Chapter 17

Chen Ang had planned to tease him a bit more, but Xu Heng’s phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, and his whole expression changed.

“I’m gonna take this call,” Xu Heng said, a little embarrassed. “If the food delivery comes, could you grab it?”

Chen Ang nodded. He watched Xu Heng step into the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him.

The apartment was quiet. Chen Ang leaned back on the sofa and played with his phone. When Xu Heng had been rushing to put his books away earlier, he’d accidentally left a piece of paper sticking out of the drawer. Chen Ang reached over, opened it, and gently slid the page back in. He noticed the book Intro to Japanese, its pages carefully marked with highlighter, as if Xu Heng had been studying it like a dedicated schoolkid.

He had no idea who was on the other end of that call, but Xu Heng had looked genuinely tense.

Chen Ang was starting to grow more curious about him. He had been with others before, passionate in bed but strangers once they parted. As long as there was no curiosity, things stayed simple. But once it slipped in, it had a way of drawing you closer, pulling you in deeper until turning back no longer felt possible.

Earlier, when He An told him to cut things off before it was too late, half of him was angry, and the other half couldn’t deny the guilt.

He An wasn’t even anything to Xu Heng. Yet he acted so high and mighty, like he had some kind of authority to judge him. But… he really wasn’t looking for love with Xu Heng either, was he? They were just… fooling around. Friends with benefits. That’s all it was supposed to be.

At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

“Met him at a bar. Pretty sure it was his first time there. He looked clueless, so I started chatting him up.”

Thinking back on what He An had said made something itch in Chen Ang’s chest. He wanted to see that clueless version of Xu Heng for himself. Hell, he wished he could go back to that moment, cut He An off, and take Xu Heng home himself.

From the other side of the door, he could hear Xu Heng’s voice. It was muffled and vague, and he couldn’t make out the words.

“The food’s here. Could you grab it? The keys are on the table…”

Xu Heng cracked the door open just long enough to say that.

“Alright,” Chen Ang replied, but before he could say more, the door had already clicked shut again.

His voice had a trace of congestion in it. Maybe his cold still hadn’t cleared. Or maybe… maybe he had cried during that call.

Chen Ang’s chest tightened, the feeling crawling over his ribs like a scratch. Still, he picked up the keys Xu Heng left on the table and went downstairs to collect the food.

Back in the bedroom, Xu Heng sat on the bed, clutching his phone. He had heard the sound of the front door closing. Only then did he take a shaky breath, rubbing his fingertips under his eyes.

Ever since he’d gotten steady work, he sent money to his parents every two months. Not a huge amount each time, but it added up to several tens of thousands already.

Usually, his parents didn’t call. But tonight, out of nowhere, they did.

At first, Xu Heng felt excited. Then nervous.

Maybe the cold war between them had finally thawed. Maybe they were ready to talk. He’d answered the call carefully, full of hope.

“Hello—”

“Xu Heng. Have you changed your mind yet?”

It was his mother’s voice, familiar and marked with the slight accent of home. But it sounded older. And just like that, all his hope was drenched in cold water.

His lips parted, throat tight, words barely forming.

“Mom… people only need to change if they’ve done something wrong. I haven’t. So there’s nothing to change.”

“What do you mean nothing’s wrong? How can it be right for a man to like another man? That’s sick. And that makeup thing is not what a man should be doing. It’s all so effeminate. Listen to your mother. Just change. If you change, your father won’t be angry anymore…”

Xu Heng said nothing.

When he left home, it was more of an escape than a departure. He bought a ticket for an overnight sleeper bus, the kind with bunks you could lie down in. The air inside was thick with the stench of something rotten, heavy and sharp like sulfur. He bought a ticket for an overnight sleeper bus, the kind that lets you lie down. The bus reeked of something rotten, like sulfur. It was raining outside. Trees and buildings along the highway blurred in the dark, flickering like ghosts in the window streaked with raindrops. The glass looked like a face soaked in tears.

His silence was the only answer he had. On the other end of the line, his father’s voice exploded with fury, delivering the final verdict.

“Don’t call him again. He’s useless. He’s beyond saving.”

Just then, a call from the food delivery came through. Xu Heng quickly switched over to answer it, told Chen Ang to go down and get the order. By the time he switched back, the call had already ended.

The time it took for Chen Ang to go down and grab the food was enough for Xu Heng to splash cold water on his face and pretend nothing had happened. But he still looked exhausted, worse than when he had the flu.

Chen Ang sat across from him. He wasn’t really hungry and barely touched the pudding cake. Xu Heng didn’t say a word. He kept his head down, taking small bites with silent determination, his eyes still red. It felt like he was trying to swallow down something heavier than food.

The silence made Chen Ang restless. He wanted to ask what was wrong but suddenly felt uncertain, like speaking up might cross a line he wasn’t ready to cross.

Xu Heng choked on a mouthful of pudding.

“Cough, cough, cough—”

Chen Ang shot to his feet and poured him a glass of water. Xu Heng still didn’t look up, just muttered a quick thank-you.

“Slow down,” Chen Ang said. “What’s the rush? We’re not going anywhere.”

Xu Heng didn’t answer. He gulped down the water so fast that Chen Ang reached over and gently patted his back, the way you would with a child. Xu Heng gave a sharp sniff. When Chen Ang glanced down, he saw watery eyes and a red nose. He looked utterly pitiful.

“What’s this? You cried over a drink of water?”

That offhand joke, meant to soothe, only made Xu Heng feel worse. He was already on edge, already trying not to break down. Now his tears started to fall. He ducked his head and tried to hide, but Chen Ang wouldn’t let it go.

He reached out to lift Xu Heng’s chin. His fingers touched damp skin, like brushing against a dewdrop on a leaf in the garden as a child.

“Hey, what are you doing? Let go…” Xu Heng panicked, trying to pull away, nearly clawing at him in protest.

But Chen Ang leaned over the table, his hand still gripping Xu Heng’s chin. Then he lowered his head and gently bit his lips.

Xu Heng kept his eyes closed, his lashes still damp. The kiss caught them both off guard, their teeth knocking together. But something about it felt different. There was a tension in it, something unspoken tangled beneath the surface.

It felt like someone pinched Xu Heng right in the softest part of his heart. It stung, it tingled, and it ached.

His nose prickled again. He felt completely, helplessly overwhelmed.

Chen Ang tasted the salt of his tears.