Chapter 50: Lab Building, First-Floor Classroom, Get Over Here
TheWang Lu’an stood at the tail end of Class 2-7’s line, yawning his head off.
Footsteps came up behind him. Wang’s hand paused halfway to his phone. He turned listlessly. “I thought you were skipping the cerem— what the F***?”
“Try being louder,” Yu Fan said as he strolled to the very back of the line and took his spot, lazy as ever. “Aim for the school leaders next time.”
“No, like…” Wang stared at the Band-Aids and bruises on Yu Fan’s face, stunned. “Did kids from another school jump you?”
“No. Fought someone.”
“Who? Where is he now?”
“No idea.” Yu Fan’s hands were in his pockets. “Maybe at some hospital.”
“…,” said Wang.
Sometimes he honestly admired Yu Fan. If Wang got messed up like that, he would be crying to his parents and milking ten days of recovery at home. From freshman year till now, no matter how bad it got, Yu Fan never said it hurt and never complained. He pushed back, violent and silent, and vented for himself in his own way.
There was a toughness in Yu Fan that most kids their age did not have, and a fearlessness too.
“What if Teacher Zhuang sees?” Wang asked.
“She already did.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Got hit by a car.”
“…,” said Wang.
He could picture Zhuang Fangqin’s face. His expression twisted. He could not help scanning Yu Fan again. It was not just his face. The two bare stretches of forearm showing under the summer uniform were purpled with bruises. On skin as pale as his, it looked brutal.
“Did you go to the hospital? You did not break any—”
“Wang Lu’an.”
Wang was cut off. He blinked. “Huh?”
“Look at me. Do not talk,” Yu Fan said.
“What for?”
“Do not talk,” Yu Fan repeated, frowning.
“…”
They faced off in silence for a while, big eyes versus small.
Yu Fan looked at him and felt like yawning.
“What are you two doing?” Zuo Kuan had slid into the line for the next class over. He frowned. “Trying not to laugh? I can… Yu Fan, what happened to your face?”
Wang’s eyes were tired from all the staring. He also wanted to know what the hell this was.
He was about to ask when Yu Fan turned his head. “Zuo Kuan, look at me for a moment. Do not talk.”
“?” said Zuo.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Zuo crossed his eyes and pinched up his nose like a cartoon.
Yu Fan: “…”
When Yu Fan did not retaliate, Wang braced a hand on Yu Fan’s shoulder, bent over and fake-gagged in a perfect impression of someone. “One-hit kill. Zuo lunged. “Wang Lu’an, I’ll F*** your—”
Wang dodged at once. “Yue yue yue, I cannot take it, I am never riding that thing again—”
“F*** off, F*** off!” Zuo shouted.
So two boys did a childish chase in circles, with Yu Fan as the center point.
Yu Fan: “…”
The farce ended only when Zhuang Fangqin arrived.
Panting, Wang wiped his sweat, then remembered to ask, “So what did that mean?”
“Nothing,” Yu Fan said, deadpan.
He had wanted to see whether he had developed a condition where staring at a guy long enough made him want to kiss him.
Apparently not.
Kissing was the last thing on his mind. If Teacher Zhuang had been a minute later, he was afraid he would not have been able to restrain his fists.
So maybe he only wanted to kiss Chen Jingshen.
The thought flashed by and the back of his head tingled. A strange fizzing thrill ran through him. He pressed his thumb against the joint of his index finger, a tiny movement hidden by his pocket.
The “Athletes’ March” cut off. The flag-raising was about to begin. Yu Fan looked at the empty space behind him and frowned.
“Even the study god is late?” Wang followed his gaze and gaped.
“He is not late.” In front, Wu Si turned back. “He is going on stage. Look, over by the platform.”
Yu Fan rose slightly on his toes and glanced over, face carefully blank.
Near the rostrum, Director Hu Pang stood with a few students. Chen Jingshen was second in line.
Everyone said Chen had often gone up there in the past, before transferring, but Yu Fan did not remember it clearly. Looking now, though, that upright, quiet profile felt familiar. Back when Yu Fan went up to read his self-criticism, he had probably passed a boy like this. That frosty face always brushed by his shoulder and, in some instant, turned slightly his way, like now.
Chen Jingshen looked over. Their eyes met across hundreds of students.
Yu Fan startled. Seriously? I just glanced once. How does that even line up?
He swiveled away at once, obeyed the PA, and turned to face the flag.
Chen was on stage because he and several others had been named “Model Students of Grade 11” by Hu Pang. There were five per grade, and there was no time for each to speak, so only one representative per grade would give remarks.
For Grade 11, the speaker was Miao Chen.
“Why is study god not giving the speech?” Wang muttered. “Hey, is that the guy who came to our class to find him that day?”
“Yeah,” Wu Si said. “Maybe Chen did not want to speak. The last few terms he was the one who represented the Model Students.”
“Hu Pang and his bells and whistles,” Wang said. “Model Student is such an elementary school thing.”
Yu Fan lifted his chin lazily, eyes wandering anywhere but Chen Jingshen.
Miao Chen’s uniform was immaculate. His diction cut like a radio host’s. “Good morning, teachers and students of Nancheng Seventh High. I am Miao Chen from Class 5, Grade 11. I am honored to receive the title of ‘Model Student’ this term…”
He went on and on. Yu Fan yawned.
A few minutes later, Miao’s speech swerved. “Back in the first term of Grade 10, I heard a speech from fellow student Chen Jingshen, who represented the Model Students for the grade. Chen studies hard and excels. His speech was impassioned and brilliant. He has inspired me at every moment…”
The fingers in Yu Fan’s pocket slowly curled.
“So I have always used Chen Jingshen as my goal in study. I am very happy to stand on the stage with him today. I will keep pushing myself, so that one day I can be a role model for other students too…”
Chen had not expected his name in the text. He glanced at Miao on reflex, then, when he looked away, ran into a pair of icy eyes in the rows below.
Chen raised an eyebrow at him from afar. Rough translation: What?
Yu Fan lifted a middle finger from afar. Rough translation: Do not look at me. Get lost.
When Chen returned to the classroom, his desk mate was already collapsed on the desk.
He sat down, eyed the back of that cold neck for a while, then slid his pen hand a little and brushed the other boy’s forearm with his knuckles. He had just opened his mouth when—
“Study god, I did not know Miao Chen worshiped you like that,” Wu Si said, passing by their row.
“Of course. You have seen how good he is to his desk mate,” Wang Lu’an slung an arm over Wu Si’s shoulder. “Even a study god who does not study like Yu Fan got dragged up by him, never mind this Miao guys— get back to your seat, Teacher Zhuang is here.”
They flicked imaginary ash into the grass and sat down.
When Chen looked again, a few books had appeared between him and Yu Fan, a very clearbetween two hostile forces where
no military activity is allowed.
Here, DMZ = emotional buffer zone made of books.
Acting like a barrier or line not to be crossed. DMZ
The long ceremony ate up homeroom. The physics teacher came in with her text.
“Yu Fan,” Chen rolled his pen and ignored the books between them. His voice was mild. “I barely talk to Miao Chen.”
“Everyone take out your books,” the physics teacher pushed up her glasses. “No whispering in class.”
Under her gaze, Chen took out his physics text.
When he looked back again, his desk mate had changed sleeping positions and even had an earbud in.
Chen: “.”
Yu Fan slept all the way to noon.
Chen put a second set of his neatly copied notes on the “38th parallel” and was going to wake him when someone called from the window.
“Chen Jingshen.” Miao Chen stood there with his backpack and blinked. “Did the physics teacher tell you? The school’s arranging a competition training camp.”
Chen capped his pen. “Mm.”
“Could we share a dorm then? I checked the list. I am not close with the others. I can bring snacks. What do you like—”
With a scrape like thunder, the boy between them sat bolt upright. His chair screeched back and cut off the rest.
Yu Fan took his phone from the desk, stood up, and looked at the window, expression blank. “Move.”
He always looked extra sharp and mean for a minute after waking up. Miao Chen flinched and shuffled aside in a hurry.
Yu Fan stepped on his chair, swung out the window, and left without a glance back.
“Does… does he always exit like that?” Miao whispered, clutching his straps, watching Yu Fan disappear down the corridor. “And he was sleeping, right? The teacher does not care?”
A few classmates were still doing chores, so Miao lowered his voice and leaned in a little. “Right, I have been meaning to tell you… I heard he has a bad temper and hits people. Did you know?”
“He was on the stage too, but to read a self-criticism. Why not ask the teacher to change your seat? I am sure she would let you.”
“Ah, and I was not finished. What do you like to eat… Chen Jingshen?”
Chen packed his books without a word and swung his bag onto his shoulder. He had just inhaled to answer when his phone buzzed.
[-: Lab building, first-floor classroom. Get over here and give back my stuff.]
Give back what?
Chen ran through the list of things he possibly owed. The frown that had just started slowly smoothed out.
“You brought your phone to school?” Miao whispered, shocked.
“Mm.” Chen slid it back into his pocket and said, “No need.”
“Huh?”
“No need to bring anything. And about the training camp, I already spoke to the teacher. I am not going.”
Miao stared. He could not understand why Chen would turn down a spot everyone else fought so hard for.
Chen stepped out the back door, then turned as if recalling something. “Also.”
He said quietly, “If it is not important, do not come looking for me.”
After school the lab building was empty. Sometimes a few students came to the low wall nearby for their takeout, but no one looked inside.
When Chen reached the lab classroom, Yu Fan was sitting on the back row desk with his feet dangling, playing on his phone, posture loose and lazy.
At the sound of the door, Yu Fan did not look up. “You took too long,” he said coolly.
Chen locked the door. “Mm. Someone wanted to talk.”
Yu Fan almost asked what about, then swallowed it.
“Come here,” he ordered like a lord.
Chen set his bag on a chair by the door and went over obediently.
Yu Fan put his phone aside and tilted his face up, staring at Chen for a while without speaking.
He had drawn the curtains, but the curtains in this abandoned room barely blocked anything. The room was still bright. A gap at the top let in a blade of sun that fell across Chen’s face. His eyes were dark and clear in the light.
Yu Fan was sure of it now. He really did want to kiss Chen Jingshen. One look, one impulsive want.
His face stayed blank as he caught Chen’s uniform and gave a small tug. “Bend down.”
Chen tipped his head and planted his hands on the desk to either side of Yu Fan.
The faint mint on him drifted close. Yu Fan’s Adam’s apple worked. He tightened his grip, craned up, ready to meet him—
Chen leaned back, and Yu Fan kissed air.
They were close enough to lace breath. Just like that night when they did not quite kiss.
Feeling Chen’s breath, Yu Fan looked up. “What are you doing?”
“Before we start, I want to say something.”
Chen said, “I am not close with Miao Chen.”
“… Who cares if you are?” Yu Fan said. “Why tell me?”
“Talking to myself,” Chen answered mildly. “I was not good to my other desk mates. He came to ask me questions sometimes, and I explained a bit. Same as with Wang Lu’an and the others.”
Two beats passed. “Chen Jingshen, you talk too much.”
“Mm. But I have not said this in a while,” Chen leaned in a little, “I am good to my desk mate because I…”
“Chen Jingshen—” Yu Fan cut him off at once.
“Like you,” Chen said.
“…”
He had not fully understood why he was mad.
At first he thought Miao Chen was just annoying, always tailing Chen Jingshen. But when he looked Miao in the eye, he realized that was not it.
Only now did he start to get it.
There was a boy almost as excellent as Chen, all but worshiping him.
Yu Fan always felt that for Chen to like him, something in Chen’s eyes had to be broken.
Chen could snap back to twenty-twenty any time. He could like someone else any time. For example, a boy like Miao Chen, cute face, mild temper, top grades.
But at least right now, Chen still liked him.
Yu Fan was quiet for a few seconds, then looped his arm around Chen’s neck and tugged him down.
Chen did not move. Yu Fan had no experience taking the lead. He pecked a few times, light and clumsy, dry lips touching and parting, hot and close.
His head buzzed, heart out of control, still feeling like something was missing. After fumbling a while, he finally nudged at the seam of Chen’s lips. Chen opened, and when Yu Fan’s tongue brushed his teeth, Yu Fan’s hand tightened against the edge of the desk without thinking.
Laughter drifted past outside. Probably students picking up takeout.
Yu Fan’s heart jumped and he instinctively drew back. A second later, Chen’s hand came up to the back of his neck and pressed him in again.
Chen’s kissing was nothing like his usual self. Yu Fan’s jaw kept tipping up helplessly, breath disrupted. After a while, Chen let him up for a second, kissed the slick corner of his mouth, and said, “Breathe.”
Yu Fan obeyed, took a breath, and was caught again.
He did not know how long it took before Chen finally let him go.
Only their rough breathing filled the empty room.
“Yu Fan.”
Yu Fan’s eyes were a little wet. He answered in a daze. “Mm.”
Chen’s hand was still at his nape. He rubbed the hair there and asked, low, “With your previous girlfriends, did you also kiss first and define the relationship after?”
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