Chapter 18

In the hotel room, Shen Zhi's private doctor stood by the bed, gave him a quick check, confirmed nothing was wrong, and finally asked him: 'Are you sure?'

Shen Zhi sat on the bed with his head lowered, his face very pale. He pressed his temple and said, 'I'm sure. I didn't black out. I remember it clearly.'

'From your description, it really isn't a normal reaction to alcohol, but the dose was probably very small.' The doctor paused. 'Housekeeping may not have cleaned up yet. Should we send the drink for testing? Or check the trash can for any leftover packaging?'

Shen Zhi frowned, looking cold and irritated. After a long silence, he said listlessly, 'No need.'

'You can't celebrate birthdays like this anymore. You treat them as friends, but it's inevitable that someone will have ulterior motives. Luckily nothing happened this time—how would you explain it otherwise?' Shen Zhi's expression made it clear he had already guessed who it was but didn't want to investigate further. The doctor sighed. 'I won't tell your family about this, but if you feel unwell at all, tell me immediately, understand?'

Shen Zhi nodded.

In the hotel lobby, Shen Zhi walked toward the front desk, glancing back at the doctor as he went. The doctor, being perceptive, didn't follow and headed outside first. Shen Zhi walked up to the service counter and slid his room card toward the attendant: 'Excuse me, who booked my room? Room 2026. Too many friends came yesterday, I can't remember.'

'Mr. Shen, please wait a moment, let me check.' The receptionist tapped a few keys and answered, 'It was under the name Xu Yan.'

Shen Zhi pressed his lips together instantly, his voice dropping a little, and asked again: 'What time did he book the room?'

'Seven twenty-three.'

They had only just gone upstairs not long before that. In other words, Xu Yan—a person who had something to do the next morning and absolutely couldn't have been sleeping at the hotel—had booked a room before the birthday party even started. Shen Zhi remembered that Xu Yan hadn't touched a drop of alcohol last night, his excuse being that he had something to do in the morning. But now that explanation seemed completely unreliable.

Once in the car, the doctor asked him: 'Do you know who it was?' Shen Zhi didn't answer. He leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes to rest for a while, then took out his phone, found someone in Xu Yan's class, and asked: What have you all been busy with lately?

After sending it, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes again, his face unreadable. Not long after, his phone rang. Shen Zhi raised his hand and saw the reply: Just busy, basically. The whole major took a coach out of the city early this morning, just got off now.

Shen Zhi couldn't describe what he was feeling at this moment. At least Xu Yan hadn't lied about this. But what about everything else? Shen Zhi scrolled down the chat and saw a WeChat message Xu Yan had sent him over two hours ago: Are you awake? Does your head still hurt?

Shen Zhi stared at that message. He found himself absurdly thinking that if only Xu Yan hadn't done what he did—it wouldn't matter who had drugged him, as long as it wasn't Xu Yan. Then after last night they might have been able to find a different way to relate to each other. Even if it wasn't the romance Xu Yan wanted, there could still be room to maneuver—at least they wouldn't have become strangers like they had these past few months. Shen Zhi knew he couldn't take that step. It was too hard. But he admitted he didn't want to draw a clear line with Xu Yan. He had never thought that way.

Even when Xu Yan confessed to him, Shen Zhi saying he'd pretend he hadn't heard was actually giving both of them an out—he could have refused outright, and whatever happened after wouldn't have mattered. But instead he'd given that answer that could hardly be called positive, and Xu Yan had still acted as if he'd been rejected, avoiding him for months on end.

Months of avoidance—then a desperate gamble, doing something like this. Shen Zhi had always thought Xu Yan was a smart person, but he couldn't understand why things had come to this, couldn't understand what Xu Yan's kind of liking even amounted to. They hadn't gone all the way last night, so what had Xu Yan actually been thinking—a last-minute retreat? A sudden return to reason? Who knew.

A week later, the field survey ended. On the way back to school, Xu Yan was still organizing data and materials with his group members. Two days earlier, after some deliberation, he had sent an anonymous email to Li Ziyou, telling her what he had heard and seen that night—just a straightforward account, nothing else. Once the email was sent, he had a clear conscience about it. As for what Li Ziyou decided to do, that was her own business.

These past few days away had been exhausting. Xu Yan had no time to think about anything else, his subconscious forcing him to forget about that night, to act as if it never happened—after all, what Shen Zhi really wanted was Yanyan, not Yan-yan. This pot of melodrama was too thick, drenching him in its stench; he just wanted to shower and collapse into bed. The WeChat message he'd sent Shen Zhi a week ago still had no response. Xu Yan didn't have the energy to feel hurt anymore—he was just exhausted.

But what he feared came true. The moment he trudged into the dormitory building with his tripod, he saw a tall, slender figure—Shen Zhi. Shen Zhi, who didn't live on campus, was standing in the humanities building's male dormitory. Someone who knew him greeted him and asked why he was here. Shen Zhi looked at Xu Yan and said, 'I'm looking for him.'

Xu Yan guessed Shen Zhi had come to demand an explanation, to ask why he'd taken advantage of someone drunk and helpless. He handed the tripod and DSLR to his roommate, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and left the building with Shen Zhi. They walked one after the other to the edge of a flower bed. Xu Yan, head lowered, said 'I'm sorry' before Shen Zhi could speak.

Shen Zhi was startled. He lowered his voice and asked, 'Why did you do that.'

What else could it be? When the person you like gets drunk and holds you and kisses you, it's only human not to be able to hold back. But if Xu Yan had known that the name Shen Zhi had called out wasn't his, he would never have kept kissing and touching him—not for anything. Xu Yan raised his head and looked at Shen Zhi. 'Because I like you. I've said it before.'

'So you just...' Shen Zhi paused, then said coldly, 'Xu Yan, you had to make things into this.'

'That's why I'm saying sorry. I'm very sorry. I was too impulsive.' Xu Yan rubbed his frozen face with his hand. He felt like he was dying—exhausted and dejected. He'd thought he'd seen a glimmer of light, but it had been snuffed out after just one night. So hard. He sighed and said, 'You probably remember too—we didn't go all the way in the end. I know you must mind this, so... I won't bother you again, absolutely. As for the basketball team, I'll quit after the day-after-tomorrow's game. I'll try to make sure you don't have to see me...'

The more he said, the worse he felt. Xu Yan stopped rambling. He raised his head, his eyes heavily bloodshot, his voice slightly nasal, and said, 'But Shen Zhi, when I said I like you, I really do like you. If I've disgusted you or troubled you, I apologize again. I'm sorry.'

His expression was stubborn, barely held together. Shen Zhi looked at him, unable to tell whether this was genuine emotion or a calculated act—after all, Xu Yan's apology was so frank and open. If his feelings were sincere and unadulterated, how could Shen Zhi feel disgusted? But Xu Yan's methods that night had been so unseemly, so despicable—could that even be called liking someone?

Shen Zhi suddenly felt a desire to know how far Xu Yan's so-called 'liking' could go, what else he was capable of... or something else, he couldn't articulate it—like a clump of abandoned spider web, crumpled by the wind and stuck together. He couldn't give Xu Yan's actions an accurate, rational description. In fact, Shen Zhi himself was in an unusual state of confusion. He shouldn't have been hesitating at all, yet he was. He was hovering on both sides of a dividing line, but he didn't know what that line meant—sexual orientation? Forgiveness? Acceptance? He truly didn't know.

Seeing Shen Zhi say nothing for a long time, Xu Yan forced out a smile with difficulty: 'Then that's that. I'm heading back to the dorm first.'

He turned and walked toward the dormitory, his hair blown into a mess. The cold wind howled. He heard Shen Zhi suddenly say from behind him: 'We can try.'

Xu Yan stopped abruptly, turned around in a daze, looked at him with utter disbelief, his voice hoarse, and asked: 'What?'

'We can try.' Shen Zhi stood under the bleak gray sky of winter, looked at Xu Yan expressionlessly, and repeated.

His heart seemed to empty out. With every beat, a firework bloomed—bang bang bang, echoing endlessly in his chest. Blood rushed to his limbs, his body suddenly burning hot. Xu Yan's fingertips were trembling. He even asked blankly again: 'Huh?'

Shen Zhi said nothing more, just looked at him. Xu Yan's expression at this moment made him suddenly regret it a little. He sensed a gap had opened in his rationality—a vicious gap—but it was too late to fill. The words were out, and said twice. That vague, unclear so-called dividing line—Shen Zhi hadn't crossed it, nor stepped back. He felt like he was standing with one foot on it—he hadn't actually made any effective decision.

Something was shining in Xu Yan's eyes. He belatedly answered, 'Okay.' It didn't matter anymore. Who Shen Zhi had wanted that night, whose name he'd called—none of it mattered, as long as they could be together—he could try, he could wait. Xu Yan suddenly curved his lips into a smile, looking back at Shen Zhi. His exhaustion vanished, and even the sky seemed to brighten.

So foolish, so naive. Looking back now, Xu Yan realized he had been deceived by moments like that, by fantasies like that—so much so that he'd overlooked Shen Zhi's cold tone and expression at the time. In the end, everything was bleak. The last remaining beauty was buried completely, leaving only a mess of heartache and wreckage.

These past few years, Xu Yan had deliberately avoided the name Tang Yunyan. Maybe it was self-deception, but it was better than living in constant worry and suspicion. But now, looking at those three characters, Xu Yan suddenly realized that Shen Zhi's coldness and neglect might have been because he had never been a qualified substitute or successor—after all, even the gender was wrong. How could Shen Zhi possibly love him? Impossible.

Xu Yan felt ashamed of himself, and laughed at himself for playing the fool for years, thinking he could move Shen Zhi—when in fact he was only moving himself, deceiving himself. In the past he'd always wondered what he'd done wrong, what he'd said wrong, why Shen Zhi was in a bad mood. Now he finally understood: his love was wrong—for Shen Zhi, Xu Yan's love was wrong.

'Ge?' Seeing Xu Yan spacing out, Xu Nian called out to him, 'What are you thinking about?'

Xu Yan came back to himself, smiled, and said, 'What to eat for lunch.'

Xu Nian: 'Have some ambition, will you!'