The forum where Xie Ge had posted was extremely active. Within just a few minutes, when he refreshed, several red notification dots popped up.
[1F]: OP, are you male or female?
[2F]: Doesn’t matter if it’s a guy or girl—definitely scummy either way.
[5F]: Husband? Girlfriend? Is this post even written by a human? Feels like it was auto-generated.
[7F]: +1. Peak of auto-generated nonsense.
…
Most of the comments Xie Ge could understand, though none of them were kind. Only the “auto-generated nonsense” part confused him. He looked it up, and when he figured out the meaning, his face practically turned green.
What the hell? Why were people cursing so viciously right off the bat?
[xxgg (OP)]: I haven’t even finished explaining, can you not start cursing me already? I’m the victim here! The guy claiming to be my husband is actually my online girlfriend! He pretended to be a girl and tricked me. Isn’t it normal for me to hate him? But why is it that whenever I see him, my heart beats faster for no reason? I’m a straight guy!
[10F]: Homophobia = deep closet. Closet bro, stop struggling.
[12F]: Can the fujoshi upstairs not go crazy? OP said he’s straight.
[13F]: Who are you calling fujoshi? OP’s practically bent into a mosquito coil and still calling himself straight. What’s this? Gays pretending to be straight now? A new trend?
[17F]: Straight, yet you married a guy. Stop lying to others—and to yourself.
[18F]: Simple way to find out if you’re straight: try kissing him. If you can, you’re not straight. Never seen a straight guy kiss another dude.
That… actually made sense.
But how was he supposed to test kissing Xu Miao?
Suddenly inspiration struck. Xie Ge came up with a “perfect” plan. He turned toward Xu Miao, eager to test it out, so much so that he blurted without thinking, in a rushed tone:
“So… when do you usually fall asleep? Do you sleep really deeply? Are you easy to wake up to?”
Xu Miao set his book down, stretched out his hand, and pressed his palm gently to Xie Ge’s forehead. Normal temperature—no sign of post-surgery fever.
He withdrew his hand quickly, before Xie Ge could slap it away in irritation, then calmly returned his gaze to the open page on his lap. His voice carried a mild, almost teasing kindness: “You know, if a spouse dies, the marriage automatically ends. But just so you know—murder is still a crime.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Who was killing anyone here?!
Only then did Xie Ge realize how stupid his own question had been. Trying to cover it up, he muttered: “I just meant I’m tired. I can’t fall asleep with someone sitting next to me reading. I have class tomorrow, I can’t stay up too late.”
As he spoke, his eyes betrayed him—sneaking a glance at that hand, the one that had just touched his forehead.
Pale skin, long joints, neatly trimmed nails, even a faint pink crescent at the nail beds…
That strange feeling in his chest rose again, and he forcibly shoved it down. Clearing his throat, he said instead: “I move a lot in my sleep. If your sleep is light, maybe you shouldn’t share the bed with me.”
Xu Miao noticed his expression darkening, like he disliked being touched without permission. He smoothed the crumpled edge of his book, and with a gentle, intimate tone replied: “Sorry, but I’m not taking your advice. After all, you never listened to mine—you always insisted on clinging to me while sleeping.”
That buried emotion, the one Xie Ge had forced down, came bubbling back.
Maybe it had been bottled too long in a dark corner; now it was fermenting, souring. His tone sharpened, a bit irrational: “Can you not keep bringing up the past? If I don’t remember it, don’t hold it against me. Just go to sleep already. I’ve got class tomorrow.”
He turned and lay down completely. Xu Miao, however, remained propped against the headboard. From his higher position, even his faint smile felt condescending.
Xu Miao lowered his gaze to meet Xie Ge’s, his expression suddenly serious, “Just because you don’t remember, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Trying to deny it now—are you trying to weasel out of responsibility?”
Normally, Xie Ge hated this lecturing tone. But instead of refuting, an unusual urge to explain himself welled up, especially when their eyes met.
He broke eye contact quickly, “I’m not weaseling out of anything. I’m stating facts. It’s true—I don’t remember the last few years. It’s also true I have class tomorrow. I just want to sleep early, nothing else.”
“Oh?” Xu Miao’s lips curved faintly. “That’s too bad. Forgot to tell you—your parents already requested an extended leave from school. You don’t need to go back for now.”
Xie Ge felt toyed with, unhappy.
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
“You never asked,” Xu Miao said lightly, then added, “Besides, you’ve forgotten three years’ worth of coursework. The semester’s almost over. Even if you’re brilliant, you can’t cram a whole term into two weeks. You’d only fall behind and still have to face finals.”
He smiled faintly.
“So tell me, have you already decided whether you’re going to retake the course or just fail the exam? You’re a senior now. Fail the makeup once, and you’ll delay graduation. Retake the whole course, and you’ll still delay graduation. But if you miss finals for medical reasons, your first makeup exam counts as the official one—and if you fail, you still get another chance.”
Xie Ge’s expression stayed the same, brows twitching between frown and not-quite-frown. He hated it when people made decisions on his behalf, all under the guise of “for your own good.”
But the words of reproach stuck in his throat. All he could do was sulk in silence.
“You really want to go back to school that badly?” Xu Miao asked softly.
Xie Ge answered, “I just don’t want to spend every single moment with you. I need my own space.”
“Your own space?” Xu Miao murmured.
“Yes.”
Xu Miao didn’t respond further. Instead, he picked up his phone, scrolled through some chat history, and played a voice message—
‘Why won’t you stay with me? You promised, as long as you had time, you’d be with me. Please, I’m begging you, just keep me company. I just want to be with you.’
“…”
Xie Ge stiffened. “That… can’t be me. The voice doesn’t even sound like mine.”
Xu Miao tilted his head, thoughtful. “You might be right. Voices can sound alike. Let’s confirm.”
Before Xie Ge could stop him, Xu Miao tapped the screen, dialing a voice call. A few seconds later, a ringtone chimed—right there in the bedroom.
Xu Miao turned his head, eyes sincere as they locked on the half-risen, frozen Xie Ge.
“Your phone’s ringing. Are you going to answer it?”
What’s more embarrassing than being caught lying is being exposed on the spot.
Xie Ge tried his best to stay calm and said, “Forget it, I won’t answer. I don’t usually pick up calls at night.”
After deciding to set his phone to Do Not Disturb after ten o’clock, he added, “I’m tired. I’ll sleep first.”
But before Xie Ge could lie back down, Xu Miao leaned in, the distance between them shrinking sharply.
Xie Ge felt his heart start pounding uncontrollably again, humiliatingly beyond his control.
He raised his hand to press against Xu Miao’s shoulder, stopping him from coming any closer.
Xie Ge’s attempt at restraint worked—Xu Miao indeed didn’t move further forward.
Unfortunately, Xie Ge could only stop Xu Miao’s actions, but he was powerless against Xu Miao’s gaze.
From locked eyes to a slow downward shift, Xu Miao lowered his gaze slightly, quiet and intent, carefully taking in Xie Ge’s face, until his eyes finally stopped somewhere.
That look was so focused, so burning, that Xie Ge clearly realized Xu Miao was staring at his lips.
He even felt a faint heat there.
His eyes wavered, and in the end, as if refusing to back down, he also fixed his gaze on Xu Miao’s lips.
The shift in attention made him unconsciously loosen the pressure of the hand pressing against Xu Miao’s shoulder.
Xu Miao continued to slowly lean closer, making him feel slightly dizzy.
Even blinking seemed to slow down, like he was preparing to close his eyes for the kiss that was about to happen.
Xie Ge had just about fully closed his eyes, even his chin instinctively lifted a few times on its own.
Even though the movement was very slight, Xu Miao still noticed.
As if he hadn’t seen it, Xu Miao leaned over him, reached out, and switched off the lamp on Xie Ge’s bedside table.
Then he lay back under the blanket as if nothing had happened.
The room was deathly silent for a while, until Xie Ge finally heard Xu Miao say perfunctorily:
“Then, good night.”
