Chapter 27: “Good-looking?” Kong Ji asked.

Sinking.

The Xinhua Dictionary’s original explanation for this term was: to fall into a state of sin and suffering.

It didn’t sound like a blessing no matter how you heard it.

Tong Xilin had spoken it very plainly. Not only was Kong Ji not angry, not the slightest bit displeased, but the corner of his mouth curled upward, and amusement spread directly into the bottom of his eyes.

He was a man who feared curses least of all.

He’d heard far more vicious curses. At the New Year’s Eve family dinner when he was younger, his own parents had berated him: “If you can’t change this liking for men, even in death you’ll go to hell.” Kong Ji had grown calluses on his ears from hearing it.

He didn’t care. Didn’t bother either.

Rather, compared to the excessively placid Tong Xilin from the past few days, the fact that he could voice this sentence today proved the kid at least still had emotions.

Having emotions meant he wasn’t going to become a pool of stagnant water. That was a good thing.

“So you’re casting a curse on me, little one.” He laughed and scraped under Tong Xilin’s chin, then raised his arm and pulled Tong Xilin back the way they came. “Off to the school, then.”

Tong Xilin looked at him strangely, tilting his head—watched Kong Ji squinting slightly in the sunlight, as carefree as ever.

He didn’t know if Kong Ji didn’t care at all, or if this wish had hit exactly the mark.

The medical school was at the Balitai campus, Nankai’s old campus.

Next door was Tianjin University. The two universities were right up against each other. On registration day, the flow of people at the entrance rivalled the airport.

A university campus was far, far larger than a high school. Dragging his suitcase up to the gate, Tong Xilin looked up and stared at Nankai University’s entrance for a long while. This was where he would live for the next full five years.

School welcome procedures were all roughly the same. Small tables lined both sides of the path. Tong Xilin followed the process step by step. Kong Ji helped him pull his suitcase.

After receiving his student card and dorm number, he showed them to Kong Ji.

“Excited?” Kong Ji asked him.

“Mm.” Tong Xilin nodded. All around were students brimming with youthful energy, full of vitality. Of course, he’d be influenced by it too.

Kong Ji pinched his neck. “Let’s go.”

The campus was big, so the dormitory buildings were a distance away. Tong Xilin walked and looked. He looked at others; passersby also looked at him, and at Kong Ji beside him.

Compared to the other parents sending off their kids, Kong Ji appeared a little too young. He was wearing a black shirt today, a very fashionable cut, sleeves loosely rolled to his elbows. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist and long legs.

On his wrist, he still wore the bracelet Tong Xilin had given him. Tong Xilin glanced at it, then reached out to take the suitcase and pull it himself.

“Watch where you’re going.” Kong Ji didn’t give it to him, holding the back of his head and making him look forward.

Tong Xilin’s dorm was on the third floor, the room at the far end next to the drying balcony. The other end of the hallway had the washroom and communal living area. Pretty well-equipped. Laundry was convenient too.

The dorm environment was decent. A four-person room with a loft bed over a desk. Air conditioning, a balcony—all there. Could be considered spacious.

Except for the lack of a private bathroom, it was immeasurably better than that cramped dorm room from high school.

“You should be the second one to arrive.” Kong Ji leaned against the doorframe and swept a glance inside. No one was in the dorm. Only one bed had its bedding laid out; the others were still bare boards.

Tong Xilin’s bed was the leftmost one on the inside, by the window. Kong Ji tested the window gap—it let in a bit of a draft.

“Put your pillow at that end.” He reminded Tong Xilin. “Later, when the weather gets cold, the draft will give you a headache.”

“Was your college like this too, Uncle?” Tong Xilin stepped on the ladder and lay over the bed frame, spreading his bedding while asking.

Surrounded by the atmosphere of a new life, he’d become more talkative too, asking Kong Ji curiously.

That was a kid’s question. Down below, handing him things, Kong Ji found him amusing and said, reminiscing, “Different from yours. Back then, I was in a six-person dorm, bunk beds.”

Tong Xilin thought about it. “Too many people.”

He didn’t like crowds. Even now, he still hadn’t figured out how he’d get along and break the ice with new roommates and classmates. He didn’t know if he’d run into someone like Wu Zihao again.

If only he could have another Zhou Qi.

Kong Ji looked at him for a moment and was about to say something when the door lock made the sound of a key turning. Someone had opened the door.

Tong Xilin immediately swiveled his face toward the entrance. He assumed a parent would follow in, but only one guy appeared.

A pretty tall guy. He must’ve been a bit hot from walking all the way over. He ducked his head, pushed his suitcase inside first, then straightened up and swept a hand through his hair, revealing a very striking face.

Refined. Composed. Wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

“Hello.” Meeting Tong Xilin’s gaze, this guy curved the corner of his mouth and greeted him first.

“Hello.” Tong Xilin wasn’t ready yet. He paused before responding.

The guy looked at Kong Ji next. His eyebrow lifted imperceptibly. He was clearly a bit unsure of Kong Ji’s identity. He asked politely, “Is this your… older brother?”

Kong Ji hadn’t been looking at him. He’d glanced over when the guy entered, then kept his eyes on Tong Xilin.

Watching Tong Xilin propped at the head of the bed like a little groundhog, staring unblinkingly, frozen, while greeting someone.

Only when asked about himself did he unhurriedly turn his head back, but he still didn’t speak. He met the guy’s gaze, the corner of his mouth hooking up casually.

“My uncle,” Tong Xilin had come down from the ladder. “You live here too?”

“Ah.” The guy acknowledged, nodded politely to Kong Ji, then smiled at Tong Xilin again. “Right. My name’s Qin Ji.”

“I’m Tong Xilin.” Tong Xilin’s eyelids fluttered. “The Ji that means ‘footprint’?”

“The Ji that means ‘season,'” Qin Ji asked him back, “Xilin Gol?”

Tong Xilin made a small “Mm” sound, and smiled. “Xilin Gol.”

Kong Ji’s hand rested on the back of his neck again.

Tong Xilin looked at him.

“Get your things put away first,” Kong Ji flicked his earlobe.

Things were basically already put away. Tong Xilin pushed his suitcase into the wardrobe, then looked back at Qin Ji, who was by himself, and asked: “Need any help?”

“No need.”

Qin Ji had a kind of easygoing air about him. Maybe it was the glasses—his expressions and tone of voice always seemed mild, but the base of his eyes was detached, maintaining an appropriate distance.

As he organized his own things, he curved his eyes at Tong Xilin again and added, “Thank you.”

Kong Ji stood to the side, watching them talk. He glanced at the time and reminded Tong Xilin: “Let’s go buy you a few more things.”

The daily necessities for dorm living indeed hadn’t been bought yet. Tong Xilin nodded, and said to Qin Ji, “Alright, you keep unpacking. I’m going out to buy stuff.”

“Okay.” Qin Ji shifted his own suitcase aside. “See you tonight.”

There was a supermarket right on campus, no need to go far.

Kong Ji had said he’d take Tong Xilin to buy things, but after leaving the dorm building, he didn’t head toward the supermarket.

“This way, Uncle.” Tong Xilin reminded him.

“Keep me company for a meal.” Kong Ji’s footsteps didn’t stop. His tone was indifferent. “You should eat too.”

He was indeed a bit hungry.

Tong Xilin checked in with himself. He’d barely touched the hotel breakfast. At first, the heat made him not feel hungry, but after all the running around and procedures, his stomach was starting to feel empty.

There was never a shortage of places to eat inside and outside a university. During opening season, everywhere was packed to the brim.

Kong Ji didn’t take him to fight the crowds nearby. The moment they stepped off campus, he hailed a ride to a well-established, historic restaurant he’d reserved ahead of time.

The restaurant was on the Hai River, decorated in an antique style. A second-floor private booth by the window offered views of the river scenery on both banks.

Though he’d said he should eat, Tong Xilin ate earnestly. Kong Ji, on the other hand, barely touched his food. After putting a few choice bites into Tong Xilin’s bowl, he set down his chopsticks, leaned back into the rattan chair, and watched him.

“I feel like that Qin Ji is older than me,” Tong Xilin was still recalling. “He seems kinda mature.”

“Good-looking?” Kong Ji asked.

“Hm?” Tong Xilin raised his eyes.

Kong Ji lifted his chin toward the windowsill.

What was there to see in the river?

Tong Xilin peered outside. His mood genuinely had improved. He cracked a smile and said, “Why are there so many old men by the river?”

Kong Ji smiled too, didn’t join him in watching the old men, lit a cigarette, and held it between his lips.

“Hai River specialty,” he explained offhandedly. “The city’s developed, but the pace of life isn’t as fast as Beijing. Old men like sunbathing by the river.”

“Nice.” Tong Xilin wasn’t eating anymore either. He propped his chin on his hand. “There are even people releasing turtles.”

His attention jumped around like a grasshopper. Behind the drifting cigarette smoke, Kong Ji’s eyes never left his face.

“I think this roommate is pretty nice.” After a couple of comments about old men, Tong Xilin tugged the topic back to Qin Ji. “Shouldn’t be hard to get along with.”

If the whole dorm was like this, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

Kong Ji took down his cigarette and flicked the ash, didn’t pick up this thread.

His phone vibrated on the table. Several WeChat messages came in a row.

Tong Xilin picked it up to look. It was Zhou Qi, sending him a bunch of photos of their school and his dorm.

Zhou Qi’s dorm was far less comfortable than Tong Xilin’s. An eight-person room, looking a bit rundown. Even the floors were raw cement. At least it had a private bathroom.

Zhou Qi: This damn toilet’s a two-man latrine too.

Zhou Qi sent another photo over. Two squat toilets crammed side by side. The yellowed glaze and chaotic footprints on the floor were enough to turn anyone’s stomach.

Zhou Qi: I’m so seriously fucked. This crap school. Two people squatting side by side doing a duo queue?

Tong Xilin took a photo of his dining table and replied: I’m eating.

Zhou Qi: My apologies, then.

Zhou Qi: Wait till my military training’s over, I’ll come find you and you can treat me.

If he hadn’t mentioned military training, Tong Xilin would’ve almost forgotten.

Just as he was typing a reply, Kong Ji also suddenly spoke up and asked, “How long is your military training?”

“Twenty-one days.” Tong Xilin recalled the contents of the brochure that had come with his admission letter. “Starts on the 8th, I think. Goes right to the end of the month.”

“Coming back for National Day?” Kong Ji asked again.

Tong Xilin’s typing speed slowed. He put his phone down and met his eyes.

“I’m not going back,” he said.

“Why?” Kong Ji watched him.

Because he’d never planned on going back at all.

Not just for the National Day Holiday.

Saying it outright would sound like pettiness. Tong Xilin didn’t mean it as pettiness and didn’t want Kong Ji to misunderstand.

He came up with an excuse off the top of his head. “Too soon. Just started school, and then going right back means having to pack all over again.”

Kong Ji crossed his legs, his arm resting on the chair, the lighter twisting deftly between his fingers.

“Besides, Zhou Qi said he’s coming to find me to hang out,” Tong Xilin said seriously. “I also want to look around everywhere, walk around more, see what the outside world is like.”

This one wasn’t an excuse. This was what was truly on Tong Xilin’s mind.

Kong Ji didn’t ask further. He pulled out his phone and tapped a few times. Tong Xilin’s WeChat immediately vibrated with a notification.

It was a transfer of twenty thousand yuan.

“No need.” Tong Xilin clicked to refuse it. “The money you’ve given me, I’ve been saving all along. It’s enough.”

Kong Ji didn’t waste words with him. He transferred it again, directly through Alipay this time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be paying me back?” He tossed his phone onto the table, dropped another piece of meat into Tong Xilin’s bowl. “No need to be afraid of owing this one bit more.”