Chu Xingxiao nodded, looking genuinely delighted.
If he had an invisible tail, it’d be wagging by now.
“Just bring some clean clothes. I’ve got spare bedding, no need to run back and forth.”
Chu Xingxiao opened his wardrobe—thankfully, his clothes hadn’t gotten soaked. But this kid’s wardrobe was full of spring and autumn gear—not a single thick jacket in sight.
Typical of the younger generation—not the least bit afraid of the cold.
Chi Zhan went to check the electrical outlets, just in case there was any risk of electrocution. When he opened the fridge, the top shelf was lined with four full rows of fruit wine—and nothing else.
“……”
Last time he’d visited, there was still food in the fridge. This time? Just booze.
Chu Xingxiao walked out carrying a storage box. Chi Zhan, still standing by the fridge, gave him a look.
“……”
“So you really do like to drink, huh?”
The nickname boozehound had officially stuck.
Chi Zhan’s apartment wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. And the moment Chu Xingxiao moved in, the whole place felt instantly livelier.
He didn’t bring a lot of clothes, but he did haul in a bunch of quirky items—Lego sets, a guitar, a rubber squeaky chicken, a gaming headset, and several books Chi Zhan would never think to read.
Chi Zhan casually picked one up and flipped through a few pages, surprised. “You read A Brief History of Time?”
Chu Xingxiao scratched his head.
“Sometimes.”
In that moment, his image in Chi Zhan’s mind elevated—intelligent and impressive.
Chu Xingxiao cheerfully unpacked his things, then grabbed his usual toiletries. Chi Zhan found a new towel and handed it over, sending him to shower. Not long after, Chu Xingxiao emerged with damp hair.
“The rice noodles are cold,” Chi Zhan noted.
“That’s okay. Can I take a picture first? Just of the coffee table.” Chu Xingxiao looked pleased. After getting permission, he whipped out his phone, snapped a few shots, then dug into the noodles with big, enthusiastic bites.
He ate fast—just a few mouthfuls and the bowl was empty. Then he turned his attention to his phone.
Chi Zhan was idly scrolling on his own phone when he stumbled across a post on Chu Xingxiao’s Moments feed.
Chu Xingxiao: New life! [Image]
Chi Zhan gave it a like.
A notification popped up at the top of his screen—a game alert: Your boyfriend [Song Guang] is now online. Would you like to log in?
A recent game update had added a “couple login” notification—pretty handy, actually. Chi Zhan logged in, and Song Guang responded to his previous message.
Chi Zhan: My friend got WT tickets. Want to go together?
Song Guang: No need.
Song Guang: See you then.
Song Guang: Cat-head smile.jpg
***
“Captain Qi’s smiling at his phone again,” Chen Che said as he plopped down with a Coke in hand, grumbling to Wen An, “I can’t take it anymore. Even the captain’s got a boyfriend now, all sweet and lovey-dovey, while I’m still single as hell. I refuse to accept this reality!”
Wen An didn’t even blink.
“Then go date someone.”
Chen Che groaned.
“That’s not the point, okay? I need to know who the captain’s boyfriend is! It’s been eating at me for a week—I’m gonna scratch my own skin off! If I don’t find out soon, my curiosity’s gonna be the death of me!”
“Then go ask.”
“I did! He ignored me.”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
While chatting, Wen An was also browsing through Moments. He spotted a post and commented, “Captain Qi, your cousin moved?”
He’d recently added Qi Song’s cousin on WeChat to coordinate a custom gift box, and now said, “Secretary Chi even liked the post.”
Qi Song hadn’t heard about it, but felt obligated to ask. He opened Moments and scrolled through.
“There’s no post.”
He showed them the screen—Chu Xingxiao’s feed was completely blank.
Chen Che, as blunt as ever, said, “Then he probably hid it from you when he posted. Guess your relationship isn’t that close, huh.”
Qi Song didn’t respond.
Wen An winced.
“If you don’t know how to talk, maybe just shut up…”
“Not really close,” Qi Song said mildly. “We barely see each other once a year.”
“Yeah, cousins don’t usually keep in touch. I only see mine during the Lunar New Year. Just be polite and keep things cordial on the surface—it’s enough.”
That’s how it was for most people these days. Blood ties didn’t mean much anymore—unless you were dividing up an inheritance.
Qi Song gave Chu Xingxiao a call.
It took a moment for him to answer.
“Cousin, what’s up?”
“I heard you moved. Something happen?”
“Leak at home, had to move out temporarily. Nothing serious.”
After some polite small talk, Qi Song got to the point.
“How’s that person I asked you to keep an eye on?”
Whenever Qi Song had asked as Song Guang, Chi Zhan’s replies had always been, “Everything’s fine.”
“He’s doing well lately. No need to worry—I’ll take good care of him.”
When he hung up, Chi Zhan asked casually, “You have a cousin?”
“Yeah, but we don’t talk much. Not very close.”
“……”
Felt pretty on-brand for today’s young adults.
“Oh right. Do you watch e-sports matches?”
“They’re alright. Don’t watch often,” Chu Xingxiao said naturally—but his voice tightened just a little, and he snuck a glance at Chi Zhan.
…Had he caught on?
“My friend ended up with an extra WT ticket. You free next Saturday? Wanna go together?”
“……”
He forced a smile.
“I can go? That’s great.”
Meanwhile, all he wanted was to push that match back by a year—ten years would be even better.
But he wasn’t anything to Chi Zhan yet. Even if he wanted to make a move now, he couldn’t.
Chi Zhan would absolutely kick him out.
Lose patience now, and all this effort would go to waste.
