“You ate too little.” Gu Yuan gathered the breakfast trash from the desk and said gravely, “I remember you could eat three sandwiches as a kid.”
Zhou Chiyu’s cheeks flushed red. He frowned and retorted, “My appetite’s small now!”
Seeing him bristle like an angry kitten, Gu Yuan explained softly, “I mean, I want you to eat more and gain a little weight.”
“Gaining weight would make me not handsome at all.”
Zhou Chiyu was quite satisfied with his current looks. If he grew proportionally bigger, he definitely wouldn’t be as dashing as he was now.
“Brother, you’ve been handsome your whole life—you don’t get the suffering of us chubby kids.” Zhou Chiyu huffed as he jotted down notes, his eyes full of longing for unparalleled beauty. No helping it; he was all about appearances and wouldn’t compromise on looks.
Gu Yuan hesitated briefly, then thoughtfully patted Zhou Chiyu’s head. “Don’t be mad. I get it.”
Zhou Chiyu’s features relaxed instantly, and he let out a satisfied hum.
Gu Yuan’s hand didn’t withdraw right away. Instead, he gently moved it back, soothingly ruffling Zhou Chiyu’s hair just like he had when coaxing him as a child.
It was a long, long time before he pulled his hand back, though his gaze lingered on Zhou Chiyu, roaming over the soft chestnut curls.
After class, his roommates crowded over gossipily.
As Zhou Chiyu packed his schoolbag, he introduced proactively, “This is my brother—my real brother!”
At the words “real brother,” Gu Yuan smiled meaningfully and politely greeted everyone. “Hello, I’m Gu Yuan.”
Chen Qixuan’s eyes widened. “Real brother? Little Fish, you weren’t kidding—your bro’s looks are unreal.”
Zhou Chiyu beamed with pride. “Of course. My brother’s top-tier handsome.”
“Not really.” Gu Yuan naturally finished packing Zhou Chiyu’s schoolbag for him, then gripped the back of his neck and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s head home first. The elders are waiting for us to eat.”
Wu Ming waved. “Safe travels.”
Watching the brothers’ retreating figures, Chen Qixuan and the others whispered evaluations. “Little Fish is mixed-race—his brother doesn’t seem like it.”
“Maybe his bro’s mix is lighter.”
…
On the way home, Zhou Chiyu eagerly shared his life from the past few years with Gu Yuan. He’d mentioned many things in letters, and Gu Yuan had them all memorized.
“Brother, you know? Those hundred days prepping for gaokao were like ascending to immortality!” Zhou Chiyu clung to Gu Yuan’s arm, his complaining tone laced with grievance. “I even had to rush through meals.”
Their distance shortened imperceptibly.
Gu Yuan gently lifted his arm, smoothly pulling Zhou Chiyu into his embrace.
He slowly studied the intently complaining Zhou Chiyu, tightening his hold a bit more—just like every morning on the way to school in their childhood, so intimate.
Zhou Chiyu grew a little tired and closed his eyes against Gu Yuan’s chest.
The afternoon sun blazed fiercely, inadvertently dazzling his eyes. Gu Yuan raised his hand to shield Zhou Chiyu’s forehead, lowering his gaze to stare at that long-yearned-for face.
Back home, Zhou Chiyu saw Gu Cheng and Bai Wenran. The couple took good care of themselves and hadn’t changed much from ten years ago. The only surprise for Zhou Chiyu was that Bai Wenran was pregnant.
Zhou Chiyu squatted on the sofa, carefully eyeing Bai Wenran’s belly and gently touching it with a finger. He turned back to Gu Yuan and Grandpa with a grin. “I’m going to be a big brother too.”
From the moment they entered, Gu Yuan’s gaze had followed him closely. Seeing Zhou Chiyu so happy, he peeled a few lychees and walked over to feed them to him.
Gu Cheng observed Gu Yuan’s expression and smiled warmly. “Yes, our family will have a new member soon.”
“Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll be a good big brother.” Zhou Chiyu chewed the lychees Gu Yuan had peeled, blissfully squinting his eyes.
This is it!
The happy life he yearned for was exactly like this.
Bai Wenran ruffled Zhou Chiyu’s hair and sighed. “Little Fish is too thin now. He should gain some weight.”
“I eat a lot already—probably because of my muscles.” Zhou Chiyu flexed his bicep before hurrying upstairs to change before dinner.
Gu Yuan noticed and quietly followed.
These years, Zhou Chiyu had always lived in Gu Yuan’s room, so when Gu Yuan entered behind him, he wasn’t surprised at all—just a bit awkward.
“Brother, since you’re back, I’ll move—”
“Little Fish.” Gu Yuan’s tall frame leaned slightly against the cabinet, his eyes flickering with curiosity. “Why didn’t you video call that day?”
He casually picked up a handmade paper airplane Zhou Chiyu had made, his fingertip slowly stroking the wing. “Were you mad at me?”
“No.” Mentioning it still left Zhou Chiyu a bit downcast. “I just felt like we’d be apart for even longer.”
He sat on the bed with his head down, fingers picking at his jeans. “If you go to grad school, it’ll be more than four years. I wanted to go to MIT too, but I’m scared I won’t get in.”
These years, he’d missed Gu Yuan every day.
He’d finally waited for Gu Yuan’s illness to heal, only for them to separate again.
His friends all said they were brothers, not lovers—separation was inevitable.
But—
Zhou Chiyu couldn’t figure it out. He frowned sadly. “Forget it. Anyway, in the future, we’ll—”
“Little Fish.”
Gu Yuan’s heartstrings tugged. His gaze held a subtle amusement.
“Here’s what I’m thinking.”
“My condition still needs follow-up, so staying in the USA for undergrad is best. MIT’s fastest graduation is two years—my friend He Zhen did it in that time.”
“Now, two options. One: I stay in the country temporarily, help you apply for MIT exchange status, and we go to the USA together later.”
“Two: I graduate ASAP, come back every holiday to be with you, and after two years, we’ll never separate again.”
Gu Yuan slowly crouched beside Zhou Chiyu, his deep, focused eyes tilting upward, slowly tracing the face inches away.
“Little Fish, you’re the most important part of my future life plans. Didn’t we agree on this long ago? In the future, we’ll never be apart.”
