Chapter 52: Straddling Part 3

“Whether you’re the treasure or the grassroots will only show in the real college entrance exam. It’s the most important test in your lives right now, so you must prepare rigorously. But it won’t be the only test in your lives, so no need to be too tense.”

At this point, Ban Wei unscrewed his water cup, took a sip to moisten his throat, and continued: “I used to say often that you were the worst class I’d ever taught, and that’s because you really weren’t striving! With so many high school classes, every exam’s total score rankings had me as the last-place old turtle— who’d not be pissed?!”

He spoke so bitterly cynical, his tone oddly gruff, that some students snickered secretly below.

The homeroom teacher’s gaze swept down like a searchlight, spotting who laughed and ready to thump them. But in the end, he couldn’t bear to and laughed along.

Ban Wei: “Sigh, now I have to tell you again—you crooked melons and split dates, these bear kids who often slacked off, are the best class in my teaching career.”

“Especially classmate Li Ran—changed beyond recognition from freshman and sophomore years. I’m truly impressed; I hope you keep it up. He’s single-handedly driven our class’s study atmosphere and made me reflect deeply on whether I’ve fulfilled my duties as homeroom teacher.”

“Of course, most importantly, each of you knows to improve, has the awareness to progress. High. Otherwise, he studies his way, you play yours—who can control it, right?”

“You’re all great. My heart is much comforted, much comforted,” Ban Wei smiled, dragging in a language teacher’s idiom. “I’ve blabbered so much just to say—you’ll be the last class I teach. Once I send you all into the exam hall, not exactly retiring in glory, but at least seeing it through to the end. Pretty good.”

“Where am I going? Heh, haven’t thought about it yet. I just plan to take your teacher-mom out to see the skies and earth, mountains and seas, streets and alleys, the hundred states of life… Your teacher-mom and I married right after college graduation; we’ve been together over a dozen years now, and our relationship is still great, heh heh.”

“I was going to tell you on the last day before leaving school, but that last day is to welcome the college entrance exam—no disruptions. Better to influence early than late; the teacher still likes you all, so wanted to say goodbye.”

A math teacher, amid sixty gradually solemn, even saddened youthful faces below, started speaking all literary. The more upset the students got, the happier he was, feeling cared for—this three years wasn’t wasted teaching.

Ban Wei smiled and said, “Life is so long, with so many passersby. I’m just an insignificant teacher on your path ahead. I hope that while teaching you knowledge, I also teach you farewells.”

“Farewells aren’t regrets; they’re memorials that fix memories in place.”

Walking home from school on campus with his total score sheet, Li Ran felt quite heavy-hearted. He knew that after senior year graduation, if he didn’t come back often, there wouldn’t be many chances to see Ban Wei again.

But this kind of not seeing and the open farewell not seeing were different. One was fewer meetings, but knowing the teacher was still there; the other was knowing the teacher was leaving, and they’d truly never meet again.

Just as Ban Wei said, in the former High School Class 3-10—not counting Qi Zhi who aced school-wide every time—he and the academic dregs didn’t mix, and the remaining fifty-nine unmotivated students were all bastards. Li Ran had once been one of them; he’d never properly treated studying or the future, muddling day by day. Making him study properly was worse than killing him with a knife.

But now his growth was truly eye-opening—not just learning knowledge, but self-consciously picking up social graces. From Ban Wei’s farewell alone, he precisely extracted one key point—cherish.

Cherish the present, cherish those before your eyes.

Cherish everything you can possess.

Everyone experiences farewells.

Would he and his brother too…

The low-key black car parked on the roadside untouched by streetlights. The driver’s window was half-down, revealing Chi Mo’s cold, hard profile.

As if sensing something, Chi Mo calculated the time—the kid should be out of school. He turned his head, casting a searching, longing gaze out the window, and met eyes with Li Ran, who had arrived by the car.

Li Ran got in. Chi Mo leaned over to buckle his seatbelt: “Cold?”

“Not cold.” Li Ran shook his head and even offered his hand for his brother to touch.

“Bro.”

“Mm?” Chi Mo raised the window.

Isolating them from the outside world.

Li Ran said, “Total scores came out today.”

Chi Mo perked up at once, immediately recalling what he’d told Li Ran—if he scored poorly this time, not only would he yank down the pants and beat him, he’d strip him bare…

“I got 520. Impressive, right?”

“…” The Chi beast struggled to put back on the human skin he was about to tear off, deeply disappointed inside. But when he was good, he was a qualified parent, sincerely happy for the kid. “Good job, Little Treasure.”

Moreover, that number reminded Chi Mo of the scene when he had suddenly confessed to him. Unknowingly, so much time had passed, yet Li Ran was still by his side. A gentle ripple rose in his heart—he didn’t want to do anything dirty; he just wanted to hold Li Ran.

“Bro.”

“Hm?”

“Your company… it’s ‘Moran Technology’…” Li Ran was a bit embarrassed to ask, but he really wanted to know. “Is the name because of me?”

“Yes.” Chi Mo didn’t hide it. “You’re my source of inspiration—you know that. Of course, it had to be named after you.”

“It’s our two names.”

“Right.”

Li Ran looked at Chi Mo. “Bro.”

Chi Mo sensed something off with him—he clearly had a lot to say—so he didn’t start the engine right away. He stayed in the dark spot, waiting for the kid to finish speaking. “Hm?”

He said, “I’m listening.”

Li Ran said softly, “…Why do you love me?”

Chi Mo pondered for a moment before answering. When he finally spoke, every word carried a weighty cherish. “I just do. I can’t live without you. I’d die.”

Li Ran’s heart trembled. “Aren’t you seeing a psychologist?”

“No use.” Chi Mo scoffed. “He told me to stay away from you. I said, only if I’m dead.”

Twice he had firmly mentioned death, but Li Ran didn’t think his brother was twisted. His chest just ached.

He asked, “…Can’t it be cured?”

Chi Mo: “Can’t be cured.”

At that moment, a phone ringtone interrupted the increasingly heavy atmosphere in the car. Li Ran looked over and saw the incoming call on Chi Mo’s screen labeled “Big Dumbass.”

The psychologist.

Li Ran wanted to cry. “Why is he calling you again?”

“I haven’t gone in a while. Maybe he’s worried I’ll go extreme.” Chi Mo let it vibrate on its own, neither hanging up nor answering. He soothed Li Ran, his voice soft as water. “I won’t hurt you.”

He gently touched Li Ran’s cheek with the backs of two fingers. “Believe me, hm?”

“I’m willing.” Li Ran suddenly blurted out something that didn’t follow the conversation.

Chi Mo didn’t react at first. The next moment, he recalled a certain scene.

It was when Li Ran had hidden the Bodhi Beads he used to correct his pain and begged him to try another way.

“Another way?”

“Yeah!”

“Then we’d have to kiss every day.”

Chi Mo had asked atop his head back then: “Are you willing?”

Now Li Ran said: “I’m willing.”

Pulling out of that memory, Chi Mo’s gaze turned wolf-like, his expression stern to the point of being almost frightening. “Li Ran, do you know what you’re saying?”

Li Ran shrank back a little and nodded. “…I know.”

Chi Mo’s tone immediately took on the dominance of issuing a command. “Unbuckle your seatbelt.”

“…Oh.” Li Ran obeyed, lowering his head to undo the seatbelt.

“Come here.” Chi Mo said. “Sit on my lap.”

Li Ran clumsily clambered over the center console, using hands and feet, gripping the back of the driver’s seat to steady his inexplicably wobbly frame.

Before he even fully touched Chi Mo, he heard his brother say very dissatisfiedly, “Who told you to hold the seat? Hold me.”

That hand, tense to the point of near-spasm, immediately left the chair and gripped Chi Mo’s shoulder.

Chi Mo patted his leg, which seemed to want to knot up and cramp too. “Spread them. Straddle me.”

After some guidance, Li Ran successfully wrapped his arms around Chi Mo’s neck and sat on his brother’s lap with his legs spread apart. He nervously swallowed.

“The psychologist called me, and now I’m in a bad mood.” Chi Mo said listlessly, putting on a world-weary act.

The moment Li Ran had decided “I’m willing,” it was to help his brother. Hearing this, he said softly, “Th-then, do I…?”

“Kiss me.” Chi Mo instructed him.

Li Ran then leaned in clumsily, gnawing and licking without any technique.

Despairingly, that was just his own perception. He thought he was trying really hard, hoping to improve his brother’s mood. In reality, Chi Mo only felt two soft lips tentatively brushing once, then tentatively brushing again—no sucking, no biting, no licking, no drawing in.

Chi Mo: “If you want it, open your mouth.”

“…”

What kind of talk was that? Could Li Ran say it?

His face heated up, his ears burned, and his breathing grew rapid. He clumsily mimicked, “Bro…”

“Bro, you… you open your mouth.”

Chi Mo chuckled wickedly, lightly nipping a bit of his lip and grinding against it, inviting him, luring his tongue tip. In a husky voice, he said:

“Stick your tongue in yourself.”