Chapter 4
Edward Quan ·
Gu Shize, our basketball captain.
He looked at me darkly.
“Wen Qi. Where’s your attention?”
I opened my mouth and found nothing to say.
My fault.
I’d brought my bad mood onto the court and then lost focus.
“Sorry. My fault. Let Li Feng take over.”
A teammate patted my shoulder.
I forced a smile and waved.
“I’ll rest a bit.”
18
“Wen Qi, over here.”
Seeing the boy on the bench waving to me, I changed direction and went straight over.
“Gu Ran.”
The older student handed me water, his round eyes concerned.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head, unscrewed the cap, and drank half.
“Here to watch the captain again?”
He nodded shyly.
“Mm.”
Yes.
The sweet, gentle boy before me was Gu Shize’s boyfriend.
I drank slowly, stealing glances at him.
He sat very properly, watching the man dribbling down the court.
I hadn’t expected someone who didn’t understand basketball to watch every match so attentively.
I swallowed the last mouthful.
“Love really is amazing.”
That drew his attention.
He smiled.
“What’s wrong, Wen Qi? Something on your mind? You looked distracted out there.”
Embarrassed, I licked my lips and stammered, “When... when did you realize you liked men?”
19
Gu Ran looked surprised but didn’t ask questions.
“I suppose I was born that way. I was different from the other boys even as a child. They played Ultraman; I played house with the girls. When I grew up, I realized I liked men.”
He smiled and added, “But Wen Qi, straight men don’t sit around wondering whether they’re straight.”
I scratched my head and said nothing.
Growing up, I’d always been the ringleader.
With boys, all I’d wanted was to make them call me Dad.
The thought of kissing those faces turned my stomach.
For twenty years, I’d been certain I was straight.
Then Ying Yanjue appeared, and everything became a mess.
I’d realized I didn’t dislike his touch.
Or his kisses.
When he pulled away, I even wanted to pin him down and continue.
Deep down, I knew what had irritated me all afternoon.
I simply hadn’t wanted to think about it.
I hated other people looking at him that way.
Hated the possibility that he might like someone else.
I just...
Didn’t want anyone taking him away.
Realizing this, I covered my face and groaned.
Mom.
Your son might actually be turning out not to be straight.
20
I wanted to ask more.
Gu Shize walked over with the ball and planted himself between us.
“What’s so fascinating? Didn’t even notice the game ended?”
Why did he sound so pointed?
I looked up. His expression was worse than before.
Had they lost?
Gu Ran took the hand hanging at his side and swung it gently.
“That shot just now was so cool.”
Gu Shize snorted.
“So you were watching.”
Gu Ran laughed and rose, holding his hand.
He tilted his head, apparently about to say something else to me.
Then his gaze caught on something behind me.
He paused, smiled, and said gently, “Someone’s here for you.”
I turned.
Ying Yanjue leaned beneath a tree, looking over.
My eyes shifted.
Nobody stood beside him.
I cleared my throat and instinctively straightened my clothes.
“I’ll go too.”
Just as I was leaving the court, Gu Ran suddenly called after me.
“Wen Qi! Good luck!”
Ying Yanjue looked from me to Gu Ran, then back again.
He took the empty bottle from my hand and tossed it in the bin.
“Good luck with what?” he asked casually.
21
“Nothing. Team stuff,” I mumbled.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, and opened his mouth.
I hurried to interrupt.
“Why are you still here? Didn’t I say I was playing basketball and tell you to go home?”
Besides, I’d seen him with that boy earlier.
Fortunately, he didn’t pursue it.
“Left something in class. Passed the court and saw you were finishing, so I waited.”
Suspiciously, I looked him over.
He wasn’t carrying anything.
Expressionless, he pressed a hand to my head and turned it forward.
“Why stare at me? Watch where you’re going.”
At seven in the evening, the campus paths were quiet.
Among the few people still around were couples strolling hand in hand.
Remembering the court, I stared at the path and asked, “Ying Yanjue, what kind of person do you like?”
“Why?”
“Thinking of dating?”
My heart began pounding. My throat tightened.
“Yes.
“Aren’t you?”
He clearly didn’t want to discuss it.
“Dating? First, make sure you don’t fail your finals. If this nonsense affects your studies, don’t come asking me to tutor you.”
I gave up.
Had the infuriating blockhead studied all his sense away?
Ears burning, I persisted.
“If you dated someone, that condition of yours... wouldn’t it be more convenient when you wanted... that?”
I gritted my teeth to finish.
Unexpectedly, he stopped. His voice went cold.
“What do you mean, Wen Qi? Don’t want to help me, so you’re sending me to someone else?
“Or... is there someone you like?”
Fuck.
Every trace of romantic tension evaporated.
Help me. Help me. Help me!
Was that damned condition all he could think about?
I spun around and shouted, “What if there is? What if there isn’t? Questions, questions, questions! Is answering one of mine so hard?”
He watched me expressionlessly.
He rarely looked so cold with me. Under that stare, I felt a little intimidated.
Still, I refused to yield. I glared back.
He sighed and finally surrendered.
“Perhaps someone bad-tempered.”
Bad-tempered?
What kind of taste was that?
I pressed on.
“Not the gentle, fair-skinned type? Shoulder-length hair? A little artistic?”
Perhaps my description was too specific.
He glanced at me. His tone softened.
“No. I don’t like the gentle, fair-skinned type with shoulder-length hair who’s a little artistic.”
I fought the smile trying to rise and turned to walk on, pretending indifference.
Relaxed again, I couldn’t resist teasing him.
“Are you a masochist, Ying Yanjue? Liking someone bad-tempered.”
He chuckled softly.
The sound tingled in my ears.
“Perhaps.”
22
After thinking all night, I decided to take the initiative.
Drive off the rival first.
Win Ying Yanjue afterward!
I took out my phone and messaged the other boy.
Fortunately, when I’d given him Ying Yanjue’s contact details, we’d added each other too.
“Qiao Song, could we meet after class tomorrow afternoon? I have something to say.”
The reply came quickly.
“Sure.”
According to my various sources, the little artist was Qiao Song, the art department’s heartthrob.
Good family. Gentle temperament.
Popular with men and women alike.
Remembering his face, I felt decidedly less confident.
After tossing all night, I arrived at university with dark circles under my eyes.
Throughout the drive, Ying Yanjue kept glancing at my phone.
Once we got out, he followed me to class and sat beside me for no apparent reason.
I eyed him suspiciously.
Was his condition flaring again?
Had those glances at my phone been hints?
Was following me to class his unusual way of asking to stay close?
Honestly.
Holding back a smile, I opened my hand before him.
“Here. Take it.”
He paused, then naturally took my hand and rested it on his thigh.
“Thank you, Wen Qi.”
Only when class was about to begin did he let go and return to his own classroom.
The girl behind me grinned teasingly.
“Well, well. Who was insisting yesterday you were just friends?
“Here to stake his claim, is he?”
I waved.
“Nothing like that.
“Don’t make things up. Class is starting. I’m not talking to you.”