Chapter 90 — Chen Jingshen, Let’s Be Roommates
Year’s end again, the busiest stretch of the calendar. Other years, Yu Fan would be running from shoot to shoot. This time, he was the most idle person around.
He had brought his camera on purpose, planning to wander Nancheng while Chen Jingshen worked and snap a few things. Seven days later, with the holiday nearly over, the camera was almost untouched.
It started one morning when Chen Jingshen asked if he wanted to come to the office with him.
Yu Fan got kissed awake and, half-asleep, filled his head with curses. He thought, I already listen to you clacking on that keyboard at home, why would I be dumb enough to go hear it at your office too?
He dozed a bit more, woke up clear-headed, then went ahead and was the dummy. He dressed in a hurry and went with Chen Jingshen.
One day turned into a week. Still, Yu Fan did not have the face to lounge in Chen Jingshen’s office. He sat downstairs in the café.
It happened to be the time of year when Wang Yue was wailing in the group chat. Every winter, comfortable-weather Ningcheng floods with tourists, clients multiply, and she starts every morning with voice notes howling, “Why is making money this hard?” and “Forget it, I don’t even want this money.” Since Yu Fan had free time, he edited for the studio at the café, then headed home with Chen Jingshen after work.
They had finally opened those boxes that had been sitting around forever and put things away. The place looked less bare. Chen Jingshen bought a projector, and sometimes they curled up on the couch at night to watch a movie.
Yu Fan loved horror, and he watched very seriously. Chen Jingshen did not care for it, but he never skipped.
Saturday night, Yu Fan sat cross-legged, back taut, sunk into the couch and focused. The first spike in the movie was coming when an arm slid around his waist. Chen Jingshen leaned in, eyes closed, nose buried at Yu Fan’s neck.
“Can we not watch this?” Chen Jingshen asked.
“No. Chen Jingshen, quit talking,” Yu Fan said, eyes glued to the screen.
“I am scared.”
“If you are scared, go to the bedroom. I will watch alone.”
“No, I will keep you company.”
“I do not need you to keep me company.”
No sooner said than the ghost lunged full-screen with a jump scare. Yu Fan was yanked tighter, his whole body pulled over. Chen Jingshen’s eyelids, nose, mouth all pressed to Yu Fan’s throat.
After a while, Chen Jingshen asked, “Is the ghost gone?”
His breath tickled. Yu Fan lifted a palm and covered Chen Jingshen’s eyes. “No, still chasing. Close your eyes.”
The sequence ran long, a full-on tug-of-war between heroine and ghost. Yu Fan was strung tight when suddenly his neck was licked.
Chen Jingshen turned his face and very slowly rubbed along the skin under Yu Fan’s ear. Yu Fan went numb. He meant to push him away, then the ghost flashed again on the screen and he let it go.
So he sat on the couch getting worked over by the movie and by his boyfriend. They had left the lights off for the film. Chen Jingshen’s mouth moved slowly along his neck, behind his ear, over his cheek. Everywhere it touched ran hot.
When the sequence finally ended, Yu Fan shoved his head aside, cursed that next time Chen Jingshen should get the hell away while he watched a movie, then swung a leg across and straddled him, bent down to kiss, and then they did it.
That whole week went like that, decent and ridiculous at once. Addicted once they had tasted it, and with the person they liked right there, neither of them could help themselves.
Every time they finished, Yu Fan lay half-dead in the pillow cursing him out. Chen Jingshen would look at the incriminating marks he had left along Yu Fan’s neck, back, tailbone, and silently resolve to give it a rest for a few days.
Then do it again, then repent, on loop.
This time, they never left the couch. Both of them sweaty, skin tacky where it met, they kept holding each other. Yu Fan lay on his shoulder to catch his breath, then nudged him with his chin and drawled, “Let go. I want to finish the movie.”
“It ended already,” Chen Jingshen said. “Hold on a bit longer.”
“?”
Yu Fan blinked. “Ended?”
“Mm. Want the post-credit scene?”
“Post-credit your a**.” He swore, fierce but limp.
Chen Jingshen traced the little ridge of his spine, then said, “Yu Fan, it’s snowing outside.”
“Hasn’t it been snowing these days?”
“Mm. Think it will affect your flight tomorrow?”
Silence.
The seven-day break was almost over. He had a noon booking Sunday and had a morning flight back to Ningcheng.
Chen Jingshen asked, “Change it to the day after tomorrow?”
“Will it stop snowing the day after?”
“Not sure. Maybe.”
Yu Fan sat up, lifted Chen Jingshen’s face by the jaw. “Chen Jingshen, do not get sentimental.” The flush on his cheeks had not faded. He patted Chen Jingshen’s hair, eyes half lowered, very much the scumbag who smooth-talks before bailing. “I will come next time.”
Chen Jingshen brushed nose to nose with him, very cooperative. “Okay. I will wait like a good boy.”
Chen Jingshen figured he knew his boyfriend well enough. He looked fierce but had a soft heart, easy to talk to, fun and easy to coax. He might look cold when he left, but he could not possibly be that way in truth.
That was what he thought at first.
Done with work, Chen Jingshen checked WeChat. His 9 a.m. “morning,” noon “have you eaten,” and “can we video tonight” from two hours ago were all unanswered.
The food deliveries he ordered to “Wang Yue Studio,” though, confirmed delivered every time.
Yu Fan had been back half a month, and it had been like this the whole time. Even when they videoed, he barely talked, and Chen Jingshen suspected the editing software had half-covered the call window.
He stepped into the elevator and ran into Luo Liyang getting off work. They exchanged greetings. Luo seized the moment to gossip: “Why did you stop going down to eat with your boyfriend?”
“He went back.”
A long “ohhhhh.” “Right, I forgot you two are long distance.”
Hearing the phrase, Chen Jingshen blinked without expression and did not argue.
“Long distance is rough. I get it. I had one in college. Could not see her, I missed her like crazy. I was broke, saved every cent for half a month to go see her. Finally made it and…”
“And then?”
“She had already cheated on me.” Luo sighed. “She had been with the new guy three months.”
“……”
He realized that was not helpful and patted Chen Jingshen’s shoulder. “Anyway, you two will not have that problem. Okay, forget it. Since neither of us has a dinner date, want to grab food? New barbecue downstairs. My treat.”
“No.” Chen Jingshen said, “I have plans.”
“Plans? You have another date? Wait, Shen, do not tell me you are the one betraying the long-distance—”
Chen Jingshen could not be bothered. He waved and walked off.
It was Ji Lianyi’s 49th birthday. His grandmother had called in the morning, telling him to come straight over after work. Ji herself made no big show, but that afternoon she posted a Moments photo: the crab roe buns and tomato beef brisket Chen Jingshen had loved as a kid.
He looked at the flowers and gift on the passenger seat, started the car. He had barely rolled two meters when his phone chimed.
【-：Just finished】
Studios were that busy at year’s end too?
One hand on the wheel, he held the button and sent a voice note. “Your delivery arrived. Remember to eat. Video tonight?”
Back came a one-second clip. He tapped it and heard a soft “Mm”—and then the screen jerked. Message withdrawn.
A second later, another voice note, this one longer.
“Can’t video. Work tonight.” Something heavy thumped in the background. His boyfriend spoke quick and clipped. “Not talking, Chen Jingshen. I’m busy.”
“……”
This year’s birthday dinner, Ji Lianyi did not invite many guests, but her family was large, so they still needed a big round table.
Chen Jingshen was late. Everyone else was seated. In recent years, the relatives had watched the change between mother and son and lowered their voices when they saw him.
Ji wore a dark green knee-length dress and light makeup. She had recovered well the last two years, off her medication entirely, and the dozen pounds she had lost were back. At a glance, aside from a few fine lines at her eyes, she looked much like before.
Only the seat beside her was empty. Chen Jingshen sat and handed her the gift. “Happy birthday, Mom.”
No one took it for two seconds. The table went awkwardly quiet. Chen Jingshen was used to it. He had just started to set the gift behind him when the weight eased from his hand.
She took the gift and flowers. “Eat,” she said.
Both faces were as calm as ever. The others were only briefly surprised before they returned to chatting.
They talked about a small island perfect for winter travel, about the coming New Year.
They talked about Old Madam Ji’s keen eye. A plot she had bought a few years back had skyrocketed with new development plans. Old Madam waved it off, said there was no “keen eye.” She had bought it to give Chen Jingshen somewhere to start his internet company. Sadly, her grandson wanted to fight his own battles and refused.
They talked about Ji Lianyi’s ex-husband’s business collapsing and the prison term ahead, about how he tried and failed to pull strings. Ji did not say much, but she raised her glass three separate times on that topic.
Chen Jingshen was not interested. It felt too early to leave, though. After cutting the cake, he slipped to the balcony and decided to wait until the first guests departed.
He pulled out his phone to secretly take another stab at breaking his boyfriend’s high score. So when Ji pushed the door open, what she saw was her son playing a children’s snake game.
He glanced back at her. His finger slipped, the game chirped and stopped. The balcony fell silent, a few strands of cold wind whisking between mother and son like sparks that might or might not catch.
He rarely came home these years, and eight times out of ten, he and Ji would argue—well, Ji would argue and lose control.
She always started by trying to speak calmly, like now.
She handed him the jacket he had draped on a chair. “Put it on. It is cold.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“Work busy?”
“Manageable.”
She nodded, silent a while. “I saw your pictures. You went to Ningcheng a while back?”
“Mm.”
“I hear they have lots of water sports there. Did you try any?”
“No.”
“Try next time. You used to love diving.” Ji opened her phone and, very naturally, said, “A partner’s son is your age. He loves that sort of thing. If you ever want to travel, you two could go together.”
A name card arrived on WeChat with a chime. Chen Jingshen stared at the avatar for a few seconds, then slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Ji’s brows drew together. She was about to speak when he beat her to it. “Mom, I went to Ningcheng to find someone.”
She froze. She had a feeling, but she still asked, “Who?”
“Yu Fan.”
Exactly as expected. She found she was less agitated than she had imagined.
Maybe because he had never avoided saying that name in front of her.
For the umpteenth time, she pictured the boy: the thick messy hair, pale thin cheeks, the long cold eyes. A no-good school punk.
She had thought that driving him off was victory, that her son had just taken a wrong turn in youth and that she could easily correct it.
She forgot he was her son.
They had the same stubbornness.
After Yu Fan left, they had fought. She had tried many humiliating ways to “save” her son.
Soon after, Chen Jingshen ran away from home and had not used a single family penny since. He finished school on scholarships and code money, entered the industry, stepped into society, and she had not touched any of that long path.
He was not entirely spiteful. On holidays and birthdays, or when she asked, he came home. But if she asked about his life, he would answer coolly: went to Fenhe, went to Jing’an… To do what? Look for Yu Fan.
Then the arguments.
Years of it, and Ji was tired. Maybe age, maybe too many letdowns. She could accept imperfection now. Fine, if he liked men, then he liked men, as long as the person was good enough.
But Chen Jingshen was a silent, broken stone.
Maybe it was the wine, but Ji was unusually calm tonight.
A thought flashed through her mind: maybe letting him find Yu Fan would be better?
Six years. What would a kid like that have become? Likely crooked, or worse. Without the filter of adolescence, would Chen Jingshen finally wake up?
“Find him, and then?” she asked quietly into the winter wind.
“We are together again.” Snow blew slantwise onto the balcony. A few flakes clung to his hair. “I still like him. We will get married. If you want, I will invite you.”
Chen Jingshen drove home slowly, a head full of thoughts.
He had braced for a fight, maybe even a slap like six years ago.
But there was none.
After he stomped every land mine, Ji did not explode, did not even speak. She just stood there until the first guests left, then turned and went in.
“Snow is heavy,” she said. “Drive safe.”
Back in the garage, he sat in the car a while, then took the elevator up.
He looked at himself in the brushed steel and thought Yu Fan was right about some things. He was utterly relaxed at the moment, but his face did not show it.
He pulled out his phone to ask his long-distance boyfriend if he was done with work yet.
He hit send, and the doors slid open. A crisp message tone chimed from outside.
His floor had one unit per elevator. You could not get up without the elevator card. He had two cards for the place. One was in his pocket. The other…
He lifted his head and stared at three enormous suitcases.
And the boyfriend he was about to message was sitting on the biggest one, back against the wall.
Yu Fan turned his head at the sound, voice flat and lifeless, stretching the word out: “Surprise—”
Then he frowned. “You are late, Chen Jingshen.”
Chen Jingshen stood in the elevator for a moment, until it beeped a warning. He stepped out.
“Stopped by home,” he said, finding his voice rough. He swallowed. “Why not tell me you were coming?”
“If I told you, how would it be a surprise?”
“Why not go inside?”
“If I went inside, how would it be a surprise?”
Hard to argue.
Chen Jingshen looked down. “These are surprises too?”
“Are you dumb? These are my clothes.”
Yu Fan cleared his throat, tilted his chin up, and solemnly proposed, “Chen Jingshen, let us be roommates.”
“…”
Chen Jingshen stepped forward, scanned his finger, opened the door. “No.”
“?”
Yu Fan sat frozen for two seconds, then hopped off the suitcase, ready to leave.
Chen Jingshen caught the handle and pushed boy and bag inside together.
“Not roommates,” he said. “We are living together.”
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