After getting close to Jiang Ji, Lu Xingyan’s memories always seemed to retain all kinds of different scents: body wash, shampoo, perfume, the faint smell of tobacco, the sweetness of honey…
Lu Xingyan fell asleep thinking about Jiang Ji, and Jiang Ji was who he saw in his dreams too.
Extending from the sweetness of honey, his dream was filled with sweet fantasies. He and Jiang Ji loved each other deeply and had made their relationship public; Lu Yong and Jiang Wanyi accepted it without the slightest hesitation, and the whole family lived together happily without any conflict.
It was such a beautiful dream that Lu Xingyan woke up smiling.
Then he opened his eyes and saw the empty ceiling. Dawn had just broken, morning sunlight slipping through the gap in the curtains. It was a new day, and the dream was over.
As the saying went, it was easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but difficult to go back again; feelings were the same. Yesterday, Lu Xingyan had still been enjoying the sweetness of being passionately in love, and today he had to face the tragedy of a possible breakup. “Anxious” did not begin to describe how he felt.
But he knew that Jiang Ji being willing to think about it meant he was reluctant to let Lu Xingyan go; he simply had no choice but to weigh whether this relationship was worth facing such a predicament for.
Since that was the case, Lu Xingyan could not rush him. He needed to make Jiang Ji understand that he was worth it.
As long as Jiang Ji chose him, Lu Xingyan would do everything in his power to solve whatever difficulties they encountered.
Lu Xingyan calmed down for a few days too.
During those days, he was unusually non-clingy. Aside from going to school to deal with graduation matters, he spent most of his energy studying livestreaming.
He had already signed a contract with the streaming platform and no longer streamed on and off the way he used to. He went live at fixed times every day and made time to review his old streams and read fan comments, trying to play to his strengths and correct his weaknesses—something the old Lu Xingyan would never have bothered with.
Jiang Ji continued going to work as usual. Three days later, he left on a business trip and did not return for nearly a week. Lu Xingyan felt like a plant: without seeing his brother, it was as though he could neither bask in sunlight nor be watered by rain, and he was about to wither.
On WeChat, he restrained himself when expressing concern and how much he missed Jiang Ji, but Jiang Ji was very busy. In truth, he had always been this busy, but during their passionate relationship Lu Xingyan had never felt any sense of crisis. Now, whenever more than half an hour passed without a reply, he would start worrying: Did I say something wrong? Does Bro not want to talk to me anymore?
One day, Jiang Ji unexpectedly posted something on Moments.
He was still away on his business trip, and the distant city he was in was experiencing a downpour. Jiang Ji took a photo from inside the car of rain streaming down the window; his blurred face was reflected in the glass, his gaze directed toward the camera as though looking at someone beyond it.
Without thinking, Lu Xingyan shamelessly took it as a secret signal that his brother missed him and immediately liked the post and left a very proper comment: “The rain’s so heavy. Be careful, Bro. [Smiley]”
No sooner had Lu Xingyan posted his comment than another notification appeared. Jiang Wanyi had commented too: “Did you bring an umbrella?”
Jiang Ji, who had no internet etiquette, replied to neither of them. It was as though he had forgotten about his phone the moment he posted and gone straight back to work.
That evening at dinner, Jiang Wanyi suddenly teased, “Xiao Yan, you and your brother have been getting along pretty well lately. Not fighting anymore?”
Lu Xingyan’s heart skipped a beat. Guessing that she was asking because of his comment on Moments, he thought for a moment before answering, “I used to argue with him because I was immature and always picked on him. I’ve already graduated now. Wouldn’t it be childish if I kept doing that?”
“…”
Jiang Wanyi froze, and Lu Yong looked at him as though he had seen a ghost. Lu Xingyan calmly finished eating, then went upstairs to stream.
During the days Jiang Ji was away, Lu Xingyan dreamed about him almost every night.
The days without kisses or hugs were unbearably difficult. Lu Xingyan could only ease the pain of missing him in his dreams, pestering his brother over and over while repeatedly pouring out his feelings and confessing his love.
But no matter how many times he confessed, he could not imagine what Jiang Ji would look like saying, “I love you too.”
Because he streamed in the afternoons and evenings, Lu Xingyan went to bed very late every day, but he woke up early. Since there was nothing for him to do in the mornings anyway, he started going along when Lu Yong went jogging for exercise.
Lu Xingyan had never been particularly clingy with his parents growing up, and sons generally did not cling much to their fathers either. As a result, father and son almost never had heart-to-heart conversations. On the rare occasions when Lu Yong took the initiative to lecture his son, Lu Xingyan refused to listen.
These days, however, Lu Xingyan had completely changed his usual behavior. Every morning he accompanied his father on his run, chatted with him, and even unprecedentedly began taking an interest in the family business, asking whether Lu Yong was busy at work and whether he was tired.
Lu Yong was practically moved to tears—graduation season really was powerful. The little tyrant in his family had finally grown up.
But knowing his disappointing son as well as he did, Lu Yong remained suspicious. “Did you get yourself into some kind of trouble? If you need money, just say so.”
“I don’t need money.” Lu Xingyan circled around the subject and hesitantly tested the waters. “Dad, do you want me to get married?”
“Of course,” Lu Yong said. “But you’re still young. There’s no hurry. You can wait a few more years. Why are you suddenly asking?”
“Just curious.” Lu Xingyan asked again, “What kind of person do you want me to find?”
“You’re the one finding a partner, not me. Why ask me?” Lu Yong was very open-minded. “As long as she’s a decent girl from a respectable family, anything is fine. It depends on who you like.”
“…”
Lu Xingyan stopped asking, afraid he might accidentally give himself away, and never brought up anything similar again. But whenever he had time, he continued chatting with his father every day, talking about the company’s business and his own streaming career, and even bought several boxes of health supplements for Lu Yong and Jiang Wanyi—he had never been this filial in his life.
The day Jiang Ji returned was Tuesday, June 17, at around five in the afternoon.
He had not told anyone beforehand and went straight home from the airport. Lu Xingyan was streaming with headphones on and did not hear the doors opening and closing downstairs, but when he happened to glance toward his own doorway, a figure in a smoke-gray suit flashed past.
Lu Xingyan’s heart started pounding. He tossed his viewers the excuse that he needed to use the bathroom, took off his headphones, muted his microphone, and went to knock on the door next door.
Jiang Ji had not closed it. Lu Xingyan poked his head through the gap and habitually locked the door behind him. “Bro, you’re back.”
“Mm.” Jiang Ji was changing clothes. Hearing him, he turned around with his shirt unbuttoned halfway, revealing part of his chest. Lu Xingyan stared blankly for several seconds, every cell in his body clamoring; he desperately wanted to kiss him and personally help him undress.
But if the first thing he did after seeing his brother was cling to him shamelessly, it would make him seem immature. Lu Xingyan endured and endured, trying to appear calm as he asked, “Have you eaten? Want to eat together later?”
“Aren’t you streaming?” Jiang Ji said. “I only came back to pick something up. I still have to go to the company.”
“Oh…”
Lu Xingyan was a little disappointed. He could not stay away from his stream for too long, so during those few short minutes, he watched Jiang Ji take off one suit and change into another—being this formally dressed probably meant he was meeting a client—then pick up the folder on his desk and prepare to leave.
Lu Xingyan’s chest ached. He carefully studied Jiang Ji’s face, watching for every tiny change in his expression, afraid of missing any sign that his brother had missed him too.
But Jiang Ji was best at hiding behind an expressionless face. If he did not want his emotions to show, no one could see through him.
Lu Xingyan blocked the doorway and felt that he really could not hold back any longer; if he did not kiss Jiang Ji now, he was going to die.
Did those lips not miss him at all? Even giving up games, cigarettes, or alcohol came with an uncomfortable withdrawal period, let alone suddenly pulling away from a passionate relationship. Lu Xingyan did not believe Jiang Ji felt nothing.
“Bro.” Lu Xingyan pressed down on the door handle, blocking Jiang Ji’s way. The moment Jiang Ji approached, Lu Xingyan’s heart sped up, and he drew in a shallow breath like an addict, instinctively picking out Jiang Ji’s scent. There was an unfamiliar fragrance on him, though Lu Xingyan had no idea where he had picked it up.
“…Can I kiss you?”
Jiang Ji paused.
“We haven’t broken up yet.” Lu Xingyan pleaded, tugging at his sleeve. “I miss you. I can’t stand it anymore…”
“…”
Jiang Ji’s freshly changed shirt had a spotless white collar, and his neck was held taut, as though he was not entirely calm either. The moment Lu Xingyan moved closer, his Adam’s apple bobbed, silently releasing a flood of invisible, intangible hormones that seemed to heat the air between them. Their lips were only inches apart, and tiny beads of sweat appeared along the bridge of Jiang Ji’s nose—perhaps because his suit was too warm and the air-conditioning was not on.
Lu Xingyan suppressed the urge to lick them away and stared at Jiang Ji’s flawless face from up close, only to grow dizzier the longer he looked. He kept telling himself not to be impulsive, yet in the end he still could not resist licking the bridge of Jiang Ji’s nose; his warm breath stirred Jiang Ji’s lashes, making him shudder.
At that point, there was no need to ask anymore; he only needed to kiss him. Lu Xingyan cupped Jiang Ji’s face, his fingers pressing firmly along his jaw, then turned and pushed him back against the door.
They had never kissed with so much pent-up restraint between them. Jiang Ji’s silence made Lu Xingyan afraid to ask what he had decided, so all he could do was kiss him—kiss him hard, wanting to kiss his brother until he could not breathe, could not speak, and could not go to work.
But that was far too difficult. In the end, the one who could barely breathe or speak and nearly forgot about work was Lu Xingyan himself. Even though he had taken the initiative, he felt as though his entire body and mind were under Jiang Ji’s control. The look Jiang Ji gave him was like a hook piercing straight through his chest; with the slightest tug, it could drag his heart out, and even while terrified of being abandoned, Lu Xingyan would still willingly bleed several more liters if it meant his brother would not go thirsty.
Drink me up, Lu Xingyan thought. I don’t want to be apart from you.
But the kiss ended quickly. Jiang Ji was not as cold and heartless as Lu Xingyan had imagined; when it was over, he even hugged him. “Focus on your stream. Don’t keep thinking about me.”
“…” Afraid Jiang Ji might misunderstand his attitude toward work, Lu Xingyan explained quietly, “I am streaming properly. I only left for a few minutes.”
And this was the only time.
Jiang Ji nodded. “I’ve been too busy these past few days.”
It sounded like an explanation.
“It’s fine.” Lu Xingyan said something he did not mean. “I’m not in a hurry. Take your time thinking about it.”
Silence settled for several seconds. Jiang Ji straightened, pursed the lips they had just kissed, and looked at him with a hint of helplessness. “Don’t be so devoted, Lu Xingyan.”
“…Huh.” Lu Xingyan’s face fell. “Is that wrong too?”
“It is,” Jiang Ji said. “You’re disrupting my train of thought.”
“…”
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Lu Xingyan did not have time to think it over before Jiang Ji pushed open the door and left. Dejected, Lu Xingyan returned to his computer, put his headphones back on, and resumed the stream. A viewer asked, “Why does the streamer look like he lost his soul after one trip to the bathroom?”
Lu Xingyan ignored it. He gulped down a glass of cold water to cool himself down, then resumed the game he had left unfinished.
He played on muscle memory and looked focused, but in reality he was still reliving the kiss, Jiang Ji’s words before leaving replaying over and over in his mind.
Disrupting his train of thought…
That means his heart is in turmoil because of me, right?
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