Chapter 2 • Morning Light
The next morning at 6:30, I tiptoed out of the room, ready to head to the construction site for roll call.
The living room light was still on, the TV was playing but silent, only the screen flickering. Chenghan had indeed turned the living room into a makeshift bedroom—thin blanket spread on the sofa, two pillows stacked beside it, suitcase half open, clothes casually hung on the chair back.
The air carried a hint of laundry detergent scent from the States mixed with the smell of leftover beer cans from last night.
I was about to turn off the TV to save electricity. As I approached the sofa, I realized Chenghan was still asleep. He was lying on his back on the sofa, wearing only a pair of dark blue boxer briefs, the remote control gripped in his right hand resting on his crotch.
I reached out to grab the remote. Damn.
Morning light streamed straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the entire living room in warm yellow. Chenghan’s morning wood, thick and erect, strained tightly against the thin fabric of his boxers, the outline unmistakably clear.