Chapter 46: The Secret Part 2

This kid’s trust in him grew bolder—or rather, sensing Chi Mo’s presence subconsciously made him feel safe.

The last day of winter break for senior year ended.

The final semester of senior year began.

Freshmen and sophomores started after Lantern Festival; the campus felt empty and depressing with only the miserable seniors. Every head drooped like frostbitten eggplants in winter, wilted and listless.

But despite the gloom, unlike the lighter underclassmen who played upon arrival—feeling college entrance exams far off—this group of kids, chased by the last few months of senior year, suddenly matured. They became composed and steady, able to sit in class studying all day obediently.

Complaints were inevitable, though.

The bell rang, and Zhang Si slammed down his marker pen, swept the practice papers off the desk, and flopped onto it half-dead: “Heavens, earth, save me! Three days back and thirty papers—I’m gonna puke.”

“Who isn’t?” Zhang Youde mimed vomiting rainbows. “I wanna blow up the school.”

“First off, blowing up the school won’t work. You gotta blow up the whole gaokao.”

“Hmph, I wanna blow up the gaokao.”

“I’m in—let’s do it! But then how do we get into college?”

“Not going, huh.”

The two of them up front bantered back and forth, dreaming up a bright future, while Li Ran, seated against the wall in the back row, didn’t even lift his head. He was locked in a loving yet deadly battle with his final major problem.

For everyone else, the start of school meant getting swept into the torrent of studies whether they liked it or not. But Li Ran was the odd one out. Ever since he’d caught up on classes during last summer vacation and his grades had steadily climbed, he’d fallen in love with studying.

Even now, Li Ran’s handwritten notes from back then circulated around High School Class 3-10—they were supposedly key points summarized by his older brother to help him study properly.

Zhang Si didn’t dare poke Li Ran’s arm, afraid he’d get swatted. The current A’Dai wasn’t quite the same as the A’Dai from a year ago. He tapped the desk with his finger instead. “Hey? Class is over, A’Dai. No need to work that hard yet.”

Li Ran said, “Don’t bother me.”

“Got it.” Zhang Si turned back around.

He hooked an arm around his deskmate Zhang Youde’s neck and whispered close, “Don’t you think… there’s something off between A’Dai and Qi Zhi?”

“Hm? What kind of off?”

“Why aren’t they talking anymore?”

After school started, the high school seniors who’d been apart for over ten days during the break greeted and joked with each other, the atmosphere warm and lively. Only Li Ran and Qi Zhi weren’t as close as before. Sure, A’Dai had always been a bit spacey and not much of a talker, so his continued silence was just his nature.

But why had Qi Zhi suddenly turned so quiet? Back in his first and second years, he’d always been hugging and holding Li Ran whenever he saw him, pushing right up to the edge of boundaries before pulling back with that last bit of restraint. They’d fool around without a care. Even if he had to skip school for something, he’d bombard Li Ran with messages full of jokes and teasing, then bring all sorts of snacks when he returned—treatment no one else got. He always kept Li Ran in mind.

But now? When he saw Li Ran, his lips parted as if to speak, only to close again at the last second.

In the end, it was Li Ran who casually greeted him first. “Good morning, deskmate.”

Only then did Qi Zhi hurriedly reply with the same words, after which he didn’t know what else to say.

Through the family banquet on the first day of Lunar New Year, Li Ran had figured out why Chi Mo neither liked nor disliked his cousin.

Most of the time, Qi Zhi had a likable personality that won over men, women, young, and old alike—that was his strength. But at other times, he could be willful, blurting out whatever was on his mind without restraint, like telling Li Ran that Chi Mo was gay and had spent two years in a Conversion Therapy Center.

That kind of thing was a secret, not something to broadcast like major news.

Otherwise, Chi Mo would’ve told him himself long ago.

No need for Qi Zhi’s mouth to do it.

Though Li Ran still hadn’t figured out what selfish motive Qi Zhi had… He wasn’t narcissistic enough to think Qi Zhi liked him. Qi Zhi had said it himself: even a dog knows pursuing a straight guy leads nowhere good. He didn’t like straight guys.

So he couldn’t possibly like him.

Li Ran just felt that they could be deskmates, but not friends.

“…A’Dai.”

“Huh?” Li Ran snapped back to reality. He still hadn’t solved the final answer, but no matter how tough he’d sounded in his head, one look into Qi Zhi’s eyes after being called, and he couldn’t draw a clear line. Qi Zhi hadn’t done anything truly heinous, after all, and it hadn’t affected his relationship with Chi Mo—in fact, they’d grown even closer. “What’s up?”

The last time Qi Zhi had clicked on Li Ran’s profile pic wanting to chat, he’d discovered they had couple avatars with Chi Mo. He hadn’t slept for two days after. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Are you together with my cousin?”

Li Ran scowled fiercely. “I told you, I’m straight.” He said unhappily, “And anyway, it’s none of your business.”

Qi Zhi acted like he hadn’t seen the outburst and actually looked pleased. “Not together?”

Li Ran: “No.”

“Exactly! That’s what I thought. You’re such a straight guy with hardcore homophobia—how could you possibly end up with a guy?” Qi Zhi pulled out a test paper, his smile radiant. “Even if my cousin is doomed to be single with no wife forever, and even if he likes you, he has no chance. You two could never be together.”

Li Ran got angry. “Don’t talk about my brother like that. What do you mean ‘no wife, doomed to be lonely’? He’ll definitely have one, and he’ll be happy.”

“Okay, okay, okay, I won’t say it, won’t say it, won’t say it. He’ll have a wife, a wife, a wife, and he’ll be happy, happy, happy.” Qi Zhi mimed a repeater machine, then crudely zipped his mouth shut with his fingers. His eyes still curved in a smile.

He thought to himself, Li Ran was the ultimate straight guy. None of them could have him.

If a man who’d spent two years in a Conversion Therapy Center came out acting like those traumas never happened, still unafraid of being sent back and pursuing Li Ran without hesitation—wasn’t that terrifying? If Chi Mo and Li Ran ended up together, what would that make him, a guy who’d had everything handed to him on a silver platter his whole life? A joke?

So they could never be together.

School started on a Wednesday, and the high school seniors attended for four days before getting Sunday off.

“Bro, I’ve done dozens of test papers these past few days. I really don’t want to do any more—my right middle finger hurts so bad.” Li Ran woke up early one morning, finished washing up in the bathroom, and amid Hei Ge’s meows rubbing against his legs demanding cat food, he pounced on his brother like a cat with an “ah-woo,” showing off the callus on his right middle finger as proof of his diligent writing. “Can I skip studying today? Give me a day off, bro. The school gave me the day off, and you’re better than the school, right?”

Chi Mo certainly understood the importance of balancing work and rest, especially when Li Ran was acting cute like this. “Say a couple more nice things.”

All morning, Li Ran stuck to Chi Mo, showering him with sweet talk. Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze’s teeth ached listening to it, so they headed out early for a stroll.

Li Ran tagged along with Chi Mo to the company, brewing tea, pouring water, making coffee, delivering files. Then downstairs, he chatted with his big brothers and sisters, earning some pocket money on the side.

Now he made 200 yuan a day.

But he couldn’t stay downstairs for more than half an hour at a time. If he got too caught up chatting and forgot about his brother—even by just a few minutes past the limit—Chi Mo would get unhappy and mercilessly dock his pay!

Days were short in the cold weather, and it got dark outside early. The main light switch in the President’s Office was by the glass door, requiring someone to stand up and flip it.

While Chi Mo worked, Li Ran obediently played the role of mascot, quietly playing mindless single-player mobile games so as not to disturb him. The moment Chi Mo finished, Li Ran started making a fuss, tugging his brother’s arm to have him create a Parallel World game account for him, then teach him how to play.

“You really want to play?” Chi Mo asked.

Li Ran nodded vigorously. “Yeah!”

Chi Mo chuckled softly, reminding him, “If you kill the character, no do-overs. Game rules apply to you too.”

“Isn’t there a trial play opportunity? Trial and real play are the same, so that’s two chances, right?” With confirmation, Li Ran had already planned it out. “I’ll use the trial to redo things from age twelve. When the character dies, use the last chance to redo from age fourteen. I want to see what’s different. Anyway, you’ll be there both times.”

People who hadn’t truly faced death always talked about it lightly, without fear. Death was everyone’s inevitable end, but it felt distant.

Li Ran didn’t yet feel that innate reverence for death. He just knew he wanted his twelve-year-old and fourteen-year-old selves to be with Chi Mo, so he wouldn’t be alone.

Chi Mo’s gaze darkened and deepened.

He deliberately looked away, not staring at Li Ran, grinding his teeth in restraint before focusing intently on the computer. A simple game interface filled the screen—welcome to Parallel World. Wishing you a different life journey.

The office grew dimmer; it was time to turn on the lights.

Chi Mo said, “I’ll go turn on the light.”

The computer screen’s glow was faint and steady. After the [Welcome to Parallel World] page slowly faded, an auto-filled account and password appeared in its place.

Account: Chi Mo

Password:

[Click to Log In]

This meant it could go straight online.

Li Ran instinctively clicked it.

[[Red Exclamation Mark]]

[Red Warning: Hello, player Chi Mo. Your character has died. Age at death: 17.]

[If you persist in logging in, you can only review your life in Parallel World. You cannot start a new life journey.]

[Chi Mo, continue logging in?]

Chi Mo had died.

At 17.

Li Ran knew full well that Chi Mo was right there in the office, alive and well, but seeing that blood-red death notice still made his heart clench—a bit stuffy, a bit painful.

He gripped the mouse and, almost unconsciously, clicked confirm.

[Chi Mo’s Life Review—]

[In this life, you had everything—except a person named Li Ran.]

[You once said this game existed because of Li Ran; he was the inspiration. Without Li Ran, Parallel World couldn’t exist, and neither could you. Thus, you died at 17.]

The office lights stayed off, and Chi Mo had silently returned to Li Ran’s side at some point. He planted his hands on either side of the chair, bending down and leaning in, trapping Li Ran between the desk, the chair, and his tall frame.

The screen’s glow didn’t illuminate his face. He held a posture that said if Li Ran dared run, he’d grab him right back.

“What now?” Chi Mo whispered in Li Ran’s ear. “You’ve discovered my secret—you can never run away again.”