Chapter 80

Yan Mu stayed in a low mood the whole afternoon.

God of Learning Yan was known for his calm, distant demeanor, rarely showing much expression. Most people couldn’t read him, and he never bothered revealing his feelings anyway. But today, he was unusually clingy.

The competition group’s classroom was on a different floor from Class 1. The moment the bell rang, Yan Mu showed up at Class 1’s door.

When Chang Luo saw Yan Mu show up out of nowhere, he didn’t think much of it at first. Ever since those two started dating, they’d been flaunting their relationship everywhere. Sitting behind Huo-ge, there was no escape.

Who would’ve guessed that the God of Learning Yan, usually so aloof and above it all, would turn out to be the boldest of them all when it came to romance, not caring one bit about people watching.

While Chang Luo was still debating whether to say hi, Yan Mu had already grabbed a chair and sat right next to Jiang Zhihuo, leaning his head gently on Jiang Zhihuo’s shoulder.

Damn, that’s abusing dogs¹[T/N: “Abusing dogs” is Chinese internet slang for flaunting affection in front of single people. “Dogs” refers self-deprecatingly to singles; the phrase means the affection is so intense it “hurts” those without love.].

Chang Luo lazily slipped his practice paper into his textbook, mentally curling his lip in silent protest. A beat later, something clicked, and he suddenly looked up.

—???

That’s Yan Mu! The God of Learning! An Alpha!

And he’s showing that kind of vulnerability?!

Chang Luo’s eyes went wide. His hands trembled as he packed up his textbook, mouth hanging open in shock.

Jiang Zhihuo glanced back and gave a slight shake of his head, signaling Chang Luo to stay quiet. Chang Luo immediately shut his mouth, grabbed a random book, and held it up like a barrier to block out the lovebirds.

Neither of the two in front said a word. For the entire ten-minute break, Yan Mu just leaned there quietly without speaking. When the bell rang, he put the chair back in place without a sound and headed upstairs.

“Yan-ge.”

Jiang Zhihuo and Yan Mu went to the cafeteria together for dinner. They sat across from each other, ordered different dishes, and pushed their trays together. Yan Mu was patiently picking out the scallions from Jiang Zhihuo’s food, one by one.

Jiang Zhihuo placed a piece of meat into Yan Mu’s bowl with his chopsticks, looked at him, and asked, “Do you want me to ask, or would you rather I didn’t?”

“I don’t know either,” Yan Mu said honestly.

The emotion had come on so suddenly, he couldn’t have explained it even if Jiang Zhihuo had asked.

Jiang Zhihuo absentmindedly poked holes into his tofu, one after another, then murmured thoughtfully, “Then I’ll have to think about what to do.”

So that night during evening self-study, Jiang Zhihuo, who had been behaving himself for over twenty days, came up with some random excuse, skipped the last period, and rushed upstairs as soon as the bell rang. He poked his head into the competition class from the front door, trying to coax national-level contestant Yan Mu into ditching class with him.

Standing at the doorway with his bag slung over one shoulder, Jiang Zhihuo waved at Yan Mu. It was evident to anyone what he was planning. A guy at the first desk, who’d once teamed up with Jiang Zhihuo in a relay race, didn’t even look up from his practice paper as he said in a sincere, weighty tone, “Give it up, school bully. The God of Learning Yan never cut class. The national competition’s just around the corner, he’s got a mountain of pressure on his shoulders.”

As the boy finished speaking, footsteps sounded behind him. The very God of Learning he’d sworn would never skip class had already packed up his paper, shouldered his bag, and walked out. Lowering his voice, Yan Mu said to Jiang Zhihuo, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

The boy: “??”

Jiang Zhihuo tapped lightly on the edge of his desk, shook his head, and whispered, “Don’t push the God of Learning too hard. Even excellent people need a bit of happiness.”

He indeed was under a lot of pressure. Ever since qualifying for the national competition, anyone who brought up Yan Mu in front of Jiang Zhihuo would always start with, “He’s someone going for the national competition!”

It was true that such words carried recognition and admiration, but they were also a kind of burden. Yan-ge was exceptional, and there were things he had to shoulder on his own. But that didn’t mean he had to take on the weight of everyone else’s expectations, too.

Jiang Zhihuo pulled Yan Mu out of the school and caught a taxi to another part of Lincheng.

This district wasn’t as lively as the city center, but it wasn’t run-down either. The residential buildings, built over twenty years ago, hadn’t been torn down and were still home to many families. Two buildings stood face to face, their windows pushed open to the outside. The rooms glowed with warm light, and neighbors who got along well would even stretch a few clotheslines between their balconies.

The building didn’t have an elevator, so Jiang Zhihuo and Yan Mu had to take the stairs. The staircase had an old spiral design, and though the walls and railings had been freshly painted, the smell of paint still lingered. Kids were running around in the corridor, and voices from nearby conversations floated in through the open windows.

“Where is this?” Yan Mu asked.

His voice echoed slightly on the staircase.

“My old place,” Jiang Zhihuo replied. “When I first moved to Lincheng, I lived here with Li-ge.”

He led Yan Mu all the way to the top of the stairs. The rooftop door was closed, secured with a rusty lock. Jiang Zhihuo stepped onto a pile of stacked cardboard boxes nearby and casually fiddled with the lock. It clicked open almost right away. He unlatched the door with practiced ease.

With a metallic creak, the iron door swung open, and a gust of wind swept in from outside.

Jiang Zhihuo brushed the rust off his hands, then turned and held out his hand to Yan Mu. “Come on, Yan-ge. Let’s go find you a different kind of feeling.”

No one had been up on the rooftop for a long time. Moss had started to grow along the walls. Jiang Zhihuo held Yan Mu’s hand as they stepped outside, his voice calm. “Most of the people living here were renters. The rent was cheap. It’s been years since I last came back, and a whole new crowd’s moved in.”

“Each floor had seven or eight rooms, and some were partitioned to fit three or four tenants. So back then, the people came and went all the time. You’d see office workers in suits, students, people who’d just moved here from other cities, even the pancake lady from outside the school gate. All sorts of people are living in the same building. It was noisy, yet full of life.”

“But when you looked up, the sky was the same.”

Jiang Zhihuo pulled Yan Mu down to sit with him. The old residential building hadn’t been built with much safety concern. There were no guardrails on the rooftop. They sat right at the edge, with a steep drop below their feet. The evening breeze swept in from behind. They were far from the noise and close to the night sky.

Though it wasn’t the city center, it couldn’t be called remote either. Every city has spots outside the busy areas that haven’t been renovated yet. Over twenty years ago, this place was closer to the heart of town. It still held traces of the old days, something you couldn’t tear down.

“When I’m in a bad mood, I like coming back here to catch the wind,” Jiang Zhihuo said.

From the rooftop, the view stretched wide. On one side were the lower residential buildings, and on the other, rows of high-rises. Lights from both sides wove together, lighting up the whole skyline. Far off in the distance, the mountain roads climbed upward, dotted with a faint string of lights.

“Yan-ge, look up at the sky,” Jiang Zhihuo said.

Yan Mu lifted his head and asked, “What am I looking for?”

“Nothing at all.”

Yan Mu paused for a moment, then the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. For some reason, he felt like laughing.

“You can imagine whatever you want. It’s still better than staring at a practice paper,” Jiang Zhihuo said.

Yan Mu felt his hand being gently opened. Jiang Zhihuo pulled a pen from his bag and began writing something in the center of his palm.

“What are you doing, Xiao Zhou?”

“Just look at the sky for now.” Jiang Zhihuo blocked Yan Mu’s view, covering his eyes. “Wait till I let go. Then you can look.”

Hearing that, Yan Mu didn’t ask any more questions.

The pen tip moved lightly across his palm, ticklish and soft, but it stirred a quiet sense of anticipation in his chest.

Yun Zhou had always been a romantic at heart. Even the tiniest things could catch his eye, and he’d find a way to give them meaning.

Jiang Zhihuo was still like that now.

Time had passed, things had changed, but in some ways, nothing had changed at all.

“I’ve been feeling off all afternoon. There’s something I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to start,” Yan Mu said, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“No rush,” Jiang Zhihuo replied, his hand still moving as the pen tip continued its slow path downward. “I can kind of guess who it’s about, but I don’t think it’s my place to ask. And maybe you wouldn’t want me to, either. Just talk when you’re ready… Okay, done!”

Jiang Zhihuo capped the pen and released his hand.

Yan Mu finally got a clear look at the words written on his palm.

—Today is January 26th.

The sky was still. The road below was just as quiet.

There were no stars in the sky, but the wind was there.

It was Yan-ge‘s first time coming to this place.

Every step they’d climbed carried a memory. The pen’s touch on his palm was a feeling all its own.

He hoped Yan-ge wouldn’t stay upset.

The handwriting was a bit uneven. After all, a palm was soft and not easy to write on.

But every stroke was careful, gentle.

Huo-ge had said he’d take him to find something different, and he actually did. Any lingering sadness had already faded away. The moment Yan Mu saw the words, the emotions surged up and wouldn’t stop, flowing through him without pause.

Getting upset for an entire afternoon over someone’s comment was childish, really; it dragged his mood down for no reason. But with Jiang Zhihuo comforting him like this, his heart warmed all at once and started pounding uncontrollably.

Yan Mu sat there in a daze, his palm still open.

Next to him, Jiang Zhihuo was smiling. The curve of his lips was effortlessly handsome, utterly captivating.

Standing on the rooftop in the middle of winter, with the wind blowing like that, was an easy way to catch a cold.

One of them had a competition coming up, the other had final exams, and getting sick wasn’t an option for either of them.

So, they only shared a soft, fleeting kiss on the rooftop before heading back home.

The heater was on in the car. They leaned against the backseat, playing with dice. Yan Mu rolled the higher number, so he went to shower first. Jiang Zhihuo lounged on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, feeling a bit hungry. He called out to Yan Mu, asking if he wanted to order takeout.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. When Jiang Zhihuo called him, Yan Mu turned off the shower and answered that he did.

Jiang Zhihuo started browsing takeout and had just placed an order when someone tagged him in the Xiangyao work group, asking why he hadn’t shown up recently.

Only then did he remember that he’d been so wrapped up in the sweetness of his relationship lately that he completely forgot about resigning. He’d planned to bring it up last time, but ended up confessing instead. Later, when Qu Xiao asked about it, he was getting cozy with Yan-ge, casually replied that he was busy with exams, then tossed his phone aside and never gave it another thought.

He had forgotten.

Quitting the job wasn’t a big deal. What mattered was that now he was with Yan Mu; it was only a matter of time before he ran into Wenda and Qu Xiao again. He had to come clean about the persona he’d built.

However, he honestly hadn’t had time to go out lately. Jiang Zhihuo opened Qu Xiao’s chat window to give him a heads-up.

Shin: Boss, I don’t plan to keep working the bar job.

Shin: Let’s have a meal sometime soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about.

Shin: I hope you’ll be mentally prepared.

Not long after sending the messages, Yan Mu finished his shower and switched places with Jiang Zhihuo. When Jiang Zhihuo came out, Yan Mu was on the balcony, talking on the phone. A tablet was lying on the sofa, screen still unlocked. Jiang Zhihuo gave it a casual glance and couldn’t help but laugh.

—Yan Mu was making another mind map.

The basic structure was already laid out, though the boxes were still empty, except for one, which had a single date written in it: February 4th.

Jiang Zhihuo’s smile slowly faded.

February 4th. The anniversary of Qin-ge‘s mother’s death.

Every year around this time, Qin-ge would become unusually sensitive, especially when it came to hearing Yan Buwei’s name.

Qin Mu would never voice those negative emotions, but Yun Zhou could always feel them.

Jiang Zhihuo hadn’t forgotten either. That was why he hadn’t asked Yan Mu anything the entire day.

Five minutes later, Yan Mu wrapped up his call and slid the balcony door shut.

Jiang Zhihuo asked, “Yan-ge, who were you talking to? I’ve never seen you on the phone that long.”

He’d just asked casually, but Yan Mu replied, “With my…”

Mid-sentence, he paused; he wasn’t sure how to refer to Qin Nian.

“It’s a bit complicated. I’ll explain everything after I finish the mind map,” Yan Mu said.

Jiang Zhihuo chuckled. “Why does that sound so cute coming from you?”

They didn’t linger on the phone call topic. It wasn’t anything major. What mattered now was grinding through practice problems. Even at home, they still had worksheets to finish. Whatever didn’t get done at school had to be made up afterward.

Before starting on his paper, Jiang Zhihuo gave himself a two-minute break to scroll through Weibo. Right on the homepage was a ridiculous meme, a lime carved with a smiley face, dried in the sun. Once it was soaked in water, it looked like a complete disaster.

Jiang Zhihuo laughed as he showed it to Yan Mu, and at the same time, opened Taobao to search for the same kind of lime.

Just as the doorbell rang, he happened to see a freshly rehydrated smiling lime face. It looked so hilariously cursed that he couldn’t help bursting out in laughter.

As the doorbell rang again, Jiang Zhihuo held back his laughter, got up, and said, “That was quick. Takeout’s already here? I’ll get the door.”

Qu Xiao and Wenda had brought Du Zhe along and rushed over to Yan Mu’s place, but their minds were still tangled with hesitation.

How were they even supposed to bring this up with Young Master Yan?

Young Master Yan had never allowed anyone into his home before. Would he be mad if they showed up unannounced?

Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding? Du Zhe still wasn’t sure.

He’d left all fired up and confident, but the moment they got there, he lost his nerve and started scrambling for reasons to back out.

Du Zhe looked around the stairwell, completely bewildered. Young Master Yan didn’t seem like someone who’d live in a regular residential building. “Where is this? Young Master Yan actually lives here? No way. My dad took me to visit Uncle Yan this afternoon. It was a huge mansion. There’s no way he lives here… What are you two even thinking?”

Wen Da and Qu Xiao weren’t listening. Their minds were on something else, hesitating over whether to press the doorbell. Just then, they heard a burst of loud, unrestrained laughter from inside.

“Hahahahaha, Yan-ge, look at this, this is killing me!!”

Wen Da and Qu Xiao: “!”

—That laugh definitely didn’t come from Shin!!

Shin’s so cold—if he ever made a noise, those two would be doing handstands to use the bathroom²[T/N: It’s a mix of sarcasm and hyperbole often used in internet or youth dialogue.]!

Bringing the affair home? That’s seriously messed up! Even if it’s Young Master Yan, this is way out of line!

They have caught them red-handed?!

R-ring the damn bell?!

The door barely chimed twice before it was pushed open from the inside. Jiang Zhihuo answered it with a lingering smile on his face, but the moment he saw Wen Da and Qu Xiao standing there, his expression froze.

Wen Da and Qu Xiao had all their questions lined up, ready to fire. But the moment they saw who opened the door, their eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“……”

“…………”

They stood there, speechless. In the end, it was Wen Da who managed to speak first. He swallowed nervously and asked, “Sorry if this sounds rude, but… You wouldn’t happen to be Shin, would you?”

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  [T/N: “Abusing dogs” is Chinese internet slang for flaunting affection in front of single people. “Dogs” refers self-deprecatingly to singles; the phrase means the affection is so intense it “hurts” those without love.]
• 2
  [T/N: It’s a mix of sarcasm and hyperbole often used in internet or youth dialogue.]