Chapter Six

A long time back, the girls around campus were gossiping, saying that the school finally had someone who stood out from the crowd. The new analytical chemistry professor was probably the most attractive guy on campus. He didn’t have any bad habits, had good character, and a great personality. Most importantly, not only was he an excellent teacher, but he also didn’t have the habit of taking attendance.

The boys weren’t too concerned about it, but the inexperienced Zhao Ziqiang quietly wondered if he was the only one who secretly agreed with the girls’ thoughts. At the very least, he greatly admired the professor’s wind-blown trench coat whenever he stepped out.

When Qian Wang pointed out Zhao Ziqiang to be the class representative, Zhao Ziqiang couldn’t quite tell if the fleeting feeling that passed through his mind was one of shock or delight. Even though he knew that being a university class representative was practically just a title with no real responsibilities, at most, he’d be running errands when needed—Zhao Ziqiang was still happily following Professor Qian around, in and out, running here and there, almost to the point of serving tea, massaging his back, and kneading his legs.

When Professor Qian noticed the enthusiasm of this unfortunate boy for him, he didn’t discourage it. Instead, he fanned the flames, adding fuel to the fire, enticing him into willingly climbing into his bed.

It was just for fun; Professor Qian never felt that living with someone else was a desirable thing. At least for him, he preferred to be free and unrestrained. So, he was always confused by the almost daily routine of exchanging greetings and saying goodnight for several years.

Of course, there had been feelings of affection.

At that time, when he liked Zhao Ziqiang the most, he really treasured him, although he despised Zhao Ziqiang’s name just as much as he despised his own.

This feeling of affection lasted for a long time—so long that even he thought it would just continue like that. But then, a restless itch crept into his heart.

Qian Wang started finding Zhao Ziqiang increasingly unpleasant, to the point even his name became one of the many reasons for his discontent. Sun Kan’s parents, on the other hand, were good at choosing names—no matter how you looked at it, the name sounded cultured.

After the three-day holiday ended, Zhao Ziqiang returned to work at the insurance company. The company was very demanding; during the off-season, no matter how many tasks were assigned to you, you had to complete them all. If you couldn’t meet the requirements, the shortfall would be deducted from your pay, effectively costing the employees.

As soon as the year was over, the tasks were handed down: 50 personal insurance cards worth 100 yuan each. At times like this, Zhao Ziqiang had no choice but to turn to Qian Wang, though it seemed that all the teachers at their university had already bought Zhao Ziqiang’s cards.

Zhao Ziqiang had muddled through his university years, and after graduating, with the help of his uncle, he muddled his way into the insurance company. He was inexplicably lucky, earning a salary of 1,500 yuan per month, with average performance and no bonuses to speak of.

At the end of the year, Zhao Ziqiang finally received the year-end bonus—a two-week trip to Hainan, and it even allowed him to bring family members. However, just as he was planning to go, Qian Wang said he was too busy with school, so the trip was postponed.

Sitting in front of the computer, Zhao Ziqiang carefully thought it through. He and Qian Wang had never strolled down the street hand in hand, never had romantic candlelight dinners, never traveled together, and never cuddled sweetly in bed until they fell asleep. From the very beginning, it was as if they were an old married couple, with no passion at all. However, Zhao Ziqiang felt that this kind of quiet stability was just fine for him.

Despite the fact that the esteemed professor earned over ten thousand a month, the two of them still lived in a small 40-square-meter apartment. Of course, Qian Wang had his own 120-square-meter apartment, which he had bought two years ago.

Zhao Ziqiang had never been there, mainly because Qian Wang never invited him. Initially, Qian Wang hadn’t even mentioned it to him. At that time, Zhao Ziqiang was already prepared for a breakup because it seemed that Qian Wang really didn’t want him to move in.

In reality, moving in might not have worked out anyway. Zhao Ziqiang had heard that Qian Wang had rented the house at an incredibly low price to a family of three with the surname Sun, who were his students.

5,000 a year! With exquisite decoration, you can’t even find such a good deal with a lantern. Why wasn’t it offered to him?

But then Zhao Ziqiang thought differently. The new apartment indeed couldn’t be left empty—it needed to have people living in it. If the two of them stayed in such a large place, they’d probably end up sleeping in separate beds, so squeezing into the small house was just fine. At least it felt like a home.

Lost in these thoughts, nodding off and half-heartedly going through the motions, another day of work passed. After finishing work, Zhao Ziqiang stood at the office building entrance and called Qian Wang, wondering if they could go out to watch a movie and have dinner together.

Fortunately, Qian Wang agreed.

The cinema was showing all the big Lunar New Year blockbusters, and there was an actor Zhao Ziqiang really liked, so he dragged Qian Wang in. Qian Wang hadn’t eaten yet and was feeling uncomfortable from hunger, his expression not looking great. But since the cinema was dark, Zhao Ziqiang didn’t mind. When he came in, he bought a bag of popcorn and some fried chicken bites—Qian Wang could snack on them if he got hungry.

The man beside Zhao Ziqiang started to doze off within half an hour of entering, his head bobbing and leaning against Zhao Ziqiang’s shoulder. Zhao Ziqiang didn’t mind and happily munched on popcorn.

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“It’s boring, let’s go.”

Hearing Qian Wang say this, Zhao Ziqiang reluctantly stood up, hunched over, and followed Qian Wang out of the theater. It was better than he expected—at least more than half of the movie had played. What a pity, though; he missed the part where the male and female leads reunited after a long separation and reconciled. Romance movies really weren’t suited for Qian Wang.

They walked about fifty meters down the street, and at Zhao Ziqiang’s request, they went into a roadside BBQ restaurant to have some Japanese-style barbecue. This time, Qian Wang’s expression improved a lot—at least there was no immediate, obvious look of disdain.

Zhao Ziqiang walked home alone. They had shared a small, cheesy bit of romance today. Even though Qian Wang was called away by a phone call halfway through dinner, it didn’t really matter.

Zhao Ziqiang still deeply felt that two men were not suited for romance. You either love each other or just live together. Perhaps they could occasionally ignite a passionate moment, but if life became too difficult, and that fire couldn’t be kindled, it could only mean that one of them had lost even that small amount of affection.

As Zhao Ziqiang was almost home, he realized he had left his scarf at the barbecue restaurant. He reluctantly turned back, praying in his heart that it wouldn’t be lost, as it was a rare scarf that his sister had painstakingly crafted for him.

Fortunately, the scarf had been safely kept by the staff. After stepping out, he inexplicably turned toward the Apollo Club, that gay bar.

The bar was quite tucked away, located in an alley where two couples were passionately kissing. One couple was all too familiar: Qian Wang and Sun Kan.

It was Sun Kan’s birthday today, Zhao Ziqiang guessed as he rubbed his chin. Qian Wang had probably gifted himself as a birthday present.

Qian Wang’s hand was constantly sliding under Sun Kan’s shirt. Although the lighting was dim, they weren’t far away, and Zhao Ziqiang could see everything clearly. He could even sense the angles and pressure of that wandering hand.

He turned around and went home.