After checking the door lock, An Yi stood straight and realized that he and Yan Chen were very close. Close enough that his back was against the door panel, and their chests were almost touching.

Sunlight streamed down from behind Yan Chen, dazzling An Yi’s eyes. He blinked quickly, unable to find a place to rest his gaze, from Yan Chen’s eyes to the school uniforms they were pressed together in. “Why are you… so close to me?”

Yan Chen didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned slightly closer.

“Guess,” he said.

A warm breath brushed against An Yi’s face, like a wildfire spreading rapidly, quickly burning to the roots of his ears. An Yi was so nervous his heartbeat felt like it was about to burst out of his throat, and he unconsciously held his breath.

Just as he was about to suffocate, Yan Chen chuckled softly and moved away.

An Yi sighed with relief, then couldn’t help but glare at him. But when he saw the rare smile on Yan Chen’s usually indifferent face, his embarrassment and annoyance faded away, replaced by an inexplicable fluttering in his heart.

“What are you here for, seriously?” An Yi cleared his throat, walked to the desk, and turned on the computer and mixer.

Yan Chen pulled over a chair and sat down next to him, taking out his phone from his school uniform pocket.

It turned out he was just looking for a place to play with his phone. An Yi’s heartbeat barely returned to normal. He emphasized, “If you’re not leaving, sit quietly and don’t talk, and put your phone on silent.”

Yan Chen gave him an OK gesture.

At noon, as the music flowed out punctually, the clear and gentle voice of a young boy spread to every corner of the campus through the rooftop speakers.

During the intervals between songs, An Yi ate his lunch and familiarized himself with the upcoming scripts. When a song was about to end, he cleared his throat to continue the broadcast. But halfway through, he glanced to the side and unexpectedly met a pair of dark, deep eyes—Yan Chen was leaning on the table, chin in hand, staring at him.

It wasn’t clear how long he had been staring.

An Yi stuttered for a moment. Even though he quickly averted his gaze and focused on the script again, the intense gaze beside him remained strong.

He tried glaring back, and he tried gesturing, but Yan Chen, intentionally it seemed, kept staring at him with a faint smile. An Yi gritted his teeth and, during a break in the script, reached out a hand to tentatively block those disturbing eyes.

The boy’s towering brows and thick lashes swept over his fingertips and palm. An Yi heard Yan Chen chuckle softly, then recoiled his hand as if he’d been shocked, his ears turning so red they almost seemed to drip blood.

Yan Chen saw fit to stop, no longer looking at him, and instead brought the lunchbox next to An Yi in front of him, starting to eat.

By the time An Yi’s half-hour broadcast ended, the lunchbox was empty too.

An Yi was a bit speechless. “You’re hungry, why don’t you go to the cafeteria?”

“It doesn’t taste good,” Yan Chen stood up, tilting his chin at him, “I’ll take you out to eat.”

It was time for afternoon self-study, and An Yi was surprised. “Go out now? Where to?”

“Outside of school, of course.”

“But…”

Yan Chen didn’t give him a chance to object. Without a word, he grabbed An Yi’s wrist and led him to a low wall in the southeast direction of the school. Before An Yi could see clearly, Yan Chen jumped onto the wall in a couple of steps and reached out his hand to him. “Come.”

Speckled sunlight fell on the boy’s shoulders, and in that moment, An Yi felt the strong fluttering in his heart again.

…………..

Every noon, Yan Chen would accompany An Yi to the broadcasting station for duty. After the broadcast ended, An Yi would accompany Yan Chen to jump over the wall and go to the food street outside the school.

An Yi no longer asked Yan Chen why he came to find him, and Yan Chen didn’t need to remind An Yi to wait for him. Even if he came later, the broadcasting station would always leave a gap for him.

This was an unspoken agreement between the two of them.

On New Year’s Day, Xichuan finally welcomed its first snowfall.

The snow was heavy, and the city issued a notice to cancel classes. The New Year’s Eve celebration, originally scheduled for evening self-study, was moved up to the afternoon, and after it ended, students were dismissed to go home.

As An Yi walked out of the school gate, he saw Yan Chen standing on the roadside making a phone call. He wanted to go and say hello, but with so many people coming and going at the school gate, he gave up on the idea. Just as he turned the corner, the collar of his down jacket, worn over his school uniform, was pulled.

He turned around, but before he could speak, a scarf covered his face.

The scarf still carried warmth, softly brushing against his face. An Yi reached out to pull the scarf down a bit, his eyes, covered in snowflakes, looked at Yan Chen. “I’m not cold.”

“I am.” Yan Chen reached his long arm around An Yi’s head, using the scarf as a hat to cover An Yi’s head, then wrapped it around his neck, fully armed.

An Yi stood quietly in his embrace, half of his face buried in the scarf. He whispered, “Thank you.”

Yan Chen adjusted the scarf for him, took a step back, and looked at him for a moment before suddenly saying, “Look up.”

An Yi followed his instructions and saw Yan Chen holding his phone up, taking a photo of him. The scarf seemed to have a heating function, making An Yi’s face blush. With his hands in the pockets of his down jacket, he whispered, “Why are you taking a picture of me? I don’t look good.”

Yan Chen put away his phone and said, “You can doubt yourself, but you can’t doubt my aesthetic.”

An Yi: “…”

The two walked side by side for a while, arriving at the bus stop. An Yi belatedly remembered a question.

“Do you need to take the bus too?” An Yi asked Yan Chen. “None of the buses here go to your house.”

“Do you know where my house is?”

An Yi shook his head. “Just guessing.” He hadn’t seen Yan Chen around the area before.

At that moment, the bus slowly pulled into the station. Without time for further discussion, An Yi took out his bus card, waved goodbye to Yan Chen, and unexpectedly, Yan Chen followed him onto the bus. While swiping the card, he confidently stretched out his hand towards An Yi. “I don’t have a card.”

An Yi had no choice but to help him swipe.

There weren’t many people traveling in the snow. An Yi sat by the window, and Yan Chen sat next to him.

When they reached the Fengjia garden stop, Yan Chen stood up and went to the door before An Yi. An Yi looked at him in surprise, and the two got off the bus together, walking side by side towards the residential area.

The snow crunched under their feet. An Yi glanced at Yan Chen several times before finally couldn’t help but say, “Thank you for walking me home.”

Yan Chen put his hands in his pockets and glanced casually at him. “It’s on the way.”

An Yi was even more surprised. “Do you really live nearby?”

Yan Chen thought for a moment and said, “The driver has something to do nearby, he’ll come to pick me up later.”

An Yi was speechless. What kind of “on the way” was this? After a pause, he asked, “When will he be done? It’s snowing heavily, are you just going to wait for him by the roadside?”

Yan Chen said, “It’ll be an hour or two.”

Unable to pursue the details of the other’s logic, An Yi frowned, “Why don’t you come to my house for a while? It’s too cold outside.”

Yan Chen stopped and looked at him. “Won’t it be inconvenient?”

An Yi shook his head and said, “My dad is away on a business trip, my mom is very kind,” he laughed again, “it’s just that my sister is a bit restless, so it might be a bit noisy.”

Yan Chen followed with a laugh, “Then I won’t stand on ceremony with you.”