UI CH 14

Zhao Jiyu repeated,
“He went to Xi’an?”

“Yeah,” Xu Tian examined Zhao Jiyu’s expression.
“He didn’t tell you? He even posted it on his Moments.”

When Zhao Jiyu last visited, Xu Tian had already guessed there was something between him and Shen Ran. Out of respect for Shen Ran, she hadn’t said anything. Now, seeing Zhao Jiyu’s reaction, it seemed like a one-sided crush.

Good-looking people naturally enjoy certain advantages, like easily melting others’ hearts. Even though Zhao Jiyu hadn’t said much, Xu Tian’s imagination had already crafted a melodramatic story of his unrequited love, complete with the drama of being blocked from seeing Shen Ran’s social media posts.

“Um,” Xu Tian tried to say something to make up for it, but Zhao Jiyu cut her off.

“I don’t have him on WeChat. Can you show me his Moments?”

This answer surprised Xu Tian, but she still unlocked her phone and handed it over. Since there were other customers waiting to check out, Tang Wei swapped places with her to serve them.

Zhao Jiyu scrolled through the nine-grid photo post. From Gaoqi Airport to Xianyang Airport, then to the bustling streets of Xi’an, Shen Ran had only posted nine photos, but each was carefully shot, capturing the beauty of the day through detailed scenes.

Returning the phone to Xu Tian, Zhao Jiyu thanked her, then pushed the door open and left without saying anything more.

Watching him stride across the street and into the building opposite, Xu Tian couldn’t help but shake her head.
“Damn, another tragic story of someone falling for a straight guy.”

Inside the private room of the Japanese restaurant, Zhao Jiyu greeted Huang Yipeng and his girlfriend Wen Lin, then took the seat next to Yu Xuetong.

Noticing the electrolyte water Zhao Jiyu placed on the table, Huang Yipeng teased,
“Come on, man, you’re not drinking alcohol? You brought this?”

Zhao Jiyu twisted the cap off, took a sip, and set the bottle aside.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t drinking. Where are the others?”

“Wei Qi is on his way. Qiao Xu went to Shenzhen with his dad for an auction, and Jiaxuan went to pick up Huihui,” Huang Yipeng explained.

Zhao Jiyu nodded, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling up his sleeves to his forearms.

Yu Xuetong was looking through the menu. She paused on a page and showed it to him. “How about this? You said it was good last time.”

He glanced at the honey-glazed chicken wings. His tone was indifferent. “I don’t feel like it today. Pick something else.”

Yu Xuetong shot him a look but continued browsing the menu. Wen Lin, Huang Yipeng’s girlfriend, was also looking through the menu. Taking advantage of the moment, Huang Yipeng reached over and tapped Zhao Jiyu’s table. “Want to step outside for a smoke?”

Standing by the window in the smoking area, Zhao Jiyu held an unlit cigarette between his fingers, rolling it back and forth, making no move to light it.

Huang Yipeng lit his cigarette, took a couple of drags, then leaned back against the windowsill, his side profile facing Zhao Jiyu.

Under the unabashed stare, even someone as accustomed to attention as Zhao Jiyu couldn’t remain completely unaffected. He glanced at Huang Yipeng from top to bottom and said,
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

Huang Yipeng chuckled.
“Who got under your skin this time? You look like you’re in a terrible mood.”

With his arms stretched out, propping himself against the wooden window frame, Zhao Jiyu stared at a wild plant swaying along the edge of the tiled roof across the street.
“No one pissed me off.”

After finishing half his cigarette, Huang Yipeng asked again,
“Are you feeling pressured being around Xuetong?”

Zhao Jiyu didn’t respond. Huang Yipeng continued to muse aloud,
“No, that can’t be it. You and her are just pretending to be together. You two definitely don’t have that kind of… need.”

Faced with a piercing glare, Huang Yipeng smirked, flicked the ash off his cigarette, and finally stopped pushing his luck. “Alright, I’ll stop messing with you. If you don’t want to talk now, that’s fine. Whenever you feel like it, I’m here to listen.”

Turning his gaze back to the resilient wild grass, Zhao Jiyu continued to frown, lost in his thoughts.

There was no real reason for Shen Ran to specifically inform him about his trip. As for the social media post, Shen Ran probably didn’t even know he had added him. Most likely, it was just a privacy setting meant to keep casual acquaintances from seeing his updates.

After standing with him for a while, Huang Yipeng received a call from Wen Lin saying that Wei Qi and Tang Jiaxuan had arrived. Zhao Jiyu tossed his unlit cigarette into the trash, made a quick trip to the restroom, and then returned to the private room.

When Wei Qi arrived, the atmosphere became noticeably livelier. The three girls were already chatting and laughing, with a few cold dishes laid out on the table.

The gathering was to welcome Yu Xuetong. Wei Qi took a sip of sake and remarked,
“The decor here is nice, but I didn’t expect the sake to be this good.”

“Sister Xuetong, how did you find this place?”

Yu Xuetong was already familiar with the group, so there was no awkwardness. She admitted openly,
“I came here once with Jiyu.”

Wei Qi raised his eyebrows. He almost teased them but held back, remembering Zhao Jiyu’s sexual orientation. Instead, he steered the conversation towards the new apartment Yu Xuetong was currently renovating.

Zhao Jiyu wasn’t in the mood to talk tonight. Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed with laughter and stories, but only Huang Yipeng kept him company, drinking in silence.

Tang Jiaxuan also noticed his low spirits. After dinner, the group decided not to continue to a second venue. Yu Xuetong called her family’s driver to pick her up, and Huang Yipeng arranged for a designated driver for Zhao Jiyu.

Though Zhao Jiyu had drunk quite a bit, his breathing was heavy with the scent of alcohol, but his mind seemed clear. He leaned against the car door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette.

Huang Yipeng handed his own car keys to Wen Lin and walked over, finding Zhao Jiyu staring blankly across the street.

Following his gaze to the brightly lit glass windows of the convenience store, Huang Yipeng asked,
“Thirsty?”

Zhao Jiyu blinked slowly, shook his head, and lowered his gaze, continuing to smoke.

The designated driver arrived quickly. Zhao Jiyu sat in the back seat. Feeling stuffy in the car while driving, he asked the driver to open the soft top. The night breeze, carrying the heat of summer, rushed in. He leaned back against the headrest, gazing at the night sky, and soon closed his eyes.

Huang Yipeng sat in the front passenger seat, glancing at him a few times through the rearview mirror. He felt that Zhao Jiyu seemed a bit different during these last two meetings, but he wasn’t sure if this change had anything to do with Zhao Xinhong urging him to get a girlfriend.

When it came to Zhao Jiyu’s sexual orientation, their group of friends was unconditionally supportive. However, none of them could truly understand the pressure he endured, especially with his family situation being more complicated than theirs.

Setting aside his notoriously strict mother, just the fact that his hands-off father had a secret illegitimate child was suffocating enough. His mother decisively divorced him after the illegitimate child was born, moving to Hong Kong to avoid it all, leaving Zhao Jiyu alone to deal with the mess.

Huang Yipeng remembered it clearly. back then, they had just started high school. Suddenly, there was a new stepmother and half-brother at home. Zhao Jiyu’s grades plummeted. He took several months off school, got into fights, hung out in bars, smoked, drank—anything you could think of. He often didn’t come home, staying in a hotel for nearly half a year until his grandfather, Zhao Xinhong, forcibly brought him back.

Memories flooded back like a tide. Huang Yipeng lit a cigarette, staring at the dense shadows of the trees along the street. He exhaled a cloud of smoke along with the stuffy feeling in his chest.

When they arrived at Zhao Jiyu’s building, Huang Yipeng wanted to walk him up, but Zhao Jiyu waved him off and walked into the elevator alone.

The metallic walls of the elevator reflected a cold, hard light. He leaned back, his unfocused gaze resting on the changing numbers on the panel. Once home, he didn’t go to his room, instead collapsing directly onto the sofa.

The 80-square-meter living room had only a large LCD TV and a sofa set. The overly spacious floor reflected the moonlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows. He pulled a cushion into his arms, shifted into a comfortable position, and fell asleep. Barely ten minutes later, a phone call woke him up.

Squinting to make out the name on the screen, he raised his hand and hung up. He had barely tossed the phone onto the coffee table when it rang again. He pressed a cushion over his head, turning to face the sofa back, but the caller seemed determined to oppose him, calling back as soon as the line cut off.

Frustrated, he threw the cushion against the opposite wall. Zhao Jiyu sat up, rubbed his face with his palms, and picked up the phone, putting it to his ear.

“Jiyu, are you at home?”

The woman’s voice on the other end sounded neither young nor particularly emotional.

Zhao Jiyu leaned against the back of the sofa, his strength scattered by that small movement. Swallowing to soothe his dry throat, he replied, “hmm, what’s up?”

“I’ve picked out information from two more universities for you. I sent it to your email. Make sure to check it when you have time.”

“Got it.”

“Alright, then. Remember to go to bed early.”

The woman hung up as soon as she finished speaking. Zhao Jiyu listened to the brief mechanical tone before silence returned. It took him a long while to finally lower his hand. He went to the kitchen, grabbed a can of dark beer from the fridge, and drank as he opened WeChat.

He found a contact with a sun icon as their name, marked them as a favorite, and then opened their Moments.

As expected, it was still completely empty. He didn’t know if Shen Ran hadn’t posted anything or if he had set his posts to be hidden from acquaintances.

Opening the chat window, Zhao Jiyu typed a line and sent it:
[How many days will you be in Xi’an?]