Chapter 41

These past few days, Chen Annan’s heartache had nearly swelled into a Pacific Ocean.

He didn’t even know what he had done wrong. Being cut off so inexplicably— the hurt was real, the grievance was real, and the anger was real too.

He told himself that if there was no contact, then so be it. Yet, in the dead of night, he couldn’t help secretly checking his QQ. Seeing his Brother offline, he’d swallow a mouthful of stifled frustration and want to call. After agonizing for days, he finally caved and dialed, but no one answered on the other end.

Chen Annan’s world collapsed. Ever since he was little, being left behind felt like being abandoned.

He felt like he had been abandoned for no apparent reason, just like when he was small and his mom told him she was just going on a long trip, and then never came back.

Chen Annan claimed he didn’t care, but this little worry eventually affected his mood, leaving him distracted in class. He was scolded by teachers several times.

He Hanming couldn’t stand to watch anymore. Afraid that his hard-earned grades would slip again, he asked him out to relax.

The two of them went to Ke Alley to eat at a food stall.

Ke Alley was full of old, established shops—tiny storefronts that were cheap and delicious. Passing by the ones with thick, padded curtains, you’d find mahjong parlors hidden on street corners, with old, coarse wool felt spread over the tables, the tiles clattering loudly across them.

He Hanming thought Chen Annan’s secret worry was too childish. He said, “You two were going to have your own lives eventually anyway. Did you think you could be together forever?”

Chen Annan shook his head.

He Hanming analyzed it further, speculating, “Could it be your Brother has a girlfriend? Otherwise, why would he avoid you? The logic makes no sense. You didn’t do anything.”

Chen Annan froze. The emotions he’d suppressed for days slowly swelled at these words, puffing up like a tiny balloon, only to be punctured by He Hanming’s next sentence, leaking air through the hole.

He Hanming said, “Ever since my sister got a boyfriend, she’d find any way to ditch me so she could go on dates.”

That made sense now. Why wasn’t Brother coming home? Just because he kissed him once? That was clearly unlikely; it wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed before.

So He Hanming’s reasoning fit perfectly. Lu Qingyuan had to go on dates with his girlfriend. He couldn’t always be dragging his little tagalong along, so he was deliberately distancing himself first, shaking him off.

Chen Annan just felt the sunlight was too harsh, so glaring it made him restless, unable to even finish his food.

When he was little, he was selfish, afraid that if Brother got other little friends, he wouldn’t want him anymore. Now that he was older, this clingy tendency hadn’t improved; it had only intensified.

Chen Annan was always selfish in this regard. How he wished Brother was his alone.

He felt his current mood was beyond what mere heartache could describe.

After eating, the two of them followed Ke Alley to the Presidential Palace and wandered around aimlessly. Before parting ways, He Hanming consoled him, “Actually, if you really can’t figure it out, why not go ask him directly? Asking me is just speculation. No matter what, only the person involved truly knows what they’re thinking.”

Saying that, he seemed to remember something else. “Oh right, one more thing—”

“Huh?”

“In ‘The Story of Peach Blossom Spring’, which lines best express the author’s ideological state?”

Chen Annan: “…” Sure enough, studying drives people mad.

“Also, you could still improve on the principles of the slide rheostat. I’ve emailed you the problems. Remember to look them over at home, and I’ll quiz you on Monday.”

“…” Chen Annan suddenly didn’t feel much like going home anymore.

Lu Qingyuan waited at home for a long time, but the person he was waiting for didn’t show. After Lu Wenyuan finished fussing over his flowers, he went to the study to read.

Lu Qingyuan was playing with Cotton Candy. The little dog was old now, its energy long since faded from its lively youth. It no longer bit Lu Qingyuan’s slippers, making its owner chase it around. Now, it mostly curled up in a sunny patch in the yard to bask. If anyone came close, it would lazily lift an eyelid, glance over, then comfortably close its eyes again.

Lu Qingyuan went into the bathroom and gave Cotton Candy a bath, then patiently blow-dried its fur.

The hairdryer wasn’t on a high setting. Under the airflow, Cotton Candy’s fur slowly fluffed back up, its small, pointy ears standing erect once more. Lu Qingyuan had been bathing Chen Annan since he was little and had become quite adept at it. He remembered that Chen Annan didn’t like the hairdryer on high because it scared him.

Like owner, like dog, they say. Cotton Candy was the same way in this regard.

Lu Qingyuan stroked Cotton Candy’s fur. The little dog whimpered contentedly and nuzzled his hand with its head.

By the time he finished all this, it was already five in the afternoon, but Chen Annan still hadn’t come home.

Lu Qingyuan had no choice but to enter Chen Annan’s room again and tidy up all the things scattered everywhere for him. When he got to making the bed, Lu Qingyuan suddenly froze.

That old, bright red scarf was pressed beneath the pillow, wrinkled and crumpled.

Besides that Snoopy doll, Chen Annan’s Abebe was this old scarf his mother had knitted for him when he was little. Back then, wrapped it around his neck three times, and it was still too long. Lu Wenyuan had specifically learned dozens of ways to tie scarves for this reason, then arranged it into a pretty butterfly knot for him.

Whenever little Chen Annan wore that scarf, a bunch of other kids would be envious because his scarf was actually shaped like a butterfly!

Now, Lu Qingyuan held the scarf in his hands. It was so short, so small, completely different from how he remembered it. After Chen Annan grew up, he never wore it again, because it could barely wrap around once, limp and drafty.

So, his mother had also silently measured the traces of Chen Annan’s growth, infinitely accommodating every little emotion of his.

Although the scarf couldn’t be worn anymore, Chen Annan never had the heart to throw it away. Whenever he was sad, he’d still habitually take it out and hold it to his chest, feeling that it still carried his mother’s scent.

When Lu Qingyuan headed out the door, Lu Wenyuan asked where he was going.

“Looking for someone.” Lu Qingyuan had a small jacket draped over his arm.

“Oh, finally coming to your senses? Too late now,” Lu Wenyuan teased him. “So, are you two eating out tonight or coming back? If you’re coming back, remember to call and tell me what you want to eat. I’ll cook… Ah, I’m craving Baguazhou country-style dishes, or Shuiximen duck. Or maybe we should just go out to eat?”

“Whatever.” Lu Qingyuan said.

Lu Wenyuan deliberately urged him on, “Ah, well hurry up and bring him back then. If you’re late, I might not get to eat any of those dishes.”

Chen Annan was sitting on a wooden bench in Drum Tower Park, looking up at the sunset. The sun at this hour wasn’t glaring. Shining on his face, it sketched overlapping, magnified rings of light before his eyes.

This bench had some years on it. The armrests were polished smooth and fine, faintly possessing the tactile feel of human skin. He rubbed his fingers back and forth on it, working up a little dust.

After sitting there dryly for an hour with no desire to go home, he simply went to a small supermarket, bought a ham sausage, and came back to feed the stray cats. There were many wild cats in the park, fed plump and white by visitors. They had none of a stray’s lean wiriness, were unafraid of people, and were very picky eaters.

“Come on, take a bite. It’s really yummy.” Chen Annan broke off a small piece of sausage and offered it to the cat. But the cat just sniffed it, then went back to sunbathing.

Chen Annan crouched there, calling “Here, kitty kitty,” but the cat completely ignored him.

Suddenly, a voice sounded beside him: “Try feeding it some of this.” A low, gentle voice, very familiar.

Before Chen Annan could react, a tall shadow enveloped his entire view. A thin little jacket was draped over his shoulders. Then the person crouched down beside him, pulled the tab on a can in their hand, and placed it in front of the kitten.

The little kitty started eating with happy mews.

“Coming home?” Lu Qingyuan asked.

Chen Annan didn’t acknowledge him, nor did he speak. His gaze fell emptily on the kitten’s bobbing head as he shifted himself aside a little, as if trying to put distance between them.

“Are you angry?” Lu Qingyuan asked again.

“Did I say I was going to talk to you?” Chen Annan tilted his head away, his lips pouting just a tiny bit.

“Alright,” Lu Qingyuan’s voice held a hint of a smile. “You won’t talk to me, but can I take the initiative to talk to you?”

“No.” Chen Annan refused bluntly.

“…Fine.” Lu Qingyuan looked at the kid beside him. Chen Annan’s eyelashes were very long. As his eyes blinked and fluttered, they cast a small shadow onto his face.

From this angle, the sunlight seemed to gild him with a golden edge, making even the pores on his face delicately visible.

“Don’t just go around kissing people anymore,” Lu Qingyuan said.

“…” Chen Annan’s head jerked up. Instinctively, he wanted to say ‘I didn’t,’ but remembering the declaration he’d just made, he silently closed his mouth again.

He wasn’t going to talk to him.

As if knowing he wouldn’t speak, Lu Qingyuan deliberately teased him, saying, “Except for me. You kissed me, so from now on, you’re not allowed to kiss anyone else.”

“…”

At these words, Chen Annan abruptly twisted his head around. He glanced at Brother once, then again, and finally couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you want me anymore?”

“What?” Lu Qingyuan didn’t understand.

Chen Annan’s voice was low: “I know that now that you have a girlfriend, you don’t want me anymore.”

“…”

Lu Qingyuan hadn’t expected him to say that. He didn’t understand how his train of thought had arrived there, leaving him momentarily speechless.

Seeing him silent, Chen Annan thought to himself that He Hanming had indeed been right— Lu Qingyuan wanted to ditch him because he had a girlfriend.

He stubbornly turned his face away again.

Lu Qingyuan: “…”

He paused for a moment, the amusement in his eyes deepening. “Does it have to be a girlfriend? How do you know I like girls? You never asked me what type I like.”

Chen Annan muttered quietly, “What’s there to ask? Who else could it be but a girl…”

Lu Qingyuan countered, “Then what if I like boys?”

“…” This truly stumped Chen Annan. The sentence spun like a top in his head, but he couldn’t grasp its meaning.

He blinked, staring blankly at Brother, then blinked again.

Lu Qingyuan’s features were clearly reflected in his eyes. Brother’s eyes and brows held an unfathomable amusement.

He scratched his face and said, “Maybe not… Uncle would be angry if he found out. And even if you liked a boy, would the boy like you back?”

“…” This fool.

Lu Qingyuan was almost amused to the point of laughter. “How do you know whether a boy would like me or not? And how do you know whether Dad would be angry?”

“…” Chen Annan was stumped once again.

His brain went into overdrive, spinning like a fan. If someone entered his head right now, they’d surely be blown away. Unfortunately, his tiny brain capacity truly couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind those words. The amount of information was too vast. His mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t form a complete sentence.

Seeing his utterly shocked little expression, Lu Qingyuan tried, then tried again, but finally couldn’t hold back and laughed out loud.

Only then did Chen Annan realize he was being teased.

He said sullenly, “Lu Qingyuan is a turtle’s bastard egg.”

“What?” Lu Qingyuan didn’t catch it clearly.

This time, Chen Annan directly yelled into his ear: “LU QINGYUAN IS A TURTLE’S BASTARD EGG!”

This ear-splitting shout echoed through the little park, startling the sparrows on the branches into taking flight. The kitten was so frightened it stopped licking the can, bolting off the flower bed in a flash and vanishing without a trace.

Lu Qingyuan’s ear ached from the noise. He covered it for a long time, but it still rang.

He furrowed his brow and said quietly, “Seems like I’ve gone deaf… It hurts.”

“Ah? Does it really hurt that much?” Chen Annan’s heart jolted in alarm, and he quickly leaned in to look. But in the next second, his body suddenly felt light as Brother scooped him up entirely.

Lu Qingyuan held him, tilting to one side as if teasing a child, dangling Chen Annan’s head downwards. “No kissing anyone else. Are you listening to me?”

Chen Annan shrieked in fright.

Lu Qingyuan repeated, “Speak, Chen Annan.”

“I won’t dare! I won’t dare!” Chen Annan begged for mercy, his vision swaying chaotically. He babbled incoherently, “I won’t kiss anymore! I won’t ever kiss again!”

Only then did Lu Qingyuan set him down.

Before Chen Annan could even catch his breath, Lu Qingyuan scooped him up again. He turned his back, bent down, hooked Chen Annan’s legs, and with a bounce, hoisted him onto his back.

Chen Annan was nearly jolted off and quickly wrapped his arms around Brother’s neck.

His heart raced. All the blood in his body rushed to his brain at high speed, making it impossible to tell if this drum-beating palpitation was real or not.

Chen Annan finally laughed now, chiding him, “You scared me to death!”

The architecture of Drum Tower Park was preserved from the Ming Dynasty. Red walls, grey-green tiles, ancient and magnificent. On the grey-green rooftops, messy clumps of weeds sprouted between the rows of tiles. The crimson early summer sun hung perched on the eaves, round and plump, seemingly so close you could reach out and touch it.

The park gradually receded behind them, fading away. But that sun remained neither too far nor too close.

Draped on Brother’s back, Chen Annan lazily basked in the sunlight. Once the breath in his chest steadied, he said, “Brother, do you really like boys?”

This time, Lu Qingyuan didn’t answer him, just said airily, “Guess.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

How could he like boys?

For some reason, Lu Qingyuan suddenly recalled what his dad told him when he was little: “If you were a little girl, Dad would dote on you too.”

“…” Chen Annan didn’t want to guess. He swung his legs, resting his head on Brother’s shoulder, and reached out a hand to pinch that sun.

Bright, and small.

Like a strawberry-flavored rainbow candy between his fingers.

Chen Annan nuzzled his head against Brother’s. Brother steadily bounced him up a little higher.

By now, his legs were no longer numb. Lu Qingyuan always understood him so well, able to discern what he needed from the subtlest of movements.

On Xuanwu Avenue, the wildly growing branches masked the setting sun. The evening wind was gentle and quiet, blowing in from the lake, damp and carrying moisture. At home, the Four Seasons Begonias in the garden were blooming wildly, their small green branches trimmed into shapes resembling pines and cypresses.

Lu Qingyuan slightly turned his face, seeing that fluffy head already resting against his shoulder, long since peacefully asleep.

The days were torn off, page by page, from the countdown calendar on the school wall.

Chen Annan’s heart pounded fiercely. Even before exam day arrived, he had already fallen seriously ill from fright. Lu Wenyuan could only constantly feed him nutritional supplements and reassure him, “It’s fine. Didn’t Uncle tell you? It doesn’t matter whether you do well or poorly. I can accept any score.”

It truly didn’t matter. Even if he ended up working a factory assembly line, Lu Wenyuan would still praise how capable his Cub was, even knowing how to screw bolts.

But Chen Annan still felt immense pressure. He’d feared exams since childhood, let alone a crucial one like this. Just glancing at his books made it hard to breathe.

The results for the Art College Entrance Examination were already out. His scores fully met the requirements. Now it all depended on his high school entrance exam score.

Chen Annan felt darkness swimming before his eyes. He clutched Brother’s shirt hem, tense and struggling to breathe. His palms were damp with cold sweat as he kept repeating to Brother, “What if I don’t get in? What if I miss the cut-off? Will I really end up screwing bolts in a factory?”

Lu Qingyuan rode his bicycle, delivering Chen Annan right to the exam site entrance, then lifted him off. His tone was as ordinary as the sun rising and setting: “Do you want me to sing you a song to pump you up?”

“…” Chen Annan’s breath hitched. “There’s almost no time left. I’m going in first.” With that, he snatched up his stationery bag and admission ticket and ran off without looking back.

A smile hid at the corner of Lu Qingyuan’s lips.

That summer, the chirping of cicadas was especially raucous. Crickets sang at the base of ancient walls, as if heralding good news for the examinees in advance.

Footsteps approached from afar. White sneakers slapped against the shadows of sycamore branches and leaves. Chen Annan held an EMS envelope in his hand.

“I got in! I got in!”

Chen Annan ran happily into the house, holding his acceptance letter high.

Time whooshed past his ears. When he ran back out, the wind blew back the stray hairs on his forehead, revealing a full forehead. That hint of baby fat on his cheeks had completely vanished. Time had sketched a touch of youthful rawness into Chen Annan’s brows and eyes. Only his sparkling eyes hadn’t changed one bit from start to finish, curving into soft little arcs when he smiled.

“I passed the grade exam!”

Seventeen-year-old Chen Annan threw himself into Lu Qingyuan’s arms and was lifted up by Brother, spun around in a full circle.