“Are you up?” Mom asked directly when he answered.
Hearing the noise on Jiang Chu’s end, she added, “You’re already out?”
“No,” Jiang Chu didn’t bother lying. “At the station. Heading back.”
“Not home yet? Didn’t come back last night?” she asked.
Jiang Chu grunted in affirmation.
“Then take your time on the road.” Mom didn’t say anything else. “Keep your phone and stuff safe. National Day crowds.”
“Got it.” Jiang Chu looked at the departure board. “Want me to bring anything?”
“Bring a bottle of soy sauce,” Mom chuckled. “Uncle Fang just went out for groceries. He muttered ‘buy soy sauce, buy soy sauce’ a thousand times, still came back without it.”
“Sure.” Jiang Chu smiled. “I’ll bring you a whole case.”
There were still twenty minutes until boarding. He hung up and sat in the waiting hall for a while.
His mind had been on Qin Zui these past few days. He opened his phone and scrolled around. Fang Zi and Da Ben had tagged him several times in the group chat, and his Moments feed was a flood he couldn’t scroll through.
He glanced through it, only to find he’d somehow tapped on Qin Zui’s profile picture again.
Qin Zui’s Moments hadn’t been updated in forever. The only post was still that small liquor bottle from two years ago.
They’d been face to face every day, but the chat history stopped before the National Day holiday, with the hotel order screenshot Qin Zui had sent him.
The next break was New Year’s.
That was three months away—three times longer than from the start of school to National Day.
Jiang Chu did the math and felt like sending Qin Zui something.
But his thumb hovered over the keyboard for a long time, and nothing particularly urgent came to mind.
A family of three sat diagonally across from him. A young couple around his age, with a pretty little girl with dark skin.
The mom was checking the schedule against the tickets, holding a bottle of milk up to her daughter’s mouth for her to suck through the straw.
The dad was tying the girl’s hair into pigtails. They were a mess—one pointing up, one pointing down.
The couple took one look and burst out laughing. The mom slapped the dad’s arm, spilling milk as she laughed. The girl kept sucking on her straw and touching her head.
Jiang Chu couldn’t help but smile too.
He looked away and spaced out for a bit. His phone buzzed with a message.
It wasn’t Qin Zui. It was Mom.
Mom: Buy a bun on the train to tide you over. Eat breakfast.
He read it twice, then replied with “Okay.”
Then he let out a deep breath from his chest, turned his phone, and shoved it into his pocket.
He’d planned to stay awake the whole way, but as soon as the bus moved, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
By the time he groggily made it to Mom’s place, he was already in the complex and about to get on the elevator when he remembered the soy sauce. He had to turn back and buy a bottle at the convenience store by the entrance.
“I saw you circle back from the kitchen. Forgot the soy sauce, huh?” Before he could knock, Fang Zhou opened the door.
“Almost.” Jiang Chu smiled and held up the soy sauce bottle.
“Jiang Chu’s here?” Mom was on the balcony hanging clothes. She called out.
“Yeah.” Jiang Chu changed his shoes and stepped inside. His habit was to take off his jacket, but he grabbed the collar and stopped himself.
“Did you stop by your place first?” Mom turned to look at him.
“Huh?” He saw her gaze on his hand and realized she was wondering why he hadn’t even brought a bag. He made a vague “Oh” sound and didn’t explain.
Mom had called him back, sounding displeased when she learned he was visiting Qin Zui.
But now that he was actually home, she didn’t show any irritation. She just chatted with him about Qin Zui’s situation and asked about medical school.
“Didn’t sleep well?” she asked after his third yawn.
“Went to bed late last night.” Jiang Chu yawned so hard his eyes watered. He avoided her gaze.
“Really. Hang out with a student, and you go that wild,” Mom clicked her tongue.
“Take your jacket off. Doesn’t it feel stuffy wearing it inside?” she added.
Jiang Chu paused, then rubbed his nose. “A bit cold. I’ll keep it on.”
“You caught a cold?” She brought him a glass of water and felt his forehead.
“No. The air conditioner on the bus was too strong. Gave me a headache while I slept.” Jiang Chu said.
She looked at him for a moment, didn’t press further, and went back to what she was doing. “Go take a nap. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”
Jiang Chu was about to say no, but his mouth opened and shut. He got up and headed to the guest room.
“I’ll just rest my eyes,” he said, holding the doorknob and turning back to nod at Fang Zhou. “Call me if you need help, Uncle.”
“Go rest. I don’t need you to cook.” Fang Zhou waved a stalk of lettuce at him.
He closed the door, let his shoulders drop, and sighed in relief.
He hadn’t planned to sleep long—after all, he wasn’t at his own place, and sleeping wouldn’t be easy.
But as soon as he lay down and closed his eyes, the dreams started.
They were chaotic, almost all about Qin Zui.
From the moment Qin Zui picked him up at the station—everything from the past few days.
But the order was completely scrambled. One second they were talking at the station, the next they were tangled up on the hotel sofa.
Or in Qin Zui’s dorm.
Or on a crowded street.
Random flashes with no logic, interrupted now and then by the faint sound of Mom and Uncle Fang talking outside the door.
The last fragment of the dream was the present—he was sleeping at Mom and Uncle Fang’s place, startled awake by a phone call from Qin Zui.
He answered groggily. Qin Zui called him “Bro,” said that Kang Che and the academic advisor had seen the bite mark on his neck, and the advisor had called Jiang Liantian. Jiang Liantian and Qin Shuman were on their way to the school.
“I told them everything, Bro. Do you dare tell them?” Qin Zui asked on the phone.
Jiang Chu’s leg jerked, and he woke with a start.
Before he was even fully awake, he turned over and grabbed his phone. Seeing a new message from Qin Zui on the screen, his heart lurched in panic.
Qin Zui: I’m back at school, Bro
Qin Zui: The cafeteria only has mung bean porridge today
Qin Zui: Don’t forget to eat
The last one was a photo of the mung bean porridge.
Jiang Chu went limp, let his phone fall, and collapsed back onto the pillow.
“Still haven’t answered?” Kang Che was slumped in a chair, smoking and typing on his computer, one foot on the chair’s edge. He didn’t turn his head.
Qin Zui tilted his head and looked at him. His gaze swept from Kang Che’s bird’s-nest hair to the glasses perched on his nose, then to the stack of porridge bowls and noodle bowls on his desk.
“Is this what you’ve been doing the last few days?” he said instead of answering.
“Bet you didn’t expect that.” Kang Che smiled. “The real face of the medical school heartthrob.”
“Didn’t expect you to have such a big head.” Qin Zui smiled too. “Never seen you wear glasses.”
“Only when I’m working.” Kang Che searched a string of words, his mouse scrolling with a swoosh.
“What are you doing?” Qin Zui fixed his gaze on the page of literature on the screen.
“Looking up sources. Basically grunt work.” Kang Che cut a section, pasted it into Notepad, typed a note next to it, then took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk. He rubbed his eyes with his hand holding the cigarette. “You’ll understand when you get into research someday.”
“A freshman doing research?” Qin Zui raised an eyebrow.
“Technically I’m a sophomore now, junior.” Kang Che lifted his eyelids and shot him a smile. “Quite a few freshmen go to professors in their first year to follow projects. It’s a top medical school. There’s no shortage of people hustling behind the scenes.”
“Tell me more.” Qin Zui was interested.
“For free?” Kang Che swiveled his chair around, looking at Qin Zui with interest, then nodded at his neck. “Swap for a swap. First tell me about that sexy teeth mark on your neck.”
Jiang Chu touched his neck, opened the front camera, and looked at it with his head tilted.
It wasn’t as obvious as he’d imagined. Qin Zui hadn’t actually bitten off a piece of flesh. It was barely visible.
Just a bit bruised.
But because he felt guilty, the more he looked, the more he felt like he had an eight-times zoom on his eyes.
After replying to Qin Zui, he still put his jacket back on before going out.
Several dishes were already set on the table. Fang Zhou was simmering soup in the kitchen. Jiang Chu looked around but didn’t see Mom. He perked up his ears and heard her on the phone in the study.
“Up?” Fang Zhou heard Jiang Chu come into the kitchen and turned to look. “Why didn’t you sleep longer?”
“Not that tired. Just needed to clear my head.” Jiang Chu smiled, washed his hands, and helped out.
Fang Zhou didn’t stand on ceremony. He handed him a bunch of celery to pick the leaves for a steamed dish.
“You haven’t had a girlfriend in the last two years, have you?” After a bit of small talk, he shifted the topic.
“No.” Jiang Chu plucked a yellow leaf and dropped it into the bowl, then fished it out and tossed it in the trash. “Not much interest in that area.”
“Your mom nags about it all the time. Doesn’t it get old?” Fang Zhou said quietly.
Jiang Chu smiled.
“Not dating isn’t a problem. You young people all marry late anyway. My coworker’s daughter is thirty-two, busy as a bee, and she still has suitors.” Fang Zhou continued, “But ultimately, it’s up to you. Jiang Chu must already have his own idea. Mom’s probably just tired of talking and asked me to pass the message.”
“Or maybe you’re the one tired of hearing it?” Jiang Chu asked him with a smile.
Fang Zhou’s eyes curved. He exaggeratedly pressed his lips together, hinting that Mom might be eavesdropping outside the door.
“Not dating has its freedom. But since you’re in your prime, sometimes it’s easy to get certain urges.” Fang Zhou lifted the lid of the clay pot and skimmed the foam. His voice lowered.
Jiang Chu’s hands, picking celery, paused.
“Still have to be careful,” Fang Zhou said, pointing at his own neck and looking at Jiang Chu.
Jiang Chu looked back, expressionless and silent.
“Your mom… she’s interesting. Wants to control everything. She’s a strong person,” Fang Zhou smiled again, turning his attention back to the soup. “But she also thinks you’re old enough. Women and men are different. Some things aren’t easy for her to say as a mother.”
“She feels you should either have a proper girlfriend, or if you really don’t want one now, don’t fool around with just anyone,” Fang Zhou said, giving him a “I’m a man, I understand” look. “You know why they always call them wildflowers? Because you can never be sure how clean they are. Get it?”
Jiang Chu understood.
Mom had already seen the bite on his neck, but she thought he’d had a one-night stand or hired a prostitute.
“Oh, you two…” Jiang Chu didn’t know whether to laugh or feel awkward. He felt helpless, but couldn’t help letting out a relieved sigh.
“Look, it’s not that.” He rubbed his neck openly. Then he thought about Mom mistaking Qin Zui for a prostitute, and he couldn’t stop the smile. “Just tell her to put her mind at ease.”
“I didn’t think you were the type to mess around,” Fang Zhou immediately played along with a smile. “She only has you, her son. The slightest breeze and she gets superstitious.”
Jiang Chu didn’t keep the topic going.
Nothing got past Mom’s eyes.
But in the old-fashioned view of her generation, the concept of “homosexuality” didn’t exist.
Or maybe it did, but she had never considered it, never dreamed that the word could ever apply to her son.
She knew he was going to see Qin Zui, yet her first reaction was only to guess he couldn’t hold back and had messed around with some “wildflower,” coming back with a hickey and a guilty face.
What about Jiang Liantian?
If the things in his dream actually happened, how would he and Qin Shuman react?
Just facing Mom and Uncle Fang’s wild assumptions had already put Jiang Chu on an emotional roller coaster several times.
If the two families ever got together, and Jiang Liantian and Mom both blew up, they wouldn’t stop until they blew the roof off.
Jiang Chu shook his head and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.
Feeling both amused and bittersweet, he stared at the bowl of celery leaves in front of him, completely lost from head to toe.
