Shen Li nodded, retreating slightly as he looked at Gu Xingchuan. He thought Gu Xingchuan was about to make fun of him and said shyly. “I’ve always wanted to learn since I was little, but I just couldn’t get the hang of it…”

Gu Xingchuan felt as though something had struck his heart hard. He stared at Shen Li, stunned and unable to speak for a long time.

Scenes from their first meeting played in his mind, replaying endlessly like a tireless film reel.

It was shortly after his fifteenth birthday. Gu Xingchuan had been sent from a grand mansion in Manhattan’s Upper East Side to a small, square courtyard in the heart of the Imperial Capital. His father, Gu Shaoyuan, had tasked him with accompanying his gravely ill grandfather during his final days, fulfilling his filial duty in his stead.

Growing up, Gu Xingchuan had only seen his grandfather once a year during New Year’s. They barely exchanged words, let alone formed any deep bond so after leaving his father’s home, Gu Xingchuan slumped in the backseat of the car, listlessly staring out the window at the unfamiliar streets of the city.

For a fifteen-year-old who had been stripped of his computer, gaming console, and the company of his friends, the prospect of this new life felt like a living nightmare. It was the worst moment of his life.

His mood was dark, oppressive, and devoid of hope, as if the world had lost all its light. And then, in that very moment, a bicycle streaked past against the sunlight. The wind lifted the hem of a young boy’s white shirt, revealing a sliver of pale, slender waist. The fabric fluttered in the breeze, and the exposed skin shimmered faintly under the golden rays of the sun. As they brushed past each other, the boy’s shadow flickered across the car window, like a fleeting yet vivid reflection.

Gu Xingchuan’s eyes never left the boy. Through the window, he caught a glimpse of the metallic name tag pinned to the boy’s shirt. It read: “Shen Li.”

His heart skipped a beat.

A surge of warmth spread through his chest, dispelling the gloom brought on by his unfamiliar surroundings. For the first time, he felt as if the dazzling sun above was shining just for him. Anticipation bloomed in his heart and life suddenly seemed full of possibilities.

Later, Gu Xingchuan met Shen Li at school. As an omega, Shen Li’s appearance perfectly matched his ideal type. Moreover, Shen Li was well-liked by many others. Without hesitation, Gu Xingchuan decided to make Shen Li his first love.

At the time, he didn’t even understand what it truly meant to like someone, but that didn’t matter. From a young age, Gu Xingchuan had always had the best of everything—attending the best schools, driving the best cars, and living in the biggest houses. Naturally, his first love should be with the most beautiful omega.

So, he pursued Shen Li without question, assuming it was only logical for Shen Li to agree. But who would have thought that an unexpected rival would appear? A classmate, the bookish and unremarkable Song Yi had the audacity to also chase after Shen Li!

Gu Xingchuan found everything about Song Yi intolerable. Someone like him? Competing with him for love?

From then on, Gu Xingchuan seized every opportunity to make trouble for Song Yi. During gym class, he would “accidentally” misfire a basketball, sending it hurtling straight at Song Yi. Then, with an air of superiority, he’d demand that Song Yi fetch the ball. But when he turned around, he’d find that his own textbook for the next class had been glued shut with 502 adhesive.

Gu Xingchuan, who had always been arrogant and overbearing, encountered someone who dared to fight back for the first time—and that someone happened to be his love rival. All he could think about was defeating Song Yi, making him bow his head in submission. He devised endless schemes to torment Song Yi, and every time he saw Song Yi get angry, he felt inexplicably pleased.

But now, he realized the person he truly liked wasn’t Shen Li. From the very beginning, he had been wrong. Who was it that he actually liked?

Shen Li seemed to sense that something was off, his expression shifting to one of fear. Gu Xingchuan had never seen this look before—like the oppressive darkness before a storm.

Then came a loud “bang.”

Gu Xingchuan’s bicycle crashed to the ground. He glanced at Shen Li and said coldly, “Come with me.”

Shen Li hesitated for a moment, deliberating before taking small, cautious steps to follow.

Song Yi narrowed his eyes slightly, a trace of exasperation flashing across his face. Knowing the young master’s temper, if he found out about this, there was no telling how furious he’d get.

Gu Xingchuan led Shen Li behind a car, hidden away from the crowd.

Shen Li wiped the sweat from his forehead, seemingly anxious as he asked. “Xingchuan, are you okay?”

Gu Xingchuan took a deep breath, trying to calm his heaving chest. Focusing his gaze intently on Shen Li as he asked. “October 5th, 201X—who was wearing your name tag that day?”

Shen Li froze for a moment, confused as to why Gu Xingchuan was asking such a question. Tilting his head in thought, he replied. “It’s been so long. I don’t remember.”

The next second, his neck was gripped tightly, as if caught in an iron vice. Gu Xingchuan slammed him against the car door with brutal force. Shen Li barely registered the searing pain in his back as he gasped for air, struggling desperately to push Gu Xingchuan away, but his strength couldn’t budge him an inch.

“Think carefully. Don’t say you don’t remember.” Gu Xingchuan warned in a low, menacing tone.

Shen Li’s lips trembled as he struggled to recall. After a long pause, he coughed a few times and asked. “October 5th, 201X?”

“Yes.”

Shen Li’s expression shifted slightly, a mix of confusion and fear. “I remember that day,” he began hesitantly. “The school had an event—a motivational speech by an alumnus who had been accepted into a top university. The teacher selected me to be one of the event volunteers. But I wasn’t feeling well that day, so I asked someone who had been pursuing me to go in my place.”

As he finished, Shen Li clearly felt the change in Gu Xingchuan. The muscles in the arm gripping his neck tensed even further, and the fingers resting against his artery trembled as though vibrating with suppressed emotion.

They both knew the answer without saying it aloud. Among Shen Li’s admirers, only one person could have stood in for him as a volunteer.

Gu Xingchuan’s voice quivered as he asked for confirmation. “It was Song Yi, wasn’t it?”

Shen Li, bathed in the icy sharpness of Gu Xingchuan’s gaze, nodded with difficulty. “It was him.”

Gu Xingchuan released him abruptly, his hand dropping to his side and clenching into a fist so tightly that the veins bulged grotesquely. For a long moment, he stood there, fists clenched, his face a storm of emotions. Then, slowly, he opened his hands and raised one arm, shielding his eyes as though from a blinding light. His heart roiled, unable to find calm.

So, it had been Song Yi all along. He had fallen for Song Yi nine years ago without even realizing it.

Everything made sense now—questions he couldn’t answer before suddenly came together like a lightning strike illuminating the darkness. Every corner of his heart felt exposed, searingly clear.

He wanted to slap himself. Memories of Song Yi as a teenager flooded his mind—mocking and sarcastic, laughing casually, angry and unguarded, or half-narrowing his eyes with that cool, detached look. Each expression was etched deeply into his memory. Gu Xingchuan was overwhelmed by regret. Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Why had he wasted nine years of his life not even understanding who he truly liked?

Youth, in its cruelty and beauty, has one defining truth: it can never be relived.

Shen Li gulped in the fresh air, finally free, but when he looked up, he noticed that Gu Xingchuan’s gaze toward him had changed. It was cold and distant, filled with disdain, as if he were looking at a stranger. Shen Li felt he might have said something wrong, yet he had no idea what it could have been.

A sharp whistle cut through the air as the participants in the desert cycling race lined up in formation. The sun blazed overhead, and the roadside was packed with spectators eager to watch.

Gu Xingchuan didn’t spare Shen Li another glance. Without a word, he turned and walked back to his fallen bike, silently picking it up.

Song Yi noticed the stormy look on Gu Xingchuan’s face and couldn’t help but worry whether he was in any condition to ride such a long distance. “Maybe we should head back instead?”

Gu Xingchuan swung one long leg over the bike with practiced ease, suppressing whatever he was about to say. He gave a soft, detached hum in response and added quietly. “Wait for me.”

With that, he pressed down on the pedal and shot forward, his posture low as he sped off under the scorching sun, like an arrow released from a bow.

He rode fast, faster than he ever had in his life, as if trying to catch up with lost time.

Gu Xingchuan was the first to cross the finish line. His taut calf muscles trembled from exertion, and his ears rang from the strain. Sweat dripped from his disheveled black hair, clinging to his forehead. He ran a hand through it, brushing it back, and wiped the sweat off his face with his palm.

A crowd of organizers surged toward him like a wave, microphones and cameras in hand. The air was filled with cheers and shouts of admiration.

Amid the chaos, Song Yi waved in his direction, holding up a bottle of mineral water. Gu Xingchuan strode over, ignoring the commotion behind him. His steps were firm, and his expression radiated intensity, as if nothing else in the world mattered except the person waiting for him.

Like a razor-sharp katana, Gu Xingchuan sliced through the crowd with determined strides.

The scent of sun-dried sweat clung to him as he approached, and Song Yi couldn’t help but smile faintly. “First place, huh? Go take a shower already.”

Before Song Yi could react further, Gu Xingchuan pulled him into a fierce embrace, holding him tightly and inhaling deeply, as though grounding himself in the moment.

Song Yi could hear the rapid, pounding rhythm of Gu Xingchuan’s heartbeat, so loud it seemed to echo right beside his ear. Stunned, he asked with concern. “Are you okay?”

Gu Xingchuan muttered a curse under his breath, his arm hooking around Song Yi’s neck. Then, without warning, he bent down and pressed their lips together in a forceful, desperate kiss, pouring out a tidal wave of uncontainable emotions.

Song Yi gasped sharply, his eyes widening in shock. Embarrassment and anger surged through him—sure, they had kissed plenty of times before, but never in front of Shen Li, Zhou Moquan, and an entire crowd of onlookers.

His mind buzzed with disbelief as he cursed Gu Xingchuan inwardly for his audacity. Has he lost his mind? Doing this in front of everyone? Yet, as much as frustration flared, he couldn’t ignore the heat and tenderness of Gu Xingchuan’s lips against his own. The overwhelming force softened, turning into something gentler, filled with longing and affection.

When they finally pulled apart, Song Yi closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather himself. Gu Xingchuan’s labored breaths brushed against his flushed cheek, leaving a searing warmth in their wake.

Song Yi wiped his lips lightly and opened his eyes, avoiding the scorching gazes from the surrounding crowd. Gu Xingchuan, on the other hand, stared straight at him with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, his dark eyes glimmering like stars in the summer night.

Song Yi shot him a glare and muttered under his breath. “Are you out of your mind?”

Gu Xingchuan stood still, staring at him with unwavering intensity, emotions churning like a turbulent sea.

After a few seconds, he turned his head and shook it carelessly, flicking away the sweat from his hair. “It’s so damn hot. Let’s go back and shower.”

Song Yi shot him a glare, thankful they were abroad where there were few fellow Chinese around who might recognize them. If they’d been back home, he’d have no face left to save. Gu Xingchuan’s legion of devoted fans would’ve torn him apart online for this.

Once they stepped into the elevator, Gu Xingchuan pressed the floor button and slid an arm around Song Yi’s waist. From the elevator to the hotel room door, his hand never let go, and Song Yi barely had time to find his footing before he was unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub.

The white tub still had a thin layer of water left from the morning shower, making the surface slick. Startled, Song Yi braced his hands behind him to sit up, but the slippery surface only caused him to slide down further until he was almost lying flat.

Without a word, Gu Xingchuan yanked off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, stepping into the tub with an air of nonchalance. Closing the space between them, he leaned in, their proximity suddenly suffocating.

Song Yi’s expression soured, memories of their last bathtub “incident” flashing through his mind. “Have you already forgotten the third rule of our agreement?” he warned, voice tinged with caution.

Gu Xingchuan gazed down at him, a playful smirk on his lips. Reaching out, he pinched Song Yi’s soft earlobe gently before leaning in to plant a kiss. Then he blew a warm breath against his skin, his voice low and magnetic. “I don’t know what third rule you’re talking about. The only thing I know is… I like you. A lot.”

Song Yi froze for a moment, his lips parting slightly in surprise. A mix of amusement and something deeper flickered in his eyes, stirring a confusion of emotions.

Does Gu Xingchuan truly like me that much?

Yesterday, Gu Xingchuan said he wanted to be his boyfriend. Song Yi had considered the possibility before but never thought much of it. He didn’t believe Gu Xingchuan’s feelings ran that deep, nor did he feel like overthinking it. Their current arrangement suited him just fine—everything he wanted was already there.

But taking it a step further, imagining the other as a lifelong partner, made Song Yi a bit uneasy. Gu Xingchuan didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d enjoy having kids. He was practically a child himself—how could he raise one?

If they ever did reach that point, Song Yi had no intention of being the one solely responsible for raising a child.

Raising a child alone would be exhausting.

Gu Xingchuan’s gaze fixed on him, sincere and unwavering. His voice carried a faint, hoarse intensity. “I’m taking you back to Seattle to meet my parents. Non-negotiable.”

=^_^=

Author has something to say:

#MiniTheater#

Song Yi’s fear of becoming a ‘single parent by default’ cane true—but it’s Gu Xingchuan who ended up ‘absent’