After confirming his feelings, Ji Angran actually felt a sense of relief—a kind of numb, lifeless relief.
He knew it was impossible for two boys to be together, and he had never dared to hope for any response from Qiu Ruifeng.
The next day, Qiu Ruifeng asked him with some concern what was wrong. Ji Angran only shook his head and said nothing.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No.”
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
Qiu Ruifeng, for some reason, blurted out, “That senior isn’t my girlfriend.”
Ji Angran’s heart skipped two beats. He didn’t know why Qiu Ruifeng felt the need to explain that to him, but he quickly cooled off as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.
Whether she was or wasn’t—what did it have to do with him? Because he and Qiu Ruifeng were impossible.
“Oh.” Ji Angran responded softly, lowering his head to look at his workbook. He stared so intently at a tiny printed character that the letters began to blur and double in his vision.
He didn’t deliberately distance himself from Qiu Ruifeng, nor did he try to test anything. Soon, it was as if that small emotional ripple had never happened—he continued speaking to Qiu Ruifeng as usual. Qiu Ruifeng also seemed to prefer it that way, never bringing up that day again.
As competition-track students, their schedules were tight, and the two grew closer. They ate meals together, discussed problems, and occasionally played on Qiu Ruifeng’s phone. Ji Angran felt content with all of it—except for those late, quiet nights, when he still secretly hated himself for having such shameful thoughts about Qiu Ruifeng.
He was like a moth hovering at the edge of a flame. Even when his fragile wings caught sparks, even when he felt the pain, he still couldn’t stop himself from flying toward the burning fire.
He had even tentatively sounded out his parents’ views on homosexuality. At the small dinner table, his father went silent for two seconds before saying, “Those people are not normal.”
His mother frowned. “Why are you suddenly asking this?”
Ji Angran shook his head lightly. “No reason. Just curious.”
His mother picked up some food and placed it in his bowl, then began nagging him: “If you have someone like that around you, stay away from them early on. Don’t let them corrupt you, understand?”
Ji Angran clenched his chopsticks and gave a soft “Mm.”
He knew how hard this road would be. He had always known.
He often envied Lu Xingjia’s courage—the courage to pursue what he wanted no matter the cost.
On the day of the semifinals, he saw Lu Xingjia and Qin Mudong kissing under the willow tree. Under the blazing sun, the long willow branches swayed, and their figures overlapped—so beautiful it made Ji Angran’s heart ache.
But he was a coward. Even while looking at Qiu Ruifeng beside him, he didn’t have the courage to ask a single question.
…..
After the semifinals ended, they both returned to regular classes and were placed in different classes. Although Qiu Ruifeng still called Ji Angran every evening to walk home together, it just wasn’t the same as when they used to sit next to each other every day.
Ji Angran thought, Maybe this is all there will ever be between us—slowly drifting apart.
He had planned to bury this vague, unspoken love deep in his heart. Until that day—an autumn evening with rustling wind, in the dimly lit school building—Qiu Ruifeng suddenly asked him if two boys could be in love, and then said that he liked him.
Under the hazy light, Ji Angran’s heart skipped several beats.
Blood rushed to his head, and he did the boldest thing in his otherwise rule-abiding life—he kissed Qiu Ruifeng on the lips.
To hell with this difficult road.
For the first time, Ji Angran cursed in his heart. He had always lived according to others’ expectations, but this—this one thing—he no longer wanted to endure.
His life had been like a darkened lighthouse, and only in that moment was it finally lit.
Thankfully, no matter how difficult the road ahead would be—they would walk it together.