FQ chapter 17

After saying that, Luan Ye fell silent for a bit longer than usual.

The tea was still warm. Fan Qing took a sip, then another.

He couldn’t taste anything, but the warmth of the porcelain cup helped ease his cold, stiff fingers.

At least his frozen mind started moving again.

But he still didn’t dare look up at the person in front of him.

Fan Qing had met gay people before. As a guide, he’d met all kinds—same-sex couples traveling together, or men who subtly showed interest in him.

He didn’t find it strange, but he never paid much attention either.

It was other people’s business—nothing to do with him.

But when Luan Ye said it, there was a moment of blankness in Fan Qing’s head.

His pause wasn’t because of shock—he just didn’t know what to say. The response came out automatically, like a reflex.

Luan Ye said he was seeing someone—and that someone was a boyfriend.

He had a boyfriend.

Luan Ye has a boyfriend!

Fan Qing quickly glanced at the man sitting across from him.

Luan Ye always had his hair tied back—not feminine at all. On the contrary, his sharp features and naturally calm demeanor made him seem relaxed, confident, and strikingly handsome.

And this person… had a boyfriend.

And just said it like that—just said it out of nowhere.

Oh, right. Because I asked if it was his girlfriend.

What’s wrong with me? Why did I even ask that? What were we talking about just now?

Oh. His illness.

Luan Ye had always been sick.

With that thought, Fan Qing’s mind refocused, latching onto what he saw as the core issue.

Luan Ye had no idea that in this short moment, Fan Qing’s brain had gone through so many internal debates. He was starting to crave a cigarette. On the tea counter, there were cigarettes and a lighter—he’d left them there earlier.

He reached out to grab it, but caught a glimpse of Fan Qing across from him and pulled his hand back two seconds later, instead picking up the tea cup and taking a sip.

After all these years, he really didn’t know how to define Bai Mingchuan’s identity.

“Creditor,” Luan Ye suddenly blurted out.

“Huh?” Fan Qing’s thoughts short-circuited again.

Getting a message from a creditor might indeed put someone in a bad mood. But what kind of debt makes someone tell you to stay safe and worry you won’t be able to repay it?

Before he could figure it out, Luan Ye laughed at himself after finishing the sentence.

“Just kidding,” he put down the cup. “He’s someone I’ve known for many years…”

Luan Ye thought for a moment. “A friend and a senior.”

“When I first went abroad, I was young, couldn’t speak the language, didn’t have any friends. I called my mom begging her to take me back, and she told me to toughen up.”

Luan Ye chuckled.

“He was the son of my host family, seven or eight years older than me, had just graduated from college at the time.”

“Later, because of some things, I didn’t contact my mom for a long time, never came back to the country, and then I got sick.”

Luan Ye spoke calmly and slowly. Fan Qing felt a tightness in his chest as he listened.

“What I told you earlier is true—my condition has gotten a lot better. When I first got sick, I was much worse than now… I didn’t want to see anyone, couldn’t do many things, didn’t want to do anything. My days were just sleep and medication, kind of… dazed and foggy.”

Luan Ye glanced at Fan Qing. “Bet you didn’t expect it—I learned Chinese idioms while I was abroad.”

Fan Qing: “…”

His emotions were being tossed up and down by Luan Ye. For a moment, he really felt like this guy might be seriously ill.

“He’s been taking care of me all along. Helped me with so many things—work, daily life, dropping out of school, getting treatment, all of it.”

“Even now, most of my work—not just work, everything—is handled by his people,” Luan Ye said. “Big or small, I basically listen to him.”

Fan Qing more or less understood now. “Like a manager?”

“More or less,” Luan Ye replied.

“Then what about your boyfriend?” Fan Qing suddenly asked. “Wasn’t he with you when you were sick?”

“…He was.”

The question caught Luan Ye off guard. After a pause, he smiled slightly.

“If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be alive today.”

“Oh.” Fan Qing took a sip of tea. “Then why didn’t he help you handle things?”

“…He was only twenty then too,” Luan Ye replied.

Fan Qing remembered Luan Ye once said his boyfriend taught him photography.

“Then why didn’t he come with you to Yunnan this time?”

This time, Luan Ye didn’t answer. He stared at Fan Qing for a moment, then suddenly laughed and tilted his head back, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Why are you so curious about my boyfriend?” Luan Ye asked with a smile.

“…Just asking.”

Fan Qing picked up his tea cup again—empty, he had finished it earlier.

He calmly put the cup back.

“Your manager told you to stay safe. Why did that make you… upset?” Fan Qing looked at him. “Was he bad to you?”

He regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. First, because the topic shifted way too abruptly and made him sound guilty. Second, because after that, the tea room went quiet again.

Some unknown insect kept chirping in the courtyard, one sound after another, echoing loudly in the night.

“He’s good. Really good,” Luan Ye finally said. “So good I probably won’t be able to repay him in this lifetime.”

“Then why—”

“You’re asking a lot of questions tonight,” Luan Ye interrupted.

Fan Qing stopped mid-sentence.

There was no expression on Luan Ye’s face, but he didn’t look angry either. The atmosphere turned a bit awkward. Fan Qing realized belatedly that he had indeed been acting weird tonight.

When it came to Luan Ye, he didn’t know where all his curiosity came from.

Just when he thought Luan Ye wouldn’t answer, the other raised his cup and drained the last sip of tea.

“When you walked the dog earlier, you had it on a leash, right?” he suddenly asked. “Why?”

Seeing Fan Qing frown slightly, Luan Ye smiled.

“Because it’s for the dog’s own good.”

That line came out of nowhere, but Fan Qing seemed to understand something. He pressed his lips together.

“Some feelings you can always feel because they’re in your memory. Like your parents. Or when you fall in love—”

“I’ve never been in love,” Fan Qing said.

“…Just an example,” Luan Ye gave him a look.

“But some feelings are like a leash. The way you feel them—”

“Is like it tightening around your neck.”

Without giving Fan Qing time to react, Luan Ye stood up from his chair.

“Alright, I’m going to rest. That’s the end of tonight’s heart-to-heart—need me to walk you back?”

He ended abruptly but decisively. Fan Qing hadn’t recovered yet but stood up to follow.

“…No need.”

Luan Ye seemed to be just asking out of courtesy. As soon as Fan Qing declined, he nodded. “Okay, then good night.”

When they exited the tea room, Luan Ye walked him to the door. Just as Fan Qing was about to leave, he spoke again.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I won’t be going out these next few days. Don’t bother asking.”

Fan Qing turned back immediately, his expression a little tense. Seeing that, Luan Ye curved his lips slightly.

“It’s fine. Just taking a few days off. Us mentally ill folks get tired after a relapse too,” he said, stretching. “Gotta recharge.”

His tone was flippant, but Fan Qing pressed a hand against the door to stop it from closing, his voice more serious than Luan Ye’s.

“When will you… be well again?”

Alright, there was another question.

“I’ll message you when I’m ready,” Luan Ye said. “You’re 1500 a day, right? Better be on call.”

Fan Qing felt his heart settle and finally let go of the door. “Okay.”

The weather wasn’t great that day. The lake looked gloomy from the shore, gray and dim, likely wouldn’t look good in photos either. Fan Qing saw a girl in an ethnic-style shawl not far away take two pictures, then turn to her boyfriend and complain with disappointment.

He heard her say, “Three-hour drive for nothing.”

Fan Qing’s first thought was: Good thing Luan Ye didn’t come. He wouldn’t have gotten any good photos anyway.

But then he reconsidered. Luan Ye probably wouldn’t have cared about whether the photos turned out well. Unlike other tourists who needed Instagrammable shots, for him, everything—good or bad—seemed the same. He wasn’t particularly excited, nor disappointed.

Toward people and things alike, he always seemed like a passerby, observing quietly, then preparing to say goodbye.

Fan Qing took a deep breath and pushed down the restlessness in his chest. He picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the lake.

One, two, three, four, five… ripples spread across the water until the stone sank in the distance.

He picked up another and threw it. This time it skipped eight times before sinking.

That was pretty far. He smiled a bit. If Luan Ye had come today, he might not have gotten good photos, but they could have skipped stones together.

Though, Luan Ye might have thought it was pointless—just like when they went into the mountains.

Back then, Fan Qing didn’t understand why Luan Ye was always trying to find meaning in everything. Now, he sort of did.

Because he was sick.

A lot of things didn’t hold meaning for him. So he often preferred to stay on the sidelines, quietly.

For some reason, that realization shook Fan Qing more than hearing Luan Ye say he had a boyfriend.

But speaking of which—about Luan Ye liking guys… Fan Qing was still pretty shocked.

He’d never been in a relationship, but there were plenty of couples in high school, lots of rumors too. Just doing homework together, eating in the cafeteria, or walking home could start gossip. But it was almost always about straight couples. He’d only heard one rumor about a same-sex couple—two second-year boys supposedly got caught holding hands during evening study hall. The truth was unclear, and the story got more exaggerated by the time it reached third year.

Fan Qing had been studying at the time and got annoyed, shut his book, and said, “Enough already.”

The student in front turned around awkwardly. “What, you’re homophobic?”

His deskmate laughed and jumped in, “He’s romance-phobic. He gets annoyed anytime someone talks about dating. Haven’t you noticed he’s never dated?”

Gets annoyed when people talk about love.

Did he?

Fan Qing glanced at the time. It was already past 2 p.m.

He wondered if Luan Ye was still resting.

Fan Qing looked up at a place he’d visited many times. The little island in the distance, the calm lake surface, the colorful wooden boats near the shore, decorated with ribbons…

If Luan Ye came, which part would he find meaningful?

Fan Qing stared for a while, then opened his phone camera and leaned toward the lake.

In the gloomy weather, water plants crisscrossed under the surface, gently swaying with the current, dotted with small white flowers.

He raised the brightness and took a few shots. Sitting a bit too far from the edge, he moved to a closer spot, stepped on the rocks, and waded a little in. Zoomed in.

After taking over ten photos, Fan Qing sat back down and reviewed them a couple of times, finally selecting three to send to Luan Ye.

The images were large, and the signal was weak, so the upload showed progress slowly.

10%… 30%… 70%…

Sent successfully.

Fan Qing instantly regretted it—what was he doing?

He just thought Luan Ye might be interested and wanted to share. But would he really care?

Right now, Luan Ye could be sleeping, eating, or just in a bad mood not wanting to do anything. Then suddenly receiving a few photos of random little flowers… he’d probably start wondering which of the two of them was actually sick.

He might even politely and confusedly ask Fan Qing what he meant.

—”I thought it was meaningful. If you were here, you might like it, so I wanted to show you.”

…Is he crazy?

Fan Qing moved his finger, hovering over the photo, feeling a bit tempted to unsend it.

Just then, a message popped up.

Luan Ye: [Nice shots.]

Luan Ye: [Got more?]