Chapter 20 – What Love Asks

This year’s Spring Festival arrived unusually early. It felt like New Year’s Day had just passed when the supermarket across from the training ground hung up a “Welcome the Spring Festival” banner. Gu Yiming saw the holiday notice posted on the cafeteria wall early in the morning—a cheerful red sheet announcing a five-day break from New Year’s Eve to the fourth day of the lunar new year. This caught Gu Yiming off guard. During the previous two years of preparing for the first leg of the ISSF World Cup, the shooting team hadn’t given any holidays due to bad timing.

He stood in front of the notice with his tray for a while before asking Li Yeqing beside him, “We have a holiday—are you going home?”

Li Yeqing looked conflicted. After hesitating, he said, “Probably not. After the selection trials—” But then he spotted the small print at the bottom: “The shooting range will be closed during the holiday.” He immediately relaxed and changed his answer: “Actually, yeah, I haven’t been home in ages. I’m starving. Look, the range is closed anyway—what’s the point of staying?”

Gu Yiming sighed. There really was nothing to do, and worse, he had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to return to Zhejiang. The provincial team would also be on holiday, making training impossible, and there was no one at home.

Gu Yiming asked, “Yeqing, where can someone go if they don’t go home or train during the Spring Festival?”

Still in the throes of adolescence, Li Yeqing snapped his fingers without hesitation: “To your future in-laws’ place, of course!” Only after saying it did he realize his mistake and turned to Gu Yiming. “You’re not going home? Do you have somewhere to go?”

But Gu Yiming found inspiration in his words and murmured thoughtfully, “Now I do.”

The neighborhood where Fang Xiao lived didn’t restrict food deliveries. On New Year’s Eve afternoon, Gu Yiming had just stepped out of the taxi and was walking toward the gate when a delivery motorcycle whizzed past like a whirlwind, nearly grazing his sleeve. He stopped and looked up at Fang Xiao’s window. Fang Xiao lived on the thirteenth floor—the living room was dark, but the thin curtains in the bedroom were drawn tight, faintly revealing a glow of light against the evening sunset.

When Gu Yiming got off the elevator, he saw a blue-uniformed delivery driver pacing anxiously by the stairwell—the same one who had nearly hit him earlier. The man turned sharply at the sound of the elevator and, spotting Gu Yiming, cried out as if granted amnesty: “Braised pork ribs and red bean barley porridge! Here you go!”

Gu Yiming blinked blankly.

The delivery driver recited the last digits of Fang Xiao’s phone number. “If it’s yours, take it—I gotta go.” With that, he shoved the plastic bag into Gu Yiming’s hands and dashed back into the elevator like a whirlwind.

Gu Yiming stood frozen for a moment, holding the takeout, before ringing Fang Xiao’s doorbell. No one answered. He called Fang Xiao’s phone, but no one picked up. Seeing that the order had been placed an hour ago, he guessed Fang Xiao was probably home but couldn’t be reached for some reason. Worry crept in—maybe Fang Xiao was showering or sleeping, but he couldn’t shake the fear that something might have happened.

After standing there for a while, he suddenly remembered the scene he’d glimpsed earlier from below and went back downstairs. There was a bench in the small garden and narrow greenbelt of the neighborhood, long untouched and covered in thick snow. Gu Yiming brushed off the snow and sat down, looking up at Fang Xiao’s window. The sky darkened quickly, and the window revealed a silhouette outlined by light—tiny from this distance. That small figure in the dim yellow glow effortlessly captured Gu Yiming’s full attention.

At first, Gu Yiming wondered what Fang Xiao was doing. But soon, he stopped thinking altogether. Fang Xiao was there—that was enough. He gazed at the silhouette in that narrow window as if looking at a perfect world.

When Fang Xiao finally called him back, Gu Yiming realized over half an hour had passed. Most years, spring edges in by this time, yet the early New Year meant winter’s cold still had a firm hold on Beijing. The winter chill seeped into his bones, and it took him a few tries to unlock his phone. When he answered, Fang Xiao’s voice was deliberately cold: “I was in the soundproof room and didn’t hear… Xiao Gu, did you need something?”

Gu Yiming said, “A little something.” He didn’t like Fang Xiao talking like this and wanted to tear off that mask, to give him a surprise. As he stood up and walked toward the building, he replied, “I brought you food.”

“Huh?”

When Fang Xiao opened the door, his face still held undisguised surprise. He absentmindedly took the takeout from Gu Yiming, his gaze lingering on the snowflakes clinging to Gu Yiming’s shoulders, his expression hesitant.

Gu Yiming, rarely seeing Fang Xiao so uncertain, asked proactively, “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Fang Xiao countered, “The delivery shows it was signed for half an hour ago… You waited outside for over thirty minutes? Did it not occur to you that I might not be home?”

Gu Yiming answered matter-of-factly, “I could see your window from downstairs.”

Fang Xiao instinctively replied, “Then didn’t you think—” He cut himself off mid-sentence, frowned, and seemed about to say something before glancing at the decorative clock on the wall. He set the matter aside for now and said, “I still have some work to wrap up. Sit for a bit—let me think.”

With that, he left his food untouched and hurried back into his room.

Gu Yiming assumed he was busy with work and didn’t want to disturb him, so he sat quietly in the living room, staring at the cartoon character printed on the takeout porridge container. Next to the character was a doggerel poem: “Life is like a bowl of porridge, endlessly boiling and simmering.” The rest was on the back of the container, hidden by the plastic bag. Gu Yiming didn’t turn it around to read.

Fang Xiao returned to the soundproof room but didn’t start working immediately. The final arrangement was waiting for the software to export, and he had originally planned to grab his food while waiting. But now, he pressed a hand to his forehead and stared blankly, accomplishing nothing. He spent a long time lost in thought, unable to untangle his mind, and only snapped out of it when his phone rang—he’d forgotten to start the export.

Tang Shao’s voice blared through the phone the moment he answered: “Where’s the song? It’s been half an hour, dude—you still haven’t exported it?”

As he worked, Fang Xiao explained, “Sorry, I spaced out. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Spaced out?!” Tang Shao yelled. “Fang Tiantian! You said mine was the only one left before New Year’s!”

“It is the only one left—I didn’t lie. It’s something else.” Fang Xiao weighed his words. This matter had him so unsettled that he didn’t even consider whether the person on the other end of the line was a suitable confidant. He sighed. “I just realized I might’ve made a mistake.”

“What? Did you accidentally delete a project before the client approved it?”

“…”

“Come on, tell me.”

“It’s Xiao Gu.” Fang Xiao pressed his knuckles to his throbbing temples. “I just realized… he might like me.”

“…Just realized? Are you sure?” Tang Shao scoffed. “I thought he already confessed? And got rejected? Didn’t you ask me to console him?”

“That was different,” Fang Xiao frowned, reflecting on his mistake. “I thought he was a low-self-esteem, anxious-avoidant type, dependent on me in a codependent way. I rejected him clearly and set boundaries, but today he came to find me… It’s New Year’s Eve. He knew I was home but didn’t answer the door or his calls, yet instead of giving up, he waited downstairs for over half an hour.”

Tang Shao sounded unimpressed. “So what? I waited over an hour for you once.”

“But you knew I couldn’t hear in the soundproof room. And you didn’t wait—you went shopping at New Zhongguan.” Fang Xiao called him out.

“…”

“Besides, Xiao Gu is hypersensitive to negative feedback—he’s not like you.”

“Hey, how am I different?” Tang Shao protested. “Fang Tiantian, let me tell you—if you keep analyzing people with your half-baked psychology knowledge, you’re gonna trip yourself up!”

“I already did. Let’s not talk about that.” Fang Xiao rubbed his temples. Now he understood why psychologists needed certifications. He’d been wrong about Gu Yiming multiple times. In his attempt to be the perfect fan, he had accidentally become a genuine love interest. Amateur skills really weren’t enough.

“So what now?”

“Say yes?”

“Don’t joke…” Fang Xiao said weakly. “I have standards.”

“You only like people more dominant than you—a domineering CEO enthusiast.” Tang Shao summarized. “But I thought you kinda liked Xiao Gu too?”

“The point isn’t dominance—it’s emotional maturity. Xiao Gu is… Never mind, why am I discussing this with you?” Fang Xiao pressed his fingers to his brow. He hung up and opened the window. The studio’s soundproofing made the window cumbersome, and Fang Xiao usually avoided touching it, but right now, he desperately needed fresh air—preferably icy, biting air.

When Fang Xiao pushed open the studio door, he held a one-in-a-thousand hope that Gu Yiming had already left. But Gu Yiming was still there, sitting properly on the sofa with a glass of lemon water in his hands, turning to look at him. That look was taut with cautious hope, and it sent a prickle across Fang Xiao’s scalp; he couldn’t fathom how he’d ever written off Gu Yiming’s feelings as a fleeting crush.

Face reality, Fang Xiao thought. Reject him cleanly. Gu Yiming’s feelings for you aren’t some adolescent crush—he *likes* you. Those gentle suggestions and harsh rejections are no different—both will hurt him. You have to be direct, have to cut this cleanly. He cleared his throat and said, “Xiao Gu—”

His tone might have been too flat, because Gu Yiming tensed, shoulders stiffening. He looked like the Gu Yiming on the firing point—soft and serene yet sharp and fierce, a blend of quiet strength and fragile vulnerability in that youthful body.

Fang Xiao suddenly couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Rejecting someone you care about requires perfect timing, and by the time Fang Xiao found his words again, they had lost their edge. All he could muster was a dry, “Xiao Gu, why did you come?”

Perhaps spurred by the heavy atmosphere, Gu Yiming paused before showing rare sharpness: “Am I not welcome?”

Caught off guard, Fang Xiao hesitated before saying, “No, that’s not it.”

But Gu Yiming didn’t want to hear such a flippant answer. He looked Fang Xiao in the eye and said earnestly, “Fang Xiao, I know you don’t like me yet. I know that, so please don’t avoid me anymore, okay?”

The request was so fair and pitiful that Fang Xiao had no grounds to refuse. He promised, “Okay.”

Gu Yiming smiled then, as if retracting all his thorns, his stubbornness tucked away inside him, leaving only a soft young man. He gently let go of the earlier probing and asked instead, “Fang Xiao, where are you spending New Year’s?”

“Here in Beijing. I’ll go to my parents’ place for a day or two, then come back. You?”

“Also in Beijing. At the training base.”

Fang Xiao sounded surprised. “Not going back to Zhejiang? Is the team requiring it?”

“There’s no one at home.”

He paused. Fang Xiao was wondering if he shouldn’t pry further when Gu Yiming added quietly, “There never has been.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Fang Xiao smoothly changed the subject: “If you’re staying at the training base, are you doing extra practice over the holiday?”

“No, the range is closed. I’ll be the only one there.”

Gu Yiming said it plainly, but Fang Xiao easily heard the unspoken meaning and frowned. He glared at Gu Yiming, willing him to reconsider, but their misunderstandings were as plentiful as ever. Gu Yiming met his gaze blankly, completely missing Fang Xiao’s intent, and even started blushing faintly.

Fang Xiao gave up. He pressed a hand to his conscience and found it beating vigorously, impossible to ignore. It wouldn’t allow a soft-hearted young man to endure loneliness in the winter night just because he’d shed his hermit crab shell, nor would it let his little idol spend the family reunion holiday alone in a vast, empty building.

“Do you want to stay at my place?” Fang Xiao decided, self-deceptively, to let his conscience speak for him instead of himself. “I’m heading to my parents’ soon and will be back by the second day. You’ll have to cook for yourself on New Year’s Eve and the first day—you can cook, right?”

Gu Yiming answered crisply: “Okay, I can.”

Even though he’d guessed Gu Yiming had planned this, Fang Xiao couldn’t help sighing. “Weren’t you afraid I wouldn’t invite you?”

“I was,” Gu Yiming raised his hands, framing one melancholy yet bright eye as he looked at Fang Xiao. “That’s why I came to ask you in person. Even if you said no, at least I got to see you.”

Fang Xiao froze.

Gu Yiming lowered his hands and asked, “I told you the truth—can I still stay?”

Fang Xiao wanted to say no. When Gu Yiming hadn’t spelled it out, he could let his conscience speak for him. But now that Gu Yiming had laid it bare, it felt like tacit approval of his feelings. Fang Xiao was usually adept at navigating these nuances—Gu Yiming couldn’t fool him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to refuse this version of Gu Yiming. He’d never been able to bear seeing determined people suffer setbacks, and now he couldn’t stand those who endured setbacks *because* of their determination. After holding Gu Yiming’s gaze for a long moment, he looked away. “Stay if you want.”