CH 43

Chapter 43: Obscure Clues

Even Yue Zhishi himself didn’t know how he managed to do something like that. 

The intention seemed to have naturally sprung from his brain together with the memory of Song Yu hugging him. But after he finished moving into Song Yu’s arms and heard his heartbeats, Yue Zhishi was shocked awake, thinking he’d gone crazy.

The thunder crashed again, and Yue Zhishi, who’d initially wanted to retreat, subconsciously clutched onto Song Yu’s clothes.

He heard Song Yu’s voice, filled with confusion.

“What did you say?”

Sure enough, he didn’t remember.

For no reason at all, Yue Zhishi was unwilling to accept it. Actually, to them, hugging wasn’t a big deal; Song Yu had often hugged him when they were younger. When it heavily rained during elementary school, Song Yu, who was also a child, would carry him up and let him wrap around him like a koala — that way, he wouldn’t step into the rain water.

And even though he hadn’t been allowed to hug him while they slept when it was thundering, whenever he was upset, Song Yu would actively wrap his arms around him. An embrace was a kind of silent comfort.

Yue Zhishi was already used to all of this, and yet he couldn’t forget about Song Yu’s mutual embrace while he was deeply asleep. 

He clearly was the one who’d been hugged, but the one who actually did it didn’t remember anything at all.   

If it was someone else next to him, would he still have turned around and pulled them into his arms?

“I’m not lying, it was exactly like this.” Yue Zhishi repeated, a bit obstinately. His head was snuggled into Song Yu’s chest, and he lifted it up, looking at Song Yu’s eyes.

They were very close. Even though they were in the dark, he could still faintly see Song Yu’s face, and he could feel him frowning.

“I didn’t think you were lying.” Song Yu’s heart was beating faster than Yue Zhishi had imagined, the reverberations magnified in the night. “I just don’t remember something like that happening.”

He paused, and then he said, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention when I was sleeping.”

Yue Zhishi released his hands little by little, and he withdrew from Song Yu’s arms the moment the next white light flashed. He suddenly understood — he guessed that Song Yu had only considered him as a pillow on his bed at that time, or a blanket. This wasn’t anything special to begin with. 

“You don’t need to apologise. I was just giving an example.”

A hug couldn’t be considered as a good example either.

Separated by a few centimetres of space, Yue Zhishi confessed his thoughts to Song Yu. “I actually really like it when you hug me. I feel very safe.” Yue Zhishi then very quickly admitted, as if he was really scared of being admonished, “But that’s really strange, I know.”

Song Yu was very quiet, only touching his shoulder across the blanket when he heard Yue Zhishi’s words. 

Yue Zhishi was encouraged by this movement. He faced Song Yu and looked again at his eyes. “Just for tonight, can you hug me while we sleep?” 

He started to continuously rationalise his request, just like when he wanted to eat something — he clearly and logically laid out his various motives. “Since the thunder outside still hasn’t stopped, I can’t sleep. I’ll feel safer if I’m being hugged. And if I fall asleep earlier, you won’t have to worry or mind me anymore. This could be considered as special circumstances. I won’t be sleeping in the same bed with you every day, and it’s not like it’ll be storming and thundering every night.” 

Noticing that Song Yu didn’t immediately reject his request, Yue Zhishi shifted slightly closer again. “You don’t need to do anything. I’ll be fine just by sticking next to you, I won’t sleep on your arm.” 

Song Yu abruptly found everything a bit funny, and yet he couldn’t really laugh. He already couldn’t tell — was he deliberately, wishfully finding Yue Zhishi childish, or had he truly yet to grow up?

He couldn’t help but stretch out a hand. He stroked down Yue Zhishi’s hair, pausing at the side of his face, and then very gently covered his ear. 

But no matter what, Song Yu didn’t want to further confuse or deceive Yue Zhishi, so he repeated it one more time.

“No matter what example you bring out, I’m not dating anyone. That’s the truth.” 

Yue Zhishi’s eyes were closed, and he looked very meek and very obedient. “Then will you tell me if you started dating someone?”

“Would you want to know?” The words left Song Yu’s mouth without him thinking about them, and after he asked, he felt a bit of regret.

Yue Zhishi didn’t know if he wanted to know or not. He didn’t want to be enveloped away, knowing nothing at all, but he might also not feel well if he knew. He didn’t want to share his gege with other people.

Their breaths mingled in the space between them as they shared the same pillow. Song Yu waited for Yue Zhishi’s answer in this tranquil and yet torturous atmosphere, and the answer he was given was Yue Zhishi’s change in conversation. 

“My desk mate is a girl. She has an older brother too.” Yue Zhishi especially pointed out, “Blood brother.”

“She was complaining to me a while ago, saying her brother was never at home anymore after he started dating. He used to take her to Happy Valley during school breaks or to eat at many delicious places, but now he deliberately stays away from her. He’s worried his girlfriend might not be happy.”

Yue Zhishi looked like he didn’t have enough air as he spoke, inhaling a long, long breath with his eyes closed. His voice was dull. “Her brother got married this year and moved out to have his own family. It’s been very hard for her to see him afterwards. I told her, you can go look for him.” His eyelashes faintly trembled. “But she said she has, and that when she was in her brother’s new home, she was very much like an outsider, like a guest. Honestly, from another point of view, that is actually very normal. No one would be willing for their loved one to share their heart with someone else. So my desk mate said that too — that she only needed to get used to it.” 

Song Yu silently listened to him speak, thinking of a younger Yue Zhishi. During that time, he was truly as simple as a child with his childish interests and amusements, cute and earnest, sensitive to nothing. But now, a similar topic once again appeared, and Yue Zhishi could no longer use the tone he used before to tell his story.

“We’ll probably be like that in the future.” Lightning flashed, reflecting onto Yue Zhishi’s face and making it look pale and wan. Thunder crashed, and he seemed to come to his senses and said, denying his own words, “Even blood siblings are like that, so we’ll be even more distant in the future. Since I’m not your true younger brother.” 

He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but Song Yu kept feeling like Yue Zhishi was about to cry. His heart wrenched, and the resistance he held towards his own sinful selfishness ended up losing to his empathic concern for Yue Zhishi. He pulled Yue Zhishi into his arms, abandoning everything. “We won’t.” 

Yue Zhishi didn’t really believe him. “You’re the one who said that it was very easy for people to lose one another. Nowadays, I believe this more and more.” He closed his eyes, his chin supported on Song Yu’s shoulder socket. It sounded like he was talking to himself when he asked, “Why aren’t we real brothers?” 

Song Yu’s hand was on his back, and he hugged Yue Zhishi tightly after lightning flashed again. A bit helplessly, he asked Yue Zhishi in return, “Why do you want to be real brothers with me?”

“Because social connections are very fragile.” Yue Zhishi’s hand was wrapped around Song Yu’s waist. “But if we were true brothers, even if we cut away all our other connections between us, we won’t be able to cut through a blood relationship with each other.” 

Hearing these words, Song Yu felt Yue Zhishi was both naive and cruel.

He’d long understood his own selfishness, so he’d never once hoped to be true brothers with Yue Zhishi. He hoped they would never have any relationship, only strangers occasionally meeting with each other.

It would be best if that relationship was never mixed with any other feelings. His burdens would lessen — he wouldn’t think about his own parents when he embraced him, and he wouldn’t have to carry the weight of other people’s eyes when he held his hand.

And he wouldn’t be unable to understand exactly what it was Yue Zhishi felt for him. He wouldn’t grow too many wishful, optimistic thoughts.

Seeing Song Yu not speaking, Yue Zhishi touched his back, his tone lightening up a little bit. “Am I really strange?” 

It wasn’t Yue Zhishi who was strange; rather, it should be their current status that was strange.

Song Yu didn’t reply, so Yue Zhishi said, “Do you think I’m really abnormal?”

Song Yu had fallen into sadness, and this almost made him laugh. In a soft voice, he said, “No.” He even very openly patted Yue Zhishi’s hair. “You were like this as a child.” 

Yue Zhishi asked why, puzzled and worn out. Song Yu said, “Maybe because you established an intimate reliance on me as a child. This kind of emotional connection is usually only between children and their parents, or maybe between siblings. In such special circumstances, you attached onto me — and that’s why you have separation anxiety. It’s actually normal. Some people, no matter how old they are, still find it hard to be away from their parents.”

Hearing him speak, Yue Zhishi felt very relieved, his ability to think declining under his drowsiness. He grasped only the key words: separation anxiety. He felt it made a lot of sense; he really would feel anxious whenever he was away from Song Yu. He squeezed Song Yu and wriggled in his arms, as if he was whining. “Then can you not stay too far away from me? Can you come home more often?”

Song Yu’s body stiffened for a few seconds, feeling as if it was no longer his. 

But he felt Yue Zhishi would fall asleep easier if he gave him a promise.

“Mn.”

“Really? In the future as well?”

Song Yu couldn’t help but nod again as he clearly heard Yue Zhishi cheer up.

Yue Zhishi buried his head once more, preparing to sleep. He found it was actually very easy for him to get what he wanted from Song Yu — he looked like someone who was very hard to get close to, but he was actually someone who surrendered very easily.

He softly said good night, and then Yue Zhishi peacefully closed his eyes.

The rain continued to recklessly, outrageously fall. It was very noisy, and Song Yu’s palm never left Yue Zhishi’s ear until the thunder completely disappeared and Yue Zhishi’s breathing steadied out.  Only then did Song Yu remove his hand, lightly placing it on top of Yue Zhishi’s waist.

Human will was at its weakest in the deep of the night, and it was very easy to make impulsive decisions. So Song Yu indulged himself for a second — he lowered his head and very gently kissed the top of Yue Zhishi’s head.

Other than the rain outside the window, no one else knew of this kiss.

Yue Zhishi slowly, fuzzily woke when the sun was about to rise. He realised Song Yu didn’t leave after he fell asleep and was very happy. A single-sized bed was truly too cramped — his waist was a bit sore, and he continued resting in Song Yu’s arms for a little while with his eyes closed. He started to feel it was a bit too warm, so he turned over and placed his forehead against the wall.

As he continued sleeping, Song Yu felt Yue Zhishi turn over. He moved as well, subconsciously pulling Yue Zhishi closer and wrapping his arms around him. Yue Zhishi’s entire back was securely enfolded into Song Yu, and they comfortably, snugly nestled into each other. 

It was 7:30am the second time Yue Zhishi woke up. It was very bright outside, so he pulled the blanket over his head before he remembered Song Yu’s admonishing. He pulled it back down, slightly.

He only then realised the bed was missing one person. Yue Zhishi flipped over, eyes squinting, and stretched out an arm as he continued laying in bed. He flung his arm around, vaguely and weakly calling out Song Yu’s name.

He didn’t know how many times he repeated Song Yu’s name before he finally heard some noise. With great effort, he heaved his head up, peeled open his eyes and watched as Song Yu came out and closed the bathroom door. Yue Zhishi rubbed his eyes, curled on Song Yu’s pillow, and lazily said, “Why are you showering in the morning too…”

Song Yu seemed to not have expected Yue Zhishi to wake up so early. He was a bit surprised when he saw him, but he very quickly recovered. “It’s easier to wake up this way.”

He wanted to tell Yue Zhishi to nap a bit longer and that he’ll go and buy breakfast, but Yue Zhishi climbed out of bed by himself. Having not lived in a dormitory before, Yue Zhishi’s movements as he climbed down the ladder were very unsteady. Song Yu stood by the side, ready to catch him whenever he needed.

But Yue Zhishi safely landed on the floor without Song Yu needing to lift a hand. He stepped barefoot onto the tiles, and he only quickly stepped into his slippers after Song Yu ordered him. He stretched and, just like a true copycat, said, “I’m going to shower too.” He walked towards to the bathroom after he finished speaking.

Song Yu helplessly glanced at his retreating figure and then lowered his head to put on his watch sitting on his desk. He then seemed to abruptly think of something, turning his head around to take a look at the bathroom, and then started to feel some remorse in advance.

And then, as expected, Yue Zhishi yelled as he turned on the shower. 

“The water’s so cold!” 

Even after he changed the water back to an acceptable temperature, Yue Zhishi was still complaining when he came out. “You don’t shower with cold water, do you? It’s so cold, you’re going to catch a cold.”

Song Yu didn’t explain — it was very likely he might set himself up if he explained why a 21 year old young man needed to take a cold shower after he woke up in the morning. 

He didn’t want to create an awkward situation where he might end up revealing too much about himself, so he quickly changed the topic, shooing Yue Zhishi to hurry up so they could go eat breakfast together.

The water downstairs hadn’t actually flooded up to the first floor as Song Yu had expected; rather, it had drained away by quite a lot. Yue Zhishi’s entire body was covered in Song Yu’s clothes, and he specifically chose a pair of shorts that reached only to his knees, worried he’d get Song Yu’s pants wet. His very pale pair of calves were exposed, and they were both long and slender.

Yue Zhishi drank a warm, steamy bowl of eggnog. Eggs were whisked into warmed fermented glutinous rice wine, and it tasted sweet and mellow. He also ate a Chinese doughnut the size of his palm — this was one of the few fried breakfast food items he wasn’t allergic to. He liked ripping the doughnut apart to eat the crispiest, most delicious inner ring, and then he’d take a bite of the soft and tender outer ring. It was salty, fragrant and crunchy all at the same time, and he was also able to taste the flavours of rice milk and soybeans. 

“Do you have a night self-study session today?” Song Yu gave him a tissue.

Yue Zhishi started to deflate at the mention of this. “Yes.”

“Then let’s head back after lunch. I’ll send you off.” Song Yu also drank some eggnog. “You’ll be able to rest after enduring just a little bit more.” 

Yue Zhishi really didn’t want to leave, but he still nodded. “And Cotton Candy must feel very strange being at home by himself.”

Song Yu observed Yue Zhishi’s expressions. He didn’t look too upset — Song Yu felt he had actually, truly grown up.

After they finished eating, Yue Zhishi said his mouth felt a bit greasy from eating fried things and wanted something to drink. Song Yu could only bring him to the university supermarket he went to yesterday. Yue Zhishi was a classic libra with serious difficulty in making choices, so he stood in front of the row of drink fridges for a very long time.

Song Yu stood next to him. Quite a few people came and went, and a lot of girls peeked at Yue Zhishi. Not only because of his mixed-race face, but he really did stand out in a crowd of people — it was very common for him to catch people’s attention. But Song Yu wasn’t too comfortable with this.

This was even worse than when he himself was surrounded by staring people. 

“Isn’t this the one you were frantically drinking last night?” Yue Zhishi lifted up a bottle of cherry-flavoured coke and looked at Song Yu.

Song Yu corrected him. “I wasn’t frantically drinking it. I was just thirsty.”

This drink also made him think of some unpleasant memories.

Yue Zhishi looked at the packaging, and a small expression of disdain showed on his face. “Don’t you think this looks like the fever reducing syrup we used to drink? It looks exactly the same.” He returned it back to its spot and grabbed a bottle of lemon soda instead. “Just this one.” 

Yue Zhishi also picked up a lemon-flavoured lollipop at the register, telling Song Yu to buy it as well.

After they came out, Song Yu started to chide, “You can’t casually eat things other people give you at school.”

“I haven’t,” Yue Zhishi refuted. “I’m not that dumb.”

He’d clearly already agreed to eat food other people brought from home.

“No matter if it’s fish or other sweets, it’s not like we don’t have them at home. There’s no need to eat stuff outsiders give you.”

Yue Zhishi felt Song Yu’s tone was a bit strange, but he still promised, “I know.”

Only then did Song Yu let the matter drop. The two of them walked around the campus, and in a place with lots of puddles, Yue Zhishi’s foot went into the water and accidentally stepped on something. He yelped.

Song Yu looked down. It was a red koi fish, but he spoke calmly, unperturbed.

“Maybe it ran out from the lake nearby after it started flooding.” 

But Yue Zhishi felt this wasn’t usual at all — he felt he was extremely, extraordinarily lucky, and he even clasped his hands together to bow at the koi fish he’d stepped on. “Please give me your blessings so I can smoothly enter your home.” 

Song Yu called him superstitious, but he started to scold Song Yu. “When you were taking your college exams, I went out of my way to pray to the gods and ask for their blessings for you.”

Song Yu’s perpetually straight mouth involuntarily crooked up a little, and he very naturally asked, taking advantage of the situation, “Then what would you like for your college entrance exams?” 

Yue Zhishi froze for a bit after hearing him speak. He’d not considered this problem before. “I need to think about it.” He very quickly said, “First…”

Song Yu raised an eyebrow. “How many requests do you have?”

Yue Zhishi caught his arm, preventing Song Yu from interrupting his words, and then he said to Song Yu with an upturned face, “First, I hope you can encourage me to test into Wuhan U. I haven’t thought about everything else yet, so I’m automatically extending the deadline to one week after the college entrance exams.” 

Song Yu lowered his eyes, a faint smile on his face, looking as if he was expressing his silent consent and indulgence at Yue Zhishi’s rule-modifying behaviour.

Yue Zhishi left his newly-bought lollipop to just before he needed to leave. The break was about to finish, and there were many people waiting in the subway station. Song Yu swiped his card, saying he’ll send him home, but Yue Zhishi didn’t want him to ride back all by himself. He rejected him very maturely.

The previous subway train whistled in departure as they came off the escalator. Yue Zhishi was very glad.

He and Song Yu stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the subway’s security doors, and the glass reflected their images back at them. He was wearing Song Yu’s clothes all over his body, and yet it didn’t make him look more like Song Yu. But Yue Zhishi, right now, was starting to learn how to not feel anxious about a nonexistent blood relationship. 

Thinking about himself last time during the parent-teacher meeting, Yue Zhishi laughed out loud as he sucked at the lollipop.

As they waited for the next train, Yue Zhishi once again repeated his request from last night. Song Yu patiently agreed, saying he’ll definitely come home to see him next weekend.

“Do you have anything to say to me?” Yue Zhishi lifted his face up, gazing at Song Yu’s eyes. He curved his lips and smiled, very beautifully. 

The sound of an approaching subway train gradually neared, and an announcer’s voice started to broadcast over their heads.

[Dear customers, the train towards Tianhe Airport is about to arrive…] 

Yue Zhishi was distracted by the upcoming train — his body leaned forward, and he tilted his head over to gaze at the track lights. In the next second, his wrist was caught.

[…Please allow others to alight before boarding. Please mind the gap between the platform and the train.]

In the ever-decreasing gap of time, Song Yu’s voice appeared next to his ear.

“Le Le.”

Yue Zhishi turned his head around, looking at him in a daze.

Song Yu’s face was very soft, very gentle, and he looked different from usual. “Encouraging words — I’ve actually written them into your math textbook last time at the parent-teacher meeting.” His gaze held a hint of mischief, but his face was calm and steady. “I know you don’t like math, and I knew you wouldn’t flip back through it. Sure enough, you didn’t notice I wrote something.” 

The subway’s security doors opened, the long, airtight train space opening all at once. A multitude of people rushed out from inside, separating to all kinds of different directions. Yue Zhishi felt the hold around his wrist loosen, and he was pushed by a stream of people into that narrow, moving space. 

He realised Song Yu was very cunning. He was very good at hiding things away — he could conceal a riddle for a very, very long time. He would only reveal a single, solitary clue when Yue Zhishi had no way to continue asking him questions.

Song Yu knew very well how to torture someone. Right now, Yue Zhishi wanted nothing more than to rush back to him. 

The train doors closed, and the announcement broadcast switched from outside to inside the carriage. 

[…Please stand firm and hold on securely. Next stop…]

Yue Zhishi’s cellphone vibrated. He swiped it open, the message jumping out into the front.

[Gege: I actually really hope you can get into Wuhan U.]

[Gege: I’ll be here, waiting for you.]

The author has something to say:

The parent-teacher meeting will be written