When Wen Yu finally walked over, they were at the height of their fun.
“I bet high.” Fu Yuhan said. “This time it’s really high.”
“I choose low.” Chu Lei said. “What about Pi Qiu?”
Pi Qiu: “Low.”
Ma Gan: “Of course I’m going against Brother Fu—betting opposite, I choose low.”
…
The other people all chose low. When the dice cup opened, no one had rolled 6 points, so the total was indeed low.
Fu Yuhan admitted defeat and drained his glass in one gulp.
Chu Lei shook his head: “I think tonight you’re not unlucky, you’re just too stubborn—you rolled four 1s and two 2s, how could you bet high?”
“I was thinking since my luck was bad tonight, I’d try reverse psychology.” Fu Yuhan’s expression didn’t change. “Who knew that bad luck also included ‘when you want to bet opposite, you should actually bet normally.'”
Wen Yu stood behind Chu Lei and Fu Yuhan with his hands in his pockets, scanning the table and asking: “Who’s winning the most right now?”
“Me and Si Si.” Chu Lei said, pointing at Fu Yuhan. “Actually everyone’s about the same, except Brother Fu keeps losing.”
“I think he just wants to trick us into giving him drinks… this luck is too bad.” Yang Fan joked.
Ma Gan laughed and cursed: “Damn alcohol swindler!”
“I see.” Wen Yu said softly, his gaze dropping to look at the hair whorl on top of Fu Yuhan’s head.
The hair there looked very soft.
Yang Fan had prepared sufficient funds for this coming-of-age ceremony, opening three bottles of liquor at once and ordering two cases of beer as backup. Most of it had gone into Fu Yuhan’s stomach.
Wen Yu wouldn’t believe he wasn’t deliberately seeking out alcohol.
“This time are you betting high or low, Brother Fu?”
“Low.”
“What about Ma Gan?”
“High.”
“Me too, high.”
“I’ll go with high.”
“Just bet opposite to Brother Fu—high.”
“I don’t believe Brother Fu is this unlucky, I choose low.”
“444666… wow, it really is high.” Chu Lei looked at Fu Yuhan sympathetically. “Too tragic, Brother Fu, you rolled six 1s and still lost.”
Fu Yuhan picked up his glass: “Now you believe I’m not trying to swindle drinks… right?”
Fu Yuhan tilted his chin up, head back, and bumped into a body that wasn’t soft.
Looking up from below, he could only see the rolling Adam’s apple as the alcohol went down—Wen Yu had snatched the glass from his hand and drank it for him.
“What are you doing?” Fu Yuhan looked up while maintaining that backward-leaning position.
Wen Yu finished the drink and set the glass on the table with one hand, his hanging clothes covering Fu Yuhan’s face.
Then he straightened up, looked down, and said condescendingly: “Swindling drinks.”
“Holy shit, Brother Yu, you drank!” Pi Qiu called out. “Didn’t you say you were allergic?”
“A little bit is fine.” Wen Yu pushed Fu Yuhan aside. “Brother Fu is drunk, I’ll play a few rounds with you guys.”
“Where does Brother Fu look drunk?”
“Can’t tell, right?” Wen Yu said. “Honestly I can’t tell either. He got drunk once recently and looked just like this.”
“But if you play, we’ll die.”
“I’m not that good at luck-based games.” Wen Yu smiled. “Besides, the room time is almost up, we can’t play many rounds. Don’t be scared, give me a chance to play together.”
“Alright, alright.”
Since Wen Yu put it that way, the displaced Fu Yuhan suddenly faced unanimous rejection from everyone and was forced to retreat to the sofa.
Alcohol assaulted his nerves, something throbbing at his temples.
Fu Yuhan thought drowsily that Wen Yu was really too strange.
How did he look like someone who was heartbroken?
–
Fu Yuhan didn’t ask, because he knew he’d be going the same way as Wen Yu when going home, and Wen Yu had said to come over after it ended, that he had something to say.
After a whole night of revelry, everyone was tired. October had large temperature differences between day and night, so when they came out of the KTV, several people put on long-sleeved jackets.
Fu Yuhan buried his chin in his high collar and watched Yang Fan button up Zhao Tong’s jacket, then reach out to hug her tightly.
The petite, slender girl fit perfectly in the tall, upright boy’s embrace.
They looked quite well-matched.
“How are you guys getting back?” As the host, Yang Fan was responsible for asking about everyone’s destinations.
People going the same way paired up to take taxis. When it came to them, Yang Fan asked: “Wen Yu, are you going with Xiao Han?”
Wen Yu nodded: “We’re going the same way anyway.”
“Oh.”
There were quite a few drunk people coming out of KTVs late at night, so taxis required waiting. Fu Yuhan stood on the road spacing out. Wen Yu glanced at him and said he wasn’t in a hurry, letting the other people get cars first.
Yang Fan was treating today, so he had to stay until everyone left before leaving. Soon, only four people remained from their group.
At this point, Yang Fan suddenly turned around and asked Wen Yu: “You’re taking him home?”
“Mm, why?” Although Yang Fan talked a lot, he wasn’t someone who liked making small talk. Wen Yu guessed he had something to say.
“Nothing much, just… uh.” Yang Fan scratched his head and pulled out 200 yuan from his pocket. “Why don’t you find him a budget hotel near Third High for the night instead?”
Wen Yu raised an eyebrow and didn’t take the money: “What do you mean?”
“If he goes home like this, I’m afraid it’ll cause chaos again.” Yang Fan looked a bit troubled. “His mom won’t let him drink.”
“I’m still awake.” Fu Yuhan opened his eyes and glanced at the three of them. “Can’t you avoid me when discussing my problems?”
“Just pretend you didn’t hear.” Wen Yu reached out to cover his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”
His attitude was very natural, as if he was just doing something as trivial as closing windows on a rainy day.
Then he pushed back Yang Fan’s hand holding the money: “We’ll see. If it really doesn’t work out, I have a place for him to sleep too. Besides, how could I use your money to get him a room?”
“Oh right, I forgot. A rich young master like you doesn’t need my help.” Yang Fan put the money back. “Anyway… send me a message when you get him home? Hey, are you okay yourself? I saw you had a couple drinks too.”
“Two drinks is nothing.” Wen Yu said.
“Alright then, the car’s here, you guys go.” Yang Fan hugged the shivering Zhao Tong tighter and walked toward the taxi that had arrived. “We’re heading back too.”
“Bye.”
Wen Yu waved goodbye to him, then turned around to find Fu Yuhan staring at him.
“Get in the car, what are you spacing out for?”
“Just think you’re a bit strange.” Fu Yuhan finally moved. “How come I feel like you’re not sad at all?”
“How could that be? I’m so heartbroken I could die.” Wen Yu stuffed him into the car. “Feeling sick?”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror: “Is he okay? Don’t throw up in my car, I just washed it.”
Fu Yuhan shook his head: “It’s fine, driver, I won’t.”
Wen Yu closed the car door: “Your alcohol tolerance is actually pretty good.”
“How does it compare to Young Master Wen who’s ‘allergic to alcohol’?” Fu Yuhan looked at him sideways.
Wen Yu chuckled: “No comparison.”
“Tsk.”
“Not satisfied?” Wen Yu said. “After the college entrance exam ends, I can give you a chance to challenge me.”
Fu Yuhan glanced at him.
Wen Yu: “What?”
“After the college entrance exam ends… that really doesn’t sound like something you’d say.” Fu Yuhan looked away.
“What are you talking about?” Wen Yu smirked. “I’m very ‘rule-abiding.'”
Fu Yuhan ignored him.
Although the drunk himself guaranteed he wouldn’t throw up, the driver was still somewhat worried and opened the rear window. As soon as the car started, the howling night wind immediately messed up Fu Yuhan’s hair.
In the past, he would always wait to go get haircuts with Yang Fan. He didn’t know if he still could…
Forget it, even if he could, it seemed unnecessary now.
Fu Yuhan wasn’t someone who liked to wallow in self-torture. When the other person was single, he could steal some precious memories that belonged only to him, but since Yang Fan was no longer available… avoiding him was the best and most correct choice.
He’d go get a haircut after school tomorrow.
Fu Yuhan thought with his eyes closed.
–
When Wen Yu woke him up, he realized he had fallen asleep again.
In the past, it would have been hard to imagine him falling asleep in front of Wen Yu, but the fact was that in the month or so since school started, this had happened more than once.
Looking back, Fu Yuhan found it ridiculous himself.
Tonight’s activities were relatively wholesome, ending early. When they arrived at Wen Yu’s residential complex, the surroundings weren’t that quiet yet. Lights, TVs, computers, and noisy human voices occasionally revealed glimpses from the windows of surrounding apartment buildings—though cicada sounds were completely gone.
Wen Yu took out his keys to open the door, loosened his collar, and casually took off his jacket to hang on the coat rack.
“What did you want to tell me?” Fu Yuhan walked familiarly to sit on the living room sofa.
Wen Yu glanced at him, his calm dark eyes gently shifting.
“Actually, I still haven’t figured out where to start.”
“Then don’t say it.” Fu Yuhan leaned back, his upper body lying on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. “I want to sleep.”
Wen Yu was amused by his attitude and looked speechlessly at the person lying down: “You really make yourself at home, don’t you?”
Fu Yuhan blinked blankly.
The ceiling was snow white, very new and clean.
Even if Wen Yu didn’t say this apartment was his “coming-of-age gift,” Fu Yuhan could tell this place hadn’t been acquired long ago. Wen Yu had very good material conditions, as could be seen from this rather uncommon gift, but like the cold decoration of a model home, Wen Yu was really too… too alone.
Fu Yuhan was silent for a moment, then for the umpteenth time, asked that question he had asked countless times but never received an answer to.
“If you can’t figure out how to start, I’ll go first,” he said softly. “Wen Yu, I still want to ask… do you really like Yang Fan?”
“I do.” Wen Yu blinked.
“Then why do you…”
“Because I already said, I’m different from you.” Without waiting for Fu Yuhan to finish, Wen Yu had already guessed what he wanted to say. “Since this matter can be considered over starting today, I can tell you something I haven’t said before.”
Fu Yuhan listened quietly.
“I like that Yang Fan is good-looking, has a sunny personality, and gets along with everyone—although I also get along with everyone, I’m different from Yang Fan.”
“He’s genuinely cheerful.” Fu Yuhan stared at the blank space, saying softly, “You’re fake.”
“Right.” Wen Yu didn’t deny it. “So I’m always very curious… curious about what Yang Fan is thinking.”
“Your ‘liking,'” Fu Yuhan turned his head and said expressionlessly, “sounds really shallow.”
Wen Yu smiled: “If you think so, then so be it.”
The air fell slightly silent. Fu Yuhan turned his head back and continued staring at the ceiling in a daze.
His thoughts were a bit chaotic, though better than in the afternoon. This allowed him to continue thinking about some… deeper things he had thought about before but couldn’t figure out.
He felt like he was beginning to understand Wen Yu a little.
“So what about you,” Wen Yu started a new topic, “I’ve asked you many times before but you never told me. Now you can say—why do you like Yang Fan?”
“Because… people in darkness will grasp the only beam of light, drowning people will clutch the first piece of driftwood that appears before them.”
Fu Yuhan’s voice was very calm, as if talking about something unrelated to himself.
“He is my ‘driftwood.'”
Perhaps the night gave people some desire to confide. Fu Yuhan was finally willing to open his chest and take out the things that had been hidden there for a long time, bit by bit.
“Earlier at the KTV, didn’t you ask why Yang Fan knew about my family situation?” he said. “We were neighbors when we were little, so some things weren’t told to him by me—he saw them himself.”
Young children have no secrets. Well-dressed adults only show their fierce and vicious sides in front of children and each other.
Mouths that had spoken sweet words could turn around and spit out the sharpest knives, cutting people bloody.
Adults could put on armor, but children were like clam meat that hadn’t grown shells yet.
Tender and fragile, they could only be forced to endure cold violence that didn’t belong to that age.
Countless times, carefully stepping through shattered porcelain bowls on the floor like crossing a minefield to go to school in the morning, Fu Yuhan finally lost the courage to go home.
He was hesitating, when the neighbor’s door opened, revealing a familiar head.
It was his classmate, smiling and asking if he wanted to come have a bowl of red bean soup that they had cooked at home.
“They hadn’t divorced yet then, but were always fighting,” Fu Yuhan said. “I had nowhere to go, and couldn’t go too far.”
After parents finished fighting, they would remember to look for their son. If they could find him at the neighbor’s house, at least Fu Yuhan wouldn’t get another scolding.
“It might sound a bit funny, but I was very afraid of being scolded,” he said, chuckling lightly. “I don’t know when I became the thick-skinned person I am now, who doesn’t feel anything when they scold me… just like I can’t say from which second I started liking Yang Fan.”
“During those most cowardly years, I was very dependent on him. At least when he was there, I knew where I should go.”
“Do you have those kinds of fantasies about him?” Wen Yu walked toward him.
“Yes.” Fu Yuhan was very frank. “The first time I had that kind of dream during puberty, he was in it.”
Wen Yu met his gaze from above.
“Did you discover your sexual orientation from then?”
Fu Yuhan looked at him and nodded calmly: “What about it?”
“Even knowing this relationship was destined to end fruitlessly,” Wen Yu asked, “didn’t you regret it even once?”
“How can someone despise their lifeline?” Fu Yuhan sighed. “I thought you could understand.”
Wen Yu’s gaze flickered.
He seemed to remember something: “Fu Yuhan.”
“Mm?”
“Although I’ve asked you many questions, this one I’ve really always wanted to know.” His gaze deepened, his tone subtle. “Why exactly… could you tell that ‘that me’ was fake?”
Wen Yu was a legend.
Never late to school, arriving in the classroom one second before the bell every day, leaving right on time, almost never taking sick leave, not sleeping in class, no puppy love, no fighting, treating people with humility and courtesy, always speaking with a three-part smile.
As long as he was in a grade, he was always first in exams.
A perfect study god who rarely lost points except in Chinese, always winning prizes in competitions.
Everyone praised him.
Only Fu Yuhan, from their first meeting, mocked him for being too fake.
Wen Yu had thought of many possibilities, but never expected Fu Yuhan to answer with just two words.
“Intuition,” he said.
“…” Wen Yu was silent for a long time, pressing his lips together. “You really are perceptive.”
“Speaking of this.” Fu Yuhan suddenly turned and sat up, almost bumping into Wen Yu. Wen Yu leaned back and stepped away.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night, and I’ve thought about this question before. Wen Yu, although you’ve helped me a lot during this time, saying this might make me sound like a bastard.” Fu Yuhan lowered his head and thought, not knowing how to describe that strange feeling in his heart. “Do you really consider Yang Fan a friend? Do you really consider me, Chu Lei, Ma Gan, Pi Qiu… even Fourth Brother, San Mao and those people, as friends?”
Wen Yu was stunned.
“Or do you just find it all… interesting?” Fu Yuhan frowned slightly. “I always feel like you’re ‘standing outside of it all.’ This is one of the reasons I’ve always disliked you. Just now you said you like Yang Fan because you’re curious about his kind of… cheerfulness that gets along with everyone. I suddenly felt…”
That was this strange feeling.
From long ago, Fu Yuhan had vaguely felt this way—that Wen Yu was like a condescending researcher, and everyone in his eyes was an experimental subject.
The difference was whether the experimental data was useful—useful experimental samples would get the scientist’s attention, while interesting people could get a few more glances from Wen Yu.
But this speculation was too cold, so even though Fu Yuhan vaguely had this feeling, he had never said it out loud.
Some words, once spoken, become real.
Until Wen Yu told him the reason he liked Yang Fan, everything seemed to connect.
Wen Yu’s gaze wavered, his expression momentarily blank.
But he quickly became indifferent, then suddenly smiled in the next second.
Gentle, warm smiles spread from the corners of his eyes and brows, as flawless yet hypocritical as Fu Yuhan had mocked countless times.
Recently, Wen Yu had almost given up pretending in front of Fu Yuhan.
But now, it was as if he had instantly put on that armor, fully armed.
Fu Yuhan unconsciously frowned.
“Hey, Yang Fan found a girlfriend. What are you planning to do?” Wen Yu suddenly brought up a completely unrelated question.
Fu Yuhan was stunned, then followed his question: “What can I do? It’s senior year anyway. If I don’t see him for a while, I can slowly come to terms with it. It’s just a death sentence I expected finally arriving—what’s the big deal?”
“Do you still want to pursue him?”
“A male third party is still a third party, sir.” Fu Yuhan said. “Turning someone gay would also have moral issues… I can’t guarantee I could take responsibility for everything.”
Even if he could do more for Yang Fan, there would always be social pressure issues that the other person would have to bear alone.
He couldn’t convince himself.
“So you see, you never wanted to pursue him from the beginning. What a coincidence—neither did I.” Wen Yu bent down, smiling as he leaned close to Fu Yuhan’s face. “What do you think… about us keeping it in the family?”
Fu Yuhan was stunned.
“You’re also very interesting to me, though different from Yang Fan.” Wen Yu lowered his voice, his tone carrying some bewitching power. “Being with me, you wouldn’t need to consider those things. I’m already gay, and even if we broke up someday, you wouldn’t need to feel guilty. And—”
“I’ll be good to you, I promise.”
Fu Yuhan blinked, then in the next second, he frowned with disgust and some anger: “What do you take ‘liking’ for?”
“What’s wrong? Haven’t you experienced liking several people at the same time?” Wen Yu raised half an eyebrow and made a “hmm” sound. “Oh right, you haven’t, so you probably don’t understand this state. But anyway, I’m being very sincere—”
“You’ve helped me a lot, and I need to thank you.” Fu Yuhan looked at him, squinting. “Enduring foot pain to run relay for the class, I thank you; bringing me breakfast, letting me stay overnight, and making correction notes for me… I thank you.”
“I’ve seen you voluntarily help Ge Ran distribute test papers, and I’ve seen you help Yang Yiran drive away some thugs on the way home from school…”
“But I still have to say, Wen Yu, you’re really a fucking bastard.”
Fu Yuhan swung a punch at him.
His body moved faster than his consciousness. By the time he realized it, Wen Yu had already blocked Fu Yuhan’s arm and pressed him back against the sofa.
Someone who had drunk too much had worse fighting ability than usual, and even in a sober state, Wen Yu was confident Fu Yuhan couldn’t beat him.
Behind the sofa was a wall. Fu Yuhan was firmly pressed down by him and couldn’t break free.
“Holding me down can’t change the fact that you’re a bastard.” He glared at Wen Yu hatefully. “If Yang Fan didn’t need me to do this… otherwise, just based on your reasons for liking Yang Fan, I could beat you up ten thousand times.”
Wen Yu quickly scanned his forehead, brow bone, eye sockets, nose bridge, and lip line with his gaze, saying softly: “You can’t beat me.”
“Is that the point?” Fu Yuhan struggled again, to no avail.
Subconsciously, he had to admit that during physical contact, Wen Yu seemed much more at ease than him. Maybe he really couldn’t beat him.
But that didn’t conflict with wanting to beat him up.
“Really won’t consider being with me?” The drunk person’s lips were very dry, already developing a layer of white skin. Wen Yu’s gaze dropped, and for a moment he wanted to touch that rough texture.
But Fu Yuhan wasn’t someone he could restrain with one hand. Honestly, even using both hands to hold him down wasn’t very easy.
So Wen Yu could only caress the dry skin on his lips with his gaze, saying in a low voice: “Although sometimes I hate your intuition, I have to say… it’s very interesting. Being with me isn’t bad anyway, is it?”
“But you don’t deserve it.” Fu Yuhan glared at him. “You have no heart, Wen Yu.”
“Before telling someone you like them, learn to be human first.”
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
