Chapter 41: Sweet Song · Finale

Fu Congxiao’s return had been rushed—he truly needed to head back to Hangzhou to sort out some identity paperwork.

They didn’t linger long in the dorm and instead made their way to a coffee shop off campus.

“There’s one more thing I need to ask you.”

“Me?”

Fu Congxiao handed him his phone.

“Record an alarm tone and a ringtone for me.”

Shang Xi’s cheeks colored slightly. “That doesn’t feel right.”

Fu Congxiao gazed at him with earnest intensity.

“I need two versions of each—one in your voice, and one in Little Nightingale’s.”

Shang Xi thought, Fu Congxiao, do you even have a brain? The world’s most grating voice as a wake-up alarm—pure torture.

Even so, he agreed.

He made an excuse about the coffee shop’s background noise being too loud and slipped into the bathroom to record the two clips on the spot. He handed the phone back. “I’ll send Little Bird’s version later.”

Fu Congxiao tapped play immediately.

Shang Xi’s face flushed crimson in an instant. “What are you doing?! Hey!”

The phone filled the air with a clear, shy voice.

“Time to get up, Senior Brother.”

Someone promptly crossed his arms and flopped face-first onto the table. “Delete it! Delete it right now!”

Fu Congxiao looked mildly surprised.

“The recording’s even cuter than the real thing.”

Shang Xi shot upright. “Lies!”

“Mm, the real you is all fierce and snappish, sharp-tongued and nagging.” Fu Congxiao drawled lazily. “Only in recordings do you sound like back when we first met—shy, well-behaved, and sensible.”

Shang Xi thought, Your memory’s freakishly good. Back when I snitched to Old Zhou about you sneaking off to the internet café, that death glare of yours could’ve skinned me alive.

Their time together was brief. They whiled away the afternoon in the coffee shop, and before parting, they promised to write letters to each other.

At the last moment, Fu Congxiao pulled Shang Xi into a tight embrace.

“See you over summer break.”

Shang Xi grumbled reluctantly, “I’ll use my scholarship to come visit you.”

“Save it,” Fu Congxiao said. “Xi’an’s a long way from Beijing.”

Little Nightingale’s eyes brimmed with tears.

If only I were an albatross—I could just fly there!

Back in the dorm, Gao Xueyuan eyed Shang Xi with careful caution.

This senior sure isn’t what he seems.

Looks so mild and harmless, but his boyfriend’s a force of nature.

Word was that Senior Fu from the year above had been the top student representative—left before even finishing his senior year because his grades were off the charts…

“Senior Brother Shang,” Big Goose Gao ventured, “why the long face? Did that guy bully you or something?”

“No,” Shang Xi shook his head. “I just saw him off.”

Gao Xueyuan dragged a stool closer.

“Can you tell me how you two got together? Just ’cause you were roommates?”

Shang Xi blinked. “We haven’t even started dating yet.”

Gao Xueyuan: “Huh?”

“But usually, it’s mutual feelings with the opposite sex, right?” Gao Xueyuan pressed. “How’d you figure out he was gay?”

Shang Xi pondered calmly for all of two seconds.

“Strictly speaking, it has nothing to do with orientation.”

“Mainly, my charm’s just too much—he couldn’t resist.”

Gao Xueyuan: “……Makes perfect sense.”

With the dam broken, Shang Xi found himself wanting to pour it all out.

He propped his chin on the chair’s backrest and reminisced. “Truth is, at first, he always looked so fierce whenever I saw him. Barely spoke to anyone.”

“But Senior Brother’s like that—icy on the surface, total opposite in private.”

“I’d stay up late a lot and miss out on the cafeteria carrot cake. Once he noticed, he’d head out early for his morning run and leave a fresh one on my desk.”

“My chemistry grades were awful back then. He’d drag me to the lab and start from the basics. After a whole night, I’d be wiped out, but he’d be the one washing the beakers and test tubes, showing me how to organize my notes.”

“And during competitions, he’d turn into this sharp arrow—fierce, lethal. Juniors swarming to hand him drinks while I hung back on the sidelines. He’d make a point to come over, drape his jacket around me, and ask if I was cold.”

“And…”

Shang Xi trailed off midway.

Gao Xueyuan: “Yeah?”

“Damn it,” Shang Xi muttered. “I really do like him—a lot.”

Gao Xueyuan: “Kinda obvious.”

A few hours earlier, he’d already felt like the world’s biggest third wheel.

The semester blurred by in a rush that somehow dragged on forever.

When buried in studies and training, the days flew—blink, and they were gone.

Waiting for a letter back? Time crawled; the ten minutes before sleep stretched into an endless autumn.

Spring had returned with its thaw, and Little Nightingale’s wings and tail feathers shed their fluffy, stubby roundness for their sleek, pointed grace once more.

He carefully stored away the molted downy feathers, selecting the cleanest, most perfect ones to tuck into each letter he sent.

Up on the podium, the language teacher lectured about how the ancients once used red leaves and jade pendants to convey their longing.

Shang Xi jotted down his notes absentmindedly, his thoughts drifting to the cherry blossoms blooming on campus. He could pick a branch and send it along next time.

When the reply letter arrived, an ink-green snake scale slipped out of the envelope. It felt cool and delicate to the touch, like a piece of translucent jade.

Fu Congxiao’s handwriting was elegant and full of vigor—a joy to behold even on close inspection.

He described Beijing’s dry, biting winter winds, the plum blossoms and waterbirds he’d spotted during field training, and the feel of a gun in his hands for the first time.

Shang Xi pictured his senior brother wielding a firearm.

Just the thought was enough to make his pulse race.

He’d assumed they’d reunite over summer break, but instead came the news that Fu Congxiao was heading abroad for an exchange program.

The two universities had a publicly funded research exchange, bolstered by OAC’s international collaboration agreements. Fu Congxiao would be stationed in Britain from May this year straight through to next.

The upside: his credits would pile up faster, and his resume would shine even brighter.

The downside: months—maybe longer—without laying eyes on each other.

At least senior year flew by in a frenzy anyway.

Through the first and second rounds of intensive review, every teacher morphed into a relentless cramming machine, force-feeding key concepts nonstop.

Professor Rong had stepped down and returned to Beijing for retirement, but she still pulled strings for research projects, even lining up a recording session for Shang Xi in the capital.

Before he knew it, the direct admission qualification exam rolled around, along with pre-interviews for his backup schools.

His exam day fell on March 14—his eighteenth birthday.

His parents rushed to Xiaoshan Airport to fly with him to Xi’an.

Shang Xi wheeled his luggage through the terminal, scanning the crowds for Mom and Dad. His gaze locked on a tall young man in a crisp black SWAT uniform.

He froze in place, barely recognizing him.

Fu Congxiao approached step by steady step.

The young man still carried that refined, understated nobility, but his dark eyes were fixed on Shang Xi, unwavering.

Shang Xi held his breath, taking in the faint scar along his jawline, the honed edge of lethality that clung to him, and those warm, ink-black depths.

“Fu Congxiao,” he said, “if you kept hiding away any longer, I’d have forgotten what you even look like.”

The young man didn’t reply. He simply leaned in and kissed him.

It was a fierce, untamed kiss—crisp and urgent, brimming with raw longing and unspoken devotion.

Shang Xi met it head-on, fingers clutching his sleeve, pressing in harder.

They were both green at this, fumbling through responses, but driven by the same insatiable need for more.

It had been far too long.

Like migratory birds thrown out of sync with the seasons, tormented enough to pluck their own feathers in frustration.

From a distance, Shang Heping watched the pair locked in their embrace. He muttered to his wife, “We’ve still got security to clear…”

Luo Suhe shrugged. “What’s a few minutes after all this? Let ’em have it.”

Shang Heping gritted his teeth, watching helplessly as the pig devoured his precious cabbage.

Only when they finally broke apart did Shang Xi, head still spinning, spot his parents in the distance.

“You… you’re coming to Xi’an with me?”

“I touched down in Shanghai just yesterday—off to Beijing later,” Fu Congxiao said. “But after my report session, I’ll be waiting for you in Shengzhou.”

Shang Xi’s eyes sparked to life.

“Deal!” he shot back crisply. “I’ll wrap up the exam and race back for the longest summer ever!”

He strode into that exam like a man on a mission—brimming with swagger, utterly unstoppable.

Even the interviewers did a double take.

This kid used to be all soft edges. What happened to the vibe?

Shang Xi had never breezed through a test like this.

Every question’s framework snapped into focus at a glance; solutions crystallized in seconds.

Even the bonus competition problems got dismantled by Little Nightingale in a few ruthless strokes, cool as ice.

He blazed through it—he had a boyfriend waiting at home for some serious kissing.

On April 15, the direct admission qualification came through officially.

Shang Xi packed his bags, humming cheerfully as he prepared to head home.

Gao Xueyuan watched from his dorm bunk, brimming with emotion.

“Senior Brother, you know what? Word got out you’re leaving, and half the school begged Old Zhou for a shot at your spot.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because—” Gao Xueyuan declared with ironclad certainty, “this bed’s already blessed by the God of Direct Admission!!”

“Someone even offered me tens of thousands to hand it over. As if!”

Shang Xi paused mid-pack, chuckling at the sight.

“Fine. Once I’m gone, the God of Direct Admission’s got your back.”

Gao Xueyuan whooped in delight. “Senior Brother, you’re the best!!”

As Little Nightingale left the school behind, he glanced back one last time, a pang of reluctance tugging at him.

After this summer, he’d enlist in the military rolls, diving into classified training and development.

Further on, he might rise as an elite military doctor, forging ahead in uncharted territory.

Yet he still remembered that first visit to the school before transferring in.

Anxious. Alone. Adrift.

It felt as if his life was about to crash and burn right then and there, plunging into a sea of unknowns.

If someone had told him at that moment that amid all those uncertainties, at least one Fu Congxiao would be waiting for him, his mood might have been entirely different.

Right then, Shang Heping called.

“The high-speed train you’re taking gets in at 5:40, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s still early,” Shang Heping reminded him. “Brother Xiao’s birthday is today. Don’t forget to pick up a little gift for him. We’ll all go out for a family dinner tonight!”

“Got it covered,” Shang Xi said with a grin. “See you later!”

The high-speed rail station buzzed with activity, crowds surging as people dragged suitcases in and out, their faces etched with exhaustion.

Fu Congxiao spotted Shang Xi right away, standing there calm and utterly at ease.

Bathed in the glow of his recent triumph, Shang Xi’s complexion was even brighter than usual, his whole demeanor radiating like spring sunshine.

“Over here!” Luo Suhe waved. “Come on, big steamed crabs for dinner tonight!”

Shang Heping quietly nudged Fu Congxiao.

“Go on, you two. Kiss if you want to kiss. I’ll pretend I didn’t see a thing.”

Fu Congxiao couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Thanks, Uncle.”

He quickened his pace toward him once more.

At the same moment, he noticed the Snake Fang Earring dangling from Shang Xi’s right ear.

“Cool, right?” Shang Xi said smugly. “Fresh piercing—just this one.”

Before getting it done, he’d checked with his university coach, who’d said it was fine for holidays but off-limits during training.

That was more than enough.

Fu Congxiao reached out and brushed his fingers over Shang Xi’s earlobe.

A silver chain held the snake fang, swaying gently and occasionally grazing his cheek.

It was a gift from him—a very, very long time ago.

In his entire life, Fu Congxiao had given one to only a single person.

What went unsaid was that a snake’s fangs were its sole possession.

This was utter acknowledgment. Complete surrender.

It was like handing over every shred of pride, every ounce of trust.

To Shang Xi alone.

He leaned in to kiss his earlobe, his cheek, his lips.

Shang Xi let out a soft hum under the kisses and murmured, “Senior Brother, you still haven’t said if you like the gift.”

Fu Congxiao laced their fingers together tightly, the two of them kissing and laughing all the while.

“I like you the most.”

“I like everything about you.”