He laughed here. “Isn’t my dad weird? I don’t get my name’s meaning, or why he stopped liking Mom, changed so much… likes a guy now. I know it’s best not to bring this up with you—‘gay’ is taboo or whatever. Almost done…
“The new Bodhi string’s ready.” Li Ran pulled Chi Mo’s hand over and slipped it on, his voice growing softer. “Bro, Mom hates Dad a lot—says harsh stuff, not super objective. Dad’s not that weird. Don’t think he’s sick.”
The sickness of being gay.
Li Ran added, “He’s… not that disgusting. Really.”
After senior year ended, Li Ran would leave—no more ties to Chi Mo. But while living together daily, family matters inevitably seeped out like spring rain.
With anyone else, Li Ran wouldn’t explain. But with Chi Mo, he felt compelled to. He hoped Chi Mo would have less prejudice against his father, Li Ang.
Little did he know, Chi Mo’s view of Li Ang held no prejudice beyond disapproval of the affair.
And he knew Li Ran just wanted him unbiased about Li Ang being gay.
Chi Mo: “I won’t.”
Li Ran brightened, gripping the coffee table and Chi Mo’s knee to stand. “I’ll make dinner!”
Long after he left, Chi Mo still felt the lingering warmth of Li Ran’s touch on his pant leg, burning hot.
—
Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze weren’t afraid of summer heat but dreaded winter cold. As autumn cooled, they retracted their wanderlust, shifting from travel to hibernation—no more calls to go out.
Once they returned, Hei Ge resumed his vigilance; the house stayed quiet for days.
Cats quiet, people quiet.
After evening self-study, Li Ran came home to Chi Mo supervising homework honestly. Couldn’t dodge teachers at school, couldn’t dodge Chi Mo at home.
Cheng Ai Mei sneaked sugary drinks from the fridge, watched Li Ran slouch home with his bag and trail Chi Mo to the study, and sighed. “So tragic.”
Ye Ze told her not to overdramatize. “Quit drinking, or Chi Mo’ll catch you—and then you’re the tragic one.”
Poor tragic Li Ran resumed his daily test paper hell—a whole tragic world.
The second monthly exam scores came out: Li Ran totaled 470.
Ten points higher than the first—undistinguished Li Ran proudly reported to his bro, subtly praising his own smarts.
Hoping Chi Mo would praise him too.
Instead, Chi Mo glanced and rewarded, “Idiot,” then coldly gifted a free tutoring package.
“There’s not much time left for you to improve your grades slowly. We need to speed things up,” Chi Mo said. “Sit here and do your work. Ask me about any problem you can’t solve. Over the next couple of days, I’ll compile a set of key notes for each subject. Then you can just focus on those.”
It was Li Ran who was in his senior year of high school, but it felt like Chi Mo was working just as hard. Li Ran couldn’t help feeling guilty. Whatever his brother said, he followed without complaint, swallowing any grumbles.
With exactly 200 days until the college entrance exam, Li Ran’s high school combined the senior-year coming-of-age ceremony with the 100-Day Oath Rally.
On that day, all the seniors were allowed to wear whatever clothes they thought made them look mature, fumbling their way into the adult world. Combined with the start of the 100-Day Oath Rally, the looming pressure of the gaokao descended like a shifting galaxy, turning into a mountain weighing on the students’ hearts.
How long that mountain could keep these kids studying diligently was purely a matter of conscience. Take Qi Zhi, for example—he attended the rally today and would forget all about it by tomorrow, not taking it seriously at all.
The gaokao was no big deal to him anyway.
The ceremony wrapped up Friday afternoon, and the students dispersed on the spot. Each class collected a round of class fees under the pretext that they were “little adults” today.
They had planned to go out for a big meal after school.
Chi Mo knew all of Li Ran’s activities.
Li Ran always reported them proactively.
But after waving goodbye to his classmates today, he let Qi Zhi drag him to the Qing Bar. It was men-only inside.
He hadn’t reported it.
…
Here’s what happened.
About a month earlier, Chi Mo had taken Li Ran to a high-end clothing store to get a custom suit made.
The measurements were supposed to be taken by a polite young woman whose smile was perfectly professional and service impeccable. But when she approached with the tape measure, Chi Mo stepped in and took over.
No one else was around while they measured. Li Ran stood with his arms outstretched like a stiff puppet. Chi Mo’s hand with the tape first skimmed his shoulders, then wrapped around his waist… Each touch made Li Ran stiffer, itching with a shiver he fought to suppress.
For someone sensitive, being touched felt like hot air from a blow dryer sneaking down his neck into his clothes, a tingling current shooting straight to his waist.
Li Ran endured it, barely stopping himself from twitching like the “Electric Little Prince” with a big shudder.
But Chi Mo knew exactly what was up with his obedient, lip-biting brother at a glance. A mischievous urge rose, and under the guise of measuring, he poked here and there. His face remained expressionless throughout.
Eventually, Li Ran couldn’t keep his arms straight, hunching his shoulders and waist, escaping half a meter away—only for Chi Mo’s big hand to yank him back. “Bro, it tickles… I wanna shake,” Li Ran whined.
Chi Mo replied, “Then shake.”
His tone was indifferent but laced with invitation, like saying, Don’t tell me you just want to shake—if you want to get in the mood right now, I can handle that on the spot. It was as if he resented Li Ran for being so wooden.
Li Ran didn’t know why they were custom-ordering clothes, but Chi Mo said, “You’ll use them.”
When the school announced the coming-of-age ceremony, Li Ran finally got it.
His usual style was white T-shirts on top, jeans below, and canvas shoes—layered over his school uniform during the week, or just casual on weekends.
That look had stuck to him through three years of high school, making him seem clean and fresh but also childish and immature.
His classmates in High School Class 3-10 could spot him from afar by his clothes—they’d know it was A’Dai.
But today, they were all “blind.”
The Li Ran entering from the back door was still him: slightly curly hair, high nose bridge, eyes with a purplish tint. But he wasn’t that Li Ran anymore. He’d shed his childish skin overnight, shooting up into an adult.
Little bow tie, little suit… Tailor-made, perfectly hugging his frame—flat shoulders, narrow waist.
Even his backpack wasn’t worn properly; he slung it casually over one shoulder.
Li Ran set down his bag and silently pulled out his test papers. They’d been handed out yesterday; today the teachers would go over them.
Last night, he’d studied with Chi Mo until late, correcting all his mistakes nearly to midnight. He woke up that morning in Chi Mo’s bed.
He’d gotten used to it lately.
Chi Mo said he hadn’t had the heart to wake him since he was sleeping so soundly, and the study was close to his room anyway, so he just carried Li Ran back to the master bedroom.
Efficient.
Before heading to school, Cheng Ai Mei—who’d been cooped up at home with Grandpa Ye Ze—knew about the school ceremony. The old lady made a big fuss, joyfully insisting he wear the suit tailored a month ago.
He’d tried it on back then, but he’d never gone “mature” in public like this. He subconsciously shook his head no. Showing up at school in this would draw too much attention.
Li Ran didn’t want to be the center of attention.
Finally, Chi Mo got fed up with his dawdling, grabbed the clothes, and threatened to dress him himself, smacking him onto the bed. Li Ran clutched his collar to guard his virtue and bolted to change behind closed doors. Once dressed, he showed Chi Mo.
Now those intense, unwavering stares from home burned in the classroom.
High School Class 3-10 wasn’t full yet—no fifty-nine pairs of eyes—but the dozens already there packed enough punch. Li Ran felt awkward and rigid, thinking: The school told us to dress mature for the coming-of-age and 100-Day Oath… Why are they all staring at me like that? I’m not the groom or anything.
“Are you getting married?” his front-desk classmate Zhang Si asked sincerely.
“Who’d marry into senior year?” Li Ran muttered reflexively.
Zhang Si said, “Is the bride me?”
Li Ran: “…You’re sick.”
“What the—?!” Zhang Si was shocked, grabbing Zhang Youde like a punching bag. “A’Dai cursed at me? Did I hear that right? A’Dai cursed at me!”
Once the good-kid image took root, it was deep and hard to uproot.
When Li Ran’s total score hit “460,” his casual “what the—” had the class buzzing for three days.
Even the quietest girls gave him looks of “A’Dai, you’ve changed” as a tribute.
Now he’d learned to curse.
“Yeah, Li Ran was definitely cursing at you,” Ban Wei suddenly poked his big face through the back window, pointing at Li Ran from outside. “Who led you astray?! You’re our class’s most obedient student—how can he talk like that?!”
He kicked the back door open, hands behind his back as he strode in. The students reacted like mice seeing a cat—frantically flipping books or scribbling homework. Ban Wei growled menacingly, “What time is it, and you’re still not studying properly?! What kind of behavior is this? Don’t think throwing on some mismatched adult clothes for the ceremony makes you real adults. Go try working now—three thousand a month salary—and see if you can still laugh!”
“I can already see your futures: freeloading at home. Your parents will think graduation costs more than school and wish they could kick you out!”
“Hey, don’t say it—Li Ran looks good in that outfit. Way better than you bunch of weirdos. Hey now, what’s that? Wanna protest? Can’t handle a little truth? How will you survive in society? Faces are given by your parents, but dignity and status you earn yourself. And Li Ran—looking good is useless if you don’t back it up with real scores! Don’t use your looks as a weapon.”
At that, Ban Wei remembered Li Ran’s recent tests—second in class both times, a real point of pride. High School Class 3-10 had been the laughingstock at dead last for two years, heads always down.
