The room was warm with the heater on, and the glow from the phone screen cast shifting shadows on the dark gray curtains. Chi Yu was curled up in the corner of his bed, squinting at the messages on his phone. Thanks to Fu Zhi’an, everyone in their study group had their rankings jump several places after the pre-holiday exams. Since early morning, Wang Xiao had been howling in their group chat, half-jokingly crying out to recognize Fu Zhi’an as his “dad.”
After the chorus of “dad” calling died down, Fu Zhi’an sent a smiley face emoji in the group, and a few seconds later, Chi Yu received a new message.
[How did you do?]
Chi Yu straightened up, his long eyelashes casting a small shadow under his eyes as he quickly typed a few words on the screen: “Not bad.”
[Didn’t pass.]
Several seconds passed before he received a new message. This time, it was just six dots, black against the white screen. Chi Yu could almost imagine the slight flutter of Fu Zhi’an’s eyelashes and the soft sigh that likely accompanied it. When no further messages came, Chi Yu slumped back onto the bed, his legs sprawled haphazardly over the side. He swiped his fingers across the screen, finally stopping at a message he had received yesterday.
It was just a few words—he didn’t even need to open it. It was the same time and the same content as in previous years, a rare consistency between him and Chi Yuedi. On the day when most families were gathered for the New Year’s Eve dinner, Chi Yuedi would be flying off to inspect factories in Europe, while Qin Menglu would take Chi Yin to visit her family. Chi Yu would be left with a can of soda from the fridge, drinking it alone until dawn.
The air conditioner on the wall was blowing out warm, dry air. Chi Yu tiptoed and tried to cover the vent with his hand, but a few rebellious gusts of hot air still slipped through his fingers. He pulled his hand back, feeling the rough texture of his fingertips, and if he moved closer, he could even smell the dust. The house hadn’t had a good cleaning in a while. Chi Yu took out his phone and quickly typed out a message. Not long after he hit send, his phone buzzed with a reply.
[What are you doing?]
[Preparing cabbage filling for dumplings.]
Chi Yu wasn’t particularly upset—after all, the New Year was a time to spend with family. But as he stared at those few words on the screen, he suddenly felt a tightness in his throat. Cabbage dumplings—he didn’t like them at all. He smirked, then typed out a response: “I like shrimp dumplings.” His fingers hesitated briefly over the screen, but he didn’t retract the message. Instead, he tossed his phone onto the carpet.
He grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, and as he popped it open with a fizz, the bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling began to flicker on and off, casting an eerie, wavering light across the empty living room. Chi Yu usually didn’t mind a broken lightbulb or a faulty microwave, but now, clutching the cold can in his hand, he found himself glaring at the flickering bulb with sudden irritation.
There was no chair in sight, so Chi Yu dragged two large suitcases from the balcony, ignoring the dust as he climbed on top. Even stretching his arms, he could barely touch the lightbulb. Frustrated but unwilling to find something taller, he stood on tiptoe, barely managing to grab hold of it. The house was so quiet that the click of the door opening sounded startlingly loud. Chi Yu froze for a moment, still reaching for the bulb, before he slowly turned his head, peering through the gap between his arms to see who had come in.
Fu Zhi’an stood there, dressed in a loose, dark gray, chunky-knit sweater that made his skin look even paler. He bent down to remove his shoes, stepping onto the floor in his socks, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and looking up at Chi Yu. “Shrimp dumplings,” he said with a smile.
The oversized sweater didn’t quite fit Fu Zhi’an, its loose collar revealing a hint of his collarbone. Chi Yu jumped down from the suitcase and approached him, reaching out to take the paper bag. His fingers brushed against Fu Zhi’an’s cool skin, and he pursed his lips.
“Why are you here?” Chi Yu asked, his voice gruff as the dim, flickering light above them cast shifting shadows. The smell of shrimp wafted through the air. Fu Zhi’an merely smiled at him and then glanced up at the lightbulb. Noticing the dusty footprints on the black suitcase, Fu Zhi’an stepped onto the two clean spots where Chi Yu had been standing. With a slight tip of his toes, he easily reached the bulb and looked back at Chi Yu, motioning with a nod.
“Turn off the light.”
Once the power was off, Fu Zhi’an turned his attention to unscrewing the bulb, which emitted a faint creaking sound as it came loose. The bulb was still warm in his hand, and though he wanted to inspect the filament inside, he couldn’t ignore the intense stare coming from the doorway, making him feel oddly self-conscious. He stepped down from the suitcase and raised an eyebrow in question, letting out a soft hum as the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
Chi Yu pressed his tongue against his cheek, stalking up to Fu Zhi’an and giving him a once-over before sarcastically asking, “Are you wearing lifts?”
Outside, the sound of honking cars mixed with the city’s noise. Fu Zhi’an’s eyes gleamed as he looked Chi Yu up and down with a playful smirk.
Since the first time they met, Fu Zhi’an had always been just a bit shorter than Chi Yu, despite being close in age. Back then, when their families lived close by, Wen Hua and Fu Jianguo were obsessed with comparing heights. Every month, they would drag the boys together, forcefully making them stand back-to-back to see who had grown taller. At first, Chi Yu hated it—his lips would pull into a frown, and his hands would curl into stubborn fists. But once he realized that he was always just a bit taller than Fu Zhi’an, he began to look forward to these monthly comparisons.
But as teenage growth spurts took hold, the height difference that Chi Yu used to take pride in gradually disappeared. Now, standing side by side with Fu Zhi’an, that slight advantage seemed to be vanishing. Chi Yu wasn’t happy about it. Remembering how awkward he looked standing on the suitcases a few minutes ago, a spark of frustration flared up, igniting into a full-blown annoyance.
He stepped forward, grabbing the loose collar of Fu Zhi’an’s sweater and pulling him closer. Fu Zhi’an’s calm gaze didn’t waver, but Chi Yu’s grip tightened.
“Take off your shoes.”
Fu Zhi’an glanced down at his white socks and raised an eyebrow at Chi Yu.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got lifts hidden in your socks too?” The more Chi Yu thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. He bent down to grab Fu Zhi’an’s leg, but Fu Zhi’an sidestepped him with a quick move. The teasing smile on Fu Zhi’an’s face only fueled Chi Yu’s frustration further. Standing up straight, Chi Yu pushed Fu Zhi’an’s shoulder, forcing him to stumble backward. Losing his balance, Fu Zhi’an instinctively grabbed onto Chi Yu’s shirt, his eyes widening in surprise as they both tumbled down.
The scent of mint filled Chi Yu’s senses as he found himself awkwardly draped over Fu Zhi’an. His head fit snugly against the curve of Fu Zhi’an’s neck, but his bent knee pressed uncomfortably against the inside of Fu Zhi’an’s thigh—hot and firm. Chi Yu swallowed hard, shifting his leg slightly.
“Still want to check the socks?” Fu Zhi’an’s voice was low and raspy, a soft buzz that sent shivers down Chi Yu’s spine. Chi Yu quickly pushed himself up, avoiding the hazy look in Fu Zhi’an’s eyes. “No,” he muttered.
Fu Zhi’an hummed in acknowledgment, and just as Chi Yu was about to get up, Fu Zhi’an suddenly grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back down. The two of them rolled off the couch and onto the floor. The cold, hard surface dug into Chi Yu’s back, but he couldn’t form a single complaint. Fu Zhi’an pinned his wrists to the ground, leaning over him with narrowed eyes.
“Then let’s do something else.”
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