By Zephyria 
Xie Sui.
Cen Xian hadn’t expected to encounter Xie Sui here.
Before either he or Song Zhi behind the bar could speak, the bald, fat man whose collar had been grabbed by the back of his neck had already completely lost his temper: “Who the hell are you?! Let go of your hand, damn it, a bunch of high school brats! How dare you lay hands on me…”
When Xie Sui withdrew his gaze, the light in his eyes had already turned cold abruptly. Without saying a word, he began walking toward the exit of the internet cafe, but the strength in his hand didn’t lessen in the slightest.
The fat man lost his balance and fell to the ground, looking utterly disheveled, and was dragged over ten meters all the way out like this.
The remaining few people were dumbfounded, staring at each other wide-eyed. The first to react shouted and hurriedly chased after them.
A look of surprise appeared on the young man’s face. Putting down the coffee in his hand, he followed them out and found that the group had already gone to a remote corner of the demolition area.
Cen Xian realized that Xie Sui intended to drag the man to a place out of the surveillance cameras’ view.
By the time he reached the corner, he could hear shouts and dull thudding sounds, followed by cries of pain and wails.
Just as Cen Xian was about to step forward, his gaze suddenly froze.
Soon, he walked to the end of the alley and saw Xie Sui stand up, the knuckles of his hand stained with a little blood.
The internet cafe owner happened to return at that moment. After hearing Song Zhi’s description, he was so furious his scalp tingled. Grabbing a mop handle from the shop, he ran over, followed by a timid young girl peeking from behind.
The owner used the mop handle to beat everyone standing, including those lying on the ground who hadn’t managed to get up, taking turns while swearing. The hooligans, having just suffered a loss and now seeing the internet cafe owner armed while beating them and threatening to call the police, cursed and scrambled away in panic.
Thus, the farce finally came to an end.
Noticing Xie Sui, Song Zhi turned and ran back to the bar. She fetched something and returned with a small white box that looked like a first aid kit.
She jogged to Xie Sui’s side, crouched down, and asked with concerned guilt, “Thank you. Are you hurt on your hand? Let me disinfect and bandage it for you.”
Xie Sui paused, looked up, and suddenly said, “Let your brother bandage it for me.”
Cen Xian lowered his gaze at him. “Why should I bandage it for you?”
“Shouldn’t classmates help each other out?”
Cen Xian ignored him and turned to leave.
The girl stood up, somewhat surprised and unsure what to do. “Brother Cen Xian, is he someone you know?”
Cen Xian: “He’s my classmate.”
Only then did he suddenly realize that the student from No. 6 High School Song Zhi had mentioned earlier was Xie Sui.
The same person who had suddenly sat at his computer station today.
Why did they keep running into each other?
Cen Xian returned to the bar area. Song Zhi had already efficiently cleaned up the mess from earlier. The keyboard was intact, and after wiping the corners clean, Cen Xian returned to his own station.
The red door that had been just seconds away from opening now displayed “Game Over,” failing to break the fourth-place record.
But Cen Xian wasn’t in the mood for gaming today either.
He stood up, picked up his jacket, settled the bill with the owner, and left the internet cafe.
After today’s incident, the owner probably would never leave the young girl alone in charge of the shop while he went out drinking again.
However, shortly after leaving the internet cafe, footsteps suddenly approached from behind, heading in his direction.
Cen Xian didn’t even turn around, murmuring softly, “What exactly do you want?”
“Be friends with me.”
Cen Xian froze.
Xie Sui’s voice was magnetic, though often carrying a hint of casualness: “I’m a transfer student, just arrived. It’s hard without friends.”
Cen Xian naturally didn’t believe him—Song Jing was the prime example. He retorted, “Don’t you have plenty of friends?”
Xie Sui chuckled silently: “What kind of friends are they?”
“My hand is still bleeding.” Xie Sui followed behind him: “Do you have anything for bandaging at your place?”
Cen Xian: “Didn’t that kid want to bandage you earlier?”
Xie Sui: “Don’t want a kid helping me.”
“And his brother really dislikes me.” Xie Sui added: “I had to shamelessly follow you here.”
Cen Xian stopped walking: “You know I’m not his brother, right?”
Xie Sui stopped too: “I know.”
“What kid would avoid eye contact with their own brother?”
Cen Xian lowered his gaze and fell silent for a moment.
Seeing his back, Xie Sui soon heard Cen Xian’s voice: “Don’t talk to me at school.”
Xie Sui seemed momentarily stunned, then his eyes brightened slightly: “Does that mean you’ll help me by default?”
Cen Xian didn’t respond.
They left the demolition zone one after another. The further north they went, the more streetlights appeared, and the green belts became more refined. Not far ahead, the entrance to Zhenjin Community glimmered faintly. Following Cen Xian, Xie Sui watched him push the main gate open directly and asked, “Don’t you need a keycard for this kind of upscale neighborhood?”
Cen Xian: “No.”
They passed several buildings and arrived at an entrance. Cen Xian took out his keys, bent his head, and unlocked the door.
They entered the elevator together. Cen Xian pressed the sixth floor as usual. Surprisingly, Xie Sui remained quiet along the way, only turning sideways in the elevator to ask, “Won’t your parents mind you bringing classmates home?”
Cen Xian’s tone was indifferent: “They’re not here.”
Xie Sui said nothing.
They walked to the sixth floor one after another. Xie Sui watched the youth lower his head and open the door.
This was his first time visiting Cen Xian’s home.
It largely matched his imagination, yet many aspects differed. For instance, as imagined, it was luxuriously decorated, clean, tidy, and spotless, with a pleasant faint fragrance permeating the space—much like its owner.
What differed was that the house felt excessively empty, with few daily necessities. Perhaps it was due to the minimalist decor, but there was little sense of lived-in warmth.
Still, it suited the owner’s style.
Like a guest, Xie Sui bent down to remove his shoes behind Cen Xian and followed the homeowner inside.
Noticing the shoe rack in the entryway, Xie Sui tilted his head from the couch and asked, “Class President, do you live alone?”
“I’m not the class president.”
Cen Xian retrieved the medical kit from the storage cabinet, walked over to Xie Sui, lowered his eyes and said, “Call me that again, and I’ll kick you out.”
Xie Sui chuckled softly.
The medical kit, when opened, was more comprehensive than the one Song Zhi had brought earlier. It contained not only full sets of disinfectant cotton, alcohol, iodine, and sterile gauze but also other medications and an emergency kit.
Xie Sui spoke: “Cen Xian.”
“Why pretend not to know me at school?”
Cen Xian didn’t answer.
The reason was obvious—associating with someone who resembled a gang leader would be incomprehensible even to his own friends and teachers. In high
Before the arrival of the third semester and the approaching high school entrance exam, Cen Xian didn’t want to get involved in any trouble, let alone associate with them.
Xie Sui extended his hand.
He watched as Cen Xian picked up the alcohol and iodine, dipped a cotton swab for disinfection, and without any warning, pressed it against the knuckles on the back of his hand.
The intense sting and burning sensation made Xie Sui frown slightly, letting out a barely audible hiss.
“Do you see me as a troublemaker in your eyes?”
Xie Sui didn’t withdraw his hand, as if he had guessed Cen Xian’s thoughts, and said with a smile, “How have you seen me this past week since I transferred to the class?”
“I think you’re all ridiculous.”
Xie Sui seemed amused. “Is that your first impression of me?”
Xie Sui added, “Am I ridiculous too?”
Cen Xian looked at him. “You’re the most ridiculous.”
Xie Sui grinned.
“They came to me on their own.” He scratched his hair with his free hand. “When I first got here, students from other schools would come by every day, blocking me in every alley near the school gate.”
“Smoking, their uniforms torn up like monsters, seven or eight of them at a time, clutching knives, some even carrying bricks, looking like they were ready to finish me off right there.”
Xie Sui spoke casually.
“Why did they come after you?”
“Because I look like someone who knows how to fight.”
“What surprised me more was that you showed up at the internet cafe. In my mind, you’ve always been the good kid who only knows how to study.”
“And then you took the good kid’s uniform and didn’t even return it the next day?”
Xie Sui was momentarily stunned, then laughed.
He said, “I took it to the dry cleaner. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”
Cen Xian seriously doubted he had taken it to the dry cleaner.
The disinfection was finished. Cen Xian reached for the gauze in the first aid kit and wrapped it around the back of Xie Sui’s injured hand, winding it layer by layer before casually tying a knot.
It was an unexpectedly skilled motion.
“You can go now.”
“It’s so late. Won’t you let a classmate stay the night?”
Cen Xian looked at him with an expression that said, “What kind of nonsense are you spouting?”
Xie Sui didn’t insist. He looked down at his bandaged hand, seemingly lost in thought. As Cen Xian was putting away the medical kit, Xie Sui quietly moved behind the boy. Just as Cen Xian thought he heard a “thank you,” Xie Sui’s voice sounded close to his ear: “Cen Xian.”
“Do you play Glory too?”
Cen Xian turned slightly, putting some distance between them, his expression cold and almost unchanged. “No.”
“Then why did you go to the internet cafe? To study?”
“And didn’t you get a black card?” Xie Sui seemed unwilling to let the topic go. “That girl told me.”
“She said not many people at the internet cafe have black cards, even fewer from No. 6 High School. You’re one, and I’m another.”
Just as Xie Sui was about to continue speaking, the boy pulled him to the door, threw his shoes out, and then pushed him out as well.
The door slammed shut immediately.
Xie Sui stared blankly at the pitch-black doorway. The motion-sensor light flickered on with the vibration, illuminating his shadow.
Xie Sui turned around and pressed the elevator button to go downstairs.
For some reason, even after being treated like that, his mood remained remarkably good.
That internet cafe wasn’t doing great business.
Some computers wouldn’t even get a new customer for the entire day. So when Xie Sui entered the internet cafe tonight and happened to stop by the computer in the corner, the Glory login interface was still displayed in the center of the screen.
The password field was empty.
In the username field, unexpectedly, the previous user’s login ID was still retained.
Xie Sui stopped walking.
Once he stopped, he could no longer move his feet.
His gaze fixed as if frozen, slowly falling on those four letters—Mole.
A tingling sensation crept across his scalp. He quickly walked to the front desk and asked the girl handling payments, “Who was the last person sitting at that spot?”
The girl froze for a moment, stammering as she told him that the person sitting there was also a student from No. 6 High School.
No. 6 High School?
Xie Sui’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. He asked, “What’s his name?”
Song Zhi paused, as if observing his expression and intentions, but out of caution, she didn’t tell him immediately. Xie Sui had no choice but to speak up: “He’s my classmate, but I’ve never known his name. I saw his ID on the computer at the internet cafe. Can you tell me his real name?”
Song Zhi seemed convinced. After a moment of hesitation, she said, “His name is Cen Xian.”
Cen Xian.
Xie Sui seemed to smile. He stood there for a long time, so long that the girl began to look at him strangely, hesitating whether to call the police, before he slowly straightened up.
Xie Sui walked toward the computer that was still turned on. The login interface still displayed the entrance to Glory, proving that what he had seen earlier was not an illusion. Slowly, he deleted those four letters on the keyboard and entered his own Glory ID.
—Shock.
It felt as if the clouds had parted to reveal the sun.
Logically, this should have been an unbelievable event, one that would leave him speechless with shock and awe. Yet, strangely, after learning the truth, an inexplicable thought arose in his mind.
He thought, Mole couldn’t be anyone else—it had to be him.
Once this thought took root, it gnawed at his nerves. He sat down in the same spot for a while before standing up again and walking to the front desk to purchase an annual membership for the internet cafe.
He asked the girl, “When does the person who usually sits at this spot come?”
Song Zhi, seeing him in his school uniform and thinking he looked quite handsome—not like a troublemaker—didn’t overthink it. She said, “That brother comes every night at 9:30 sharp. Sometimes he’s two hours late, and sometimes he stays until midnight. When he stays until midnight, it might be to keep me company…”
At this point, the girl’s cheeks flushed slightly. She added, “If you want to find him, you’ll have to wait until after school. He never comes in the morning. He’s not the type of bad student who skips classes or drops out.”
Xie Sui suddenly laughed.
Of course, he knew Cen Xian wasn’t a bad student, and he also knew Cen Xian wouldn’t come during the day—because during the day, Cen Xian sat right in front of him.
That night, he logged into his game account and kept an eye on every student who passed by the door and stopped to enter.
He knew Cen Xian most likely wouldn’t be wearing his school uniform, so he didn’t focus solely on students in No. 6 High School attire. Thus, when that person appeared, he realized he had been waiting for him.
However, Cen Xian stopped at the front desk, seemingly exchanging a few words with the girl. He merely smiled lightly and, instead of walking toward Xie Sui, found another computer.
Xie Sui thought he would have no chance to speak to him that night, but then, a commotion suddenly broke out at the front desk.
Xie Sui stood up and watched as a burly guy reached out toward Cai Xian.
He silently clenched his fist, veins faintly bulging, and walked in that direction.
The next day.
Xie Sui arrived at school as usual.
Cen Xian had expected the other to speak to him before class, during morning exercises, or during lunch break. To his surprise, Xie Sui had actually listened to his words from yesterday and didn’t approach him at school today, truly acting like a stranger.
Cen Xian quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
On the third day, Xie Sui brought his school uniform, not only that, but it was placed in a rather clean paper bag. Just opening the seal revealed a faint, fresh fragrance inside.
A few days later.
When Cen Xian came to the familiar internet cafe again, he saw Xie Sui sitting in his usual spot.
This time, Xie Sui was no longer like a passing stranger but naturally reached out to greet him first, saying, “Want to sit next to me?”
Cen Xian remained expressionless, turned around, and left.
When Cen Xian logged into his Glory account again, the current records in the City That Never Sleeps showed that Shock had climbed from fourth place to second, with a continuing upward trend. Not only that, but Shock had also updated his personal records on other maps. The accumulated experience might allow him to surpass Cen Xian in next month’s PK rankings.
Perhaps this time, he might surpass more than just one rank.
Although Cen Xian would never proactively challenge Shock after the PK rankings were released next month, watching Shock frantically refresh his battle records and experience, gradually gaining an advantage, Mole no longer stood by idly.
This internet cafe was the closest to the residential area. Others required taking a taxi, and the environment was similar to this one. There was no need for him to go out of his way to another internet cafe just because of Xie Sui.
So three days later, when he arrived at the internet cafe at nine o’clock and saw the familiar seat, he found that Xie Sui hadn’t come earlier than him today.
Cen Xian slightly frowned and asked Song Zhi, “What time does Xie Sui usually come to the internet cafe?”
Song Zhi thought for a moment: “Brother Xie Sui is quite punctual. He almost always comes at 9:20 every day, probably just like you, timing it precisely.”
Cen Xian: “……”
If it were just one day, it would be fine, but it had been several days in a row. Cen Xian finally realized that coming to the internet cafe so punctually every day without changing the time was to occupy his seat.
Damn it.
After sitting down, Cen Xian didn’t immediately turn on the computer. He fiddled with his phone for a while, looking up only when he heard familiar footsteps.
When he raised his eyes, he happened to meet the gaze of the person at the internet cafe entrance.
Xie Sui, however, smiled lightly.
He took the black card from the front desk, silently walked to where Cen Xian was sitting, and stopped.
“Don’t you usually come much later? Why are you so early today?”
Cen Xian: “Afraid a mad dog would take my seat.”
“Are you calling me a mad dog?” Xie Sui chuckled. “Then I’m really wronged. Everyone can sit in the internet cafe seats—you said that yourself.”
“Class monitor, how long have you been here?”
“Why haven’t you opened any game interface?”
“Could it be… you’re here to use the computer for studying?”
Cen Xian: “What’s it to you?”
Xie Sui: “What a coincidence, I’m here to study too.”
“Let’s sit together. We can keep each other motivated.”
So that very night.
Cen Xian gritted his teeth and didn’t go home until he had completed two full sets of test papers with Xie Sui.
This kind of person was someone he’d sit up and curse as a madman whenever he remembered them before falling asleep.
Just as he decided to ignore Xie Sui, the next day Xie Sui actually didn’t show up. Half-believing and half-doubting, Cen Xian logged in and broke the fourth-place record in the City That Never Sleeps that night.
Finally.
By the following weekend, Cen Xian received an invitation from his mother. He heard the book signing had been postponed to this weekend due to scheduling conflicts with the convention. Having already declined once, Cen Xian surprisingly agreed to his mother’s invitation this time. When he arrived at the venue, a long queue had already formed. Cen Xian was led backstage by staff, where a small table held some snacks and small gifts. He showed little interest, thinking they were things only children would like.
The signing lasted four hours. At first, Cen Xian waited inside, doing exercises from his workbook. Later, bored, he came to the convention’s front area. The booth was quite large, with a prominent poster of Chen Li’s new book cover at the front. He heard the TV adaptation of her previous book was scheduled to premiere at the end of this year, featuring several current top celebrities with extensive promotion, creating quite a buzz.
The signing was packed, with readers lining up with books and merchandise, waiting for Chen Li’s autograph.
After staying for a while and finding it boring, Cen Xian returned backstage. He picked up the pastry that had been sitting on the table for a while and took a bite, finding it cloyingly sweet. He took ice water from the small refrigerator and drank most of the bottle before the sweetness subsided.
By the time the signing ended, it was already evening. Chen Li met some people he didn’t recognize, shaking hands with smiles. Before leaving, she bid farewell to the staff, took Cen Xian’s arm, and asked him what he wanted for dinner.
Cen Xian had no interest in where to eat dinner. Eventually, Chen Li decided on a famous upscale Japanese restaurant nearby.
Despite it being past peak dining hours, the restaurant still had plenty of customers—some casual couples, others white-collar workers in suits. The price level was quite high. Such a place would never appear near Sixth High School, as there wouldn’t even be a customer base.
After dinner, Chen Li drove Cen Xian home.
She had to catch an overnight flight back to Yan City, so she didn’t stay at home. After Chen Li left, Cen Xian went to take a shower but noticed some red spots on his calves.
It must be an allergy.
He hadn’t eaten Japanese food often since childhood. Although he had felt somewhat unwell last time, it wasn’t as severe as this.
Cen Xian took a quick shower, went to the medicine cabinet for allergy medication, took one pill, leaned on the sofa playing with his phone, but soon felt drowsy.
He glanced at his watch—there were still two hours until 9:30. So he set an alarm and went to his bedroom to sleep.
Besides the City That Never Sleeps, he still had to break a record on another map today and complete forty points in the ranked matches.
When the clock turned to 9:30, Cen Xian got up, casually grabbed a jacket, and headed downstairs.
In the elevator, watching the changing floor numbers, he began to feel lightheaded, with a warm neck but chills throughout his body.
Wrapping his jacket tightly, he arrived at the internet cafe. The familiar seat was empty, and he inexplicably felt relieved—the little girl wasn’t helping at the shop today. He handed over his card, walked to the seat, and sat down.
When rolling up his trouser legs, he noticed the red spots had faded, his palms were cold, and his ankles were inexplicably burning.
He coughed lightly. In this condition, he probably had a slight fever.
He needed to cut things short today, return early to take medicine and rest.
Cen Xian clicked to log in and quickly entered the matchmaking interface. The PK leaderboard was located in the upper left corner of the login screen, a single tap would reveal the daily login status of the top players this month. Currently, the top-ranked avatars were mostly grayed out. Aside from the diligent Greek who was still grinding through maps, only his own avatar at rank 11 remained active. Below him, Shock’s avatar was dimmed, indicating the player hadn’t come online tonight.
A rare occurrence indeed.
After all, Shock always logged in punctually at this hour every night.
Cen Xian paid it no mind, deftly opening the matchmaking mode. The record for Nightless City had been reset last night. Today, he aimed not only to break into the top two but also to set new records on other maps.
Yet no matter how many matches he played today, he kept falling just short of the records. His focus seemed off—his mind would wander inexplicably, his vision taking seconds to sharpen, as if he couldn’t concentrate properly.
After the fourth match, Cen Xian set down his gear and called toward the counter, “Boss, got any hot coffee?”
“Sure do!” The boss, unusually sober and energetic today—perhaps out of gratitude for the previous incident—responded with unusual warmth. “I’ll bring it over.”
A warm canned coffee was placed at the edge of the table. The boss seemed to notice something amiss and leaned in, asking quietly, “Xiao Xian, are you feeling unwell? Your face looks a bit flushed.”
Cen Xian took a sip of the coffee. “I’m fine.”
The young man had always been reserved. Seeing that Cen Xian’s voice sounded normal and his mind seemed clear, the boss didn’t press further.
Finishing the coffee didn’t improve Cen Xian’s condition much. After losing two ranked matches in a row, he silently exited ranked mode and switched to practice matches.
During the brief loading screen for the haunted house map, he slumped over the table for a quick rest.
The next time he stirred, it was because someone was shaking him awake.
He faintly felt a hand patting his back and heard his name being called. When he responded vaguely, warm fingers immediately touched his feverish neck.
In the next moment, the hand on his shoulder shifted to grip him firmly while another arm wrapped around his waist. With minimal effort, he was lifted from the chair.
The other person’s body felt noticeably cooler than his. As Cen Xian’s heated breath brushed against their neck, he vaguely heard them murmur, “Running such a high fever, and you still came to the internet cafe?”
Cen Xian swallowed lightly. Perhaps delirium was setting in, but he whispered, “Can’t let Shock surpass me.”
The figure carrying him noticeably stiffened.
Then the arm around his waist tightened gradually as he was hoisted onto their back. Cen Xian’s head rested against the junction of their neck and shoulder. The carry was steady, and he soon drifted back to sleep.
When he woke again, a nurse informed him he needed an IV and advised him to stay awake during the procedure if possible.
Turning his head, Cen Xian saw Xie Sui sitting beside his bed.
The IV drip lasted over three hours. Throughout, Cen Xian drifted in and out of consciousness. When it finally ended, he realized he’d been using Xie Sui’s shoulder as a pillow—the other had sat motionless for three hours, eyes lowered as if maintaining that position the entire time.
The hospital was busy with no spare beds available. For common illnesses like colds and fevers, patients could only find relatively cushioned chairs to lean against for a few hours. But for Cen Xian, this wasn’t particularly difficult to endure.
Xie Sui glanced sideways at him, raising an eyebrow slightly: “Awake?”
“I’ll call the nurse.”
The young nurse was very enthusiastic – after all, two students with such striking looks were truly rare. She helped remove the IV needle: “Take the medicine prescribed by the doctor, then you can go home. Get some rest early – the temperature difference between day and night has been large in Lincheng these past two days.”
“Okay.”
Cen Xian pressed his lips together, as if silent for a few seconds before speaking: “Thank you.”
Xie Sui froze.
“The nurse has already left.”
His voice was somewhat low: “Were you saying thank you to me?”
Cen Xian’s Adam’s apple moved slightly. His remaining hand pressed against the cotton pad where the needle had been removed. His jacket was still cushioning his back, but Xie Sui picked it up.
“Mhm.”
After a long pause, Cen Xian finally spoke quietly: “I thought you’d never say thank you to me.”
Having taken him home once before, Xie Sui had become familiar with the route. When they reached the residential complex gate, before Cen could reach out, Xie Sui had already pushed open the somewhat heavy door first.
Cen Xian: “…”
When they got home, Cen Xian didn’t want to lie in bed, so he took a blanket and curled up on the sofa. Xie Sui noticed a newly covered book on the glass coffee table titled “The Abyss.”
Author: Chen Li.
Just as Cen Xian was drifting off to sleep, he heard Xie Sui ask: “You like this author’s books?”
Cen Xian opened his eyes, his gaze somewhat dazed. Following Xie Sui’s line of sight to the book on the table, he paused before saying: “I didn’t buy it because I like it.”
Xie Sui was slightly taken aback.
“She’s my mother.”
If he was the son of such a famous writer – whose first novel adaptation remained enduringly popular – the kind of son born to great literary figures, why would he come to study at Sixth High School?
“What about those paintings on the wall? Did you choose them yourself, or did your mother collect them?”
Cen Xian: “The artist of those paintings is my father.”
Xie Sui: “……”
Father a painter, mother a writer. Having grown up in such a strongly artistic family environment, yet developing such a cold personality. Xie Sui found this quite surprising.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but the sick Cen Xian had become somewhat more compliant. Though his demeanor and voice remained cool and unapproachable, he would answer questions, even bringing up his family background and personal history.
“Why don’t you live with your parents?” Xie Sui sat down near Cen Xian’s blanketed feet: “Are they divorced?”
“Mhm.”
Cen Xian’s eyelashes lowered as he leaned against the armrest: “My grandmother raised me.”
Seizing the moment, Xie Sui remained silent for a few seconds before asking softly: “Do you hate me?”
Cen Xian slightly opened his eyes at this. Night had fallen outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and with the lights off, his expression was unclear, but one could vaguely sense the youth looking at him.
He said: “I hate you.”
Xie Sui didn’t speak.
Xie Sui was startled, then suddenly perked up: “Before?”
Cen Xian closed his eyes again, saying indifferently: “You always used to bother me before.”
Then as if suddenly…
“You said ‘before’,” Xie Sui murmured: “What about now? Don’t you hate me now?”
Cen Xian’s eyelashes fluttered, as if disturbed from sleep: “I hate you even more now.”
Xie Sui didn’t press further this time.
Cen Xian’s breathing gradually quieted.
Night fell, outlining the other’s silhouette. The fever had tinged Cen Xian’s pale forehead with a faint redness, spreading to his lips, while the shadows cast by his lowered lashes were delicate and elongated.
The tear mole at the corner of his eye grew increasingly striking.
He had never seen anyone with such a beautifully placed tear mole.
Cen Xian’s fever broke early the next morning.
When he opened his eyes again, Xie Sui had already left.
In the following days, they remained peaceful desk neighbors—Xie Sui never spoke to him at school, to the extent that even Xie Sui’s deskmate Song Jing initially thought the two had no connection whatsoever, appearing as complete strangers.
It was the last self-study period before school ended that day.
Cen Xian suddenly felt his phone vibrate.
He opened it to find a message from an unfamiliar number.
It displayed just a few brief words: [Want to go to the internet cafe today?]
In an instant, he realized who it was. Before Cen Xian could question how the other had obtained his number or reject him—
Cen Xian lowered his gaze.
Though the sender wasn’t identified, he hesitated for merely two seconds before typing with his fingertips.
He replied: [No.]
Soon, the phone buzzed again: [Why?]
Cen Xian: [I have tutoring today.]
Xie: [Can I come with you?]
Cen Xian: [No, it’s one-on-one.]
Xie Sui: [After your tutoring, can I stay at your place tonight?]
Cen Xian: [Don’t you have your own home?]
Xie Sui: [I share a rental. My roommate always brings his girlfriend over.]
Cen Xian frowned slightly.
Lies.
Someone who could afford an annual internet cafe membership wouldn’t need to split rent with others?
He replied: [Do whatever you want.]
Xie Sui stared at the last few words on the screen.
So, this was tacit approval.
The boy’s lips curved into a smile, an inexplicable surge of delight rising in his heart.
After school, Cen Xian walked to the tutoring center. Located near the school, it offered several tutoring formats, and Cen Xian chose the most expensive one.
The one-on-one tutor was relatively young, a recent PhD graduate who had been tutoring part-time since university. Knowledgeable and articulate, he had coached the city’s top exam scorers for two consecutive years.
After one session, Cen Xian felt it was effective and paid for a full month, scheduling lessons on Saturdays and Sundays.
By the time Cen Xian crossed the demolition zone and returned to Zhenjin, the sky had darkened.
He had completely forgotten about Xie Sui.
Since he was returning so late, it never occurred to him that Xie Sui would be waiting at his home.
So when he reached his building and saw the boy leaning casually against the wall by the entrance, he paused mid-step, stunned.
Hearing his footsteps, Xie Sui looked up, the light from his phone screen fading from his face.
Xie Sui straightened up, scratching his head as if stiff from waiting too long, and asked, “Why so late?”
Cen Xian’s throat moved slightly. “The session is three hours long.”
Xie Sui stepped aside to clear the doorway, watching as Cen Xian took out his key, turned it, and opened the door.
“Your building is really quiet,” Xie Sui remarked offhandedly, lowering his gaze. “I stood here for two hours, and not a single person came in.”
Cen Xian parted his lips slightly but said nothing.
With two prior visits as experience, Xie Sui didn’t need to follow Cen Xian to navigate smoothly. He stepped out of the elevator and watched as Cen Xian unlocked the door with a code.
The previous times, he had used a key.
This time, it was a password.
Xie Sui could hear the rapid beating of his own heart.
Cen Xian returned at ten o’clock. After finishing his shower and washing up, Xie Sui was watching TV on the sofa when Cen Xian spoke up: “I forgot to bring my pajamas.”
Cen Xian said, “I don’t have your size.”
It was almost time to sleep.
When Cen Xian emerged from the bathroom wearing his pajamas, Xie Sui’s hand holding the remote control paused for a few seconds. Despite this, last time he had worn Cen Xian’s school uniform without any hesitation, even though it was a size too small, and still ran four laps around the track field.
Xie Sui glanced at his own summer short-sleeved shirt and school uniform trousers, then moved on to the next question: “Where should I sleep?”
Cen Xian: “The sofa.”
Xie Sui asked, “Can I sleep on the floor in your bedroom?”
Cen Xian answered without hesitation: “No.”
Xie Sui leaned back on the sofa: “I thought we were friends by now.”
Cen Xian was merciless: “Friends aren’t allowed in my room either.”
When the bedroom door closed, the room plunged into complete darkness, with only the faint glow of the TV illuminating Xie Sui’s face. It was playing a film adaptation of Chen Li’s original work.
Xie Sui had never been interested in this genre or type of film and television, he only knew the title because it was popular at the time. But now that he knew Chen Li was actually Cen Xian’s mother, he suddenly wanted to watch it in his spare time.
He was exploring an unknown territory, simply because this territory could help him understand that person a little better.
When dawn broke, Cen Xian came out of his bedroom to find the living room sofa empty. The blanket had been neatly folded and placed in one corner, Xie Sui had already left.
On the dining table sat several steaming breakfast items: there was soy milk, and there was milk.
Cen Xian sat down at the table, silently poured the soy milk into a glass, and gauged its temperature. The person must have left not long ago.
Xie Sui was the strangest friend he had made so far.
In the following days, although they had no contact at school, Cen Xian would often receive messages from that unfamiliar number just before classes ended.
Since he never saved the contact, by the end, Cen Xian had completely memorized the string of digits.
At first, Xie Sui would ask in an inquiring tone—today his roommate was bringing his girlfriend over, could he stay at Cen Xian’s place for another night?
But gradually, the inquiries turned into another form of questioning, such as: I’ll wait for you at ten tonight, is that okay?
They maintained their usual routine: Cen Xian’s bedroom remained off-limits to friends, while Xie Sui stayed in the living room, sometimes watching TV, sometimes playing on his phone. If he wanted to game, he would go to an internet cafe, but their visits to the cafe often didn’t overlap.
One noon, during lunch break, Cen Xian’s phone rang earlier than usual.
It was that familiar number.
[Studying tonight?]
The next day was the weekend. Since Friday evenings were free, Cen Xian would sometimes study at a tutoring center. The doctoral student happened to be there then, and if there were difficult concepts, they would explain them during breaks.
Cen Xian looked down and replied: [Going]
After a few seconds, Xie Sui unexpectedly received a second message from the person in front of him: [I’ll give you the key later, you can go by yourself]
Xie Sui was taken aback.
Then he typed: [Okay.]
Xie Sui stared at the last line Cen Xian sent, reading it over and over for a long time.
Strangely, every time he went to that apartment, his steps would uncontrollably quicken, and an inexplicable joy would surge in his heart.
He longed to see the other person.
He liked that clean and tidy apartment, the faint fragrance that occasionally wafted through the air, even the elevator and the frequently locked main door. He also enjoyed the rusty squeak of the gate at the entrance of Zhenjin Community when it was pulled open.
During the last period of evening self-study, the English teacher was supervising. Halfway through the class, under the students’ expectant gazes, she smiled and said, “Since tomorrow is the weekend, let’s relax tonight. I’ll put on a movie for you.”
Instantly, the classroom erupted into enthusiastic cheers. At the English teacher’s signal, they quickly quieted down.
Soon, some students began heading downstairs to the convenience store to buy snacks for the movie, while others drew the curtains or turned off the lights. The division of labor was clear—everyone was eager and busy.
At this time, some close friends started swapping seats, since most had been assigned seats against their wishes during the recent reshuffle by “Old Baldy.”
Cen Xian’s deskmate was a short-haired girl. Upon hearing about the movie, she quickly slipped to the other side of the classroom, tapped her friend’s deskmate, and whispered, “Can we switch seats?”
The boy turned around and asked, “Who’s your deskmate?”
The girl replied, “Cen Xian.”
The boy said, “Oh, alright then. Let’s switch.”
Before leaving, he grabbed the chips and cola he had bought in the morning but hadn’t eaten yet. Groping in the dark, he made his way to the other side of the classroom by memory, only to find that someone was already sitting next to Cen Xian.
It was actually Xie Sui.
The boy stood there, somewhat at a loss, and asked nervously with his head lowered, “Um, classmate, the seat next to Cen Xian…”
Xie Sui looked up at him and smiled, “I switched seats too. You can take my spot.”
“Oh, okay.”
Puzzled, he thought: if Xie Sui’s seat was empty, didn’t that mean Xie Sui had unilaterally and intentionally chosen to sit next to Cen Xian? He couldn’t figure it out—he remembered these two had no interaction at all.
Soon, sounds came from the front of the classroom.
The movie was a foreign inspirational film, a classic from the 1990s, the kind every English teacher had in their collection. The audio had a rich texture, the surroundings were dim, and only the projected screen at the front provided a bright light. Movies during student days always seemed better than those in cinemas.
Xie Sui glanced sideways and lightly tapped the edge of Cen Xian’s desk—so lightly it could hardly be called a tap.
Cen Xian’s voice, noticeably hushed, sounded, “What?”
Xie Sui said, “As friends, it seems we’ve never watched a movie together.”
Cen Xian replied, “Aren’t we watching one now?”
Xie Sui said, “We’ve never gone out to watch one. Not even at your place.”
After entering high school, Glory had just been officially released. Cen Xian wasn’t the type to frequently go out with friends for fun. Aside from studying, he spent his free time at internet cafes playing games. He didn’t quite understand Xie Sui’s question: “You want to go out?”
Xie Sui seemed to ponder the question: “More than going out, I’d rather team up with you to play games.”
Cen Xian’s eyelashes paused slightly: “Play what?”
Xie Sui: “Glory.”
Cen Xian’s moving pen tip halted.
He said, “I don’t play Glory.”
Xie Sui didn’t respond this time.
After what felt like a long while, he thought he heard the other person utter an almost inaudible, hushed voice: “Little liar.”
It was so faint he even wondered if he had misheard.
Not long after.
The film began with soothing music, depicting the protagonist’s childhood through green lens transitions accompanied by brightly colored scenes.
After some time, Xie Su spoke up: “That fountain pen in your desk compartment—I’ve never seen you use it.”
Cen Xian replied, “My grandmother gave it to me.”
Keeping a grandmother’s gift unused for so long clearly meant it was a deeply cherished present. Xie Su considered probing further but hesitated, wary of touching on sensitive memories.
Yet Cen Xian stated plainly, “She passed away.”
“My parents were always busy working when I was young. She practically raised me.”
Xie Su glanced sideways, watching the screen’s shifting light wash over the boy’s face before fading. He murmured, “I was out of line that day, asking for your pen.”
After a pause, Cen Xian’s voice came cool and soft: “I’m surprised you’d apologize.”
Just as Xie Su had once been startled to hear Cen Xian say “thank you,” now the other seemed equally taken aback by his apology.
Xie Su blinked, then chuckled faintly.
Faint crunching sounds drifted through the classroom—someone eating chips—along with hushed whispers and students seizing the relatively bright film lighting to squeeze in extra homework problems. The movie had just started, lending the room a warm, lively atmosphere peppered with rustling noises.
Xie Su’s previous schools had frequently organized film viewings. Having changed classes twice, he’d already sat through this particular movie three times and knew the plot by heart. He remarked tonelessly, “I’ve seen this before. The female lead never ends up with him in the end. Pretty tragic.”
“I’ve seen it too.”
“Think he’s pitiable?” Cen Xian’s voice was quiet. “You don’t have a girlfriend either.”
Xie Su realized Cen Xian was teasing him, a rare occurrence, and perked up, lowering his voice: “Someone who’s never even kissed anyone mocking me for being single?”
Cen Xian paused, seeming irritated: “Why would you assume I haven’t?”
Xie Su countered, “Isn’t it obvious? We’ve known each other three months. I’ve never seen you messaging any girl in class, let alone holding hands or kissing.”
“I’ve held hands.” Cen Xian retorted, “Haven’t you?!”
Xie Su: “Yeah, I have.”
Cen Xian didn’t want to continue this line of questioning, but a stubborn annoyance pushed him on: “So you’ve kissed someone too.”
Xie Su answered, “No.”
Just then, the speakers at the front of the classroom surged as the plot hit another minor climax—the protagonist running while noisy shouts echoed behind him.
From that point, neither spoke again.
Time slipped by. As the story progressed, the classroom grew quiet, everyone absorbed in the film. The progress bar on the screen showed nearly three-quarters complete.
“Evening self-study’s almost over.” Xie Su suddenly broke the silence. “Give me the key.”
Hearing this, Cen Xian set down his pen, fished the key from his pocket with a knuckle, and handed it over.
Xie Su took it, his palm brushing against the other’s cool fingertips before lightly grazing past.
Cen Xian withdrew his hand.
“What do you want for dinner?” Xie Su asked. “I’ll order delivery for when you get back from your run.”
Expecting no response, he was surprised when Cen Xian thought for a moment and answered, “Soup dumplings.”
Xie Su stiffened slightly.
Perhaps from astonishment, his Adam’s apple moved as he said, “The ones at the school gate okay?”
Cen Xian said, “Fine.”
Xie Su: “They close at 9 PM, so you should come back early.”
Cen Xian paused before responding, “Alright.”
At that moment, the movie began with a scenic shot, and the character’s background voices faded softly. No one in the class was speaking, making the classroom atmosphere suddenly exceptionally quiet.
So at this moment, even though spoken in a lowered voice, Xie Sui’s words rang particularly clear beside Cen Xian’s ear.
“Who will you kiss in the future?”
It was a completely unexpected question.
At the same time, it was so startling that it left no room for an answer.
Because Xie Sui’s tone didn’t sound like an inquiry, Cen Xian couldn’t quite describe it—it was more like a rather peculiar question muttered to oneself.
Cen Xian slightly furrowed his brow and glanced sideways. “What…”
“I don’t even know who I’ll date in the future, how could I know who I’ll kiss.”
The one who brought up the topic turned his gaze, meeting Cen Xian’s eyes.
A tear mole, illuminated by the screen’s glow, resembled a brushstroke abruptly halted in an ink wash painting, its outline delicately traced on thin paper. Even his lips were strikingly red.
“Want to practice in advance…”
Xie Sui parted his lips.