CH 62

Chapter 62: A Qualified Partner 

Yue Zhishi saved the last part of Song Yu’s final competition match and even forwarded it to Song Yu.

[Le Le: Who allowed you to use what I said without permission? Quickly transfer me some money.]

With no reply coming after waiting for a while, Yue Zhishi guessed Song Yu was still in his meeting. He might even be giving a report right now with no time to reply, so Yue Zhishi didn’t really mind. He only noticed Song Yu had replied to him when he checked his phone right before he was about to start his first class in the afternoon.

Song Yu didn’t say anything — he simply transferred over 520 RMB to Yue Zhishi’s WeChat.

Yue Zhishi didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry when he first saw that notification; there was no way he would’ve able to guess Song Yu would give him such a response. If you said Song Yu was a straight-forward person, sometimes he was particularly indirect, going around in circles and circles. If you said Song Yu didn’t understand how to flirt, he still knew how to transfer over money in an amount that carried special significance.

Yue Zhishi didn’t accept the transfer.

[Le Le: I was joking. How could you have kept it so hidden and not told me at all? I heard from senior Nan Jia that a lot of people thought you were about to get into a relationship after your final competition match. With so many people discussing you and your rumours, how’d you feel?]

He received a reply after two minutes.

[Gege: I don’t remember.]

The professor had already arrived at the podium at the front of the classroom and was opening his lesson plan. “Have all the students arrived? Scan this QR code and sign in.” 

Yue Zhishi quickly left the chat to scan the code, and he nudged Shen Mi, who was sitting next to him and trying to hide the fact he was playing Honor of Kings. 

Another notification popped up in WeChat, so Yue Zhishi returned back to the chat after he finished signing in.

[Gege: But right now, I’m quite happy that I’m no longer single.]

Yue Zhishi could almost imagine Song Yu saying the words ‘I’m quite happy’ with that dead, expressionless face of his, combined with his flat voice.

[Le Le: If you’d let me heard that last bit earlier, you would’ve lost your single status earlier.] 

[Gege: I’m very glad you didn’t hear it earlier. This way, I know you ended up liking me by yourself, and not because you were affected by some affectionate words. You say yes to things very easily because you’re incapable of rejecting other people’s kindness, and that’s especially true when it comes to me — you never refuse me. I’m very clear about this.]

When he saw this message, Yue Zhishi’s heart felt very warm. Song Yu understood him more than anyone else — he knew his issues when it came to social interactions, and he was also the person who understood his personality and temper the best. And yet, he would never take advantage of this familiarity and understanding to achieve any particular goal.

But Yue Zhishi didn’t want Song Yu to take him as a child, so he argued back for himself.

[Le Le: I’m already an adult now. Don’t worry, I won’t be affected that easily anymore.]

[Gege: The first step in becoming a qualified adult is to learn how to refuse people, and that includes me.]

He was right. Yue Zhishi stared at that message. He was often bound by his inability to reject other people’s requests and would get caught in trivial matters that had nothing to do with him. But when faced with Song Yu, it felt like he wasn’t able to refuse him — because Song Yu fundamentally never requested anything at all. Yue Zhishi actually hoped Song Yu could ask for something from him, whether it was to hold his hand or to give him an embrace.

[Le Le: The first step in becoming a qualified partner in love is to learn how to rely on your other half, and that’s me.]

The professor started the class once he sent through that message. Yue Zhishi didn’t wait for Song Yu to reply, opening his laptop and preparing to learn.

The courses after entering university were actually very different compared to how Yue Zhishi imagined they would be. Professors no longer focused on specific points of knowledge; instead, they focused on teaching them how to think, getting the students to turn their brains into ‘legal minds’ through training. At the same time, law was also closely related to many other fields — not only did the students need to learn the law, they also needed to understand the content of many other interrelated disciplines in order to understand a specific case. 

Yue Zhishi was used to learning about all kinds of different things, so he adapted to it pretty easily. 

“Professor Zhang’s classes scare me the most.” Shen Mi left his phone on his desk and opened his textbook. “Please don’t call on me.”

Professor Zhang always assumed everyone had already understood the background knowledge of the cases when it came time for his classes. His ‘casual questions’ always left the majority of the students silent, unable to answer them, but Yue Zhishi usually had already researched the background material while doing his reading.

After answering questions two classes in a row, Yue Zhishi remained the only person who had anything to say. His looks were also unique, so the professor very quickly remembered his name.

“You’re not bad.” The old professor nodded with his hands behind his back. “Good, continue studying well and you’ll have a bright future.”

Shen Mi needed to go to training with the university basketball team once the class ended, so Yue Zhishi went together with Jiang Yufan to eat at the cafeteria. The cafeteria was extremely busy; Yue Zhishi only checked his phone after he found a place to sit with his food. His phone was covered by many WeChat messages.

But his eyes went straight to the unread messages in the pinned chat at the top. 

[Gege: You’re right.]

[Gege: I still have one more thing to say — I forgot to say it earlier after getting interrupted. If I were to do it again, I probably still wouldn’t let you come to watch the competition, and I still wouldn’t send the video recording to you. But I would change my introduction of you to ‘the person I like’.]  

As if he was patching up his words, there was yet another message one minute later.

[Gege: So everyone would stop guessing. It was so annoying.]

Yue Zhishi gazed at the chat, grinning so foolishly he didn’t even eat. Jiang Yufan watched him for a while and then gave him a kick, dragging him back to reality.

“You find money? What’s so funny?” 

“What money? I didn’t even accept the three-figure windfall dropped from the sky.” Yue Zhishi picked up his chopsticks and stuffed a piece of red braised pork belly into his mouth. It was soft and fragrant, the fat coating his mouth without being greasy. He originally wasn’t hungry, but his appetite woke up after this one bite — he went to grab a quail egg and pushed his bowl of food over to Jiang Yufan. “This quail egg and red braised pork belly’s really, really delicious. Try it.”

“Wait.” Jiang Yufan clutched his own chin with a hand like a terrible detective. “I feel like after you’ve gotten better, there’s been something different about you. It’s like you’ve been soaked in a pot of honey, laughing and smiling every day. And you’re always chatting with someone. Are you in an online relationship?”

“Who would I be in an online relationship with.” Yue Zhishi shoved some rice into his mouth guiltily.

Jiang Yufan dipped his head. “True, if you really did get into an online relationship with your looks, then the other person is definitely the luckiest king of pulls.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being able to get into an online relationship with you, wouldn’t that be the same as blindly pulling the rarest, most limited item?” 

Yue Zhishi broke into laughter at that description. He secretly thought — the person he actually managed to pull should be the most limited of all limited items, the only one in the entire world. 

“Aiyah, just look at how messily you’re eating. Wipe your face.”

“Hurry up and try the pork, it’s so good.”

Jiang Yufan picked up a piece. “Hey! It really is, I’ll get this next time.” Swallowing, he received a message and then said, extremely excited, “Le Le, I can actually go act in a comedy play!”

“Really?” Yue Zhishi was also really happy. “You’re too amazing, when are the roles being selected?” 

Jiang Yufan glanced at his message. “The 8th. I’m starting to get a little nervous now.”

“You’ll be fine,” Yue Zhishi comforted him. “You speak well, have a great upright figure and have a super energetic voice too. You’re particularly suited to act in plays. I’ll come watch your performance.” 

“Oh that’s right, have you registered for something yet?”

Yue Zhishi nodded, taking a large sip of his soy milk. “I registered for the clothing design competition, the preliminary round’s on October 9th. I think I’m definitely going to be busy over the National Day holiday.” 

“Shit, isn’t that the day before your birthday?” Jiang Yufan gave him a chicken wing from his own plate of food. “But that’s fine too, you can go directly home and celebrate afterwards since the results won’t come out the same day.”

That said, Yue Zhishi still felt a large amount of pressure from the clothing design competition. He might really like to draw, but he still wasn’t someone officially studying clothing design. A large university such as this would definitely have some hidden dragons and crouching tigers, and Yue Zhishi was less confident the more he thought about it.

Coincidentally, the faculty basketball team didn’t have any matches lately, everyone busying themselves with the arts festival. Yue Zhishi didn’t go to training either, using all of his extra time on learning how to design clothes. He borrowed a bunch of books from the library, and he immersed himself completely, drawing designs in his dorm up until 1:30 in the morning.

The paper quality of the sketchbooks from the university’s stationery store was very ordinary. Drawing a few lines with his pencil, Yue Zhishi abruptly got lost in his thoughts.

He thought of the leather-covered sketchbook Song Yu had given him when he graduated high school. Yue Zhishi had left it at home, not having brought it to campus; the paper quality of that sketchbook was the best he’d ever used.

So in the spur of the moment, Yue Zhishi sent Song Yu a message.

[Le Le: Gege, where did you buy the sketchbook you gave me? Do you have a link? Or did you buy it in store.] 

Song Yu gave him a call directly without replying to his message. Yue Zhishi rushed out of his dorm as silently as he could, closing the door, and accepted the call once he entered the corridor.

Song Yu’s low and deep voice came through the phone. “Why are you still awake?”

“I’m sketching some designs.” Yue Zhishi really missed him as soon as he heard his voice. It felt like they’d only seen each other during mealtimes the last few days. “Why are you awake too?”

The sounds of typing transferred over through the speaker. 

“There’s something wrong with the data. I’m trying to find out where we went wrong.” 

Yue Zhishi hummed in acknowledgement, and then he asked again about the sketchbook. The keyboard noises suddenly paused; Song Yu only spoke after a long moment passed. “That’s not easy to buy.” 

“Really? Don’t worry about it then. I just remembered it all of a sudden because the paper in it was so nice,” Yue Zhishi said, his back resting against the wall.

“…I can ask about it, if you want it.” 

Yue Zhishi didn’t chat with him for too long, worried he would disturb Song Yu’s work. After hanging up the call, he sent over I really miss you, and Song Yu replied Don’t stay up too late. 

He decided he was going to bring back the sketchbook next time he went back home. There were too many drawings of Song Yu in that sketchbook — his face, his silhouette, and even his hands. In the past, Yue Zhishi hadn’t thought much of all of these drawings, but now that he was in a relationship with Song Yu, it was like they had all turned into pieces of evidence of his crush.

No one had ever been like him, foolishly unaware of his own crush.

Both of them were very busy over the one week holiday. Song Yu was taken by his advisor to attend a conference in Beijing, his return planned for the 9th. Yue Zhishi missed him terribly; this was Song Yu’s first time away since they’d officially gotten together. They talked on the phone every day, and whenever Yue Zhishi ran out of ideas for his designs, he’d touch the turquoise sitting on his desk.

At the tail end of the holiday break, Yue Zhishi returned home to have dinner with Lin Rong and Song Jin. But with the preliminary round upcoming, his designs had been stuck at a very tricky spot, light on inspiration, and he had no interest in resting. He stayed at home for only one day before he returned to campus, taking that grey-coloured sketchbook with him.

The sky was also grey, as though it wanted to rain. Yue Zhishi slightly regretted focusing so much on chatting with Song Yu as he was leaving, instead of listening to Aunt Rong and putting on that denim jacket. 

He held his sketchbook, needing to take the subway by himself for over an hour before he could get back to campus. There were also over ten hours before he could see Song Yu, but Yue Zhishi held back from calling him, afraid he would take up his time.

But unexpectedly, Song Yu sent him a message, asking him when he would arrive back to campus and even reminding him not to fall asleep on the train. 

Yue Zhishi honestly replied he still had five stops, and he also said he was extremely awake right now. He was just craving some milk tea. 

Song Yu didn’t respond further, so Yue Zhishi put in his earphones to listen to music, pulling out the laptop in his bag to continue some sketches. He was so absorbed in his drawings that he almost missed his stop — he ran out of the carriage right as the doors were about to fully close. He released a breath in relief and got onto the escalators. 

Yue Zhishi was exhausted, carrying his bag. As he stood on the escalator, he thought — subway stations were truly very strange. They were clearly overflowing with people, and yet they didn’t hold much evidence of human touch; they were like separate workstations on an urban assembly line. 

Every single figure came and went in a hurry, storming in before they were transferred over to the next workstation. Everyone stayed here very temporarily, very briefly — and yet they were separated for only a very short amount of time as well, all of their emotions flowing at an accelerated pace.

Yue Zhishi was the slowest moving section in the tide in this sped up city. He held his drawings and wearily followed along with everyone else as they went towards the exit.

The cold wind outside blew at him, and he shrunk his neck in, thinking it was about to rain soon. In the next moment, in the stream of people rushing and going, he caught sight of a wholly motionless form.

Thinking he was mistaken, Yue Zhishi froze where he stood. The endless stream of people circled around him, as though he was a lifeless stone in the middle of the river currents. 

Except the other, initially still, stone moved, and it walked towards him step by step with a gentle and tender face.

“Gone blank from being too tired?”

Song Yu wore a black windbreaker, a dark grey paper bag in his hand, and he stopped in front of Yue Zhishi. Seeing him wear only a thin hoodie without even a light coat, Song Yu asked, “Aren’t you cold?” He pulled out a warm cup of milk tea from the bag and held it out to Yue Zhishi.

Yue Zhishi’s nose started to abruptly burn as he took it. “Didn’t you say you were coming back tomorrow? Why didn’t you didn’t say anything before coming back ahead of time…”

His voice was exceptionally soft in the noisy cacophony of the subway station. The tip of his nose was also slightly red, and a faint layer of tears covered his eyes. As he looked at him like this, an extraordinarily strange impulse, one that deviated from his original plans, suddenly grew in Song Yu’s heart — he pulled Yue Zhishi’s arm and took him to the bathroom in the subway station, not caring about anything else. 

Yue Zhishi asked him what he was doing, but Song Yu didn’t respond. The bathroom was empty, but he tugged him into a cubicle, heading in himself and locking the door.

“What are we here for?”

“Didn’t you tell me to rely on you?” Song Yu pressed him onto the cubicle door. “I really missed you, and right now, I really need you.”

And with that, he lifted up Yue Zhishi’s chin and kissed him.

The kiss came without warning, leaving him undefended, and Yue Zhishi’s heart was captured almost instantly.

This kiss was completely different from the gentle touches from before; the aggression and possessiveness Song Yu usually hid so well erupted at this moment. Yue Zhishi’s waist was tightly clutched as he was pressed against the door, and his tongue passively tangled with Song Yu’s.

In this cramped and intimate space, he heard the sound as the metal buckle on Song Yu’s belt hit his waist — he also heard the slight sounds of their suckling, of their kissing. Reason made him a bit flustered, made him want to hold back.

But desire and inhibition were always contrary to each other, and their lips and tongues were like crudely mating fishes, slippery and suggestive.

Yue Zhishi’s body weakened as he started to find it hard to breathe; his hands almost couldn’t hold Song Yu anymore. Hearing the sounds of Yue Zhishi’s breathing grow louder, Song Yu loosened his arms and retreated a slight distance.

He watched as Yue Zhishi gulped in air against the wall, thinking he looked both pitiful and loveable. He couldn’t help but caress Yue Zhishi’s face; it was still a bit cold, so he could only pull him into his arms, enveloping him entirely in his windbreaker. Song Yu then raised a hand, softly stroking his back, and helped him breathe.

Yue Zhishi panted as he leaned against his body. He felt like this Song Yu was an entirely different person compared to the Song Yu a few seconds ago. 

The pleasant smell on Song Yu’s body wrapped around him, and it made him intoxicatingly, sweetly dizzy.

“It takes so much out of you just to kiss…” Song Yu murmured next to his ear, his head lowered. Yue Zhishi’s entire body felt both weak and numb at his voice — it was like he’d been electrified. His ear tingled, and he subconsciously ducked his head away.

But once he recovered, he felt like Song Yu’s words sounded very incomplete, as though he still had a follow up sentence he’d yet to say.

Yue Zhishi tilted up his face, his gaze pure and innocent. “So what?”

“Nothing.”

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