Zhao Ziqiang believed that he hadn’t yet reached a telepathic level with Qian Wang. However, when someone stood not far away, their eager gaze practically screamed, ‘Look at me, look at me,’ even a person who isn’t particularly perceptive would notice it. Even Sun Wanjue furrowed his brows and looked up toward the restaurant entrance.

Zhao Ziqiang swore he wasn’t trying to embarrass anyone on purpose; it was just a subconscious response:

“Sorry, we’re closing.”

It just so happened to be Sunday, and Qian Wang shamelessly showed up at Zhao Ziqiang’s house early in the morning, only to be chased away by two female heroes. Zhao Zili even chased him for over a hundred meters before feeling relieved. However, a good woman is often afraid of a persistent man, so he lingered outside the Zhao family’s door all day until evening, when he finally got Zhao Mama to reveal Zhao Ziqiang’s address.

Zhao Zili angrily watched Qian Wang leave happily, then turned to her mother in frustration, asking, “Why did you tell him? What gives him the right?”

Zhao Mama looked at her daughter, who was so angry she was stomping her feet, with a calm expression.

“Your brother’s inner conflict is with him. Whether it’s a success or failure, let them talk it through.

Qian Wang searched around the bus station and finally found Zhao Ziqiang’s workplace around nine o’clock. The moment Zhao Ziqiang looked up, Qian Wang almost raised his hand in joy, but he remained composed, merely shaking his trench coat and pretending to be nonchalant as he pushed the door open and entered the shop.

But when Zhao Ziqiang’s detached and rehearsed reply, ‘We’re closed,’ reached his ears, Qian Wang’s expression crumbled.

He had been proud in front of Zhao Ziqiang for so long that he really wanted to soften his tone and say, “I was wrong, I’ve changed, let’s get back together and live well.”

However, the so-called dignity built over the years made it impossible for him to lower his head and be submissive in front of someone who had always accommodated him. He couldn’t bend down to touch his own bottom line.

Zhao Ziqiang stood there in a daze when he saw Qian Wang coming, fearing he might say something outrageous that would shock the family. He quickly pulled Qian Wang out the door.

“Do you need something?”

Qian Wang looked at the impatient man, who was wearing only a thin wool sweater. Though spring had officially arrived, the cold front hadn’t left yet. He unconsciously undid his buttons, intending to take off his trench coat.

Zhao Ziqiang pulled Qian Wang’s hand away. This man hadn’t cared about anyone for a long time, and Zhao Ziqiang didn’t understand why he was suddenly being so attentive after breaking up with him.

“What do you want?”

“It’s too cold outside; let’s go in and talk.”

“Why go inside? Just so everyone will know I’m gay and that I can’t make it here?”

Qian Wang stared at Zhao Ziqiang in surprise. Zhao Ziqiang knew why Qian Wang was so shocked—he usually only acted impolitely or harshly toward people he disliked, like Sun Kan.

But standing outside, wasting time and feeling miserable, was something he had to deal with himself. Realizing this, Zhao Ziqiang sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair.

“Forget it, let’s go inside.”

After greeting Sister Wang, Zhao Ziqiang led Qian Wang up to the second floor and into his bedroom.

“Can we talk now?”

Zhao Ziqiang sat on the edge of the bed, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from under the pillow, and took out a lighter. Although he had been smoking less lately, he couldn’t calm himself down whenever it came to matters regarding Qian Wang. He didn’t even understand what he was afraid of.

Qian Wang still exuded an imposing presence. He was tall, the door frame was low, and as he stood there, Zhao Ziqiang found himself looking up at him, like a statue, motionless. Zhao Ziqiang impatiently kicked the foot of the bedside table; the quiet atmosphere made him feel anxious and irritated.

He didn’t want to see the person in front of him. When he thought that this person’s hands had touched a body other than his own, and that this person’s mouth had turned over other people’s mouth many times, he was so disgusted that he was about to gag.

What’s more, he didn’t know how unclean his whole body was after this person no longer belonged to him.

He loathed this feeling, the jealousy and resentment that still bubbled within him. He thought he had it under control, but it surged violently, throbbing through every part of him. Zhao Ziqiang was shocked to realize that, deep down, he actually harbored the vicious thought of throwing a cup of sulfuric acid on the person in front of him, wanting to see their skin and heart corrode away.

He was almost losing his grip on reason.

Qian Wang looked at Zhao Ziqiang, whose fists were tightening with a complicated expression. He didn’t know how to start speaking, how to begin the plea for reconciliation. He realized he was still despicably waiting for Zhao Ziqiang to give him a way out.

When words failed him, he acted on his feelings, but unfortunately, this time he chose the wrong approach.

When Qian Wang leaned in and pressed his lips against Zhao Ziqiang’s, Zhao Ziqiang’s eyes widened in disbelief. He truly felt a choking sensation in his throat—he felt nauseated.

Qian Wang pressed Zhao Ziqiang’s hands above his head, using a pose commonly seen in movies. After sensing the long-lost scent, he realized that once the kiss was over, all he wanted was to bury his head in the other person’s chest and hold him tightly.

However, things did not go as he wished. Under the dim light, Zhao Ziqiang’s eyes showed no hint of love; instead, they were filled with disgust. Qian Wang crouched on the ground, holding his abdomen, unable to comprehend that Zhao Ziqiang would actually strike out at him.

---

“You could have fought me back that night.”

“It’s impossible. I’m confident enough to not fight back against you, teacher, even if I’m knocked to the ground.”

Zhao Ziqiang also remembered that when he was young, he had once said that he had the confidence not to lay a hand on Qian Wang, but it was Qian Wang who had personally worn down that confidence.

“Both of us are men. Do you think anyone would willingly submit and lie beneath you if there was no love? Qian Wang, let’s part ways amicably; we’re done. Why can’t you understand that?”

Qian Wang curled up against the wall, his head hanging down. In reality, Zhao Ziqiang hadn’t kicked him hard, but he felt pain nonetheless—his whole body ached, sore from the inside out.

Zhao Ziqiang sat up, the still-burning cigarette end had burned a hole of moderate size in the pillowcase. He frowned as he took a damp towel from the coat rack and wiped it.

After a long time, he said to the emotionless boy outside the door, “Have you had enough of the show?”

Sun Wanjue said nothing, but he forcefully walked over and yanked up the squatting Qian Wang. Despite Qian Wang being a head taller, Sun Wanjue didn’t care; he pulled him out the door and stumbled down the stairs, eventually shoving him out of the shop. Afterward, he silently pulled down the roller shutter and locked it.

Ignoring his mother’s inquiries, he buried down his head and returned to Zhao Ziqiang’s room. Zhao Ziqiang lit another cigarette, his eyes glazed as he leaned back, staring blankly at the corner of the wall. Sun Wanjue walked over and patted Zhao Ziqiang’s head like an adult. Zhao Ziqiang looked up and saw the clear sympathy and comfort in the boy’s eyes, which made him smile.

“Your Uncle Zhao is handsome, right?”

Sun Wanjue didn’t respond, instead lying down on Zhao Ziqiang’s bed. He could feel the man’s sadness, a sadness he was desperately trying to hide, much like his cousin had done just a couple of days ago, grieving over the same person, to the point where even smiling brought tears to the corners of his eyes.