Chapter 10
For a few seconds the air went awkwardly still.
“Hold up, top student,” Wang Lu’an recovered first, eyes darting between them with a grin. “You will not add the campus belle, but you just have to add Yu Fan? What, you really want to set up a fight with him?”
“Set up a fight?” Chen Jingshen glanced over.
Wang Lu’an was about to press when the boy beside him moved.
Yu Fan yanked his sleeve free again. “Add your f***ing mom. How many times do I have to say it, I am not—”
He cut himself off halfway and ground out, “Get lost. Stop bothering me.”
Wang Lu’an opened his mouth to say his bro did not need to blow up like that, then froze.
Why were his bro’s ears red?
Dusk had fallen. He leaned in to check, but Yu Fan had already turned away.
His handsome back, framed by a passing bicycle, looked a little hurried.
Back home, Yu Fan flopped on the couch and scrolled his phone.
A group chat he had muted for over a year sat at the top with 99+ messages.
Zuo Kuan had made it. A hangout for the kids teachers hated. Dozens of members, more than half of whom Yu Fan did not know.
Right now, a few from Zuo Kuan’s class were popping off.
[What is up with that grade-first guy? Yu Fan looked like he hated him.]
[No way. If he hates him, why did he get his money back just now?]
[But when the top student asked to add him, he would not, and he even verbally greeted the top student’s parents!]
Yu Fan’s eyelid twitched. He remembered the expression on Chen Jingshen’s face when he grabbed his sleeve.
Eyes dropped, cool and steady, staring at him. Exactly the way he had looked handing over that love letter.
F***. Did this guy have any awareness he was gay?
Wasn’t being gay supposed to be all duck-and-cover, hide-and-seek?
What was with the peacock routine every day?
Yu Fan shut his eyes and rubbed his ear.
He should have aimed a punch straight at Chen Jingshen’s face instead of walking off.
He flicked his thumb and quit the trash group.
Back on the WeChat home screen, a red “1” popped up by Friends.
He tapped without thinking. A new request. Default avatar, gray little silhouette. Looked like a freshly made account.
[s has requested to add you: I am Chen Jingshen.]
[Source: Contact card shared by “Zhang Xianjing.”]
Yu Fan’s brow kicked. He shot upright.
He hit Reject on instinct, took a screenshot, and sent it to Xianjing.
[-: ?]
[Zhang Xianjing: Hehe. I told him I could share your WeChat. He added me in a heartbeat.]
[Zhang Xianjing: Come on, the top student already applied. Why not accept.]
[-: Not adding.]
[Zhang Xianjing: Suit yourself. I have his WeChat now anyway. If I trick him into giving answers, I will send a copy to our hero.]
Yu Fan remembered he already had a set of answers in his jacket.
He stood and fished it out. The scratch paper had been crumpled and stuffed and now looked pitifully wrinkled.
He stared two seconds, clicked his tongue, carried it to the desk, yanked open the lower drawer, third slot, roughly smoothed it, and tossed it in.
The paper rustled, then came to rest on a pink envelope.
He boiled some dumplings. Two bites in, at exactly eight, the phone lit again.
[s has requested to add you: I am Chen Jingshen.]
[- Reject. Reason: Get lost.]
Nine o’clock. Yu Fan was in the shower.
[s: I am Chen Jingshen.]
Set a f***ing alarm, did you?
He dried his hands on the towel and hit Reject.
Ten o’clock. He had just opened Snake.
[s: I am Chen Jingshen.]
Eleven o’clock. He finished Snake.
[s: I am Chen Jingshen.]
Midnight. He stared at the pop-up, patience gone, and hit Accept the instant it appeared.
Come on, then.
He stared at the blank chat between them.
Let us see what kind of crap you have to say.
Ten minutes. Nothing.
Twenty minutes. Nothing.
Thirty minutes. Nothing.
An hour later, he looked at the empty thread, opened s’s profile, and dragged him into the blacklist.
In the dead of night, a rustle woke him.
The dregs of sleep evaporated. He checked the time. Three thirty. Even the roosters were out.
A clang from the other room.
Yu Fan’s face went cold. He threw off the quilt, reached behind the curtain, and pulled out a badminton racket with a few broken strings.
He padded to the door and gripped the knob.
“I missed your call. I just got home. Did you place that bet for me or not? What odds… I told you, did I not? Correct score two to one. Put ten grand on it. You will get your money once it is placed. Why would I stiff you.”
Yu Kaiming’s voice bored through the gap like a drill. “What channel is airing it again… Got it.”
Yu Fan dropped the racket back in place, face colder than before.
Two minutes later, a soccer commentator blared to life.
When Yu Fan opened the door, Yu Kaiming was cracking a beer, legs on the table, watching in comfort.
He thought the volume was too low and clicked it up ten more notches.
“Go get your hearing checked,” Yu Fan said from the doorway.
Kaiming paused mid-sip, then raised it again. Hand on the sofa back, eyes on the TV. “This is my house. I will listen as loud as I like. If you do not like it, get the hell out.”
Yu Fan did not hesitate.
He went back to his room, swept everything on the desk into a pile, grabbed his jacket, and walked out.
At the door, he waited by the meter box.
As the commentator screamed “Shoots—” he hooked the switch down, killed the power, and snapped a padlock on the meter.
Yu Kaiming leaned out over the balcony just in time to see Yu Fan’s back.
He turned red and roared obscenities. “You little f***, Yu Fan. Get back here. You dog-born bastard. I said get back here, do you hear me?!”
In the dark, the boy’s silhouette was thin. He could not be bothered to answer. He did not look back.
He went to an internet café, paid for a machine, and slept two hours.
The place was small and the only open seat was by a broken window.
Cold air leaked in while he dozed. Smoke drifted off and on. Someone in a private room shouted over a game like it was a war, louder than the KTV next door.
He woke woozy, head pounding. He might as well have pulled an all-nighter.
A chilly drizzle hung over the early spring morning.
The café owner knew him. Seeing him come out, he stuck his head out from behind the counter. “Heading to school, Yu Fan? You are dressed too thin. It dropped today. Take an umbrella.”
“No.”
Yu Fan zipped his school jacket and stepped into the rain.
When Chen Jingshen got to the classroom, only a few people were there.
He paused at the sight of a boy asleep at his desk and glanced up at the clock above the bulletin board.
Yu Fan’s face was buried in his arms, hair messy, shoulders rising and falling with breath. It looked like he had been there a long time.
It had turned sharply colder, and his thin school jacket looked wrong in the room.
Jingshen took a textbook from the desk and flipped two pages.
A draft slipped in through the window. The sleeper twitched and curled his fingers into the wide sleeves.
Chen Jingshen stood and quietly closed the window beside him.
More students trickled in, surprised to see the habitual latecomer already in his seat.
“Yu Fan, you are early today,” Zhang Xianjing said, looking back. “Turned over a new leaf?”
His fingers twitched at the edge of the desk. After a beat, he managed a muffled “Mm.”
“So sleepy. Pull a heist last night?” Wang Lu’an arched a brow. “Isn’t he sleepy every day?”
“At least he shows his face most days,” Xianjing said. “Today I can only see his hair. Dear deskmate, did you do last night’s math?”
“I did,” Wang Lu’an declared. “I will let you copy.”
“As if. Your math?” Zhang Xianjing grimaced. “Morning study is about to start. Go back to your seat.”
“Dog biting Lü Dongbin,” he muttered.
Yu Fan was not really asleep, just lead-headed and limp. All he could do was lie there and half-listen.
Voices drifted farther and farther away, into syllables he could not parse.
After a while, Zhuang Fangqin’s strong voice rolled in. “Some students seem to come early, but they sleep the whole morning.”
“Forget it. Let him sleep. He will pay for it later.”
Then she changed her mind. “We have new content today. Write this down. Who closed all the windows? Back row, open every window around you. If it is too comfortable in here, some people will lie down and never get up.”
“I closed them, teacher,” a low voice beside him said. “I am cold.”
Zhuang Fangqin peered at the white short puffer on Chen Jingshen. “Oh. Fine. Then leave them.”
“The sheet I am going over today, copy the solutions for every problem you got wrong ten times and hand them in tomorrow. If you do not, then next week you will do math class standing under the bulletin board.”
Yu Fan dropped all the way under.
He did not know how much time passed. Two light taps pounded his temples.
“Bro, school’s out,” Wang Lu’an’s voice floated down. “You have slept all day. Still sleeping? Come on, let us get food.”
Yu Fan’s head throbbed. He barely shook it.
“You are not coming?” Wang asked.
Yu Fan nodded.
“Not hungry? I heard a new malatang opened at the end of the street. Cold as it is, you sure you do not want to go?”
Yu Fan’s lashes fluttered. He could not be bothered to answer.
“Suit yourself. I am heading out.”
Before leaving, Wang glanced at the deskmate.
School had been out a while, but Chen Jingshen was still bent over his work. His posture was looser than in class, jawline taut, eyes on the page.
Top student indeed, Wang thought. First in the grade and still grinding after the bell. Determined to outwork everyone.
The room emptied by degrees, until only two were left.
Finishing his paper, Jingshen flicked his eyes sideways. The boy beside him was still facedown, showing no sign of waking.
Chen Jingshen leaned back, pulled a fresh paper from the drawer, and started another.
Two problems in, he heard a harsh breath from the side.
His pen paused. He turned and saw something was wrong.
Yu Fan felt foggy. Hot, then cold. Throat raw. Even breathing hurt.
A thin stream of air crept in under the door. He shivered and tried to shift, when something warm pressed to the back of his neck.
Before he could process it, the heat shifted, settled, and spread across his skin.
A wide, hot palm. It covered the nape of his neck with ease.
Yu Fan flinched. His skin went to pins and needles.
He forced his eyes open and turned his head a fraction, looking sideways.
Chen’s hand rested on his nape. His other hand tapped his phone. Feeling the stare, he lifted his eyes slightly.
Yu Fan’s were already glassy with heat, a faint redness pooling under the little mole at the corner. His pupils fixed on Chen and did not move.
After a long moment, he forced his lips to work.
His voice was hoarse from not speaking, and the edge was dulled. “You f***ing… sexually harassing me?”
Chen Jingshen’s brows drew together. His mouth thinned. He waited a beat and said, “Yu Fan, you have a fever.”
Little note(s):
Dog biting Lü Dongbin: This Chinese idiom means it's like a dog biting the good guy or can’t recognize a good person’s intentions Lü Dongbin is famous for being kind and often helping people in disguise. Thus, his name was used.
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