Chapter 55.2

Zong Bei froze, sensing something was off. “Why does that sound kind of sour¹[T/N: In casual slang it often implies jealousy or a teasing sense of envy.]?”

Xie Qiu: “Should I not be sitting at this table right now?”

Yan Mu remained expressionless.

“……”

“……………”

No matter how you look at it, he’s clearly about to throw a tantrum?

Sensing the tension, the two sitting across immediately thought about escaping.

Zong Bei awkwardly came up with an excuse and didn’t even care that the window seats were probably full already. “Uh, Qiuzi²[T/N: The name “裘子” (Qiúzi) is a nickname or casual way of referring to Xie Qiu — usually with the “子” added as a friendly or affectionate suffix (like calling someone “Xiao Mingzi” or “Ah Cheng”).], let’s go sit by the window. Better view!”

Xie Qiu: “I think so too! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

The two grabbed their trays and bolted.

But they moved too fast, and the cafeteria floor was slick with grease. Zong Bei lost his footing, bumped into someone walking by, and while the food stayed put, the soup spilled—right onto one side of Yan Mu’s pants.

“Ahhh, I’m sorry, God Yan!!” Zong Bei panicked instantly. He dropped his tray on the table. He only wanted to flee, not looking for death!

He quickly pulled out tissues, trying to help wipe it off.

Yan Mu had rolled up his sleeves while eating, exposing most of his arm. The soup had splashed onto his hand too, and without thinking, Zong Bei aimed the tissue straight for it.

The others had their attention firmly fixed on the pants. By the time they realized Zong Bei was about to touch him, it was too late.

Xie Qiu knew Yan-ge didn’t like being touched—he didn’t know why but still yelled, “Don’t touch Yan-ge!”

Zong Bei immediately yanked his hands back.

“W-What’s going on?!”

Zong Bei was startled by Xie Qiu’s shout, and it took him a moment to process it.

Half of God of Learning Yan’s arm had turned red—especially his wrist. His skin was already white, so the redness stood out starkly, and even the bluish veins beneath were clearly visible.

“Sh*t.” Zong Bei was stunned. “How did it get this bad? God Yan, I’m so sorry. Maybe we should go to the hospital just in case?”

“No need.” Yan Mu pulled out tissues and slowly wiped it clean. “It’s not your fault. Go eat.”

At that moment, Jiang Zhihuo stood up. He didn’t joke around for once and said, “You guys finish eating. Yan-ge, come with me.”

They had only eaten half their meal, but the two left the cafeteria, one after the other.

Jiang Zhihuo grabbed a clean change of clothes from the locker room—usually for PE class, but they were just right for Yan Mu now. When he returned, Yan Mu had already rinsed off the soup from his arm.

He handed him the bag of clothes and told him to change in the restroom.

It was lunchtime, so most students were in the cafeteria. The area near the locker room was empty. Jiang Zhihuo waited outside the restroom, and all he could think about were the red marks on Yan Mu’s hand.

This time, he had seen it clearly—the marks appeared right after Zong Bei touched him.

He called toward the stall, “Was your hand burned?”

There had been the rustle of clothing from inside the stall, but upon hearing the question, Yan Mu’s movements paused, and so did the sound. Then he replied, “No.”

“Then why?” Jiang Zhihuo asked bluntly. “Was it because Zong Bei touched you?”

This time, Yan Mu didn’t answer. He kept changing his clothes, and once he was done, he grabbed Jiang Zhihuo by the wrist and asked, “Want some milk tea?”

The abrupt topic change made it obvious—he didn’t want to talk about it.

Jiang Zhihuo still couldn’t understand. If Zong Bei touching Yan Mu left marks, then why didn’t anything happen when he touched him?

But he wasn’t a doctor. If Yan-ge didn’t explain, he’d never figure it out. He could only force himself to push down the curiosity and say, “Sure.”

They’d only eaten half of lunch earlier, and for a healthy, just-turned-eighteen guy like him, that was definitely not enough.

There was a decent line at the milk tea shop during lunch, so instead of waiting at the counter like fools, Jiang Zhihuo and Yan Mu scanned the QR code and found a seat to order online.

At the next table, a young couple had already ordered and were waiting, chatting a bit.

“Did you see the news?” The girl asked.

“What news?” The boy replied.

“Another senior ran away from home.” The girl pulled up the article and showed it to him.

The boy read the headline aloud, “‘Too much pressure on senior students—rising cases of running away from home’? No, but… why would they run away from home?” Then he frowned. He really didn’t get the logic behind people like that.

The girl said, “They’re under pressure, fail exams, and their families push too hard. Running away is already the better outcome—remember a few years ago when some students jumped off buildings because of bad grades?”

While listening to the couple talk, Jiang Zhihuo scrolled through the menu on his phone and asked, “Yan-ge, what do you want?”

Yan Mu came here occasionally and always ordered the same thing. “Four Seasons Spring with boba³[T/N: “四季春” (Sìjìchūn) is a type of oolong tea known as “Four Seasons Spring.” “波霸” refers to large tapioca pearls, or boba, commonly added to milk tea.].“

“Sugar level?” Jiang Zhihuo asked.

“Half.”

Jiang Zhihuo tapped the screen a few times—he ordered Yan Mu’s drink, then his own, and casually asked in the class group chat if anyone else wanted milk tea. For the few who replied, he placed their orders too.

He put down his phone and glanced out the window, spotting someone standing by the roadside, peering into the milk tea shop.

It was bound to happen eventually.

The person blended in well with the group of students, moving like they knew exactly what they were doing. However, Jiang Zhihuo had seen this kind of thing before—he could spot them instantly.

He pretended not to notice and kept chatting with Yan Mu.

“You’re going to Jiangcheng on Wednesday?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Three days. I’ll be back on Saturday.”

Jiang Zhihuo lowered his gaze again and saw the red mark. Yan Mu had pulled his sleeve down, but a bit of it still peeked out from the cuff.

He wanted to touch it but didn’t dare. “Does it hurt?”

Yan Mu shook his head. “Not anymore.”

For a moment, Jiang Zhihuo spaced out.

When he was little, Qin-ge had been like that too. He wouldn’t let him see the bruises or marks on his body. When he asked, “Does it hurt?” Qin-ge would always shake his head and say, “Not anymore.”

Those three words pulled Jiang Zhihuo right back into his memories.

Sometimes, Yan Mu really reminded him of Qin-ge.

Yet, he also knew he wasn’t projecting anyone onto anyone else—it was just this thought that always surfaced, something he instinctively wanted to hold on to, but it always slipped right through his fingers.

The milk tea shop was pretty efficient. In over ten minutes, everything was packed. When they walked out, the person who had been watching from outside was already gone.

There was still a short walk back to school. The autumn breeze was soft, brushing past the slightly yellowing leaves, sending a wave of fall colors drifting down.

The two walked in silence. As they neared the school gates, Yan Mu suddenly asked, “Why did you live with your senior?”

Others didn’t know—but Yan Mu did.

The one in front of him was Yun Zhou. He shouldn’t have had any connection to Li Muhe.

They shouldn’t have been separated all these years either.

Jiang Zhihuo put on a mysterious air and drew out his words. “It’s a loooong, loooong, loooong story.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, when I was a kid, I ran away from a filthy home. I met this stranger, a person brought by fate, and he asked me, ‘Would you like to live with us? I can give you a new identity…’“

“……” That was getting out of hand. Yan Mu cut him off. “Are you an idiot?”

Jiang Zhihuo: “I was telling that very seriously!”

Yan Mu: “Go on.”

“You don’t believe me at all!” Jiang Zhihuo was already running out of things to make up, so when Yan Mu gave him an out, he took it immediately. Pretending to be angry, he turned his head away. “Forget it.”

However, what he didn’t expect was that right after he said that, the same Yan Mu who had just called him an idiot suddenly muttered something softly.

He said, “Actually, I’m a little jealous.”

“Mhm?” Jiang Zhihuo blinked. “Jealous of what?”

Regardless of how many times he asked, Yan Mu remained silent. Of course he couldn’t say it—jealous that he got to stay by your side for so long. That kind of thing couldn’t be said. Not yet.

*

“You’re leaving?”

“Mhm… mhm, mhm.”

Jiang Zhihuo sat on the bed, watching Yan Mu pack up his desk. Seeing the suitcase next to it, he looked a little down. “Three whole days.”

On Wednesday afternoon after class, a bus waited by the school gate to take the competition students to Jiangcheng.

The hotel over there had already been booked—originally it was a double room, but then Yan Mu spoke up and said not to book one for him. He didn’t like sharing rooms with others, so he booked a single room for himself instead.

To join the competition, students had to submit a parental consent form. Yan Mu signed his own. Jiang Zhihuo had gone to find him at that exact moment and saw with his own eyes the two words he wrote on the form.

Qin Shi.

“My mother,” Yan Mu said.

Now that he thought about it, Jiang Zhihuo had barely ever heard Yan Mu talk about his mom—only once, when he said she was a very respectable Omega.

This was the second time.

Yan Mu pulled his suitcase and walked out. Jiang Zhihuo followed. Some girls saw them and snapped a few photos; everyone was used to it by now. In no time, those pictures would probably be all over the forum.

Since it was a competition trip, Jiang Zhihuo picked a relevant topic. “Are you planning to go with a recommendation or take the college entrance exam?”

“Depends,” Yan Mu replied.

Asking about this kind of thing in senior year was already a bit late. The students aiming for recommendation had been entering competitions since the beginning. Yan Mu had participated too, but only through the school’s organized competition classes. He never trained for them specifically.

People like that were the worst—they didn’t even try that hard and still won prizes. A good brain really was a gift. Some people were simply born better than others.

Regardless of which path he took, Yan-ge was going to a top university. The only question was whether he’d be valedictorian—or someone else.

There were many people leaving school. Halfway through the walk, a sharp cramp hit Jiang Zhihuo’s lower abdomen. At the same time, the crowd pushed him and Yan Mu apart, so Yan Mu didn’t see the sudden pain twist his face. By the time they met up again, the cramp had already passed.

Lately his lower belly kept cramping like that—it always went away after a few seconds. It wasn’t serious, but since it happened more than once, Jiang Zhihuo figured he’d go to the hospital this weekend and maybe register for a checkup later today.

Outside the school gate, some parents were waiting by the bus.

After all those years of raising them, every kid was a precious baby. Even if it was only three days away for a competition, it couldn’t possibly be as cozy as home.

Some parents were too worried to stay home—they insisted on seeing their kids off.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s only three days. Just hang in there.”

“Mom, my classmates and teachers are here. Don’t call me that.”

Yan Mu stepped to the side on his own, and Jiang Zhihuo waited with him.

Right then, Yan Mu suddenly called out to him.

“Jiang Zhihuo.”

He said his full name.

Jiang Zhihuo froze for a second. They didn’t usually call each other by name. If they did use names, it was informal ones like Huo-ge or Yan-ge.

This time he used his full name, and the mood instantly turned serious—so serious it gave Jiang Zhihuo the same feeling as being called out by the teacher for sleeping in class.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Zhihuo turned his head to look at him. “If it’s nothing serious and you call me like that, you’d better be ready to get smacked.”

Not far away, a worried parent had pulled their kid into a full-on hug.

Over here, Yan Mu also reached out and gently pulled Jiang Zhihuo into his arms.

They were in a good spot—shielded by the back of the bus. No one could see into that narrow little space where two boys of similar height were hugging quietly.

The hug came out of nowhere. Jiang Zhihuo patted Yan Mu’s back and asked, “What’s wrong, Yan-ge?”

Yan Mu didn’t answer. He turned his head and kissed Jiang Zhihuo softly on the ear.

The soft touch barely brushed against his earlobe, but the spot it touched kept burning long after.

“Jiang Zhihuo,” Yan Mu said again.

His voice swept past Jiang Zhihuo’s ear, mixing with the lingering warmth, sinking deep into his chest.

Jiang Zhihuo felt like his whole face was burning. He tried to push Yan Mu away but couldn’t budge him, so he gave him a firm slap instead. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it; stop being flirty.”

Yan Mu hugged him tighter. The scent of his rain pheromones lingered around them. It smelled really good.

He lowered his voice so only the two of them could hear.

He’d been holding it in for days, ever since he saw Li Muhe pop up in that WeChat post.

“Don’t leave again,” Yan Mu said.

Alphas had strong possessiveness. Merely at the thought that someone else had been taking care of his Xiao Zhou all these years made him insanely jealous.

He was jealous—so jealous he wanted to wrap the entire person up and keep him to himself.

No matter how good Li-ge is, no matter how long we’ve been apart — you’re still mine.

Yan Mu paused, then added, “You’re mine.”

• 1
  [T/N: In casual slang it often implies jealousy or a teasing sense of envy.]
• 2
  [T/N: The name “裘子” (Qiúzi) is a nickname or casual way of referring to Xie Qiu — usually with the “子” added as a friendly or affectionate suffix (like calling someone “Xiao Mingzi” or “Ah Cheng”).]
• 3
  [T/N: “四季春” (Sìjìchūn) is a type of oolong tea known as “Four Seasons Spring.” “波霸” refers to large tapioca pearls, or boba, commonly added to milk tea.].