SIIL Chapter 54

“Fu Zhi’an, Old Liu is calling you.”

Wang Xiao mumbled quietly, glancing sideways and seeing no reaction from the person behind him. He nudged his back against Fu Zhi’an’s desk a couple of times.

The boy, head lowered, lifted his eyelids slightly, responding in a low, disinterested voice, “What?”

The man at the blackboard, his face flushing from red to black, visibly held back a few choice words, swallowing them down with great effort. He shot Fu Zhi’an a fierce glare before turning back to continue writing on the board. The screeching sound of chalk against the blackboard filled the room. Seeing that nothing more came of it, Fu Zhi’an lowered his head again, idly twirling the ring around his finger.

When the class bell finally rang, Wang Xiao turned around to see Fu Zhi’an still slumped over his desk. He sighed softly. He had spent the entire year sitting in front of Fu Zhi’an, watching as he spoke less and less, his daily routine reduced to nothing but studying or zoning out at his desk. Wang Xiao had tried to get Lin Chuan and Hu Yushan to help cheer Fu Zhi’an up, but the moment he brought it up, Hu Yushan shut him down.

“If you have time to worry about Fu Zhi’an, you might as well worry about yourself first,” Hu Yushan said, pulling out his phone and flipping to the text message screen before tossing it in front of Wang Xiao. “This time, Fu Zhi’an’s top of the class again.”

“Other than losing some weight, his grades haven’t dropped a bit,” Lin Chuan added, nodding in agreement as he put down his pen. He frowned deeply, sighing as he continued, “And he’s even grown taller.”

The pressure of senior year seemed to crush and compress the entire world. Everyone was buried in piles of exam papers, and when they occasionally looked up, their eyes were hollow, their bodies growing thinner by the day. Even Wang Xiao had shed a few pounds. Fu Zhi’an, trying to keep in sync with Chi Yu’s time zone, was pulling all-nighters to the point where he no longer looked human—his eyes sunken, his jawline sharper than ever. Sometimes when Wang Xiao asked him for help with a problem, Fu Zhi’an would glance at him, but his cold gaze was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine.

But Wang Xiao had a talent for sticking his warm face to Fu Zhi’an’s cold shoulder. He rested his elbows on the desk, cupping his face with his hands, and noticed the ring that was a size too big on Fu Zhi’an’s finger. “It’s too big, isn’t it?”

After a long pause, just when Wang Xiao thought Fu Zhi’an wouldn’t reply, the boy’s hoarse voice broke the silence.

“He didn’t answer my video call yesterday either.”

Halfway through turning back around, Wang Xiao paused, picking up the conversation where Fu Zhi’an left off. “Maybe he was busy.”

“He didn’t answer the day before yesterday either.” Fu Zhi’an lifted his head, his usually bright eyes now dull, his long lashes drooping. His lips were pressed into a tight line, and he stared intently at Wang Xiao, as if hoping to find some answer in his gaze. Wang Xiao, unsure of what to say, opened his mouth several times but couldn’t get any words out. Fu Zhi’an dropped his gaze and buried his head in his arms again.

When the bell signaling the end of evening self-study rang, Fu Zhi’an stood by the teacher’s desk, holding a stack of papers. Catching Lin Jing’s eye, he spoke in a flat tone, “I’m done. Can I leave early?” Lin Jing flipped through the stack of papers briefly before nodding her approval.

Fu Zhi’an was in a hurry to get home—he had to see if Chi Yu would answer his video call today.

Half an hour later, Fu Zhi’an and Chen Yifang were sitting at the dinner table. The woman was nagging incessantly about how Fu Jianguo had broken his promise to come home for dinner but hadn’t shown up. Fu Zhi’an, meanwhile, was staring at his phone as his video call went unanswered. A few seconds later, an audio call came in instead. Instinctively, Fu Zhi’an stood up, walking toward his room. After a few steps, he turned back, quietly excusing himself, “I’m full.”

Fu Zhi’an closed the door behind him, sliding down to sit on the floor by the door as he answered the audio call.

“You didn’t pick up my video call yesterday,” Fu Zhi’an said suddenly. The person on the other end seemed caught off guard, taking a couple of seconds before mumbling an excuse, “I was out yesterday, no signal.”

“You didn’t pick up the day before either.”

This time, the response was quicker, “I was hanging out with some friends, probably didn’t hear it.” Even through the phone, Fu Zhi’an could picture Chi Yu’s expression—those clear, black-and-white eyes surely brimming with impatience. The cold tiles beneath him seemed to grow colder the longer he sat, and Fu Zhi’an pressed his fingers against the floor, remarking, “You’ve made friends pretty quickly over there.”

Before Chi Yu could reply, Fu Zhi’an ended the audio call and immediately redialed as a video call. The ringtone echoed for a long time, but Chi Yu didn’t pick up. After hanging up, Fu Zhi’an typed: Answer the video call. The light from the screen reflected off one side of his face as he waited patiently for Chi Yu to answer, blinking slowly. This time, Chi Yu didn’t keep him waiting long. The camera jostled around, eventually settling on a tuft of hair sticking up at an awkward angle.

“Your face.”

The camera wobbled again. Chi Yu hesitated before saying, “It’s dark on your side. Why do you want to see my face?”

Fu Zhi’an stood up, his eyes still fixed on the screen, and reached out to turn on the light. The screen still showed nothing but Chi Yu’s messy hair. Fu Zhi’an squinted slightly, repeating, “Your face.” It was just one word, but it carried a sense of unyielding determination. The camera shook a couple more times, as if Chi Yu were making a life-or-death decision.

Even though only one of Chi Yu’s eyes was visible on the screen, Fu Zhi’an quickly noticed the faint bruise on his brow bone.

Fu Zhi’an’s room was brightly lit, and when Chi Yu saw the frown forming on his face, he quickly shifted the camera away, clearing his throat. “You’ve seen enough.”

Chi Yu stared intently at the boy on the screen, watching as Fu Zhi’an licked his lips, looking up at the camera with a soft hum. Chi Yu let out a sigh of relief as they made small talk for a while, until Fu Zhi’an said he needed to do some homework and ended the call.

Chi Yu tossed his phone aside, walking barefoot to the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror—dark circles under his eyes and a swollen lip. America was more welcoming than Chi Yu had expected. By his second week, he had joined the school’s football team. Although he had been a benchwarmer for several games, there was still a steady stream of girls bringing him water.

His English wasn’t great, but he could still tell the difference between kindness and malice. So, within a few days of arriving, he had already gotten into a fight with a black guy on the football field who had flipped him off. What started as a one-on-one brawl ended with him getting jumped by a group, resulting in a fractured brow bone and a school-wide warning. Chi Yu hadn’t planned on telling Fu Zhi’an about it; getting beat up right after stepping foot in a new country felt humiliating.

Chi Yu opened his door, glancing down the stairs to see two pairs of men’s slippers neatly lined up by the entrance. It seemed that Travis and Li Che had gone out. On his first night there, Travis had sat in a chair and smiled at him, wearing a cotton pajama set with a yellow pineapple on it. The design looked familiar, and when Chi Yu glanced at Li Che, who was pouring juice in the kitchen, he noticed a slightly larger pineapple on the collar of his pajamas.

Travis had struggled to find the right words, starting a few times with small talk, until the man holding the glass walked over and casually draped his arm over Travis’s shoulder. Only then did Travis seem to relax, smiling easily. The other man, however, remained aloof, responding to Travis’s smile with a faint curve of his lips.

The look reminded Chi Yu of Fu Zhi’an.

Travis, speaking in halting Chinese, had said, “It’s just us guys here, so you should find it comfortable.” He hesitated but continued, “There won’t be any women around, but if you need to bring friends over, just let me know…”

Seeing that Chi Yu didn’t react, Travis added, “Li Che usually cooks. If you need anything, you can ask him…” His voice grew quieter as if something had caught in his throat. Eventually, he looked to the man beside him for help, almost pleadingly.

“Not sure what Chi Yue Di told you guys,” Chi Yu said, leaning back as he glanced between the two of them. “But I’m gay.”

Travis froze, and even the normally stoic Li Che raised an eyebrow. Chi Yu pulled out his phone, lighting up the screen before holding it out to the two men. “This is who I like.”

The screen displayed a photo of Chi Yu and another person. Travis could easily recognize Chi Yu, standing slightly in front, while the other person’s face was a bit blurred. Still, the clean-cut brows and sharp jawline were visible. After laying their cards on the table, Travis seemed much more at ease. He forgot that Chi Yu was still adjusting to the time difference and insisted on showing him the Polaroids hanging on the wall.

Most of the time, Travis was grinning ear to ear in the photos, while Li Che always had a stern expression. But in every picture, Li Che’s hand was gripping Travis’s clothes, as if clinging to the only lifeline he had. After looking at several photos, Chi Yu finally noticed the tattoo on the inside of Travis’s arm—just two simple letters.

“This one,” Chi Yu interrupted Travis’s rambling, pointing to the tattoo in the photo. He turned to look at Travis directly. “Where did you get it?”

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