Chapter 39

Clearly, it was only an instant of contact.

Yet it was so close he could see the afterimage sweep of Chen Annan’s eyelashes.

This kiss had come far too suddenly. For a moment, Lu Qingyuan forgot to move, even forgot to breathe.

They had kissed a long time ago, but that was back when they were children. Chen Annan used to always like kissing his face—a gesture of intimate affection. At first, Lu Qingyuan didn’t like this contact, but over time, he just let him be.

This time was completely different from before. Chen Annan’s lips pressed up, warm and soft, damp, hot. Even though it was just for a split second, the sensation it brought shot up his spine like lightning, causing his heart to tingle and go numb along with it.

Chen Annan was still hanging onto Brother, also in a daze. It wasn’t until he heard that cold, airy tone press down: “How long do you plan on staying like this?”

“Oh.” Chen Annan pulled his head back just a tiny bit, creating some distance.

“…” Lu Qingyuan frowned. “Get down.”

“Oh…” Chen Annan slowly climbed down from Brother’s body.

The two looked at each other. Chen Annan just gazed at Brother with those large, perfectly round eyes of his, seemingly not thinking himself the slightest bit out of line. Normally, the convoluted twists and turns in his brain were even more complicated than crepe paper, but at this moment, they were as limpid as a scoop of well water, untainted by any unclean thing.

In the end, it was Lu Qingyuan who looked away first.

“I scored five hundred. Aren’t you happy?” Chen Annan asked.

Lu Qingyuan didn’t speak. His eyelashes lowered. He turned, grabbed his jacket, and said flatly, “I still have things to do at school. I’m going now. Watch less TV at home by yourself.”

Having said that, without lingering, he walked straight around Chen Annan, heading for the door.

Chen Annan stared at Brother strangely, watching him cross the living room, watching him reach the entryway. He said he was going out, but didn’t open the door. Just like that, stiffly, he walked “thud” right into the door, his head hitting it with a heavy sound.

Chen Annan gasped sharply at the noise. “I’ll go get the dit da jow!”

“No need.” Lu Qingyuan immediately raised a hand to stop him.

“Then let me take a look!”

“Don’t come over!”

Chen Annan let out a soft “Ah.” “But you hit your head. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It doesn’t.” After saying this, Lu Qingyuan twisted the door handle and walked out as if nothing was wrong.

However, the very next second, another heavy “thump” came from the doorway.

Lu Qingyuan had actually tripped and fallen down the small stone step outside the door!

Chen Annan was dumbfounded. This little step was so low it was practically negligible. No one had ever fallen off it. An eighty-year-old granny in a wheelchair could come and go steadily over it without issue—and Brother had actually fallen!

A spectacularly bad fall, nearly face-first, just thinking about it hurt.

Alarmed, Chen Annan was about to rush over, but before he could, Lu Qingyuan had already gotten up ahead of him. Though he stood swaying, even staggering a few steps.

His back to Chen Annan, he said nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”

After that, he left as though nothing had happened. His figure quickly vanished into the tree-lined greenery at the end of the road, not even giving Chen Annan a chance to interject.

“…” Chen Annan felt Brother’s behavior was seriously alarming, a complete 180 from his usual self.

Very strange. But he couldn’t say exactly what was strange. To the point that over the following nights, whenever Chen Annan recalled this incident, it felt imbued with a mysterious quality.

He didn’t dwell on it right away, though. That night, after washing up, he climbed onto Brother’s bed again.

Because the Zhongkao was near, for the last few months, Lu Qingyuan had told Chen Annan historical stories every night. He’d string the exam-relevant knowledge points from the history textbook into interesting little stories, recounting them chronologically from start to finish. They were vividly and engagingly told, and Chen Annan loved listening to them.

So, they had slept together almost every night these days. Lu Qingyuan’s bed was always very neat, the mattress and pillows soft. Chen Annan loved flopping around on this bed—lying horizontally, vertically, diagonally—there was enough space however he lay.

At that moment, Chen Annan had already spread the little blanket very smoothly, arranged both pillows neatly, and slipped under the covers to wait for Brother to come back.

The patterns on the ceiling above were clearly reflected in his sight. Chen Annan thought about his score of five hundred and still found it unbelievable. Excitedly, his two legs kicked the blanket back and forth, sending it flying like Indian flying bread.

Beside him, the scent of shampoo still lingered on Lu Qingyuan’s pillow. Chen Annan was lying too close; by scrunching his nose, he could catch that shampoo fragrance.

Everything was developing in the best possible direction. Chen Annan’s current scores had passed the cutoff lines of three art high schools. He wanted to ask Brother to help him decide.

He sprawled in the covers, mulling over school selection while waiting for Brother to return.

One hour passed, then two… Lu Qingyuan still hadn’t come back.

Chen Annan’s eyes were drooping with weariness; he could barely hold on. Amidst the ticking of the clock, the hands slipped past midnight, and Lu Qingyuan still hadn’t come back.

Strange. Really strange. Brother had never come home this late before.

Chen Annan found it odd and fumbled for his phone, preparing to call and ask. But before the call could connect, Lu Wenyuan knocked and came in.

“Nannan, Brother says he has to rush a group project with classmates. He won’t be back tonight.”

“Oh.” Chen Annan obediently placed his phone back by the pillow. “Got it.”

The bedroom door closed again. In the darkness, Chen Annan blinked his eyes. After a while, he reached out in the dark, pulled Lu Qingyuan’s pillow over, and slept with his face pressed against it.

For some reason, the moment he closed his eyes, that accident during the daytime suddenly popped into his mind.

The distance had been too close. So close he could almost hear the heart pounding—thump, thump—unclear whose it was, beating like a drum. Brother’s nose bridge was high, very straight, squashing his nose flat. It had been kind of uncomfortable, actually.

The scene cycled frame by frame in his head. Chen Annan’s eyes abruptly flew open. At the time, it had felt completely normal. Now, for some reason, a belated embarrassment crept in, and his face suddenly felt hot.

This shame, with its astoundingly long reflex arc, slowly gnawed at his brain. Chen Annan silently put the pillow back, turned over, and slept facing away.

After another while, there was a rustling sound within the covers, and the pillow was stealthily pulled back by one hand.

That night, Chen Annan hugged this pillow and slept fairly peacefully.

The next day, he returned to school and continued being intensely tormented by He Hanming. The days of the third year in middle school flew by. The countdown on the wall shrank and shrank. The teachers wished they could pulverize and break open the knowledge points before feeding it to them. A large yellow set square banged heavily against the blackboard:

“Our review progress has already fallen behind other classes. How many times have I told you? Every minute, every second counts! Don’t underestimate this one lost session. How many fewer knowledge points will you review compared to others? On exam day, one point—no factory! One point—splits two worlds apart!”

“Ah, I see some students making the exact same mistake again. Some students, normally you copy others, but on the Zhongkao, who are you going to copy, huh? Right, Xie Xi?”

“Teacher, I didn’t copy.”

“The whole class, and only you two made the exact same mistake. You still say you didn’t copy?”

“Teacher, you’re biased. Why couldn’t he be the one copying me?”

Chen Annan turned his head and saw the utterly innocent top student beside Xie Xi: “…”

“Stand at the back!” the teacher scolded sternly.

“Next question. Alright, another guaranteed-points question. I’ve explained it eight hundred times. Let me see who still got it wrong? Good, Chen Annan, you stand at the back too!”

“…”

After this round of punishment, even restroom breaks became a luxury everyone had to squeeze in. Even eye exercise time was taken over by the teachers.

Chen Annan felt like a little spinning top, constantly whipped from behind by teachers, leaving him not a moment for distraction.

Amidst the bustle, he had long since thrown that incident to the back of his mind. It seemed his eyes held nothing but scores! Studying! Scores! High school!

Because the Art College Entrance Examination was also scheduled in May, after finishing his academic classes at school, Chen Annan still had to go to his vocal teacher’s house for lessons after school. By the time he reached home, he was always in a state of complete exhaustion, his head spinning so much he could barely function.

He tossed his backpack aside and collapsed on the bed, falling asleep instantly. He slept all through to the next morning. When he woke up, the clothes on his body had already been changed into clean pajamas, and he was properly tucked under the covers.

Brother must have come back.

Out of habit, Chen Annan swung his leg over to hook onto him. Unexpectedly, it hooked nothing but air. Nothing was there.

The spot next to him was still empty.

Lu Qingyuan hadn’t come back.

Chen Annan froze for two seconds. In the kitchen, Lu Wenyuan had been up early, making a congee of yam and greens, meant to reduce internal heat—afraid Chen Annan would get inflamed from studying.

He set the bowl on the table and untied his apron, joking, “Oh, up so early today? Not waiting for the sun to hit your butt?”

“Uncle, did Brother not come home last night?” Chen Annan asked.

“Nope,” Lu Wenyuan said.

Chen Annan asked anxiously, “Then who changed my clothes last night?”

“I did,” Lu Wenyuan said, pushing the fried dough sticks and baked flatbread he’d bought towards him. “Saw you were too exhausted yesterday, so I didn’t wake you. Changed them for you.”

Chen Annan bit his chopsticks, his voice low: “Oh…”

He had thought Brother was just very busy these past few days and couldn’t come home. However, what completely took him by surprise was that for the entire following week, Lu Qingyuan didn’t come home! It was as if he were welded to the campus. Every day brought new busy matters, and every day he called to tell Lu Wenyuan he wouldn’t be coming home that night.

It made even Lu Wenyuan extremely puzzled. Only a freshman, and already this busy?

Chen Annan never got to see Brother. At night, he had no place to pour out his grievances. He missed him terribly. Several times he wanted to go to the university to find Brother, but his schedule was packed too tight. Even though Nanjing University wasn’t far from home, he truly couldn’t carve out the time to go look for him.

He could only pin his hopes on QQ.

At nine in the evening, he logged onto QQ and was surprised to see Brother’s avatar lit up. He hurriedly sent a message, asking when Brother would come home.

Who would have thought, the moment his message was sent out, Lu Qingyuan’s avatar immediately turned gray at lightning speed—offline. As if dodging him.

Chen Annan’s mind went “bzzzt” and exploded.

Under the dormitory building’s streetlight, old and worn, a thin layer of dust coated the large white bulb. Moths constantly crashed against it, making the light flicker dimly twice before lighting back up—much like Lu Qingyuan’s current mood.

His phone had been sitting on the edge of the sink. Because the message notification vibrated it, the phone plopped right into the red plastic bucket below.

By the time Lu Qingyuan discovered it, it was already too late. He fished the phone out of the water bucket. After the screen displayed a rainbow of colored stripes, it became unresponsive. He tried the classic Chinese repair technique—shaking it and knocking it—but the phone remained black-screened.

In the end, Lu Qingyuan could only wrap the phone in tissues and place it in the dorm’s ventilated area.

He had been squeezing onto a single bed with a good friend all week. Sleeping was cramped; the wooden bed creaked with every shift, annoyingly so.

The Nanjing University dorms were old and unrenovated. Come summer, the hallways always stank of a strange, mixed odor, blended with sweat, offensive to the senses.

But his friend’s dorm spot was decent. Looking out the window, you could see the Rabe Memorial Hall at Little Pink Bridge. That small Western-Chinese style building was also a local landmark.

At nine in the evening, groups of boys headed to the public bathhouse. His sole roommate was playing World of Warcraft.

Lu Qingyuan sat on his friend’s bed reading On Crimes and Punishments. He didn’t move, just kept reading like that. His roommate finished an entire dungeon run, and he was still reading.

Finally, the roommate couldn’t help speaking first. “Little Lu, you been fighting with the family lately? Haven’t gone home for days. Isn’t your place super close?”

“The house is being renovated recently,” Lu Qingyuan said flatly.

“Oh, that’s why.” The roommate was about to say more, but a game started on the computer, and he went back to farming gear.

The dorm room fell momentarily quiet, only the clatter of keyboard and mouse clicks sounding. Not long after, the few boys who’d gone out to shower came back. Before they even neared the door, their noisy chatter and laughter could already be clearly heard from the hallway.

“Damn! You think your girlfriend is Xiangpiaopiao milk tea, circling the globe? You’ve got some nerve.”

The few of them pushed the door open. Lu Qingyuan heard them discussing relationship stuff.

“Even Little Lu doesn’t dare brag like that, and here you are shooting off. Look at you, like a piece of dog crap. Get lost, quit being shameless.”

The topic reached this point and naturally shifted targets. “Little Lu, how many girlfriends have you had?”

“Zero,” Lu Qingyuan said as he flipped another page. He saw the page number was 102—an even number.

What’s going on? Why, again, an even number…

Lu Qingyuan’s brows furrowed tighter and tighter. He wasn’t actually reading. He was just counting how many pages the book had total, whether it was an even or odd number. If even, that meant he liked him; if odd, that meant he didn’t.

Lu Qingyuan had never liked anyone. If he had to name someone, he thought he liked his family.

And Chen Annan was also family. So, he liked Chen Annan.

This was a viable explanation. It could account for his racing heart.

Just as Lu Qingyuan was about to exhale a long breath of relief, some clueless guy suddenly blurted, “Whoa, Little Lu, you mean your first kiss is still intact?!”

“…”

For some reason, this sentence struck a particular nerve in Lu Qingyuan. He immediately shot to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor with a sharp, piercing screech.

The book, losing its hold, fluttered open to the very last page in a rustling sound—page 196. Even number.

He likes him—!

This conclusion, bursting forth uncontrollably from his heart, smashed into Lu Qingyuan’s head with a heaven-shaking boom.

He felt like he absolutely must be going insane!