It was Yan Zimi who first withdrew his gaze and scooted back a bit toward his side.

He tapped his pen on the paper again and asked Pei Huan, “Are you listening to me?”

Pei Huan also redirected his gaze back to the drawing paper. “It’s a bit complicated,” he replied, feeling slightly ridiculous. “I can’t draw that.”

Yan Zimi pursed his lips and picked up the eraser. “Then let’s keep this part simple.”

He spoke lightly, but in reality, Yan Zimi’s thoughts began to drift.

To put it bluntly, just a moment ago, Pei Huan’s lips were less than ten centimeters from the tip of his nose. If he just tilted his head up, he could easily kiss him.

Tonight’s ambiguous atmosphere had him feeling overwhelmed, and he was truly afraid of impulsively making a mistake.

At this moment, although Yan Zimi continued to draw, his heart was racing uncontrollably.

His ears were flushed, and it was certain that his face was red as well.

Fortunately, he was sitting close to the drawing, with his hair covering his face. Pei Huan, so focused on his drawing, probably couldn’t see much.

It didn’t take long to lay down the pencil base; Yan Zimi finished in just a few strokes.

Just as he accidentally smeared some paint on his hand while squeezing the colors, he decided to hand the brush directly to Pei Huan.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” Yan Zimi said as he stepped aside and stood up. “You can mix the colors now.”

Pei Huan smiled. “Do you think I can?”

Yan Zimi shrugged helplessly. “You have to draw it yourself.”

Pei Huan replied, “I can’t, Teacher Yan.”

Yan Zimi shot back, “But you dared to buy the biggest one.”

Pei Huan looked up at Yan Zimi. “Are you criticizing me?”

Yan Zimi enunciated clearly, “Yes.”

Pei Huan chuckled, “I was wrong.”

Yan Zimi pressed his lips together and smiled. “If you were wrong, just wait for me to come back.”

Yan Zimi also felt that enjoying this ambiguous atmosphere wasn’t solely his fault.

Pei Huan was feeding into it.

Straight men are really annoying.

While Yan Zimi went to wash his hands, Pei Huan, feeling bored, picked up the paint that Yan Zimi had squeezed and set aside.

He grabbed a brush from the bucket, seemingly trying to mix a color from the photo.

He understood a bit about simple color mixing, like how red plus blue makes purple and yellow plus blue makes green.

As Pei Huan was rapidly turning his brain to figure out the palette, a sudden flash of light from the table next to him caught his attention.

It was Yan Zimi’s phone, which had just received a WeChat message.

Pei Huan had no intention of looking, but unfortunately, Yan Zimi’s phone allowed him to see the message directly, and Pei Huan read quickly.

So, he saw it—a message from a friend named Lin Jie, asking Yan Zimi, “How are things with your crush?”

Pei Huan’s hand paused for a moment, and he accidentally dragged some red paint with his brush.

“Right, let’s adjust the background color first,” Yan Zimi said as he returned. “We need to add a bit of yellow too.”

Pei Huan looked down at the board and added some yellow, following Yan Zimi’s instructions.

Yan Zimi threw the paper towel into the trash can, sat back down in his original spot, and took his phone while also pointing to a blank area on the palette. “Mix it here; it should be fine once it feels right.”

After saying that, he unlocked his phone.

Then he glanced at Pei Huan, who was busy mixing colors, and subtly leaned to the side to reply to Lin Jie.

Yan Zimi: “Straight men are so annoying.”

Lin Jie replied instantly: “Tell us your story!”

Yan Zimi: “I’ll tell him we’re painting.”

Lin Jie: “Are you drawing together?”

Lin Jie: “In your studio?”

Yan Zimi: “Yeah.”

Lin Jie: “It wouldn’t just be the two of you, right?”

Lin Jie: “You two aren’t sitting together to work on a piece, are you?”

Yan Zimi: “Yes.”

Yan Zimi: “Yes.”

Lin Jie: “Alright, I won’t interrupt you then.”

Lin Jie: “Have fun drawing!”

Yan Zimi put down his phone and noticed that Pei Huan was still at the same step.

“Why aren’t you mixing anymore?” Yan Zimi asked.

Pei Huan suddenly asked, “Why are you wearing two identical bracelets?”

Yan Zimi looked at his wrist in surprise.

After washing his hands earlier, he had rolled his sleeves up, making the two almost identical bracelets on his wrist particularly noticeable.

“My mom bought them for me,” Yan Zimi replied helplessly. “She specifically had my brother bring them over.”

One was for Yan Zimi, and the other was for a little girl, and his mom had even asked him to wear them and take a photo to show her.

Yan Zimi felt helpless and immediately told his mom he didn’t need them, but she insisted he keep them, saying that he would definitely find someone to give them to in the future since they had already been bought.

So, Yan Zimi immediately wore both and sent a picture to his mom, clarifying that he was wearing both bracelets and that he didn’t have a little girl.

“I just put them on this afternoon; I didn’t have time to take them off before coming to the studio,” Yan Zimi said.

Pei Huan looked at the bracelets and suddenly asked, “Was that your brother at the school gate this afternoon?”

Yan Zimi was a bit surprised. “How did you know? Did you see him?”

Pei Huan replied, “I saw him.”

“My cousin came over to bring this for me and happened to stroll around the school,” Yan Zimi said, looking at Pei Huan with some annoyance. “He saw me but didn’t call out.”

Pei Huan wasn’t sure why he hadn’t called Yan Zimi then; maybe it was because there were too many people at the school gate.

“Your cousin, huh?” Pei Huan repeated, somewhat perplexed, and explained, “I saw you were busy, and when the school bus arrived, I just left.”

Yan Zimi pouted. “Alright then.”

“But if you look closely, they’re still different,” Yan Zimi said, showing Pei Huan the small gold charm on one bracelet. “This one is a star, and this one is a star plucker.”

Pei Huan raised an eyebrow. “Your mom asked you to wear two?”

He chuckled as he looked at Yan Zimi. “No way!”

Yan Zimi tilted his head and directly held his hand out in front of Pei Huan. “Do they look good?”

Pei Huan said, “It looks pretty good.”

Yan Zimi inched his hand closer. “This clasp is hard to undo; can you help me with one?”

Pei Huan put down his brush. “Which one?”

Yan Zimi replied, “Undo the one you like.”

Pei Huan felt that Yan Zimi no longer wanted to wear it, so he casually chose to undo the clasp of the star plucker bracelet.

Yan Zimi took the star plucker from him and said, “Give me your hand.”

Before Pei Huan could react, Yan Zimi pulled his hand over and wrapped the star plucker around his wrist.

As he fastened it, he explained, “What my mom meant wasn’t for me to wear both.”

While securing the clasp on the bracelet, Yan Zimi continued, “She asked me to give the other one away.”

To the other half in the future.

“I’m giving it to someone,” Yan Zimi said.

As soon as he finished speaking, the clasp clicked shut.

At the sound of the clasp, it felt like something in Pei Huan was gently prodded.

He looked into Yan Zimi’s eyes and slowly smiled, “So, it’s for me?”

Yan Zimi opened his palm. “If you don’t want it, you can give it back.”

Pei Huan retracted his hand. “It’s mine now.”

After fastening the bracelet on Pei Huan, Yan Zimi sat up straight, trying to act naturally as he pushed the air awkwardly…

Ah, he wasn’t wearing his glasses today.

So, he awkwardly pushed at the empty space.

“Thank you, Yan Zimi,” Pei Huan said after a few seconds.

Not only did he say it, but he also ruffled Yan Zimi’s hair a couple of times.

Yan Zimi had initially intended not to smile, but after Pei Huan’s casual thank you, he couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “Is that all? Just a thank you?” He didn’t turn to look at Pei Huan but instead focused on the painting. “I don’t know who said it, but if you like someone, you should just say…”

Before Yan Zimi could finish, Pei Huan interrupted him.

“I really like it,” Pei Huan said.

Yan Zimi felt his heart flutter. “Oh.”

Although Pei Huan hadn’t had much experience with painting, he picked it up quickly.

Yan Zimi demonstrated how to mix colors, and Pei Huan learned just by watching. Yan Zimi explained why they should start with that section, what kind of brush to use, and the techniques for capturing that kind of sunlight. He said it once and showed it once, and Pei Huan grasped it all.

Yan Zimi couldn’t help but praise Pei Huan like a child: “Great job! You’re learning so fast.”

Pei Huan laughed. “Of course, it’s because our Teacher Yan is so good at teaching.”

Finishing such a large painting in one evening was, of course, impossible; they could only paint as much as time allowed.

Yan Zimi had prepared to spend a long time here with Pei Huan, but unexpectedly, when the clock struck nine, Pei Huan suddenly tossed the brush in his hand into the water bucket.

“Alright,” Pei Huan said. “Time’s up.”

Yan Zimi paused for a moment. “We’re not painting anymore?”

Pei Huan replied, “We can’t keep Teacher Yan from finishing work.”

Yan Zimi shook his head. “It won’t delay me.”

“Next time, then,” Pei Huan said.

He mimicked Yan Zimi’s earlier pose, pretending to ride a motorcycle. “Next time, I’ll come on my bike to be Teacher Yan’s student.”

Yan Zimi laughed. “Sounds good.”

He came to the studio three times a week, and only on the days when he had classes did he have someone accompany him. On the other days, if there were no guests, he would sit alone until nine o’clock to finish work.

Today felt completely different. His guest was not only his senior but also his teacher and student at the same time.

After finishing work, they would shut down the computer, turn off all the lights, and leave the studio side by side.

Once they locked the door, Pei Huan asked Yan Zimi, “Which bus do you usually take back to school? Route 1 or 203?”

Yan Zimi tucked the keys into his palm. “I usually… take a taxi back.”

Pei Huan chuckled and pulled out his phone.

Yan Zimi pressed down on Pei Huan’s hand. “But today, I want to take the bus,” he decided. “Route 1, then.”

Pei Huan remarked, “Buses are slow.”

“I want to take it anyway,” Yan Zimi insisted.

Pei Huan laughed softly. “Alright.”

To their surprise, the bus arrived almost immediately after they reached the stop. It was a weekday, and this route didn’t go through the bustling areas, so the bus was noticeably empty, with no one seated in the back rows.

Once on board, Yan Zimi followed Pei Huan to the second row at the back. Just as they settled in, a gust of wind blew through the open window, tousling Yan Zimi’s hair.

However, Pei Huan quickly closed the window, shielding Yan Zimi from the wind.

Yan Zimi fixed his bangs and heard Pei Huan ask, “Is your hair naturally wavy?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s from Tony’s work.”

Pei Huan chuckled at that.

Yan Zimi frowned, confused. “What are you laughing at?”

Pei Huan replied, “Is it you who’s seriously telling a cold joke?”

Yan Zimi tilted his chin up casually. “Why not?”

Pei Huan nodded with a smile. “Of course you can.”

Feeling a bit bored while sitting, Yan Zimi decided to check how long it would take for bus Route 1 to get back to school.

The app showed it would take around 30 minutes during peak hours, with the fastest time being 20 minutes.

Yan Zimi felt satisfied with that.

The bus made a stop, and a girl who looked like a student got on. After boarding, she glanced at Yan Zimi and Pei Huan for a few moments before sitting down in the last row across the aisle.

“Senior,” Yan Zimi asked Pei Huan as the bus started moving again, “I haven’t asked you yet, how did the competition go?”

Pei Huan, however, didn’t answer the question. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the seatback in front of him, and turned to Yan Zimi. “Why do you sometimes call me by my name and sometimes ‘senior’?”

Yan Zimi shrugged. “It’s still addressing you either way.”

Pei Huan shook his head. “True, you call me by name, but ‘senior’ isn’t the same,” he said, pointing out, “you call everyone ‘senior.’”

Yan Zimi replied, “What can I do? Anyone above sophomore year is a senior.”

Pei Huan frowned in discontent and propped his chin up with one hand. “That’s not acceptable.”

Yan Zimi raised an eyebrow. “What’s not acceptable?”

Pei Huan teased, “What were you calling me that night when you couldn’t sleep?”

In an instant, Yan Zimi’s ears turned crimson, followed swiftly by his cheeks.

With no one else around, Pei Huan couldn’t help but laugh, giving Yan Zimi a playful pat on the head.

But he didn’t say anything more.

Yan Zimi quickly covered his face with his sleeve, his heart racing.

That soft “brother” still reached Pei Huan’s ears.

Help me, please.

However, since Pei Huan had been half-asleep at the time, Yan Zimi decided to play dumb. “What did I call you?”

Pei Huan drew out a long “Ah…” in realization. “So you’re denying it now?”

Yan Zimi felt the heat creeping up again.

He continued to play coy. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing.”

Pei Huan chuckled. “Okay, nothing it is.”

In the wake of their teasing exchange, Yan Zimi’s heart was racing, unable to calm down.

As the bus passed another street, the warmth in his palms lingered.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the bus, playfully lifting Yan Zimi’s bangs.

The breeze seemed to stir something wild in his thoughts.

He leaned a little closer to Pei Huan, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Actually, there is something.”

Pei Huan blinked in confusion. “What is it?”

With a playful glint in his eyes, Yan Zimi grinned and leaned in, resting one hand on the back of the front seat and the other cupping his mouth as he whispered into Pei Huan’s ear.

Just like that night, he spoke in a tone only Pei Huan could hear.

“Brother.”

After Yan Zimi whispered the word, he quickly sat back up straight, a playful grin on his face.

Pei Huan seemed momentarily stunned, his expression shifting from surprise to a wide smile.

For a few seconds, he looked down, clearly amused, before chuckling softly to himself.

The sound was warm and contagious, making Yan Zimi’s heart flutter with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

Pei Huan glanced up, still smiling, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What was that for?” he asked, trying to maintain a straight face but failing miserably.

Yan Zimi shrugged, his cheeks still flushed. “Just thought you might like to hear it again.”

Pei Huan shook his head, still grinning. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe,” Yan Zimi replied, unable to suppress his own smile. “But you seem to like it.”

“Maybe I do,” Pei Huan said, leaning in a bit closer. The playful atmosphere hung between them, thickening the air with unspoken possibilities.