Qiu Sui hadn’t slept well on the plane at all. He’d merely closed his eyes and zoned out for a couple of hours.
Even though his eyelids had started drooling with exhaustion, his brain remained annoyingly active, tugging at a persistent dizzy haze in his mind.
Reflecting on it now, Qiu Sui let out a yawn. The drowsiness he’d shaken off earlier came rushing back. He blinked hard a couple of times, feeling as if Shen Zhixiao’s message had some kind of magic to it. Propping himself up with both hands, he slowly tapped out a reply on his phone.
Qiu Sui: Already home.
Qiu Sui: Right in bed now.
He’d just sent the second message and exited the chat when a new one popped up from Shen Zhixiao.
But there were other messages in his list that needed replies too, so Qiu Sui quickly responded to everyone equally before returning to Shen Zhixiao’s chat.
He noticed it was a short voice message, just a few seconds long.
Qiu Sui frowned in confusion. Why switch to voice all of a sudden?
Curious, he tapped it to play.
It started with a faint rustling sound, followed by Shen Zhixiao’s voice—softened slightly, laced with gentle breaths, a bit lower and more muffled through the phone than in person: “Getting ready for a nap? Then I’ll turn in too.”
His tone was light and upbeat, rising playfully at the end. It was clear he was in a comfortable, relaxed mood.
Qiu Sui lay on his side in bed, clutching his phone. One ear pressed against the sheets, feeling the vibrations from the audio; the other caught the quiet voice from the speaker. The dual sensations sent a strange itch rippling through him.
He rubbed one ear, pausing blankly for a moment before his other hand managed to type out a stiff reply: Oh, yeah, heading to sleep now.
He figured Shen Zhixiao had probably dozed off after sending the voice note. But right after he hit send, another long one came in, starting with a muffled chuckle.
Shen Zhixiao must have been lying on his side too—his voice carried a lazy rasp: “I waited ages without seeing your reply. Thought you’d already crashed.”
Then his upbeat tone dipped into something a touch downcast, drawn out slowly: “If you weren’t sleeping, were you chatting with someone else?”
It was a perfectly normal question, but something about it felt off to Qiu Sui. He flipped over restlessly, switching ears for the next listen, and replied honestly: Yeah.
There was a brief silence on the other end before the muffled response: “Okay then. You heading off to chat with them now?”
This is getting weirder. Qiu Sui replayed it, scratching his head in bewilderment before typing seriously.
Qiu Sui: No, I’ve replied to everyone.
Qiu Sui: Chatting with you now, then straight to bed.
“Really?” Shen Zhixiao’s tone brightened again, his breath growing heavier with a low laugh: “Then go sleep. Message me when you wake up, okay? I don’t want to disturb you if I text after mine…”
Qiu Sui stifled a small yawn at the unhurried cadence. The sleepiness was really hitting now; he typed a slow Okay and burrowed fully under the covers. Relying on muscle memory, he flicked the room lights and curtains off. In the dimness, his eyes drifted shut, and before he knew it, he dreamed of Shen Zhixiao toasting sandwiches in the dorm.
At six in the afternoon, Zhuang Ni knocked to rouse him, and Qiu Sui was still groggy.
“Oh dear, it’s almost six-thirty! Your dad booked a spot at the restaurant for seven.” His mom pulled the door open, briskly switching on the lights and curtains. “Lots of traffic if we leave now—can’t laze around. Your brother’s already up.”
Lady Zhuang eyed the lump buried in the bedding, just a head poking out, and shut off the blasting AC.
Qiu Sui didn’t dare sit up. His wide-necked sleep shirt would expose the love bites on his collarbone and neck. He clutched the covers tight until she left, then scrambled into the button-up from that morning.
He’d barely stepped out when Zhuang Ni, bag in hand, grabbed his shoulder on her way past.
She tsked at his outfit—already feeling the heat—and shoved him back: “AC on arctic in here, but you’re wearing a turtleneck? Won’t you melt outside?”
Qiu Shun emerged from next door in a tank top and shorts, phone in hand, looking freshly woken—cool expression masking clear-eyed daze.
Qiu Sui shot his brother a desperate glance from the doorway, only to get a swat on the head from Mom: “It’s way hotter here than Sea City. Don’t be dumb.”
Qiu Shun finally clocked the SOS, stepped over under Qiu Sui’s hopeful stare, and chimed in to send him back to change.
Outnumbered, Qiu Sui slunk back to his room, brain screaming Screwed.
He dug out a small-collar short-sleeve from the closet. It hid the collarbone marks fine, but the faint one on the side of his neck stayed blatantly visible.
Before he could scheme an excuse for Mom, two knocks sounded. Qiu Shun called out, cracked the door, and dangled something.
Struck by inspiration, Qiu Sui yanked him in.
Qiu Shun scanned his brother’s neck with a few Band-Aids in hand—only the side mark stood out. His cool face softened a fraction as he tore one open and slapped it on.
A few centimeters taller, Qiu Sui instinctively bent to help.
With the obvious spot covered, Qiu Shun checked the gland bite—it had faded; you wouldn’t notice without staring.
Qiu Sui gratefully kneaded his brother’s shoulders. Then Qiu Shun’s flat voice cut in: “When hanging out with Shen Zhixiao, better keep some boundaries.”
“Since you’re not official or anything.” He met Qiu Sui’s clear eyes as he added it.
Qiu Sui figured he’d misunderstood the situation with Shen Zhixiao but nodded obediently anyway.
The brothers headed to the living room single-file. Parents waited at the door. Zhuang Ni pinched her eldest’s arm none too gently: “This looks fine, though.”
But the next second, she spotted the Band-Aid. Qiu Sui mumbled some excuse about his phone while bullshitting a reason. She nagged him the whole drive about carelessness until they hit the garage, then switched topics.
Refreshed from his nap, Qiu Sui fielded Mom’s questions while texting, realizing he’d forgotten to message Shen Zhixiao upon waking.
The dream of him toasting sandwiches tickled him; leaning on the seatback, he typed as Qiu Shun’s head lolled on his shoulder, scrolling his own phone.
Qiu Sui: Forgot to text earlier.
Qiu Sui: Up now.
The chat lit up instantly. Qiu Sui suspected Shen Zhixiao had message alerts on steroids—always this quick, like he camped by his phone 24/7.
Another voice note. Probably easier than typing.
No earbuds, with faint Cantopop and parental chatter in the car, Qiu Sui planned to long-press for text.
But then Qiu Shun shifted on his shoulder, jolting his arm. His finger slipped—missing the lock. The speaker blasted alpha’s drawn-out, downcast “Ahh…” in a tender tone that blindsided everyone: “…because of what…”
Qiu Sui fumbled to kill the screen mid-sentence, but all eyes were on him.
Zhuang Ni, mid-business chat with Dad, frowned curiously via rearview. Qiu Shun lifted his head from the shoulder, expression subtly weird as they locked eyes.
Kill me now, one wail echoed in Qiu Sui’s brain.
Throat tight, he itched to smother himself with the phone and self-destruct, but just sat there flushed in the dim car.
Zhuang Ni broke the ice casually: “New friend? Doesn’t sound like Xiao Kai and them.”
Xiao Kai was one of Qiu Sui’s high school basketball buddies; she’d met most who showed up to drag him out.
He mumbled an awkward Mm along with her.
She didn’t press, leaning back to resume with Qiu Fanghai.
Qiu Sui exhaled shakily, unlocked the screen, and carefully converted the message.
Shen Zhixiao: Ahh, what kept you from texting? Chatting with others again?
He ached to spill the fiasco, spam emojis for his mood—but his abstract sticker hoard said no. He typed restraint: No, just forgot to check my phone.
New voice note. Hesitant to convert, he felt a poke on his shoulder.
He pulled back, met Qiu Shun’s blank stare. The guy dangled a Bluetooth earbud, nodding at the screen.
Grateful, Qiu Sui snatched it, massaging his bro in thanks. Qiu Shun leaned back in, scrolling away.
Earbuds in, first new note: Shen Zhixiao’s upbeat voice murmured close, like right in his ear: “Oh, my bad then…” Trailing apologetic at the end: “…sorry.”
Qiu Sui brushed it off: No biggie. Slept forever—normal to misunderstand.
New one had faint traffic hum; he must be out and about. Warm concern: When’s dinner?
On the way to the restaurant, Qiu Sui answered truthfully.
Old-school spot in Stream City—authentic local flavors, not cookie-cutter chains. Even with their own Stream City restaurant biz, they hit it often. Partly ’cause their viral place wasn’t family-dinner vibes, and everyone preferred Cantonese over the Western menu.
Shen Zhixiao sounded intrigued, so Qiu Sui shared the name, raved about top dishes: way better than online recs.
“Really? Sounds amazing. Wanna try it.” Pure longing in his tone.
Qiu Sui’s brows lifted faintly, about to offer bringing pastries back to school—
But Shen Zhixiao’s message beat him.
He paused, tapped play.
Alpha’s breath light, a hint of hope earnest: “Can I come to Stream City to see you? And… try that tasty restaurant…?”
