Qin Zui, whose leg was still giving him trouble, made an entire table of dishes at home.
When he went to the supermarket with his crutches that afternoon, the sales assistant looked at him with a mix of what seemed like sympathy and admiration, following him the whole way to remind him to take it slow, take it easy.
She even sincerely told him that he could order groceries online now, and delivery would be at his door in an hour.
Qin Zui gave her a smile and thanked her.
He knew he could place orders online. Jiang Chu, the kind of guy who couldn’t even buy groceries once a month while living by himself, was a master of all online shopping channels and techniques. He’d been sharing his knowledge freely with Qin Zui all these past few days.
But Qin Zui still wanted to go out for a walk.
He hadn’t been downstairs in a week, and today, of all days, he felt especially stifled.
Normally during this time, he’d wake up in the daytime, Jiang Chu would already be at work, and he’d just make himself something simple to eat at home and wait for Jiang Chu to come back in the evening. It wasn’t unbearable. But today was different.
Time felt like it was crawling, and his heart was restless.
Because Jiang Chu was angry.
Or maybe it was even worse than angry.
Even though Jiang Chu hadn’t even met his eyes from last night until now, and hadn’t yelled at him. Precisely because Jiang Chu showed nothing, Qin Zui knew he was stewing over something.
Otherwise, based on their usual dynamic, if Jiang Chu was just purely unhappy, last night after Jiang Chu came back from the bathroom and saw he wasn’t in the room, he would have come over and asked him what the hell he was doing.
Same as before, back when Qin Zui knocked over the steak and asked, “What are you hiding from?”—so confident and righteous.
The more they avoided communication, the bigger the problem.
Qin Zui wasn’t afraid of anything else. If Jiang Chu wanted to hit him a few more times on the head, that was fine. What he was afraid of was Jiang Chu avoiding him again, like last time.
Last time, at least, nothing had actually happened. This time, he had really crossed the line. If Jiang Chu avoided him, or worse, was disgusted by him, he wouldn’t even have a way to explain.
Not that he could explain anyway.
In the end, it was just him being a pervert. It had nothing to do with sexual orientation.
Qin Zui fished the chicken wings out of the bowl one by one and started scoring them, a feeling of uncertainty settling deep in his chest.
Right now, he really wanted to see Jiang Chu. As long as they were under the same roof, he felt grounded.
But when he actually saw him, he didn’t know what to say. After thinking it over, the best plan was to first make Jiang Chu a table full of delicious food.
Recently, because of his leg, their meals had been light on oil and salt. The other day, he’d heard Jiang Chu muttering about wanting to eat cola chicken wings.
Sweet and sour ribs, cola chicken wings, mutton soup, and a preserved egg tofu to go with it. Not hard to make, just time-consuming.
Qin Zui spent ages just searching online for the right marinade ratios. Following recipes he found on the internet, he toiled from afternoon until six in the evening. He timed it for when Jiang Chu was about to get off work, plating the dishes and setting them on the table.
Not bad.
Everything smelled good and looked decent.
Zhou Teng sat in his chair, craning his neck and sniffing, letting out a “yap, yap” at Qin Zui. Qin Zui chuckled and flicked his nose.
After all the work was done, he finally noticed his leg was starting to ache and swell from the strain. Too much movement today, with his leg constantly dangling, it had gotten overly congested with blood.
He turned on the TV, propped his leg up on the sofa, and scrolled through his phone for a bit. Gao Xia had sent him a picture of his meal in the cafeteria.
Gao Xia: Look
Gao Xia: The aunties outdid themselves again. Stir-fried Watermelon Peel with King Oyster Mushroom.
Gao Xia: Fucking genius. I’m scared I’ll eat it and start seeing little people dancing.
Qin Zui glanced at it, then opened his camera. He held his phone up towards the dining table and zoomed in to take a picture.
Half a minute later, Gao Xia was calling him directly on voice chat.
“Can you just not be a dick for once?” Gao Xia shouted as soon as he answered. “I’m here chewing on watermelon rind.”
“Who told you to order that dish?” Qin Zui drawled, pressing a few buttons on the remote.
“Well, I was curious. I’ve never had fried watermelon rind in my life.” Gao Xia laughed. “Hey, you’re coming to class tomorrow, right?”
Qin Zui hummed in agreement.
“Come on, then. I’m bored out of my mind,” Gao Xia said. “I already grabbed Xiao Pang’s [Little Fatty’s] stool for you. It’s right under your desk, perfect for propping your leg up.”
“And where’s Xiao Pang?” Qin Zui asked with a chuckle.
“He can make do with just one stool,” Gao Xia said, crunching loudly on his watermelon rind. “He’s been going on all day about how his big ass needs two stools. Who does he think he is?”
After a few more minutes of shooting the shit with Gao Xia, Qin Zui hung up and saw a WeChat message from Jiang Chu.
They messaged each other pretty rarely these days. Qin Zui was home all day, so Jiang Chu usually just called directly if he had something to say.
He tapped to open Jiang Chu’s message. Just six words: I’ll be home a bit later.
Qin Zui stared at his phone for a long time, his thumb rubbing against the edge of the case a few times. Finally, he replied with an “Okay.”
Jiang Chu saw Qin Zui’s reply of “Okay,” then turned his phone to silent, locked the screen, and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“Want some?” Chen Linguo handed him a bucket of popcorn.
“Thanks.” Jiang Chu picked a couple of kernels for Fang Zi. Chen Linguo also shared some with the Bao Li beside her.
“So, are you two gonna make it happen or not?” Fang Zi, sitting on Jiang Chu’s other side, leaned in and whispered.
Jiang Chu shook his head, lowering his voice to whisper back, “Nothing’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on, and yet you still come to watch a movie with her?” Fang Zi snorted. “Looks like there’s plenty going on from where I’m sitting.”
“I’m watching a movie with you too. Does that mean something’s going on with us?” Jiang Chu glanced at him from under his 3D glasses.
“Easy,” Fang Zi said with a wink. “You and me, we partner up. Then you bring your little brother along, and bam. Instant son.”
“Piss off.” Jiang Chu laughed.
He couldn’t concentrate on the movie at all. Not even a little bit.
Their whole row—Da Ben, Bao Li, Chen Linguo, him, and Fang Zi—were all laughing like a bunch of geese. Only Jiang Chu wasn’t paying attention.
Whenever a family dinner scene came on screen, his mind wandered to what Qin Zui had eaten today.
He wondered what Qin Zui was feeling right now.
Jiang Chu had come out to this movie just to buy himself some time to figure out how to face Qin Zui when he got home. But after the whole movie was over, he still hadn’t figured anything out.
After the movie, the group decided to grab some dry pot from a nearby place.
Jiang Chu hadn’t slept well the night before, and after a whole day of running around, he was dead tired while they ate.
Fang Zi was trying to organize everyone to go sing karaoke after dinner, but Jiang Chu quickly waved him off. Someone had ordered some egg puffs earlier that were surprisingly good, so he packed two servings to take home for Qin Zui.
“Leaving already?” Bao Li asked, a piece of celery halfway to her mouth. “I was hoping you could take Guoguo home later.”
“Can’t do it today. My brother’s at home alone with a broken leg,” Jiang Chu said, glancing at Chen Linguo. “Why don’t you guys…”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Chen Linguo waved her hand dismissively. “My place isn’t on your way home anyway, Chu Bro.”
“Alright, we’ll take her, or Fang Zi can,” Da Ben said, waving his chopsticks. “Just let him go. He’s basically a dad now.”
“I’ll take her. You go on,” Fang Zi also waved him off. “Next time, don’t bother joining us. You’re only fit to hang out with Old Du now.”
Jiang Chu didn’t say anything else. He said his goodbyes and left first.
When he got home, he reached for his keys, but when he pushed on the door, it swung open. It was unlocked.
“Qin Zui?” Jiang Chu changed his shoes and walked in, freezing for a second at the sight of the huge spread of food on the table.
Qin Zui wasn’t in the living room. He knocked on Qin Zui’s door. He wasn’t in his room either.
Where was he?
He checked the kitchen and bathroom, then found himself staring at Zhou Teng on the coffee table, a random thought popping into his head: Did he run off again?
The door was unlocked, but where could a cripple with a cast on his leg possibly go?
He grabbed his phone and turned to go out to call around for him, but before he could even dial, he opened the door and found Qin Zui, on his crutches, reaching for the doorknob.
“You’re back?” Qin Zui smiled and called out to him, a little surprised to see him face to face.
“Yeah.” Jiang Chu let out a sigh of relief and stepped aside to let him in. “Where were you?”
“Taking out the trash.” Qin Zui braced himself against the wall, hopping on one foot as he changed his shoes.
“You could have just left it for me when I got back.” Jiang Chu reached out to steady him.
“Wasn’t anything else to do anyway.” Qin Zui went to wash his hands and took the still-warm rice out of the rice cooker. “Have you eaten yet?”
Jiang Chu was on his way to the bedroom to change but stopped. “You haven’t eaten?”
Qin Zui looked at him, didn’t say anything, sat down, and put a rib in his bowl. He wolfed it down with a couple of big mouthfuls of rice.
Jiang Chu suddenly felt a terrible knot in his stomach.
“I thought since I said I’d be late, you would just eat first.” He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before sitting down at the table.
It wasn’t that he had deliberately not told Qin Zui not to wait. Normally, when he said he’d be late, Qin Zui never waited for him to eat.
He used the back of his hand to test the plates. The food was almost cold.
“Let’s reheat it before we eat.” Jiang Chu remembered the egg puffs he’d brought for Qin Zui and quickly went to get them. “Did you make all this or order it? You made it?”
Qin Zui hummed.
Jiang Chu went to the kitchen and took a look. Hearing Qin Zui’s hum, he immediately turned around and asked, “You made it? We don’t have lamb at home. Did you go out?”
Qin Zui wasn’t looking at him, still chewing on a piece of cold lamb. He hummed again.
Jiang Chu stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at him for a moment. All the messy, complicated feelings he’d had vanished, replaced by a sharp pang of pity.
Qin Zui had definitely been anxious all day since last night. Afraid he was angry, he’d specifically gone out on his crutches to buy groceries, exhausted himself making all these dishes for him.
And then he, Jiang Chu, had gone to watch a fucking movie, while this kid was at home waiting for him like an idiot to come have dinner.
Thinking of those images, thinking about how Qin Zui must have felt right now, Jiang Chu’s heart ached until it felt like it was being wrung dry.
To hell with eating fucking dry pot with them. He should have just come home after the damn movie.
“Are you fucking crazy? You couldn’t just have someone deliver it?” he said, frowning as he sat down next to Qin Zui, glaring at him with frustration.
“Did you work overtime?” Qin Zui asked.
“No.” Jiang Chu hesitated for a moment, then told the truth anyway. “I went to see a movie.”
Qin Zui looked at him. “With Chen Linguo?”
“Yeah, and Da Ben, Bao Li, Fang Zi,” Jiang Chu said, not knowing why he felt the need to explain so clearly. “A bunch of us.”
“Oh.” Qin Zui responded, shoveling another two mouthfuls of rice into his mouth.
Jiang Chu wanted to tell him to stop eating, that they should reheat it first.
But before he could speak, Qin Zui asked another question: “Did you go out with her because of me? To specifically…”
“No.” There was no hesitation on this point. Jiang Chu answered him directly. “It had nothing to do with you. She’d asked a few times before, and Da Ben agreed today.”
Qin Zui nodded.
Actually, on the way home, Jiang Chu had already decided not to bring anything up.
Qin Zui was just a kid. What happened last night was just an impulsive moment of stupidity. There was no reason why he couldn’t understand it. To drag it out and talk about it like some serious issue would just make things awkward for both of them.
But since Qin Zui had brought it up, he thought he should at least make his position clear.
“What was all that last night?” Jiang Chu put one foot on the edge of his chair and lit a cigarette, looking at Qin Zui. “Were you out of your mind?”
Here it comes.
Qin Zui put down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair, meeting Jiang Chu’s gaze.
Jiang Chu wasn’t avoiding the subject. Strangely, that made him feel a lot more relaxed.
“It was my fault,” he admitted directly to Jiang Chu.
“No shit. You think it could be my fault?” Jiang Chu flicked his ash. “Was it me who reached out and grabbed you?”
“It was pretty disgusting, wasn’t it?” Qin Zui said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Jiang Chu didn’t answer immediately. He paused for a moment, then looked seriously at Qin Zui and said, “No.”
Qin Zui looked up, his eyes fixed on him.
“It has nothing to do with being disgusting, Qin Zui.” Jiang Chu thought for a moment, slowly choosing his words. “Liking men or women, that’s never something disgusting. That’s your freedom. I’ve never thought there was anything wrong with you. Don’t ever let me hear you use words like that to describe yourself again.”
“But orientation is orientation. Whatever it is, you need to have some sense of decency,” Jiang Chu continued. “It doesn’t mean just because you like guys, and I happen to be lying next to you, you can just grab me. I like girls, but you don’t see me groping just anyone I meet, do you?”
“Yeah.” Qin Zui nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The formal “thanks” caught Jiang Chu off guard, almost making him laugh. He paused for a moment before getting back on track. “Besides, I’m your brother. Got it?”
Qin Zui pulled Jiang Chu’s cigarette pack over. He twisted the lid open with one hand, bit down on a cigarette, and turned his head to light it.
Jiang Chu thought about his cast still being on, and his reflex was to snatch it away. But he remembered this topic might still be uncomfortable for Qin Zui, so he didn’t move.
They stared at each other through the rising tendrils of smoke for a moment. Then Qin Zui said, “I’ll try to control myself. Don’t avoid me.”
“Why the hell would I avoid you?” Jiang Chu vaguely felt that the word “try” was a bit off in this context, but he didn’t think much about it. “You’re the one who runs like a scared rabbit every single time.”
Qin Zui’s lips, holding the cigarette, curled into a faint smile as he looked at Jiang Chu. “Not anymore.”
