Chapter 29

Chen Ang had work the next day. He had to get up early, go home to change clothes, and head to the office. When he woke up, Xu Heng was still curled up naked under the blanket, sleeping soundly with his brow slightly furrowed, like something was bothering him even in his dreams. Chen Ang bent down to kiss the space between Xu Heng’s eyebrows while picking up the shirt he had tossed on the floor beside the bed.

Xu Heng didn’t wake up. His frown softened, and he shrank deeper into the blanket.

Friday was family day, and Chen Ang found it more unbearable than usual. In the past few days, Chen Jing hadn’t mentioned anything about what she saw. She didn’t contact him either. Life went on quietly, no different from before. That silence only made him more uneasy. He was desperately holding together the appearance of normalcy. Only when he was with Xu Heng could he ease up a little. Xu Heng never brought it up either, and that silence brought a different kind of anxiety.

At the Friday dinner table, Chen Ang and his sister Chen Jing were unusually quiet. Only He Wan kept chatting about trivial family matters, saying that He An had returned to France to continue his art PhD. Chen Zhengde let out a dismissive scoff.

“Come back for dinner tomorrow,” he said.

Chen Ang glanced at his father and gently set down his empty rice bowl. “Why? I’ve got plans.”

“It’s not anything important, right?” his father said firmly. “Your mother invited Yiran over for dinner. I heard she’s in the same system and department as you?”

Chen Ang frowned instinctively. “Why invite her?”

“You think we don’t know what you’re doing outside?” his father raised his voice. “Stop making your parents worry.”

Chen Ang immediately shut up. He turned instinctively to look at Chen Jing, who was quietly sipping her soup, saying nothing. He Wan, unaware of the tension, was happily rambling about what kind of cake to bake for tomorrow’s afternoon tea. Her cheerful voice only made Chen Ang more irritated.

After dinner, the Chen couple went out for a walk. Chen Ang pulled Chen Jing aside to the study balcony, avoiding the housekeeper cleaning up dishes. He asked, “What did you promise me?”

Chen Jing looked annoyed by his tone. “It wasn’t me. It was Zhou Cheng’an.”

Chen Ang had a lighter in hand. The wind was strong outside. He tried to light it several times but failed, then threw it out in frustration. The lighter dropped from the second-floor balcony into the garden.

“You can’t do something about your husband?”

Chen Jing rubbed the bridge of her nose, visibly tired. “We haven’t spoken for days. The family will find out sooner or later. You can’t pretend a ticking time bomb doesn’t exist just because you can’t hear it.”

“I’m trying to figure it out,” Chen Ang said helplessly.

Chen Jing looked indifferent, like she was too busy to care. “You should be thinking about how to get through tomorrow.”

—

That suffocating Saturday, Chen Ang stayed over at Xu Heng’s place all morning. He was starting to like Xu Heng’s apartment more and more. Xu Heng loved fresh flowers. Every week he’d go to the florist and pick a different kind to place around the house. He didn’t carefully trim or arrange them. He just let them be. And yet, they brought the space to life effortlessly.

Xu Heng’s apartment wasn’t much bigger than Chen Ang’s single-person condo. But Xu Heng didn’t like tidying up too much. His things were everywhere, yet arranged in a kind of chaotic order. It felt real and lived-in. Chen Ang’s place, on the other hand, had cleaning staff every week. Everything was spotless and sterile, like no one actually lived there.

Xu Heng was reviewing his Japanese materials, but not getting very far, mostly because Chen Ang was being way too clingy. He had become almost ridiculously attached. It was like he’d suddenly developed some kind of skin hunger. They’d already done it once that morning, showered afterward, and Xu Heng’s hair was still damp, loose around his shoulders.

The heater was on high. Chen Ang was wearing nothing but a pair of lounge pants, bare on top. He had lost a bit of weight lately, and his muscles had become more defined, strong and sharp. Xu Heng was forced to sit in his lap, wrapped up in his arms. He hadn’t even turned a page in ages. Chen Ang kept nuzzling his neck and the skin of his shoulder that peeked out from the wide collar of his T-shirt, like a large dog burrowing in for affection.

Xu Heng kept shrinking his neck to avoid him, but it was never a serious attempt to get away. Chen Ang seemed to notice the unusual tolerance and only grew bolder. His hand slipped under the hem of Xu Heng’s shirt and gently stroked his waist from side to side. Xu Heng’s ears turned red as he protested, sounding righteously indignant, “Don’t move, I’m trying to study.”

“Alright,” Chen Ang agreed, then pointed to a line of Japanese on Xu Heng’s textbook. “What does this mean?”

“It’s just a sentence,” Xu Heng replied.

Chen Ang didn’t actually care about the meaning. He only wanted to pester Xu Heng a little longer. He leaned in and nibbled his ear. “Say it.”

“どんなことが起きるとしても，君の側に離れたくないよ。”
(Donna koto ga okiru to shite mo, kimi no soba ni hanaretakunai yo)

Chen Ang didn’t understand. “What does it mean?”

Xu Heng hesitated, then softly said, “No matter what happens, I don’t want to leave you.”

Chen Ang suddenly fell silent. He cupped Xu Heng’s face and leaned in for a kiss. Xu Heng let him. As their kiss deepened, Xu Heng’s Japanese textbook slipped off the table. Right then and there, they did it again over the desk. Lately, whenever the two of them were alone, they ended up doing it over and over. Even when they weren’t in bed, they were practically glued together.

Soon, it was almost afternoon, and Chen Ang had to leave.

Xu Heng lay lazily on the sofa, face still flushed, resting his cheek on his Japanese textbook. “Bye.”

A strange sense of guilt crept over Chen Ang. “I’ve got work stuff tonight. I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

As he headed downstairs, buttoning up his shirt, there was a heavy, uncomfortable feeling weighing on his chest.

When he arrived home, Lu Yiran was in the kitchen with He Wan, helping with some baking. Zhou Cheng’an was chatting animatedly with Chen Zhengde over tea, while Chen Jing sat nearby, expressionless, idly swiping at her tablet. The moment Chen Ang walked in, Lu Yiran held up a freshly baked sponge cake and said sweetly, “Try it? I think it turned out a little too sweet.”

She was wearing a modest yet playful dress. Chen Ang noticed her pale round-toe flats by the entrance, placed neatly beside Chen Jing’s sharp burgundy heels. They looked harmless, warm, and approachable.

He Wan smiled and said, “Perfect timing. Show Yiran around the house, take her to the garden. The begonias are in full bloom.”

Lu Yiran chirped, “Sure, I love flowers.”

Chen Ang followed behind her into the garden. The begonias were blooming thick and lush. Lu Yiran admired them as she talked to herself. “They really are beautiful. The crab claw chrysanthemums in my garden are doing well too. I’ll show you next time.”

Chen Ang had had enough of this superficial, hollow small talk. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stood in place while Lu Yiran pulled out her phone to take photos of the flowers.

“We’re not a good match,” he said flatly.

Lu Yiran continued editing her photo with enthusiasm. “What’s not a good match? Age? Family background? I think we’re a great fit.”

Chen Ang said, “Sexual orientation. I like men.”