Chapter 53

Qi Yichuan stared for a long time, then suddenly laughed: "Wow, you really hurt people when you talk like that!"

Wen Fu clearly hadn't realized it, thinking it over seriously: "Did I?"

He was just expressing what he thought, not trying to hurt Qi Yichuan.

"You could've just hidden it," Qi Yichuan said, joking. "If you don't want to give it to me, don't let me see it."

Wen Fu explained: "But Bo ge told me to give it to you."

Qi Yichuan reached out: "Then give it to me."

Wen Fu hesitated: "…No."

Qi Yichuan laughed a few times: "How could I have wanted to kiss you when I was little? You're such a dummy."

Wen Fu didn't respond, carefully putting the manga into his own backpack.

Qi Yichuan watched from the side: "You're that reluctant to part with your brother's stuff?"

Wen Fu looked at the manga in the bag, figuring that keeping it so openly in the backpack would eventually get him caught by Fei Bolin, so he took the book back out and put it in the outer compartment.

While putting it away, he said: "Can't bear to."

If he could bear to part with it, he wouldn't have given Qi Yichuan the money.

Qi Yichuan asked: "Why?"

Wen Fu sighed, feeling like he and Qi Yichuan were dummies in each other's eyes — he'd already said the reason when he first came over: "Because Bo ge bought it."

Qi Yichuan: "Just because your brother bought it, you can't bear to part with it?"

"You could find a brother too," Wen Fu said. "Then you could be reluctant to part with things too."

"I have a brother!" Qi Yichuan insisted. "My brother's way older than me, he's been buying me stuff since I was little, and I never couldn't bear to part with his things."

Wen Fu thought for a moment: "Your brother isn't fresh."

Qi Yichuan was baffled, fired back: "Your brother is fresh, your brother was just born."

Wen Fu hummed softly again, didn't say anything.

Later the two went to the projection room to watch anime together. Qi Yichuan brought sushi made by their family's cooking auntie and a bunch of snacks. Wen Fu ate enthusiastically, and Qi Yichuan asked: "Is it good?"

Wen Fu nodded: "Good."

Qi Yichuan's eyes rolled — this auntie had been specially brought over from Jin City by his family, and at the very least, her cooking was no worse than a star-rated restaurant. His competitive streak kicked in, and he asked Wen Fu: "Is your brother's cooking better, or my family's?"

Wen Fu ate the sushi and ignored him.

Qi Yichuan bumped his shoulder: "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Wen Fu: "If I say it, you'll think I'm hurting you again."

Qi Yichuan: "…"

Although Wen Fu always killed the conversation, when it came to food he was very generous. Every snack Qi Yichuan had brought out, he ate every last bite while watching the anime. Qi Yichuan asked if he hadn't eaten breakfast, and Wen Fu said he'd eaten five flower rolls and two baozi in the morning.

Qi Yichuan asked if he was stuffed, Wen Fu said he wasn't.

Qi Yichuan didn't believe him, quickly got him two digestive tablets.

After eating the tablets, Wen Fu said he was really full, could he have two more.

Qi Yichuan fed him two more.

He was still a novice with cats — whatever Wen Fu said, he believed. In the end, Wen Fu ate half a box of digestive tablets, and Qi Yichuan finally caught on.

"You didn't just want to eat the digestive tablets, did you?"

Wen Fu, as if it were obvious: "Can't I want to?"

"You can want to — no," Qi Yichuan got tangled up, "but you can't keep eating them, this stuff is medicine no matter how you look at it."

Wen Fu: "Oh."

Half the box was already in his stomach, even if Qi Yichuan said there was poison in the medicine he couldn't be bothered to argue.

After a while, Qi Yichuan came in mysteriously with his hands behind his back.

Qi Yichuan: "Guess what I'm holding behind me?"

Wen Fu, expressionless: "Violin."

Qi Yichuan: "How did you know?"

Wen Fu: "…"

Good thing he didn't let him kiss him when they were little, or he'd be afraid his IQ would be contagious.

The two of them walked arm-in-arm to the study. Qi Yichuan had already set up the sheet music: "Have you still been playing violin all these years?"

Wen Fu shook his head.

"Why?"

"No violin."

"Now you do," Qi Yichuan shoved the instrument into his hands, "but it's been so long, do you still remember how to play?"

Wen Fu rested the violin on his shoulder: "Don't need to remember."

Once the violin was in his hands, he'd naturally know how to play.

Qi Yichuan's sheet music had been grabbed at random by his family. When Qi Yichuan was little, because of his brother's work transfer, he'd been neighbors with Wen Fu in Yanjin County for a few months. After returning to Jin City, he made a fuss about wanting to learn violin too. Unfortunately, he didn't have much talent, studied for a year or two, his family filled a room with violins and sheet music, then he went off to learn guitar and drums, and the violin he'd bought earlier just sat there gathering dust.

This time he had his dad bring the violin and sheet music to Rongzhou, and his dad didn't know any better, so he just grabbed a few at random.

Wen Fu stood in front of the stand, looked at the sheet music, and played The Brandenburg Concertos.

He wasn't familiar with the sheet music, so he played slowly, concentrating on reading the notes while playing, and the lofty, weighty song of fate became gentle and flowing.

Qi Yichuan teased: "Play any slower and spring will be over."

Wen Fu kept flipping through the sheet music and found The Jasmine Flower.

This one flowed much more smoothly. Wen Fu's mom had always made him practice this piece when she first taught him to play.

Wen Fu's muscle memory was awakened, his pitch and tone were flawless.

After Qi Yichuan finished listening, he asked: "Oh right, are you going to sign up for the Children's Day Singing Competition? I remember you sing even better than you play violin, you might win a prize."

Wen Fu put down the violin: "Singing competition?"

"It's organized by the school clubs, freshmen sophomores and seniors can all sign up. The music club specially applied to the school for the auditorium," Qi Yichuan pulled out his phone and scrolled through the school confession wall announcement, "they say originals or covers are both fine, any style, but original songs get bonus points."

He handed his phone to Wen Fu: "First place gets a guitar, second place gets a physical album from any singer, third place gets a QQ Music green diamond membership hahaha."

Wen Fu wanted a guitar.

He took Qi Yichuan's phone and stared at the screen for a while.

Qi Yichuan saw he seemed tempted and said: "If you're willing, sign up. If you want to do an original, I can have my dad bring the instruments from home."

Wen Fu pressed his lips together, as if he'd made up his mind: "I'll go back and ask Bo ge."

-

Rongzhou's summer this year came early. By the end of April, Fei Bolin was already planning to bring out the family's only electric fan.

At night, Fei Bolin finished his practice test papers first, spread out the summer mat on the bed. Wen Fu held his pen, seemingly buried in his homework, but actually his eyes were glancing back, constantly on guard against Fei Bolin touching his backpack at the foot of the bed.

After a while, Fei Bolin finished laying the mat, carried the changed bedsheets to the balcony, and glanced at Wen Fu's test paper as he passed behind him: "Why aren't you done yet? Can't do the problems?"

"No," Wen Fu shook his head. "I can do them."

"Finish up and go to sleep early," Fei Bolin said. "Don't dawdle."

"Okay."

Fei Bolin put the bedsheets outside to wash tomorrow night, and when he came back, he had the milk for Wen Fu to drink in the morning.

"I'll put the milk in your bag so you don't forget again when you leave tomorrow."

Wen Fu didn't make a sound, his eyes following Fei Bolin's footsteps from left to right, watching from the corner of his eye as Fei Bolin grabbed his backpack, opened the zipper, and put the box of Jule Milk inside.

"Hmm?"

Just as Wen Fu breathed a sigh of relief, Fei Bolin suddenly made a questioning sound.

Wen Fu's breath caught again.

He pretended to turn around casually: "What is it, Bo ge?"

Fei Bolin said: "The outer layer of your backpack—"

Wen Fu stared intently at the faint outline of the manga book showing through the outer layer.

Fei Bolin: "…how did it get scuffed?"

Wen Fu's heart dropped with relief, and he smoothly grabbed the backpack to look: "I was in a rush coming back, scuffed it on the stairs."

Fei Bolin went to the closet to get Wen Fu's clothes and socks for tomorrow, said casually: "What's the rush."

Wen Fu: "To come back and eat your cooking."

Fei Bolin laughed once, couldn't tell what emotion.

Wen Fu, seeing he wasn't pursuing it further, quickly stuffed the remaining test papers into his bag, pretended to go to the bathroom while taking the bag with him and tossing it on the living room sofa, as far from Fei Bolin as possible.

When he came back, Fei Bolin was sitting on the bed wearing earphones, waiting for him to sleep.

Because summer was approaching, Wen Fu's sleepwear had been switched to Fei Bolin's old clothes: a long, wide white sleeveless T-shirt, washed so much it was slightly misshapen, like the tank tops old men on the street like to wear, the collar and armholes so big wind could blow through at any time, and when Wen Fu wore it he looked like a plastic bag with a hole in the bottom — grab the shoulder straps and you could lift him up. Wen Fu liked it because it was cool — which was also why Fei Bolin gave him this shirt to sleep in.

Wen Fu took off his slippers and climbed onto the bed, stepping over Fei Bolin's legs. Fei Bolin opened his eyes, and Wen Fu's young, slender body was fully visible through the wide armholes.

Logically there was nothing to look at — after all, the two showered together every night, Fei Bolin knew every single hair on Wen Fu from head to toe.

But once Wen Fu put on clothes, Fei Bolin saw the body under the fabric, and instead looked away as if he'd accidentally stumbled onto something unexpected.

Two plastic fans sat on the windowsill by the bed — ones Wen Fu had gotten from someone handing out flyers downstairs on his way home today. The fans had an ad printed on them: For infertility issues, visit Maria Hospital in Jin City, contact number 028-87766666.

At the time, Wen Fu took the fan, read the ad, and asked the auntie handing out flyers: "Can I have another one?"

So there were two.

Actually Fei Bolin didn't really need the fan — his perception of temperature was as steady as his emotions year-round, not afraid of cold in winter, not afraid of heat in summer, so Wen Fu liked to snuggle up to him when sleeping in all seasons, seeking coolness when hot, warmth when cold. The only inconvenience was that Fei Bolin himself didn't much like physical contact with others, always kicking Wen Fu away when he pressed close.

But it didn't matter — Fei Bolin kicked once and Wen Fu would press close a second time, since the other guy couldn't bear to use force. As long as you had thick skin, you could become Fei Bolin's bed accessory.

More importantly, burrowing against someone also required technique.

Especially timing.

For example, when Fei Bolin was almost asleep, silently pressing close, burrowing into Fei Bolin's arms, and Fei Bolin would, too lazy to exert force, gently hold him, preventing Wen Fu from moving around and disturbing his sleep.

Like right now.

Wen Fu, like a cat lurking in the dark, watched Fei Bolin's breathing grow even, then rolled smoothly onto Fei Bolin's chest, and Fei Bolin instinctively reached out and held him.

Wen Fu nuzzled Fei Bolin's collarbone with his forehead: "Bo ge?"

"What is it?" Fei Bolin's voice had a nasal quality, sounding already drowsy. "Too hot to sleep?"

The current weather was exactly the season where turning on the fan would be cold but not turning it on would be hot. Fei Bolin knew Wen Fu hated summer — because for Wen Fu in the past, summer meant rainstorms without an umbrella, food that spoiled the next day, rooms with random power outages, and sour-smelling clothes that couldn't be washed daily due to lack of conditions. Even though he no longer had to go through all that, Wen Fu's feeling about summer was deeply rooted and hard to change, so Fei Bolin had laid out the summer mat early, put the first batch of ripe watermelons in the fridge, and even brought out the fan ahead of time, to make sure Wen Fu could have a summer this year that wasn't quite so hateful.

He didn't wait for Wen Fu's answer, closed his eyes, and slipped his hand under the hem of Wen Fu's shirt onto his back.

He felt — no sweat, just dry, cool skin.

Fei Bolin thought Wen Fu had a fever but not enough to make him sweat, so he reached for the plastic fan on the windowsill, grabbed the handle, and fanned above Wen Fu's arm, half-asleep and asking: "Still hot?"

Wen Fu shook his head, lifted his head, and the first thing he saw was the scar on Fei Bolin's chin.

He raised his hand and traced the scar with his fingertip, asking: "Can I sing for you?"

Fei Bolin: "…"

Although he knew Wen Fu's brain had untimely thoughts at any moment but…

"Does it have to be right now?" Fei Bolin asked.

"Mm."

"…"

Fei Bolin hesitated between telling Wen Fu to shut up and sleep right now and letting Wen Fu sing a couple lines before shutting up and sleeping, and reluctantly said: "Sing then."