Chapter 50
Pushing open the door, Jian Wu paused briefly before locating his slippers amidst the slightly altered layout.
Song Shuci, seeing this, remarked, “How long has it been since you’ve been back?”
He asked casually, not expecting Jian Wu to reply, “Over four years.”
“Over four years?” Song Shuci was surprised.
“Mm.”
“Why haven’t you come home?”
“I was too busy before. Last year, when I came back to City B, Uncle Zhao had already moved in. It wasn’t appropriate for me to come back… My mom also knew, so if she wanted to see me, she would usually come to my place, or we would meet outside.” He paused. “After all, this isn’t my home anymore.”
The apartment overall wasn’t much different from four years ago, only a few details had changed. For example, the men’s jacket draped over the sofa, and the neatly arranged row of black socks and white tank tops drying on the balcony.
The last time Jian Wu saw such a scene was before junior high, when his father was still alive.
He looked away and suggested to Song Shuci: “Let’s go to my bedroom.”
He knew that although he and Zhao Bin got along harmoniously, it was based on the premise of not disturbing each other too much. After all, they weren’t father and son, and Jian Wu didn’t want to cause any problems for his mother’s relationship because of his lack of boundaries.
Song Shuci glanced at the photo of Jian Yu and Zhao Bin on the shoe cabinet, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before landing on Jian Wu’s shoulder.
Jian Wu didn’t shake him off or resist, just let him squeeze his arm, a silent comfort.
Although much had changed outside, Jian Wu’s bedroom was almost exactly the same as before. Jian Yu and Zhao Bin only occasionally dusted it, they hadn’t touched his things.
Therefore, seeing the familiar bed and desk, they both felt a sense of time travel.
Beside Jian Wu’s desk was a tatami mat with a Pikachu cushion. Song Shuci used to sit there, helping him check his homework or explaining problems.
“Your mom actually didn’t throw this away,” Song Shuci sat down familiarly in the spot that seemed to have always belonged to him, and said with a sigh, “Cushions like this get dusty easily if no one sits on them.”
Jian Wu also sat down in the chair by his desk: “I told her not to throw away my things.”
“Mm, I can tell you told her,” Song Shuci looked at the photos hanging by his desk and said pointedly, “She didn’t throw these away either.”
Jian Wu followed his gaze. A white string was tied to his desk, with various photos clipped to it with colorful clothespins. Seeing the photo in the middle, his eyes flickered.
It was a small instant photo, capturing the moment Song Shuci kissed him.
The instant camera had been broken and discarded after that, but this last photo it spat out was sent to him by Song Shuci in a letter a year later.
Before he left home, they were still together, and this photo was hung by his desk, accompanying him during his late-night study sessions. Later, he went to City A and rarely came home, so he forgot to ask his mom to put these things away after they broke up.
Jian Wu glanced at Song Shuci’s bare nose bridge and couldn’t help but complain: “Are you really nearsighted? Why is your eyesight so good even without your glasses?”
“No way, I’ve seen it too many times, I’m just sensitive to it,” Song Shuci said.
“Then can you pretend you didn’t see it?” Jian Wu quickly took down the photo and threw it into the drawer, “Can you have some self-awareness as an ex?”
Song Shuci’s gaze moved past him and landed on the bed behind him: “If I didn’t have any self-awareness as an ex, I would be thinking about when we’re going to shower together.”
It was already dark outside. Through the window, he could see the streetlights.
Jian Wu followed his gaze and looked at the neatly made bed, then turned back and slapped his shoulder.
Song Shuci wasn’t deterred. He rubbed his shoulder, lowered his head slightly, looked at the seemingly harmless face before him, and those lips that looked so kissable, and teased: “You’re not even angry at me joking like this, seems like you don’t completely not want to get back together.”
To prove his anger, Jian Wu stood up and pushed him. Song Shuci didn’t resist and fell back onto the tatami mat, then, with a smile, grabbed Jian Wu’s wrist.
Jian Wu froze, pulled his hand back, and Song Shuci didn’t insist. He propped his head up with one arm and suggested lazily: “How about we play a game, like pushing hands or catching the tortoise?”
“Doesn’t Professor Song have a meeting, a presentation to make?” Jian Wu said.
“I’m not doing anything today, just spending time with you.”
“Who wants you to spend time with me.”
Song Shuci readily changed his words: “Then you spend time with me.”
“…” Jian Wu: “Let’s catch the tortoise.”
Song Shuci smiled happily: “Is there a penalty for losing?”
“Truth or dare?”
“Okay.” Song Shuci stood up, found a deck of cards from his bookshelf with practiced ease, expertly shuffled them, and placed them on the table.
The rules of “catching the tortoise” were simple. First, draw a card from the deck and set it aside, then take turns drawing cards from each other’s hands. If you have a matching pair, you can discard them. The first person to discard all their cards wins.
The game progressed quickly. When they both only had a few cards left, the situation became tense. At this point, for them, it was a psychological game, seeing whose eyes would waver first. Jian Wu looked at the two cards in Song Shuci’s hand, studied his expression, and drew the card on the left. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw it.
“I win!”
Song Shuci, seeing him reveal the matching pair, discarded his remaining card and sighed with a smile: “Okay, then what do you choose, truth or dare?”
Jian Wu rubbed the edge of the playing card and looked at him: “Truth.”
“You actually have something you want to ask me.”
“Just a casual question,” Jian Wu said, “It’s just a game.”
“Then ask.”
Jian Wu gathered the cards on the table and asked casually: “Have you… been in a relationship these past few years?”
Song Shuci looked at him with surprise.
“Is it that difficult to answer?” Jian Wu noticed his hesitation.
“No,” Song Shuci said, then, as if feeling his answer was ambiguous, added, “No, I haven’t. You’re the only one I’ve ever been with.”
“Really?”
Song Shuci retorted: “Have I ever lied to you?”
Jian Wu couldn’t immediately think of a good counter-example. He searched his memory, and Song Shuci, teasingly taking the cards from his hand, shuffled them and urged: “Alright, stop thinking, you’ll remember eventually. Next round, next round.”
Jian Wu pursed his lips: “I’ll believe you for now.”
The tables turned, and Song Shuci won the second round. Jian Wu, despite his calculations, lost to luck and threw down his cards dejectedly: “Your turn to choose.”
Song Shuci didn’t hold back: “I choose dare.”
Jian Wu: “You—”
“What, not allowed?” Song Shuci asked.
“Don’t you have any manners when playing games?”
“Who plays games with manners?” Song Shuci provoked him, “Don’t tell me you’re a sore loser.”
“Fine, fine,” Jian Wu conceded, “I’ll accept my loss. What’s the dare?”
“Kiss me,” Song Shuci said directly, “Thirty seconds.”
“Holy crap…” Jian Wu, his arms crossed on the back of the chair, glared at him, “That’s too much.”
“Too much?” Song Shuci said, “I thought asking about your relationship history and asking you to kiss me were about the same level.”
Jian Wu was speechless at his shameless words: “You call that the same level?”
“Did you date anyone else after breaking up with me?” Song Shuci suddenly asked him.
“Are you doing truth and dare now?” Jian Wu didn’t fall for it, “You can only choose one.”
Song Shuci chuckled, seemingly having anticipated his response, “Then I’ll change it to truth. Why did you ask about my relationship history?”
Jian Wu instinctively retorted: “Didn’t you just ask me the same question?”
So Song Shuci threw out the last line of his trap: “I asked because I like you, is it the same for you?”
Jian Wu: “…”
He knew he had fallen into Song Shuci’s trap. This question was a cheat. If he said he was curious, Song Shuci would ask “Curious about what?” If he said “Just a casual question,” Song Shuci would ask why he specifically asked this question. If he didn’t answer, Song Shuci would say “I answered, you can’t not answer.” In short, it was difficult for a reasonable person to argue with a shameless person.
“So just kiss me,” Song Shuci said, “You don’t need to overthink this one.”
“We’ve already broken up,” Jian Wu looked down at the floor, “It’s not appropriate.”
From this angle, Song Shuci couldn’t see Jian Wu’s face, only his hair and the cowlick at the crown of his head. The smile on Song Shuci’s face faded, but it didn’t completely disappear, “Whether it’s appropriate or not is up to us. We’re the only two people here, as long as we think it’s okay, it doesn’t concern anyone else.”
Jian Wu pursed his lips, his chin resting on his arm.
Perhaps because of the environment, Song Shuci today seemed like the Song Shuci from his youth. Every word was like honey, pulling him closer, stirring his not-so-calm heart. It reminded him of everything that had happened between them in this bedroom, the memories eroded by time, now seemingly clear again.
He forced himself to calm down: “I’ll just answer the question then.”
After all, he could also be shameless like Song Shuci, asking endless questions or nitpicking the game rules.
But this time, Song Shuci said honestly: “No, I don’t want to hear it, and I’m afraid to hear it.”
“What are you afraid of hearing?” He chuckled, looking up at Song Shuci, thinking he was playing some kind of trick.
Unexpectedly, Song Shuci, seeing him look over, turned his head away, and said in a low, self-deprecating voice: “I’m afraid to hear you say you’ve been with someone else, and I’m afraid to hear you say you don’t like me.”
Jian Wu’s expression froze.
It was unfair for Song Shuci to play the victim card like this.
He never liked to reveal his inner thoughts, especially those of weakness. At least in the many years Jian Wu had known him, he had never seen Song Shuci reveal his vulnerability to anyone else, not even his parents.
Even during his most unfortunate and miserable times, when he was betrayed by his unscrupulous supervisor, pressured by Lu Lizhu, scooped, and hospitalized for a bleeding ulcer, he always appeared calm and collected, never complaining or expressing sadness.
And in their relationship, whether Song Shuci was jealous, arguing, emotionally vulnerable, or angry at him, his stance and questions were always assertive. Even when he gave in, most of the time, it felt more like he was “coaxing” him.
When angry, he would say “You must stay.” When coaxing, he would say “I hope you stay.” When affectionate, he would say “I came here for you.” But he would never say “I can’t live without you, I’m afraid you’ll leave me.”
Jian Wu had always had a subtle resistance to this naturally dominant tone.
But he hadn’t expected that when Song Shuci actually showed his vulnerability like this, he didn’t feel a sense of satisfaction, but rather, his heart felt like it was being clenched tightly, the pain making it difficult to breathe.
That person was Song Shuci, he shouldn’t be talking like this.
Perhaps the pain made his consciousness defy his brain.
His heart clenched, and before he could even process his thoughts, he heard his own voice.
“Close your eyes.”
