FQ chapter 16

That voice felt like a signal. Luan Ye finally snapped back and walked a few steps toward Fan Qing. Their shadows slowly drew closer, merging into the flower’s shade.

Not long ago, he had snapped at him for no reason. Feeling awkward, Luan Ye cleared his throat and asked, “Out this late at night—what are you doing?”

Compared to him, Fan Qing was calmer—just like usual.

“Walking the dog. Laifu needs to lose weight.”

He’d walked pretty far—almost to where Luan Ye lived.

Luan Ye glanced around. There was nothing by Fan Qing’s feet.

“Where’s the dog?”

“Got lazy halfway and refused to walk. I couldn’t pull him, so he went home by himself,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye paused for a few seconds, then couldn’t help but laugh—he doubled over, nearly unsteady on his feet.

Fan Qing’s expression was hard to describe. “I’m serious.”

“Then why didn’t you go back too?” Luan Ye couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re at least better than him, still walking around?”

“Laifu led the way earlier, remember? I was afraid you wouldn’t find your way back, so I came to check,” Fan Qing said, looking at him.

And because Luan Ye had left in such a bad mood, he was a little worried something might’ve happened. That part, Fan Qing didn’t say out loud.

Luan Ye’s smile froze. It took him a moment to find his voice again.

“When did you get here?”

“Not long ago. After it got dark,” Fan Qing said, still looking at him. “Granny Mu said you hadn’t returned yet, so I came out. Just got here.”

Why after dark? Luan Ye figured it out after a few seconds.

The village had too many alleys, all looking alike. If he’d gone straight home, it would’ve been fine. But staying out too long meant it’d be hard to find his way back after sunset.

He’d snapped at someone, then wandered around with a chaotic mind, drinking in a bar, trying to figure out how to use adult social skills to tactfully smooth things over.

Meanwhile, Fan Qing had calmly finished washing the dishes, estimated his return time, walked the dog, and came by to check if he was home yet.

“I thought you’d get lost without Laifu,” Fan Qing said.

“…It’s a tiny village. Getting lost would be impressive,” Luan Ye said, his voice a bit hoarse. “I went to have some beer.”

“I could smell it.”

Under the streetlight, Fan Qing studied Luan Ye’s expression. He didn’t look drunk. And unlike that afternoon, he didn’t look upset either.

“Then I’ll get going,” Fan Qing said, withdrawing his gaze. “You can find your way back, right? Just go straight and then—”

“I’m not that bad with directions,” Luan Ye interrupted, laughing. “In your eyes, am I worse than Laifu?”

Fan Qing laughed too. “No. It’s just—you’ve been drinking.”

The two of them stood in the alley for a while, laughing like fools. A breeze stirred the bougainvillea on the wall, making the petals sway gently.

Just as Fan Qing was about to say goodbye, Luan Ye spoke first.

“Wanna come in for a cup of tea?”

Seeing Fan Qing look up at him, Luan Ye walked past him. “You’re already here. I need to sober up a bit. If you’ve got time, come in and sit for a while.”

Two seconds later, Fan Qing turned and followed Luan Ye back to Granny Mu’s house.

Luan Ye wasn’t lying—he really did know the way from here. He turned off the GPS and led the way back. When they pushed open the yard gate, the ground lights were on. The yard was empty; Granny Mu had probably already gone to bed.

Luan Ye turned on the light in the tea room. The tea table was carved from an old tree root, with its rings spreading like ripples on water. Various teas and utensils were neatly placed on top. It was late, and he didn’t want to lose sleep, so he picked a floral tea.

He didn’t speak, and Fan Qing stayed quiet too. The only sound in the tea room was the bubbling of water coming to a boil. Luan Ye poured the first steep into a cup and handed it to Fan Qing.

The jasmine tea released a rich floral aroma, its steam drifting like smoke between the two of them. Luan Ye took a sip and finally broke the silence.

“Sorry,” he said.

So much for waiting a few days to message. So much for finding a graceful, adult way out.

“I was pretty harsh this afternoon,” he looked directly at Fan Qing and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“…It’s okay.”

Fan Qing didn’t know how to respond to such a sincere apology. It took him a moment to finally speak.

“Really, I wasn’t mad.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No,” Fan Qing put down his cup. “It was just… sudden.”

Luan Ye chuckled. “Sorry, I—”

I was in a bad mood. Because of work. Because of family. Because of relationships. Or for no reason at all—just a sudden bout of irritation.

A simple explanation. Usually when he said something like that, no one would press for more.

But sitting across from him was Fan Qing—a kid who didn’t know how to lie, who couldn’t fake things, who was incredibly, incredibly sincere.

He didn’t want to give him a casual answer.

“I kind of had… an episode,” Luan Ye said.

Fan Qing paused, looking across the table at him. Luan Ye’s expression was calm as he poured himself more tea.

“It’s… a mental illness. Sometimes I suddenly lose control of my emotions. Don’t worry—it’s not the kind where I’ll go crazy and hurt people or anything.”

Luan Ye smiled as he said this, but Fan Qing didn’t smile back. His eyes stayed on Luan Ye, remembering the scars on his hands, the things he’d said that night, and how his emotions could suddenly spike and crash.

Outside, the night was pitch black. Only one wall lamp lit the tea room—dim like a lonely moon. In its glow, Fan Qing’s eyes were like the snowy mountains that night.

Under that gaze, Luan Ye’s smile faded slightly.

“It’s an old illness. On and off. I took meds for years. On and off… This year, I thought I could finally stop.”

“Eh,” Luan Ye said lightly, tone matching his faint smile. “Thought I was cured.”

Fan Qing stared at him, frozen in place. The second pot of tea boiled as they sat in silence. Luan Ye tapped the table.

“Tea’s gonna go cold if you don’t drink.”

He refilled Fan Qing’s cup with hot tea, and when he saw Fan Qing’s expression, he laughed again.

“Why do you look like I just told you I’m dying tomorrow?”

“…Don’t say weird things like that.”

Fan Qing finally lifted his cup and took a sip, though his expression was still off.

Between the two of them, it felt more like he was the one who was sick.

“If I’d known I’d scare you this much, I wouldn’t have said anything,” Luan Ye sighed. “It’s really not that bad. Most of the time I’m pretty normal. Otherwise you wouldn’t have met me.”

The jasmine tea was a little bitter. Fan Qing swallowed it.

“When did it start? Is it serious? Can it… be cured?”

“It’s been a while. Started in college.” Luan Ye was amused by his string of questions and laughed.

Fan Qing suddenly remembered—Luan Ye had said he dropped out of college due to illness. He’d assumed it was a physical condition.

“It’s not as bad now. Compared to before, I can usually keep it under control. Today was… a special case.”

Not cured—just controllable.

That was a different thing.

“Today just happened to be a bad day. You just happened to be there. Bad timing. I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“Hmm?” Luan Ye glanced at him.

“What happened today?” Fan Qing asked again, then added, “If you can talk about it.”

“I thought you weren’t the curious type,” Luan Ye said, surprised.

Fan Qing suddenly felt flustered. He lowered his head and took a sip of tea to steady himself, then said, “I’m curious why I got scolded.”

“Hey,” Luan Ye gave him a helpless look. “Didn’t I already apologize? Can’t you cut a sick guy some slack?”

Maybe because he felt guilty, Luan Ye actually started to explain.

“…Someone messaged me. Told me to stay safe and get home early.”

Luan Ye added, “I didn’t like it.”

Fan Qing waited a while. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“….” Fan Qing looked conflicted.

Luan Ye laughed. “We mentally ill folks are strange like that.”

Fan Qing didn’t respond.

It was just one message. He really couldn’t figure out how that would make someone lose emotional control—unless the sender really upset Luan Ye.

“The person who sent it…” Fan Qing guessed, “Someone from your family?”

It took Luan Ye a while to reply: “…Not exactly.”

“Not exactly”—a very subtle answer.

“Your… girlfriend?” Fan Qing asked.

“Who?”

“…Your girlfriend?” Fan Qing repeated, confused by Luan Ye’s reaction. “Didn’t you say you’re seeing someone?”

Luan Ye looked at him for a long moment, then slowly smiled.

“…I’m seeing someone. But I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Luan Ye didn’t even know why he was telling Fan Qing this.

Strictly speaking, they hadn’t known each other for long. Once his time here was up, he’d most likely leave and never see Fan Qing again. He wasn’t the type to pour his heart out. If anything, because of his illness, he usually didn’t want to interact with people at all.

So there were things he didn’t have to say.

Like his condition—he could’ve made up an excuse, but he told Fan Qing the truth. And instead of disgust or avoidance, the response had been genuine concern.

So now, he was curious how Fan Qing would react to the next thing.

“I only have a boyfriend.”

He looked up at Fan Qing as he said this.

The tea room was quiet. Neither of them spoke. The water in the kettle cooled, switching from keep-warm mode back to heating. It started bubbling again.

After a long while, Fan Qing raised his cup and drank the rest of his tea.

“Oh,” he said.

“Then—”

“Mm?” Luan Ye gestured that he was listening.

So… you like men? You’re gay?

Fan Qing hesitated, then circled back to the topic. “The person who messaged you—your boyfriend?”

“….”

It felt like preparing to set off a giant firecracker, but after three minutes of fuse-burning, it just fizzled into a small rainbow sparkler. Only then did you realize—you’d bought a sparkler, not a firecracker.

Luan Ye sighed. “No.”