Zong Yuan was becoming more popular by the day.
His desk drawer was so full of love letters that it couldn’t hold anymore. Just a light touch could cause them to spill all over the floor. Fu Xin watched as Zong Yuan gathered the entire drawer of letters and mercilessly dumped them into the trash.
Fu Xin rubbed his palms. “You’re not going to read any of them?”
Zong Yuan massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “If I read them one by one, I won’t have time for class today.”
Fu Xin noticed a love letter that had been missed, still in the drawer. Under Zong Yuan’s gaze, he reached in, grabbed the pink envelope, and tossed it into the trash as well. “Don’t play favorites.”
Zong Yuan’s eye twitched. That idiom can be used like that?
The teacher was giving a lecture on history, a subject that made people sleepy. Zong Yuan, bored, stared at Fu Xin. “Fu Xin,” he said, gesturing toward Fu Xin’s hair. “You shouldn’t keep this hairstyle.”
Fu Xin looked at his own messy hair. “What kind of hairstyle would suit me, then?”
Zong Yuan scooted his chair closer with a scraping sound. With his left hand, he held Fu Xin’s chin in place, and with his right hand, he casually swept back Fu Xin’s slightly long hair, exposing his entire face.
Zong Yuan grinned, lifting one corner of his mouth as he turned Fu Xin’s face side to side, a mischievous smile on his face. “Not bad-looking.”
Fu Xin, staring at that grin, grabbed Zong Yuan’s wrist and whispered, “Pay attention to the lesson.”
Before Zong Yuan could respond, the teacher called on him. The elderly teacher with deep wrinkles and a scruffy beard looked displeased. “What are you doing? Come here and answer this question.”
Zong Yuan lazily stood up. “Teacher, I choose C.”
“…” Fu Xin tapped on the paper. “It’s a fill-in-the-blank question.”
…
It was Friday, so there was no evening study session. Zong Yuan waited for Fu Xin to pack up, leisurely smoking as he waited, surrounded by swirling smoke. Plenty of people walked past, but the number of eyes on him never dwindled.
A pretty girl with light makeup walked in through the front door. “Is Zong Yuan here?”
The person in front pointed to the back. “Over there, last row.”
Hearing his name, Zong Yuan looked up and saw the beautiful girl approaching, holding a letter in her hand. Her perfume was so strong it seemed to carry for miles.
Many students who were about to leave put down their bags, ready to watch the scene unfold.
Zong Yuan calmly sat there, puffing on his cigarette, watching as the girl walked up to him. “Zong Yuan, I like you. Please be my boyfriend.”
Fu Xin’s nose twitched and he sneezed several times, overwhelmed by the girl’s scent.
Zong Yuan sighed. “You’re making my deskmate choke.”
The smile on the girl’s face froze for a moment.
Fu Xin had already finished packing his bag and slung it over his shoulder, standing by the back door, staring at them with his dark, unblinking eyes.
Zong Yuan, unfazed, said, “I don’t like girls like you.”
“…” The girl, with the love letter almost in Zong Yuan’s face, retorted, “How do you know if you haven’t even tried?”
“Hmm,” Zong Yuan smiled playfully, nodding as if he agreed. “You make a good point.”
Fu Xin’s grip on his bag tightened as he quietly watched Zong Yuan.
Zong Yuan’s smile faded. “Little sister, focus on your studies. Are you even old enough?”
When Zong Yuan wasn’t smiling, the upward slant of his eyes gave him a cold, ruthless look. “I’m not interested in trying.”
Thump thump thump.
The girl threw the letter at Zong Yuan, fuming as she stormed away. The surroundings were silent for a few seconds, but soon the noise returned. Zong Yuan picked up the letter, but before he could do anything, Fu Xin snatched it from his hand. “Let’s go.”
Zong Yuan stood up, rubbing his chin. “Was I too harsh in rejecting her?”
Walking beside him, Fu Xin could only smell the familiar scent coming from him, a fragrance he was growing accustomed to. He lowered his eyes. “Not harsh.”
Zong Yuan chuckled, draping an arm around his shoulder and leaning in close to his ear. “Good boy.”
Fu Xin’s heart trembled with a sudden jolt of numbness.
He carried this numbing sensation all the way home. The door lock was already unlocked. As he opened the door, he saw a man drunkenly rummaging through things. When he heard the noise, the man turned around, “You little brat, where’s the money? Give me money.”
Fu Xin silently entered the house and pulled out a metal box from under the bed. Fu Xin’s father lunged at it like a starving wolf, grabbed the box, and opened it, only to find a few small bills and some coins. His expression twisted with frustration. “You’re messing with me!”
Fu Xin responded calmly, “That’s all the money in the house.”
With a loud bang, Fu Xin’s father threw the box to the floor, pacing back and forth like an addict in need of a fix. His eyes were fixated on Fu Xin’s school bag. Roughly, he grabbed the bag. Fu Xin watched him calmly as he rummaged through it. His hand moved slightly towards the pocket of his school jacket.
Fu Xin’s father noticed this movement, sneering. “Hiding something, huh? You ungrateful brat, hand it over.”
Fu Xin slapped his father’s hand away. “Get lost.”
His eyes blazed with fury, a dangerous glint that dared anyone to provoke him. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He pulled out a small sketchbook from his pocket. “See? No money.” Fu Xin’s father glared at him, eyes bloodshot, while Fu Xin stared back just as fiercely, guarding his sketchbook like a wolf ready to bite at any moment.
From outside, there was a neighbor’s voice, “Is someone in there? Keep it down.”
Fu Xin’s father took a few deep breaths, pocketed the little money from the box, and slammed the door on his way out.
The small apartment returned to silence.
Fu Xin slowly slid down the wall, sitting on the floor. The once tidy room was now a mess. He hugged his knees and buried his face, and when he lifted it again, his expression was composed.
He opened the sketchbook. On the last page was a circle drawn with cigarette ash.
It was something Zong Yuan had drawn.
Fu Xin leaned in to sniff it. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke filled his senses, just like having Zong Yuan right beside him.
—
Zong Yuan frowned and suddenly sat up in bed.
0046 was startled. “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”
Zong Yuan’s temples were throbbing. “I feel like I forgot something.”
0046 replied, “What could you have forgotten… Wait, holy crap!”
Zong Yuan’s expression shifted. “I remember now.”
0046 was panicking, spinning in circles. “Oh no, oh no, Fu Xin is getting beaten up while buying groceries today!”
Before 0046 could finish its sentence, Zong Yuan had already put on his shoes and jacket and stormed out of the apartment building.
Damn it.
After tidying up his room, Fu Xin pulled a plastic bottle from the cramped bathroom cabinet. It was filled with clinking coins. He poured out a few, grabbed the trash, and headed to the market to buy groceries.
Zong Yuan rode his motorcycle, the helmet securely covering his face. “Where is he?”
0046 acted as his GPS. Zong Yuan sped recklessly through the traffic, not caring about safety as he weaved through the cars.
0046 was terrified. “Zong Yuan, be careful!”
What should have taken more than ten minutes was cut down to just a few. Zong Yuan parked the bike and threw his helmet onto the seat. With long strides and his face grim, he hurried toward the alley where the incident was happening.
When he arrived at the alley, it was completely deserted.
“Shit,” Zong Yuan kicked the wall in frustration, cursing. “Where the hell is he?”
Seething with anger, murderous intent surged within him. 0046 stammered, “I-I’ll check again.”
Just as the words fell, a flurry of footsteps sounded outside. Fu Xin kept his head down, running forward, glancing behind him as he did. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders tightly.
Fu Xin’s breath hitched, but then a familiar voice sounded in his ear, “Fu Xin, it’s me.”
It was Zong Yuan.
Fu Xin pulled at him, his heart sinking like a stone to the bottom of the sea. “Run, quickly!”
Zong Yuan and 0046 both let out a sigh of relief. Zong Yuan scoffed, sneering, “Run for what? I’m here to teach them a lesson.”
He pulled Fu Xin behind him. “Go stand aside.”
The group of thugs chasing Fu Xin arrived in the alley only to find Zong Yuan standing there, looking like he had been waiting for a while.
Zong Yuan smiled at them with an eerie grin. “Boys, I’ve been expecting you.”
The gangsters suddenly felt a foreboding sense of doom.
The alley soon echoed with groans of pain. A few minutes later, Zong Yuan strolled out of the alley with Fu Xin, looking as fresh as ever.
Fu Xin tugged at Zong Yuan’s sleeve. “Wait.”
He ran back into the alley, squatting down beside the leader of the thugs. Reaching into his pocket, Fu Xin pulled out a small object. The thug struggled to widen his eyes, trembling as he saw what Fu Xin was holding – a small utility knife.
“It was He Xiu’xiu… she’s the one who sent us,” the leader stammered.
Fu Xin moved the blade from his face to hover over his eye, thinking for a moment before saying, “Go tell her that Zong Yuan and I are together and you didn’t lay a hand on me.” The thug, eyes tightly shut, nodded frantically.
When Fu Xin returned, Zong Yuan was idly kicking at a stone. “What’s up?”
Fu Xin said, “I went to ask who ordered them.”
Zong Yuan let out a chuckle, giving Fu Xin a critical look from head to toe. “With your scrawny arms and legs, what could you possibly get out of them? Just stay by my side, focus on studying, and I’ll handle the rest.”
He lazily extended a hand. “Hand it over.”
Fu Xin obediently gave him the utility knife from his pocket.
Zong Yuan glanced at it and casually tossed it into his pocket, smirking. “You little brat.”
Though he said the exact same words as Fu Xin’s father once did, Zong Yuan’s voice was low and pleasant, laced with an indescribable gentleness. It made Fu Xin feel helplessly captivated.
Fu Xin’s fingers twitched slightly as he softly asked, “How did you know I was here?”
Zong Yuan, walking ahead, turned back at the question. He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Because we,” he pointed at Fu Xin’s heart, grinning wickedly, “are connected.”
The spot Zong Yuan touched seemed to come alive. Fu Xin’s heart started beating faster as if it wanted to leap out of his chest and meet the one who had tapped it.
Fu Xin lagged a step behind and dumbfoundedly stared up at him. Zong Yuan chuckled under his breath, his long fingers gently lifting Fu Xin’s chin, his lips curving upward. “What’s the matter?”
“Fallen for me?” he teased.
Fu Xin brushed his hand away. He licked his dry lips and darted his eyes downward. “No.”
Zong Yuan clicked his tongue, jokingly lamenting, “Looks like my charm isn’t enough yet.” He draped his arm over Fu Xin’s shoulders. “You’re staying at my place tonight.”
Fu Xin tensed up. “Why?”
“No reason,” Zong Yuan knocked on Fu Xin’s head gently. “Just be good and listen, okay?”
He glanced at the nearby market. “Can you cook?” Fu Xin nodded, frowning. “You haven’t eaten yet?”
Zong Yuan made a sound of acknowledgment. “Have you?”
Fu Xin shook his head.
Zong Yuan laughed. “Looks like this is fate. Come on, Fu Xin, let’s see what your cooking is like. Who knows, maybe you’ll win my heart through my stomach.”
He casually teased Fu Xin, “Then, I’ll be yours.”
