BOSF 055: Love You [END]

After graduating and moving out of the dormitory, Ji Yan didn’t go home. He accepted the job at the bank and rented a place on his own.

When he called home, he was prepared for a scolding. This was the first time he had made such a major decision without his parents’ consent. But surprisingly, Lin Yueqin didn’t scold him. Mother and son were silent on the phone for a moment before Lin Yueqin said, “Be careful out there on your own. Come home for a visit when you have time.”

Ji Yan was stunned for a few seconds before he felt his eyes grow warm. “Okay.”

No matter how much he resented his parents, they had, after all, lived together for over twenty years. Parting still brought a sense of reluctance. Ji Yan had once thought he had given up all hope for his parents, and he had believed that once he grew up, he would be free to do whatever he wanted, regardless of their opposition. But after that phone call, he understood that deep down, he still longed for their support and understanding.

A chasm of conflicting old and new values lay between him and his parents, a gap that might never be bridged in their lifetime, but that didn’t mean there was no love between them. Affection has always been the most crucial foundation in a parent-child relationship, regardless of whether a blood tie exists. Blood is a bond, not a restraint, yet so many people forget this.

And in that moment, he felt a sense of release.

He would probably never be able to tell his parents about his relationship with Xiang Yang. He had the life he wanted to live, and his parents had theirs. They wouldn’t interfere with each other, but they could still care for one another. This was the best possible outcome.

Ji Yan closed his eyes to compose himself for a moment before he started cleaning his new place.

The job Ji Yan found was as an IT engineer, responsible for maintaining and updating the bank’s systems. He wasn’t good at fixing computers, so he had chosen to specialize in software programming. However, he had realized back in school that he didn’t like coding. He found the dense arrays of symbols and numbers to be nothing but dry and tedious; every assignment and exam was just a task to be completed. So, although he had graduated from a good university with a degree in a highly sought-after field and earned a higher starting salary than other graduates, he suffered greatly at work.

The professional world was different from school. School allowed you to make mistakes; teachers were patient, and you could always correct your errors. But in the workplace, mistakes could be fatal. The slightest carelessness could lead to heavy losses and a brutal scolding from your supervisor.

Ji Yan’s foundational knowledge wasn’t solid, and despite being extremely careful, he couldn’t avoid making mistakes. Sometimes, fixing a single bug would take him an entire day, causing system delays and incalculable losses from the halt in cash flow. The pressure was immense. The company had a grace period for new hires; once or twice was fine, but by the third time, his supervisor couldn’t hold back from yelling at him.

Doing a job you dislike brings no sense of accomplishment, and the pressure that comes with it can easily become suffocating. But Ji Yan had no room to retreat. He was the one who had chosen to be financially independent. He had to cover rent and living expenses, and if he quit in a fit of anger, his source of income would be a problem.

The issues Ji Yan faced were the same ones most graduates encounter. Schools protect students too well, imparting knowledge and answering questions, but failing to teach them how to adapt to the workplace or how to handle pressure.

His senior colleagues had all been through it. They could only comfort Ji Yan by telling him that everyone goes through the same thing.

An engineer’s job wasn’t as great as outsiders imagined—sitting in an air-conditioned office, typing code in front of a computer, clocking in and out on time, and earning a high salary. The reality was, you couldn’t finish your own work and still had to deal with unexpected external issues. Working late was common. Sometimes, if a piece of equipment failed, you had to stay after hours to fix it. If you couldn’t, you had to call in the vendor and stay with them the entire time.

Ji Yan often left for work at eight in the morning and didn’t get home until after ten at night. Overtime hours beyond the stipulated limit couldn’t be claimed. If something came up on a weekend, he had to be available at a moment’s notice with a single call from his supervisor. Out of his eight days off a month, only about two were truly his own.

Ji Yan’s life was completely consumed by work, and he had less and less time to see Xiang Yang. Xiang Yang was busy too, with many exhibitions and charity events scheduled on weekends. Their free time rarely aligned. Every time he called Xiang Yang to say he couldn’t make it over that week, he could hear the disappointment in Xiang Yang’s voice.

But Xiang Yang never blamed him. Just as Ji Yan had once encouraged him, Xiang Yang now started recording voice messages for him. Fearing he would disturb Ji Yan’s work, he even began learning to type. Most people start learning to read in elementary school, or even kindergarten, but Xiang Yang only began after he started working. Because his parents had given up on him too early, Xiang Yang could only doodle when he was in middle school. When Ji Yan first bought him an art book, he could only understand the pictures, not the words. Ji Yan had read all the text descriptions in the book to him, word by word.

Ji Yan had once seen the monster encyclopedia he had given Xiang Yang in his dorm room. The hardcover was worn with use, yet Xiang Yang still treasured it. Xiang Yang was sentimental and devoted; it seemed that when he liked something, he could like it for a lifetime.

And the two words Xiang Yang sent him most often were not “Keep going,” but “Love you.”

Xiang Yang loved him very, very much.

Xiang Yang had clearly been more unfortunate than anyone else, yet the first word he learned was “love.”

Every time Ji Yan saw those two words, he couldn’t help the redness that crept into his eyes. Life was too bitter, but his boyfriend was too sweet. So, he was willing to overcome all difficulties, just to be with Xiang Yang.

Every time Ji Yan was on the verge of giving up, Xiang Yang would appear and save him.

Ji Yan had carefully kept the pair of large and small pterosaurs, and he always remembered what Xiang Yang had meant back then. Now, Xiang Yang had grown strong and was able to protect him.

Later, Ji Yan gritted his teeth and endured for a year before resigning.

Everyone always told him that it was bad to quit a job you had just started, that people would think you lacked persistence.

But it wasn’t like that.

You shouldn’t force yourself to stay in a job that isn’t a good fit. Over the past year, Ji Yan had finally understood this. But not liking a job didn’t mean you didn’t have to take it seriously. Every job is an accumulation of experience, a chance to learn, to temper your mindset, and to learn how to deal with people.

After changing jobs two or three more times, Ji Yan finally understood what he truly liked. He liked working in human resources.

This job had absolutely nothing to do with his major, and Ji Yan never would have imagined that his introverted self would enjoy a job that required so much interaction with people. Perhaps it was because he had learned to read his parents’ expressions from a young age that his heart was sensitive and perceptive. He would listen to what others had to say and notice the small details others easily missed. That was how he was able to see Xiang Yang, how he had unearthed a treasure like him.

Changing careers wasn’t easy; it was equivalent to starting all over again. On top of that, Ji Yan hadn’t graduated from a relevant field, so he had to self-study many courses. But no matter how hard or tiring it was, it didn’t matter, because he loved it.

Many companies rejected him based on his resume alone, but some were willing to give him a chance to interview. This time, Ji Yan was finally confident. He spoke eloquently with the interviewer about the future he envisioned and finally landed the job.

After getting the job he wanted, Ji Yan suddenly felt like everything in his life was going smoothly. In reality, nothing had changed; it was his mindset that was different. Because he was willing to overcome difficulties for something he loved, hardship no longer felt like a painful thing.

And the biggest change in his life was that he could finally live with Xiang Yang.

His new workplace wasn’t close to Xiang Yang’s studio, but they were in the same district. Ji Yan had only mentioned it briefly, and Xiang Yang immediately decided to move out of the dormitory.

In Xiang Yang’s mind, it was only natural to live together after getting married.

Xiang Yang always remembered what Shen Xiuqing had told him, and that conviction became his driving force. He wanted to live under the same roof with Ji Yan. He wanted to protect him, to do everything with him, to see him first thing upon waking up in the morning, to eat with him, watch TV with him, do interesting things together, and wish each other goodnight before sleep.

This was life. And it was only meaningful because Ji Yan was in it.

The day they moved into their new home, Ji Yan found a pair of origami figures on the nightstand. One was Xiang Yang, and the other was himself, folded to look as cute as Q-version figurines.

He recognized them at a glance.

Because the adorable origami figures were both wearing school uniforms. The shorter figure was clutching the sleeve of the other, and that was Ji Yan.

The taller figure had turned his head to look at the shorter one, obediently letting his sleeve be held. That was Xiang Yang.

It was their walk to school.

Even though ten years had passed, Ji Yan could still recall the scene as if it were yesterday. Farmland to the left, the road to the right, the school at the end of the path, and the slowly rising sun right in front of them.

He had tugged on Xiang Yang’s sleeve as he walked forward, his heart anxious and flustered, terrified of being late. The road to school felt so, so long, as if it could stretch for a lifetime.

Xiang Yang had ambled along slowly, as if he really did plan on walking with him for a lifetime.

They had walked to and from school together for those three years, and then walked through countless more years of companionship.

Xiang Yang was a summer flower, and he was also his sun.