrobe. She tried everything, used all her strength, small “hmm…” sounds escaped from her throat, heavy breathing, but it did not budge. Helplessness was evident on her face.
Tung arrived and saw Ngan panting, sweat beading on her forehead. He just smiled and told her to move away. “Let me.” He took off his T-shirt, the fabric rustling softly, revealing his bare upper body. Under the light, his body appeared like a sculpture. His broad, thick back had firm muscles. His biceps were bulging, blue veins bulging out as he tensed. Sweat began to bead, running down his back, making his tanned skin shiny, like a warrior who had just gone into battle.
He bent down, his two hands hugging the cabinet. He let out a low, hoarse roar, the sound of his tense muscles “crackling” in his chest. Using the strength of his back and thigh muscles, he slowly lifted the cabinet off the ground, the wooden cabinet creaked mournfully, the sound of his feet scraping hard on the floor. Ngan stood frozen, eyes unblinking, a small “ah” escaped her lips. She didn’t look at the cabinet, she looked at the muscles contracting and trembling on his back. A display of naked, primitive, and extremely attractive strength, making her feel an electric current running down her spine, goosebumps all over her body.
He easily placed the cabinet in its new position, a dry “thud” sounded. He turned around, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his temples. He saw Ngan staring at him, her eyes full of admiration. He smiled, a little proud. “It’s done, sister.”
Ngan said nothing, just silently took a soft towel and a bottle of cold water and gave it to him, the sound of the bottle lightly hitting his hand. But in her eyes was an undisguised admiration, a naked admiration. His role as a “hero” was once again absolutely reinforced, not only by words but by bare muscular strength.
————–
Living room, right after moving the cabinet. Tung was resting on the sofa, still shirtless, sweat still beading on his skin. The atmosphere was a bit awkward but also full of temptation, a hidden tension crept between the two of them. The air conditioner hummed softly, the clock ticked steadily, as if counting down each moment.
Tung grimaced and let out a small, uncomfortable groan. “Ah… I must have overexerted myself earlier, my shoulder hurts a bit.”
Ngan blurted out, her voice a little urgent. “Here, let me see. I have massage oil at home.” She took the bottle, the glass clinked lightly, poured some into her hand, the thick liquid flowed out, then told him to turn around.
Her soft, cool palm pressed against his hot, firm back, a stimulating contrast. Tung was slightly startled, a “hmm” was suppressed in his throat, an uncontrollable reaction, an electric current ran down his spine, causing each muscle to twitch slightly. She began to massage. Her fingers slid over the firm muscles, feeling the strength and heat radiating from his body, each muscle tensing under her fingertips, like vibrating strings. The sound of skin rubbing gently, regularly, the sound of massage oil “smack” on the skin, mixed with Tung’s heavy breathing. The pungent smell of hot oil mixed with his masculine sweat, creating a distinctive, primitive, enchanting scent, causing Ngan to inhale unconsciously. “Um… so hot…”
The more she touched, the more Ngan became aware of the difference between the two bodies, like two opposite poles that attracted each other strongly. Her softness and his hardness, a fascinating contrast. A daring thought flashed through her mind, a dangerous curiosity, a wordless invitation, like a devil’s whisper. Tung sat still, his whole body stiff, every muscle tensed like stone, his breathing became heavy, rapid, his heart pounding as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. Her hand was like fire, wherever it went, his skin burned there, an unbearable stimulation, a sweet torture. He had to clench his teeth, the grinding sound rang out dryly, to prevent his body from having reactions that shouldn’t have, a fierce internal struggle, between reason and instinct, between control and surrender.
Ngan suddenly stopped, pulling her hand back, as if she had just touched a burn, an instinctive act of self-defense. The sound of skin separating, a small “slurp”, tore apart the tension that was enveloping her. The air became awkwardly silent, with only the hum of the air conditioner and the heavy breathing of both of them, like the sound of waves crashing on the shore after a storm. Her voice was a bit awkward, weak, like an unspoken apology. “Are you feeling better?”
Tung didn’t dare turn around, his voice was hoarse, deep, like a suppressed growl. “Yes… I’m fine, sister. Thank you.” He didn’t look at her, just stared into space, trying to regain control.
An invisible line was almost crossed, an invisible string was stretched to its limit. Both of them felt it and together they stepped back, keeping their “sisterly” relationship safe… just a little bit more, like a promise of another crossing.