In his second year of middle school, Wei Jiayi’s school organized an overnight trip to a planetarium. His father was too busy to drop him off, so after school, he stayed behind and took the school bus. There was some traffic on the road, and only a few students were on the bus. It moved in fits and starts, and along the way, the sun dipped below the city skyline. By the time they arrived, it was already nighttime.
Wei Jiayi didn’t know how relationships worked for other people, but for him, it felt no different from a typical 14-year-old’s school activity—the only difference being that Zhao Jing was always chatting by his side.
Now, sitting in a speeding sports car, Wei Jiayi talked with Zhao Jing while reflecting on how their earlier kiss had been meaningless. After working hard out of town for three days, he had hurried back, only to receive a brief peck on the lips before being whisked away to see children’s construction vehicles. He felt like he could use a few more drinks.
According to the map, Zhao Jing’s house was located in a hilly area by a lake on the western edge of the city. Nearby was a scenic spot Wei Jiayi had passed once or twice during hiking trips with his friends. Back then, he had glimpsed white and gray buildings scattered among the densely forested hills, resembling a modern-day castle. Yet, he had never seen a road leading there. He and his friends had even wondered what kind of place it was. Since the map didn’t label it as a hotel, could it really be a residential area?
At a certain intersection, Zhao Jing made a sharp turn onto a seemingly endless asphalt road winding up the mountain. Tall, densely planted trees flanked both sides of the road, and a few warning signs stood along the way. When the car’s headlights illuminated them, Wei Jiayi noticed one that read, “Private Property, No Trespassing,” followed by another: “Surveillance Cameras in Operation.”
They soon passed a security checkpoint and continued driving for quite some time. Eventually, a towering wrought-iron gate came into view. As the gate slowly opened, Zhao Jing drove inside and began explaining, “There are four main exhibition halls: Technology Collections, Sports & Adventure, Art Collections, and Personal Growth. Which one do you want to start with? The Art Collection hall is kept at a low temperature, and you’re dressed too lightly tonight, so let’s skip that one. I suggest starting with the Personal Growth hall.” He paused for a moment and added proudly, “You’ll get to know me better after seeing it.”
“Alright, let’s start with the Personal Growth hall,” Wei Jiayi agreed without hesitation. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was exactly 7:30. “How long do you think it’ll take to go through everything?”
“It will probably take a while.” Zhao Jing remained completely unaware and added, “If it gets too late, we can come back another time to see the rest.” Without consulting Wei Jiayi, he had already taken the liberty of scheduling a second visit.
With a headache brewing, Wei Jiayi agreed. Seeing Zhao Jing’s serious yet enthusiastic demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel curious about just how clueless he really was. Unwavering, he reached out to touch the back of Zhao Jing’s hand and asked, “So, where do you plan to sleep tonight?”
Zhao Jing glanced at him, his expression subtly shifting to something ambiguous once again. “You want me to stay with you again?”
“…” Wei Jiayi immediately regretted saying anything, but Zhao Jing had already given his answer: “Fine.”
With practiced ease, Zhao Jing navigated the winding roads through the night as if entering an uninhabited realm. Outside the car window, patches of grass, trees, and lakes blurred into darkness.
During his work, Wei Jiayi had encountered some super-rich celebrities. Most were kind and courteous, often asking for the names of the staff as a gesture, though they rarely remembered them. He had seen them leave generous tips and caught glimpses of their immense wealth, but he had never delved into their lives—nor did he want to.
On Buderus Island, Zhao Jing had been just as extravagant. Back then, Wei Jiayi had no interest in him. All that ostentation felt like theater, and he had only wished for Zhao Jing to leave quickly so he wouldn’t have to constantly be reminded of the vast gap between them. But now, Wei Jiayi found himself unable to ignore those details, and the awareness brought an inescapable anxiety. He couldn’t stop questioning whether he would ever measure up to Zhao Jing in a way that felt truly compatible.
Lost in his spiraling thoughts, Wei Jiayi eventually identified another difference between this museum visit and the overnight stay at the planetarium: this trip didn’t involve traffic jams, yet the journey felt endless.
“That’s the residence.” Unaware of Wei Jiayi’s thoughts, Zhao Jing pointed with his chin toward a lit building in the distance and offered a simple introduction. “The glasshouse behind it is my parents’ indoor garden and their private collection. Your mentor’s works are displayed there.”
Before long, they turned into another area and arrived in front of a flat-roofed structure about three stories high. The building was illuminated by scattered nightlights, with a water feature near the entrance. It loomed in the darkness like a massive beast, the size of a real exhibition hall. Zhao Jing parked the car at the entrance, and the two of them stepped out.
The mountain wind was colder, snapping Wei Jiayi awake but leaving him disoriented. He hesitated, uncertain of what to do.
Zhao Jing effortlessly tossed the car keys to a young man waiting at the entrance without bothering to introduce him. Taking a crutch from the young man, he turned to Wei Jiayi and said, “Let’s go. Look at you, you’re freezing.”
The light was dim, and Zhao Jing wasn’t standing very close. Wei Jiayi couldn’t make out his face, and the scene in front of him felt surreal. For a brief moment, it seemed unfamiliar—like a nightmare where he had been abducted to a remote mountain by some criminal.
But in the next second, Zhao Jing took off his coat and draped it over Wei Jiayi’s shoulders, pulling him into a half-hug. He mumbled, “Wei Jiayi, just because you like dressing up doesn’t mean you should wear so little. What if you catch a cold?” Then, with one arm around him, he led him toward the museum.
The automatic doors slid open, releasing a wave of warm air that quickly chased away the chill clinging to Wei Jiayi. Motion-activated lights flickered on in the corridor, casting a soft glow just bright enough to illuminate the exhibits.
Zhao Jing hadn’t exaggerated—the museum was indeed enormous and well-heated. After only a few steps, Wei Jiayi felt it was too warm. He quickly shed both coats, draping them over his arm, leaving himself in just a short-sleeved shirt.
Zhao Jing gave him a look, touched his arm to check the temperature, and let out a disapproving snort. Wei Jiayi found his reaction amusing and reached out to grab his hand, holding it. “What’s the matter?”
Zhao Jing’s hands were large and strong, yet his skin was soft and hot, making them pleasant to touch. Unable to resist, Wei Jiayi rubbed his fingertip against his hand twice. Zhao Jing froze for a moment before squeezing back with such force that Wei Jiayi’s bones ached.
As if coming to some sudden realization, Zhao Jing’s expression turned smug. Holding Wei Jiayi’s hand firmly, he led him forward. “Alright, what are you thinking about? Let’s start with the museum. This way.”
Wei Jiayi was at a loss for words and allowed himself to be dragged along in silence. The first hall featured Zhao Jing’s pride and joy: his collection of construction vehicles.
There were seven machines in total, each displayed on circular pedestals half a meter high. Each machine was about the size of a child, painted in black and yellow, with a car brand logo prominently displayed on the side. The pedestals rotated slowly, accompanied by illustrations and descriptions explaining the exhibits.
“All of these are photos of me driving,” Zhao Jing explained. “I was six.”
Wei Jiayi leaned in for a closer look. The first photo showed Zhao Jing wearing a white children’s athletic tracksuit and sitting in the driver’s seat of an excavator. At only six years old, his limbs were long, though still slightly chubbiness. His facial features were large, his face was cute with baby fat, and his expression brimmed with pride as he gave a thumbs-up.
In the background, the green lawn was riddled with holes, leaving it in a pitiful state.
Noticing Wei Jiayi’s silence, Zhao Jing began interrogating him. “What do you think?”
“Adorable and handsome.” Wei Jiayi looked at the photo, completely speechless. Seeing Zhao Jing waiting expectantly for more, he had no choice but to make something up on the spot. “If I had met you as a kid, I’d definitely have been too mesmerized to walk away.”
Zhao Jing nodded, giving Wei Jiayi’s hand a squeeze—thankfully, not too strong this time. He reassured him, “Meeting me now isn’t too late.”
Wei Jiayi continued examining the other exhibits and noticed that many of Zhao Jing’s childhood photos included a Rottweiler. Sometimes the dog crouched in the dirt beside him, and other times it was squeezed into the seat of a construction vehicle with Zhao Jing. Curious, since Zhao Jing had never mentioned the dog before, Wei Jiayi asked, “Is this your dog?”
“Mm.” Zhao Jing nodded simply in response.
Wei Jiayi sensed Zhao Jing’s hand loosen slightly as if something weighed on his mind. Just as Wei Jiayi was debating whether to ask, Zhao Jing spoke on his own. “His name was William. He sacrificed himself for me when I was eight.”
The phrasing was heavy, and Wei Jiayi was stunned for a moment. For the first time, he noticed a faint trace of sadness on Zhao Jing’s face. It was as if an invisible thread had wrapped around his heart, leaving a dull ache. Without thinking, he asked, “What happened?”
“Do you really want to know?” Zhao Jing replied, his gaze turning back to the photos. His thick eyelashes cast shadows as he looked at the image of himself and his beloved dog. There was a touch of melancholy in his voice as he said, “I can take you to see his gravestone tomorrow, at Xuzhang Cemetery.”
Their first serious date turned out to be a visit to a cemetery. It seemed like such an unusual scenario could only happen while dating Zhao Jing. Yet Wei Jiayi felt neither hesitation nor discontent and simply said, “Okay.”
After leaving the construction vehicle exhibit, Wei Jiayi explored various medals and creations from Zhao Jing’s growth process. Some awards seemed as if they had been created specifically for Zhao Jing, while some mathematics and physics trophies were undoubtedly authentic, requiring genuine expertise.
Passing a wall filled with snowboards, Wei Jiayi began flipping through Zhao Jing’s high school yearbook. When he reached Zhao Jing’s personal motto, he fell silent. Zhao Jing asked for his opinion. Mechanically, Wei Jiayi replied, “If there was a vote for the best motto, I’d definitely pick yours.”
“It did win.” Zhao Jing flashed a barely perceptible smile, affirming Wei Jiayi’s words.
The final section of the exhibit was a photo area. A large screen on the wall displayed videos, and there was also a VR setup to view Zhao Jing’s growth.
Wei Jiayi settled into a comfortable sofa and decided to wear the VR headset, intending to watch alone and avoid Zhao Jing’s inevitable questions. To his surprise, Zhao Jing opened a hidden door in the wall, retrieved another headset, and sat beside him. “Let’s watch together.”
The recordings documented various moments of Zhao Jing’s life. If the videos had been of someone else, Wei Jiayi might have found them boring. But Zhao Jing’s recordings were undeniably entertaining—he was always on the move, energetic, and constantly darting around the frame.
After watching for half an hour, a video of twelve-year-old Zhao Jing sea fishing with family and friends appeared on screen.
On a large sportfishing boat, Zhao Jing stood surrounded by his playmates. A head taller than the others, he wore a pair of cool sunglasses and gripped a silver fishing rod tightly as he reeled in the line.
“I caught a tuna,” Zhao Jing, sitting beside Wei Jiayi, provided a spoiler.
The waves were choppy, and before the fishing line was fully reeled in, everyone was already cheering for Zhao Jing. In the background, Wei Jiayi noticed a smaller boy holding a trash can and vomiting. Reflecting on all the videos he’d seen so far, he asked, “Zhao Jing, did you prefer playing with much younger friends when you were a kid? Why are you always the tallest?”
“What younger friends? Most of them were my age, and some were even older. I’ve always been taller than everyone else.” Feeling challenged by Wei Jiayi’s question, Zhao Jing sounded flustered and overbearing. “What are you trying to say, Wei Jiayi?”
Wei Jiayi was amused by his tone and said, “Okay. I’m sorry. I misunderstood. Please don’t be angry.” He leaned closer to Zhao Jing, who finally fell silent.
To better capture Zhao Jing’s fishing moment, the camera panned, revealing a large yacht in the background of the fishing boat.
Wei Jiayi was slightly taken aback.
In the footage, Zhao Jing’s fishing rod jerked hard as the fish pulled, causing him to wobble slightly. The people around him gasped, but he quickly regained his footing. At last, he reeled the fish closer, and with the help of a few others wielding a harpoon, they secured the tuna and hauled it onboard. A man’s voice, likely his father’s, called out, “Zhao Jing, well done!” Zhao Jing turned his head, flashing a triumphant thumbs-up.
“How’s my balance?” Zhao Jing asked again.
Wei Jiayi complimented him, “Turns out you’ve been amazing since you were a kid.” He then removed the VR headset, sat up from the sofa, and looked at Zhao Jing.
In the dim light, Zhao Jing lounged sprawled out, half-reclined. The headset still covered his eyes, revealing only the lower part of his nose, his lips, and his sharply defined chin. His shoulders and muscles looked sculpted, the veins on his arms and hands standing out with a sense of sexiness that didn’t match his personality.
Wei Jiayi couldn’t help but think that perhaps their relationship wasn’t meant to last. Yet, the thought of letting Zhao Jing go was unbearable. He longed to steal Zhao Jing away from the extravagant world that felt out of reach, even if just for a little while. One night would be enough, an hour even, just to capture a version of Zhao Jing that was his alone, preserving it in memory before letting him go.
Noticing that Wei Jiayi hadn’t selected another video, Zhao Jing removed his headset as well. He caught Wei Jiayi staring at him from close by and asked unguardedly, “What? Tired?”
Wei Jiayi murmured, “Mm,” and leaned down to rest on Zhao Jing’s arm. In a soft whisper, he said, “Zhao Jing, come back with me.”
Zhao Jing’s arm lifted slightly as if he were about to return the embrace. But in the end, perhaps restrained by some inexplicable moral reason, he didn’t follow through. He brushed against Wei Jiayi’s clothing, then bent his elbow to loosely grip Wei Jiayi’s shoulder and gently pushed him upright.
As Wei Jiayi was moved back, he looked at Zhao Jing’s face. Zhao Jing’s expression had turned serious once more as he said, “Wei Jiayi, don’t sleep here. I’ll take you back now.”
