Jiang Chu didn’t turn his head to match the position. Instead, he stubbornly tilted his own head to the side again, staring at Qin Zui for a moment.
His eyes were still half-lidded. Qin Zui almost thought he might have just fallen asleep like that, until Jiang Chu let out another laugh from his nose. “Afraid I’ll roll off again?”
“Mm.” Qin Zui felt a sense of relief.
He couldn’t say that wasn’t a factor, but deep down he knew that “afraid Jiang Chu would fall off the bed” was more of an excuse than a reason.
Qin Zui didn’t even understand what he was thinking. It felt like he wasn’t thinking about anything at all. He had clearly just reached the door to his own room. All he had to do was push it open, go in, lie down, and sleep, and everything would be just like any other day.
He didn’t know what was driving him. His mind led his feet astray, and he found himself back in Jiang Chu’s room.
It was Qin Zui’s first time understanding the phrase “in a moment of thought” so clearly.
There wasn’t even a “thought.” It was pure impulse.
Or maybe, it was because he knew Jiang Chu wouldn’t kick him out.
So, he took advantage of the fact that Jiang Chu definitely wouldn’t force him to leave, and he let himself come.
Jiang Chu really didn’t mind.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with Qin Zui before. Qin Zui slept very well, barely moving, hardly even turning over.
He, on the other hand, was a toss-and-turner. He’d lie down properly when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he’d be lying diagonally across the bed.
And it would be the reversed diagonal.
“Don’t get too close. I’m afraid I’ll hit your leg.” Jiang Chu pulled the covers and scooted over to the side, leaving enough space for Qin Zui.
“You’re going to fall off again,” Qin Zui said.
“No, I’m not,” Jiang Chu said, reaching out a hand. Whether out of comfort or genuine drowsiness, he patted Qin Zui’s stomach twice, like he was soothing a child. “Go to sleep.”
Listening to Jiang Chu’s breathing even out, Qin Zui gently turned his head to look at his back.
Jiang Chu’s blanket was only draped over his waist. From the nape of his neck down his spine, the texture of his skin was strangely vivid in the dim light.
It made you want to wrap your arms around him from behind.
If he really did reach out and hug him, what would Jiang Chu’s reaction be?
As a straight guy and an older brother, he definitely wouldn’t react. He’d just take it as a joke, playing around. Qin Zui could already imagine Jiang Chu’s joking tone. Even if he was a little annoyed and wanted to push him away, as long as Qin Zui held on and didn’t let go, Jiang Chu would eventually give in.
But both he and Jiang Chu knew he was gay.
Even though, from the moment he found out until now, Jiang Chu hadn’t distanced himself or shown any aversion. But that was only because he saw him as his little brother.
Psychologically, it was because of Jiang Chu’s calmness.
— Because he treated Qin Zui as his younger brother, because he didn’t think sexuality had any bearing on their found-family relationship. So he could naturally continue to get along with Qin Zui.
He could still talk and joke around with him, just like with Zhou Teng. If he wanted to roughhouse a bit, he’d grab him. He wasn’t afraid to joke around.
This was something Qin Zui should be grateful for. But from another perspective, it meant Jiang Chu could mess around with him freely, but he couldn’t.
Once he made any unusual move, it could alert the straight guy’s wariness.
Qin Zui suddenly regretted being so straightforward about admitting his orientation back then.
But what would it have meant if he hadn’t admitted it? Was he planning to use the denial as a cover to actually grope Jiang Chu for his own satisfaction?
That would really make him a pervert.
The human brain really is a troublesome thing. Qin Zui understood everything he should, and yet those perverted images still churned in his mind, continuing to surge.
He closed his eyes, feeling the restlessness in his heart. He let out a soft sigh from his chest and gently turned over to face away from Jiang Chu.
He couldn’t understand why, in a moment like this, he had come to crowd into Jiang Chu’s bed. Was it torture, or just plain torment?
Those practice tests had been a complete waste.
Just as he turned over, Jiang Chu on the other side let out a sigh-like “Ah,” and turned around, stretching his arms and legs.
“That fall sobered me right up,” he muttered behind Qin Zui.
Qin Zui’s heart instinctively tightened. He was glad he hadn’t lost his head and actually wrapped his arms around Jiang Chu.
“Close your eyes, you’ll fall asleep,” he said softly.
“Wanna chat, little bro?” Jiang Chu’s drowsiness had passed. He kicked Qin Zui’s butt. “Did you just bring water in? Give me a sip.”
Qin Zui handed him the water, took a sip for himself, and placed the cup back on the bedside table before lying down again.
“If you lie on your left side, you’ll squish your leg,” Jiang Chu said, nudging his shoulder again. “Turn around.”
Qin Zui hesitated, then bent his right leg and lay back flat, turning his head to look at Jiang Chu.
“Have you ever been in love, puppy?” Jiang Chu flicked Qin Zui’s face.
“You want to ask again how I found out I like men?” Qin Zui’s lips twitched into a smile.
“You didn’t want to talk about it before.” Jiang Chu’s eyes were still a little hazy, half-closed and curving. “So I had to change my angle to trick you into spilling the beans.”
“Never been in love,” Qin Zui said.
“Then how did you…” Jiang Chu started to say, then laughed at himself.
“Try it yourself,” Qin Zui said with a smile.
“Seriously now.” Jiang Chu lifted his leg again and kicked Qin Zui’s bent knee, rocking it back and forth. “I’m really curious.”
“It’s a useless kind of curiosity,” Qin Zui said softly.
Perhaps it was still riding on the previous train of thought, but looking at Jiang Chu’s relaxed state and the fact that they were lying in the same bed at two in the morning, whispering to each other from a close distance in the cover of darkness, it made his heart flutter. Especially, especially this feeling.
Jiang Chu had a tendency to lose his wits after a little bit of alcohol. He was still soft and weak right now. If Qin Zui actually tried something with Jiang Chu, he probably wouldn’t even have time to react.
“Then tell me when you first figured it out,” Jiang Chu pressed.
“Third year of middle school,” Qin Zui said.
“That’s only two… three years ago?” Jiang Chu said.
Qin Zui hummed in response.
“What happened? Did you suddenly have an epiphany?” Jiang Chu raised an eyebrow. “Grope some guy classmate of yours?”
Qin Zui looked at him, rested an arm behind his head, stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then spoke. “In my third year of middle school, a trainee teacher came to our class. An outstanding graduate from a normal university. He taught biology.”
“…Oh.” Jiang Chu couldn’t believe his fishing expedition had actually worked.
And there really was someone like that!
Jiang Chu’s curiosity, which he had been nursing for months, was satisfied. Part of him wanted to delve deeper into the story, but another part of him felt inexplicably awkward.
“Was he a guy?” He couldn’t help confirming again.
“What do you think?” Qin Zui looked at him.
“So… what did you two do?” Jiang Chu frowned.
In his third year, Qin Zui wasn’t even an adult yet. That teacher was already a damn college graduate.
“Outstanding graduate,” his ass.
“Nothing.” Qin Zui seemed to be reminiscing. After a moment, he said, “Absolutely nothing. I just thought he was… different.”
Thinking back carefully, there really was nothing.
Qin Zui could barely even remember if he wore glasses. He could only recall some of the things he said, and a few of his smiles.
Refined, casual, gentle.
He never tried too hard in class, never put on airs. He would smile, tell jokes. After class, he would play basketball with a group of kids, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, whistling and taunting the student with the ball, a hint of nonchalant roguishness in his smile.
“Like Gao Xia?” Jiang Chu suddenly asked.
Qin Zui was taken aback. He met Jiang Chu’s eyes for two seconds.
If Gao Xia didn’t go down the wrong path and grew up a bit, he might end up with that kind of vibe.
But rather than saying he was like Gao Xia, it was more like…
Qin Zui pressed his lips together, averted his gaze, and hummed in agreement.
Jiang Chu clicked his tongue. “So you’ve always liked this type. Even your taste in friends is consistent.”
“I wouldn’t call it liking,” Qin Zui said after a long moment of recollection, having already forgotten the teacher’s name.
He wouldn’t call it liking, but he didn’t know why that person made him realize he was attracted to the same sex.
Qin Zui also couldn’t remember how his mindset had changed. There didn’t seem to be a specific turning point. Just like how most people naturally develop an interest in girls, he had naturally felt a much stronger interest in boys.
If he had to pinpoint a memory, there was one time when he saw him after playing basketball, walking to the cafeteria with some other trainee teachers. He was holding his jacket in one hand and casually pulling at his collar with the other. That was a relatively clear image.
His neck was faintly damp with sweat. He turned his head and met Qin Zui’s gaze, smiling. That smile was very handsome.
“Did you smile back?” Jiang Chu asked, the scene vivid in his mind.
“No,” Qin Zui said after a moment of thought. “I just walked away.”
“I figured as much.” Jiang Chu chuckled. “I can imagine how you were in your third year. Cocky, expressionless towards everyone.”
“It’s probably the same now,” Qin Zui sighed.
Jiang Chu couldn’t stop laughing.
The distance they had created earlier to avoid crushing Qin Zui’s leg had been closed by Jiang Chu himself as they talked and joked.
“So you didn’t feel any pressure about it?” Jiang Chu, lying on his side, continued to question him.
“No.” Qin Zui glanced at his bare chest. “Maybe because I didn’t like that place. And I was at that age… in my own self-righteous teenage phase. I thought I was different from everyone else there. There was also a sense of relief.”
Hearing this, Jiang Chu felt a pang of sympathy.
A person would have to really, really want to escape, and feel utterly powerless against their own environment and fate, to find comfort in such an intangible trait, consoling themselves that they were “different” from others.
“Call me big brother.” He reached out and pinched Qin Zui’s earlobe.
Qin Zui’s breathing slowed for a moment, feeling the warmth and touch of Jiang Chu’s arm and fingers. After a pause, he said, “No.”
“Starting again?” Jiang Chu flicked his earlobe instead of pinching it.
Qin Zui grabbed his hand.
“Why do you like hearing me call you big brother?” he asked, staring at Jiang Chu.
The casual “big brother” that slipped out of Qin Zui’s mouth, drilling into Jiang Chu’s ear, made his throat contract with a shiver of numbness.
During the day, teasing Qin Zui to call him “big brother” was just for fun. But in this atmosphere, it inevitably brought him back to the scene that night.
“Why are you so unwilling to call me that?” Jiang Chu replied casually, trying to pull his hand back.
But Qin Zui didn’t let go.
Emotions, sometimes, collide unexpectedly.
Just like earlier, when Qin Zui had walked back to his own door, then turned around and came to Jiang Chu’s.
The restlessness that the practice tests hadn’t suppressed, combined with the mood brought on by their conversation, ignited when Jiang Chu tried to pull his hand away.
He held Jiang Chu’s hand down and pushed it.
“Big brother.” He looked at Jiang Chu and called out.
Jiang Chu was stunned.
“Feel that?” Qin Zui said in a hoarse voice.
