Under a nut tree, a bed in the cottage,
Evening fell, my younger brother off for snacks,
Ming and I alone, he bared his upper body,
Cool and impassive, always so.

We were weary from walking too far,
I loved Ming, revered him,
Many women loved Ming, young and old,
Mid-aged with a wife and child.

I forced myself to keep my distance,
Fear held me back,
But today, I longed to be closer,
Light suddenly faded,
Silence enveloped us, only his breath reached my ears.

I climbed onto the bed, nestled behind him,
My left arm cradling his right,
“I love you so much,” I whispered,
Do you know? I love you insanely.

No response, no movement,
Only his silent presence, his breath against my skin,
My hand slid from his arm to his waist,
My cheeks caressed his back, skin touching skin.

He turned to me, expressionless,
His well-defined lips sealed shut,
His single-lidded eyes gazed upon me,
In the darkness, a glimmer of excitement or tenderness,
Perhaps love, or passion, fleeting.

My heart raced, thumping in my chest,
I kissed his forehead, a pause in time,
He remained still, unyielding,
Then, I ventured to his lips,
A single jolt, a quiver of response.

His lips tender, moist, and slightly sweet,
I knelt on the bed, my head bowed low,
He sat upright, his gaze lifted,
He returned the kiss, uncertain, inexperienced.

I became his teacher,
His hands held me with passion, with gentleness,
With familiarity and friendship,
We closed our eyes, lost in the moment.

Approaching footsteps, my brother drawing near,
We rolled back to our original positions, feigning slumber,
I met Ming a few times after that evening, at business gatherings,
That flicker of excitement returned to his eyes,
That tenderness, that glimmer of love or passion,
Meant only for me.

I pondered, I resolved.