Jiang Chu really hadn’t seen Qin Zui’s surprise attack coming at all. One leg was still tangled under the bed, and his first reaction was that Qin Zui was about to throw a punch, but he didn’t even have time to brace for it.
His vision blurred, and Qin Zui was already looming over him. It took him a dazed second for his brain to catch up. Then, all the blood in his veins roared like the Yellow River chorus, surging straight to his crown.
The sense of oppression was way too intense.
And it wasn’t even normal oppression.
“…I’ll try your grandpa!” Jiang Chu’s arm swept across the sheet to steady himself, then drove his knee up towards Qin Zui’s ribs. “Get off, the ashtray is digging into my ass!”
Qin Zui straightened up with the push, a smirk hanging on his lips, and stepped over Jiang Chu’s waist off the bed.
He hadn’t actually planned on doing anything to Jiang Chu. He’d only gotten out of the shower twenty minutes ago, so he was perfectly calm now.
He just wanted to mess with Jiang Chu.
Jiang Chu was always teasing him; it was time to pay some back.
Jiang Chu felt a strong urge to smack the kid for the way Qin Zui had just stepped over him. He barely stopped himself from kicking out at Qin Zui’s leg and sending him face-planting.
After Qin Zui went and turned on the light, Jiang Chu rubbed his ass, rolled over, and glanced at the sheet. In the end, he still landed a slap on Qin Zui’s back.
“Change the sheets.” He yanked a clean set from the wardrobe and tossed them over Qin Zui’s head.
Qin Zui caught them, gave them a shake, then piled the blanket and pillows from the bed into Jiang Chu’s arms.
Jiang Chu leaned against the dresser, clutching the pile and glaring at Qin Zui. It all felt like some bizarre dream. Here they were, two brothers, up in the middle of the night, frantically changing sheets. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like they’d done something they really shouldn’t have.
The next morning, when Jiang Chu opened his eyes, he was alone in the house.
“Qin Zui?” He did a quick round of the rooms, knocked on Qin Zui’s door and poked his head in. Liang Xiaojia was gone too.
Zhou Teng was sprawled lazily on the sofa, watching him pace back and forth until he finally found half a pot of congee in the kitchen.
Jiang Chu ladled himself a bowl and called Qin Zui while he ate. The phone rang several times before it was picked up.
“Where are you two?” Jiang Chu asked.
“Taking Xiaojia around for a bit. He’s heading back this afternoon.” Qin Zui sounded like he was in a mall; the background noise was chaotic.
“Back this afternoon?” Jiang Chu hummed in acknowledgement. He checked the time; it was just past ten. “Alright, have fun then. You coming back for lunch or what?”
“Not coming back. His train’s tight,” Qin Zui said. “We’ll grab a bite out. You cooking for yourself at noon?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Jiang Chu said, pushing his bowl away on the table. “I didn’t starve before you showed up. Just have fun.”
Even as he said it, the feeling of waking up whenever, the house cold and quiet, needing to figure out “what’s for dinner” today, it hit him all over again. Jiang Chu felt a little off.
The power of habit was way too strong.
Ever since Qin Zui moved in with him, Jiang Chu hadn’t had to think about that kind of problem when he was home. Qin Zui always had a meal ready on time, even if nine times out of sixteen it was some kind of noodles.
He hadn’t had any in the past few days, and suddenly, he missed it.
“You cooking lunch?” Jiang Chu said, bored, to Zhou Teng.
Zhou Teng stared at him, ears wide, and flicked his tail.
It was still a while until mealtime, and he wasn’t hungry after a bowl of congee. Jiang Chu scrolled through his phone with the TV on. Even on holidays, there were always endless messages to deal with; he never got a day off.
He tried to find someone to grab a meal with, but his close friends were all still up in the mountains.
After scrolling aimlessly for a while, he saw Second-Year Qin Zui’s profile picture. He tapped on it and glanced at his Moments. It was still just the picture of the little wine bottle from that night he’d celebrated his birthday.
Birthday.
Jiang Chu stared at the little bottle, a bit dazed. He suddenly remembered Qin Shuman.
The feeling of things in the dead of night was always different from in the broad light of day.
Midnight always gave you the illusion that “the world is mine, and there’s no one else in it but me.” Many problems felt more self-centered when considered at night, more free under the cover of darkness.
What you had to face during the day was real, grounded life: the tangled web of interpersonal relationships and inescapable connections.
Even though Qin Shuman couldn’t even remember what year Qin Zui was born in, and hadn’t thought to see her own son in all the years since the divorce, she was still Qin Zui’s biological mother.
If she ever found out, she’d probably be pretty upset, right?
Would Qin Zui ever tell her?
Then again, maybe they’d never reconcile, and Qin Zui would go back to liking girls.
Actually, forget Qin Shuman. Even now, replaying his conversation with Qin Zui last night, Jiang Chu still felt like his mind hadn’t fully processed it.
Qin Zui was actually gay.
Earlier that day, Qin Zui himself had said that he could get into regular porn too. As long as the stimuli were right, gender didn’t matter.
So how did he figure out he was gay in the first place?
He must have dated another boy before, or at least had some kind of experience.
From Jiang Chu’s perspective, it was really hard to imagine how a person discovered that about themselves, and reached that kind of self-determination and acceptance.
If Da Ben were to lean on him like a little bird, dragging him out for shopping, eating, and buying crap, then pout and ask to do this and that…
Jiang Chu’s hand jerked, and his phone fell straight onto his nose. He rubbed his face for a while, eyes watering.
Rubbing his nose, he tried to imagine Da Ben and Qin Zui together, and nearly rubbed his nose right off.
His thoughts jumped all over the place, stringing together a bunch of unspeakable mental images. His logic looped around and stopped on Qin Zui’s words from yesterday: “If I showed you two guys doing that stuff, you’d get a reaction too.”
After thinking for two seconds, he got up and went to the study to turn on the computer.
He was already sitting in the computer chair. Zhou Teng poked half his head into the study to look at him, and Jiang Chu, feeling a sudden, inexplicable guilt, shooed him away and closed the door.
You couldn’t just search for this stuff directly, but it wasn’t hard to find. Jiang Chu could find links from the regular sites he visited.
Actually, things like hugging, groping, and kissing, Jiang Chu had seen plenty of. There were tons of classic movies with that stuff; it wasn’t anything special. He also knew that the way men did it was anal.
So, with this “it’s nothing new” attitude, he clicked on a homepage, and the instant the massive animated GIF loaded, slapping him right in the face, his brain still buzzed with a “Wah!” of shock.
It was too…
He stared at the constantly hammered spot for a couple of seconds, then scrolled down with the mouse.
It was twelve-thirty when Qin Zui got home. Zhou Teng was sitting right in the middle of the entryway, blocking the path, and meowed up at him. Qin Zui bent down to scratch Zhou Teng’s chin.
The TV was on in the living room, but Jiang Chu wasn’t on the sofa. The sound of water and music came from the bathroom; he was probably taking a shower.
Qin Zui didn’t call out to him. He changed clothes and went to check the kitchen first. As expected, Jiang Chu hadn’t cooked, nor had he ordered delivery. He’d just finished the leftover half-pot of congee.
He hadn’t even washed the pot; it was soaking in the sink with the bowl.
Qin Zui emptied the braised pig trotters he’d brought back for Jiang Chu into a plate, washed some rice and put it on to cook, then started cleaning up the pots and dishes.
As he scrubbed, he remembered the state of the whole apartment on the day he’d first arrived. Everything was a mess. He had no idea how this guy managed.
Soon, the water in the bathroom stopped. Jiang Chu came out with a towel on his head, dripping wet. He looked up and saw Qin Zui setting the table, and let out a startled “Shit!”
“When did you get back?” He wiped the towel off his head and walked over, picking a piece of trotter and tossing it in his mouth.
“Just now.” Qin Zui turned his head to scan him. Jiang Chu was only wearing a pair of boxers, his body still dripping.
His gaze swept over him calmly, then he looked away and went into the kitchen to get chopsticks. He heard Jiang Chu say as he walked towards the bedroom: “You should have called out. I thought Zhou Teng had turned into a monster.”
Qin Zui analyzed the logic behind that statement and chose not to respond.
Absolutely crazy talk.
“Xiaojia left already?” Jiang Chu was drying himself haphazardly with a towel. He went into the bedroom, pulled on some loose shorts, and came back to sit at the table to eat.
“Yeah.” Qin Zui hummed in acknowledgement, cracked open a can of beer, and walked over to the sofa to change the channel. “You were still asleep when we left this morning, so I didn’t have him say goodbye.”
“He left a bit early,” Jiang Chu said. “He spent all his time on the road. I thought he’d stay and hang out with you for at least a few more days.”
Before Qin Zui could answer, Jiang Chu spat out a small bone and asked, “Does he know about you?”
The topic change was too abrupt. Qin Zui was just about to lift the beer to his lips, but he looked at Jiang Chu instead.
Jiang Chu had his back to him, though. Except for the still-dripping tips of his hair, Qin Zui couldn’t even see his nose.
“He knows,” Qin Zui said.
Jiang Chu nodded, focused on his food, and didn’t say anything else.
Qin Zui randomly clicked on a movie. He watched for a few minutes, then glanced towards Jiang Chu again.
He didn’t know why, but he felt like Jiang Chu was a little off.
Hadn’t processed it yesterday? Was it still too much to accept now that he’d slept on it?
Or was it because of his “try it” from yesterday?
“What did you do this morning?” He took another sip of beer, staring at the TV, looking for a topic.
“Drank congee, took a shower,” Jiang Chu answered quickly. “What else could I do? It was after ten by the time I opened my eyes.”
“Du Miaomiao added me this morning.” Qin Zui tapped his fingertip lightly on the beer can, then said.
“I almost forgot if you hadn’t mentioned it,” Jiang Chu said, carrying his plate over and sitting down to watch the movie with him. “Why do you think Du Miaomiao is so willing to hang out with you?”
Qin Zui looked at where Jiang Chu had sat down, and the tapping of his finger stopped.
Ever since he’d arrived at Jiang Chu’s place, if they sat on the sofa together, Jiang Chu would always plop down right next to him.
Even if the space was tight, Jiang Chu would nudge his leg to make him scooch over.
Now, they weren’t sitting pressed together anymore.
Qin Zui was sitting near the middle of the sofa. Jiang Chu was sitting on the armrest, one leg propped up, resting his foot on the edge of the cushion. There was a good half a meter of empty space between them.
“I went to his school, so what?” He looked at Jiang Chu’s face again.
Jiang Chu met his eyes for a moment, his lips moving slowly as he chewed on a piece of bone.
“Nothing.” After a few seconds, Jiang Chu moved his gaze back to the TV and laughed. “I just think it’s weird. Liang Xiaojia, now him. You’ve got a knack for attracting these little shorties.”
He said this, then choked on some braising liquid and coughed a couple of times, turning his head away.
Qin Zui handed him the half-empty beer can.
“No need.” Jiang Chu waved his hand.
Qin Zui said nothing more. He took his hand back and continued watching TV.
A few minutes later, Jiang Chu was finally done eating. He took his plate to the kitchen.
Qin Zui’s beer was just finished too. He loosened his grip and tossed the can into the trash can, then got up and silently went back to his room.
