UI CH 48

After leaving the mall, Shen Ran stopped by a small street-side eatery and had a bowl of satay noodles. He had initially planned to go to the same bar to wait for Zheng Mingjin, but remembering that the singing girl there had given him that photo, he decided against it and chose another place instead.

By the time Zheng Mingjin arrived, Shen Ran was idly scrolling through his phone, three empty beer bottles in front of him from the half-dozen he had ordered.

Neither of them was there to drink tonight. After sitting down, Zheng Mingjin simply looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

Shen Ran had mentally prepared himself for this conversation, but under his friend’s gaze, he hesitated again. After all, what he was about to say was difficult to bring up, and Zheng Mingjin was straight. He had thought more than once about what he would do if Zheng Mingjin couldn’t accept it.

After mustering his courage, Shen Ran braced himself and confessed that he had been to a gay bar. As expected, Zheng Mingjin’s expression darkened, but he restrained himself and asked in a controlled tone,
“So, are you and Zhao Jiyu… trying…”

Unable to find the right word, Zheng Mingjin trailed off.

Shen Ran awkwardly looked away.
“It wasn’t like that at first.”

Zheng Mingjin said,
“Then keep talking.”

“After that, I tried to avoid him, but we kept running into each other. Over time, since he kept his distance, I didn’t think too much about it. I thought that night was just an accident.”

Even as he spoke, Shen Ran felt a little uncertain himself. It was no wonder Zheng Mingjin had looked speechless multiple times.

After downing a bottle of Heineken, Zheng Mingjin asked, “So what do you really think about all this?”

Shen Ran fell silent.

He could no longer think about it too deeply. In truth, he knew that ever since Zhao Jiyu had hinted at whether he should consider getting a boyfriend, he should have immediately kept his distance—or even cut off contact altogether.

But he hadn’t done anything.

He wasn’t sure if Zhao Jiyu was referring to the change in their relationship, but the increasing number of intimate actions proved that Zhao Jiyu meant exactly that. He just hadn’t put it into words, perhaps to give Shen Ran time to think.

So it wasn’t just Zheng Mingjin who found him frustrating—Shen Ran was exasperated with himself for being so indecisive.

But Zheng Mingjin understood that everything started with Li Ting. Even though he had acted indifferent at the time, deep down, it had hurt. Anyone would struggle to face such a situation, let alone when he was being mocked as someone picking up someone else’s mess.

Zheng Mingjin couldn’t bring himself to blame Shen Ran, but he also couldn’t just watch him continue down this reckless path. So he reminded him, “There are things I don’t need to spell out for you to understand. Feelings alone won’t be enough for you two.”

Shen Ran was usually clear-headed about other matters. He replied,
“I haven’t thought that far, and I know it’s unlikely.”

He didn’t outright deny it, which already made his stance clear. Zheng Mingjin couldn’t help but sigh, then opened another bottle of Heineken and clinked it against Shen Ran’s.
“The new semester is starting soon. Move out of his place. Keep your distance, and things will gradually settle.”

Condensation clung to the surface of the beer bottle, its chill seeping into Shen Ran’s fingers. He stared at the tiny bubbles rising inside, knowing Zheng Mingjin was right but unable to truly accept it. Instead, a sense of resistance welled up inside him.

Gripping the bottle tightly, he tilted his head back and downed the drink in one go, as if trying to swallow some unspeakable emotion along with it.

Worried he’d drink too much, Zheng Mingjin watched him closely. But Shen Ran didn’t lose control—after finishing four bottles, he stopped drinking and leaned back against the couch, listening to the singer on stage perform love songs.

Zheng Mingjin shifted seats to sit beside him, leaning back as well. After a while, Shen Ran suddenly brought up something unrelated.
“When is Yang Xin leaving?”

“The morning after tomorrow.”

“I haven’t seen her since she got back this time. Want to have a meal together tomorrow?”

“Sure, if you’re free, I’ll let her know.”

Shen Ran nodded. The two sat for a while longer before Zheng Mingjin suggested they head back. Before leaving, he reminded Shen Ran to be careful on his way home.

Shen Ran entered the subway station, and by the time he came out, the last bus had already stopped running. The remaining distance was less than three kilometers, so he rented a shared bike and rode the rest of the way.

As he pedaled, his gaze drifted toward the long stretch of coastline on his right. His mind, which had been blank for a while, was once again filled with thoughts of Zhao Jiyu.

Squeezing the brakes, he came to a stop. In the distance, the glow of a bonfire on the beach flickered in his pupils, casting a reflection of his increasingly heavy expression.

Can it really be as simple as Zheng Mingjin said—moving back to the dorm when the semester starts, keeping his distance from Zhao Jiyu, and slowly forgetting everything, as if nothing ever happened?

That would be the ideal scenario, but why did he feel so—

Shen Ran’s left hand repeatedly squeezed the brake lever on the bike as he gazed at the young figures by the bonfire. In the distance, he could faintly hear the strumming of a guitar. This scene pieced together a memory in his mind—something that had happened just a few days ago, now reduced to the past.

At that time, Zhao Jiyu had hugged him briefly on a crowded beach. Even though it was just a short embrace, Shen Ran hadn’t cared about the people around them. He hadn’t even thought about pushing him away.

Just like earlier that evening in the mall, when Zhao Jiyu had kissed him in the hallway. It had only been on the cheek, and no one else had noticed—but why hadn’t he been angry?

Many of their past intimate interactions, which he hadn’t immediately noticed or cared about in the moment, were now surfacing again, forcing him to reevaluate them. It made him realize that his boundaries with Zhao Jiyu had long since blurred, and things were spiraling out of control.

Zhao Jiyu couldn’t possibly be unaware of what letting things develop this way meant. After all, compared to Shen Ran, his stance on sexual orientation was much clearer. But had Zhao Jiyu ever considered the vast gulf between them—one that seemed impossible to bridge?

Tonight, Zheng Mingjin had been considerate, avoiding direct words. But now, in solitude, that disparity and sense of imbalance surged up with even greater intensity. It felt like he was coming down with a cold, unable to breathe properly, his chest tightening with discomfort.

Unwilling to be controlled by this unfamiliar emotion, Shen Ran put on his headphones. He didn’t take them off until he arrived home and finally paused the blaring music.

No one was home. Old Wu had left dinner in the pot, still warm. Shen Ran put it in the fridge, took a shower, and glanced at the silent living room before locking his bedroom door.

The next morning, before heading to work, he passed by Zhao Jiyu’s room and glanced inside. The man hadn’t come home all night, nor had he sent any messages.

This had happened a few times before, and Shen Ran thought he had gotten used to it. Zhao Jiyu had no obligation to tell him where he had been. Yet throughout his shift, Shen Ran found it difficult to concentrate. He kept glancing at his phone, his distraction so obvious that even Xu Tian couldn’t pretend not to notice. She sent a message to Zhao Jiyu on WeChat:

[Did you and Shen Ran have a fight? He’s totally out of it today—I even caught him making two miscalculations.]

Zhao Jiyu replied with a question mark:

[No.]

Xu Tian glanced at Shen Ran, who was sitting behind the cashier’s counter, staring blankly into space. If this wasn’t a fight, then what was it? She snapped a photo of his back and sent it over.

[See for yourself.]

Someone’s lips slowly curled into a smile as they zoomed in on the image.

Huang Qianxu leaned over out of curiosity and scoffed. “What’s so interesting? It’s just a back view.”

Zhao Jiyu shot him a sideways glance, his smile fading.
“Your back view probably isn’t interesting to Wen Lin either.”

Realizing he had hit a sore spot, Huang Qianxu immediately surrendered.
“Alright, alright, my bad. I’ll punish myself with a drink.”

He took a large gulp of his Hong Kong-style milk tea, then continued,
“So, did you guys have a fight or not?”

Zhao Jiyu leaned back in his chair and signaled the server to clear the plates.
“Nope. We’re fine.”

Huang Qianxu tapped his fingers on the table.
“And? Any progress with your grandfather’s villa these past two days?”

The floor-to-ceiling windows faced the harbor, where the deep blue sea shimmered under the sunlight. Over a dozen sailboats set off against the wind, creating a spectacular scene. Zhao Jiyu was reminded of the night he and Shen Ran had gone out to sea together last time. Instead of responding, he simply took a sip of his iced lemon tea and picked up his phone to continue messaging Xu Tian.

[He’s still getting off work at six today?]

[Yeah, are you planning to surprise him?]

[I’m coming to pick him up, don’t tell him.]

[Got it, got it! You should bring a huge bouquet of red roses while you’re at it.]

Seeing the sticker Xu Tian sent of a puppy biting a rose, Zhao Jiyu couldn’t help but laugh. If he actually showed up with a bouquet, Shen Ran would probably be so shocked he’d turn pale and completely ignore him.

Finishing the rest of his lemon tea, Zhao Jiyu squinted at the distant sea.

The weather had been great these past few days—maybe before the semester started, he could take Shen Ran out to sea one more time.

All afternoon, Shen Ran noticed that Xu Tian kept sneaking glances at him with a mischievous smile. He asked her twice what she was laughing at, but she denied it both times. Though he found it odd, he didn’t dwell on it, just focused on getting through his shift.

Finally, when it was time to clock out, he grabbed his bag, ready to leave—only to see a dark green soft-top convertible parked right outside.

Zhao Jiyu didn’t like driving with the top down during the day, so Shen Ran couldn’t see who was in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until the window lowered that he caught sight of a face framed by tea-colored sunglasses, looking right at him.

Zhao Jiyu’s white dress shirt had the top three buttons undone, revealing the shape of his collarbones beneath his fair skin. Even from a distance, it was clearly visible.

His gaze drifted downward, but the fabric of the shirt blocked his view. Not that it mattered—Shen Ran had seen Zhao Jiyu shirtless plenty of times before and knew exactly what was underneath.

Realizing what he was thinking, Shen Ran quickly averted his eyes and grabbed the shift log, hurrying to complete the handover with the next shift’s colleague.

He was doing something that should have been Xu Tian’s job. Seeing the car outside, she immediately figured out what was going on in his mind and wasted no time in shoving him out the door.

“Stop wasting time and go!” she urged.

Shen Ran slung his sports chest bag over his shoulder and walked up to Zhao Jiyu’s car, deliberately avoiding looking at him.
“What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick you up for dinner.”
Zhao Jiyu unlocked the passenger door.
“Get in. I reserved a seafood restaurant with a great view.”

Shen Ran frowned.
“I have plans tonight.”

Zhao Jiyu took off his sunglasses and fixed him with an unwavering stare.
“With who?”

“Mingjin’s girlfriend is leaving, so we’re having dinner together.”

“Just the three of you?”

“Then count me in. Let’s go.”

Shen Ran thought he had misheard.
“You don’t even know them. Why are you eating together?”

“That’s exactly why I need to meet them,”
Zhao Jiyu said matter-of-factly as he put his sunglasses back on.
“He’s your good friend. I can’t just never meet him.”

After getting into the car, Shen Ran was still feeling a little frustrated.

He couldn’t understand why he had agreed so easily. What kind of logic was that—meeting someone just because they’re his friend? It almost felt like meeting the parents.

Realizing that his thoughts were running wild again, Shen Ran turned to look out the window and didn’t speak to the person beside him for the rest of the ride.

During the trip, Zhao Jiyu’s phone rang a few times. He declined every call, but since the car’s Bluetooth was playing music, Shen Ran caught a glimpse of the screen twice. The caller ID displayed just one word: “Dad.”

When they arrived at their destination, Zhao Jiyu still looked relaxed. Unable to help himself, Shen Ran said,
“If you have something to do, you should go take care of it.”

“No worries,”
Zhao Jiyu replied.
“What did you guys decide to eat?”

Yang Xin liked Cantonese cuisine, so Zheng Mingjin had booked a well-known Cantonese restaurant. When the two of them arrived at the private dining room, Zheng Mingjin and Yang Xin were already there. Hearing movement at the door, they both turned to look with smiles—only to freeze for a moment when they saw Zhao Jiyu standing next to Shen Ran.

Yang Xin looked surprised as well.

Shen Ran had messaged Zheng Mingjin on WeChat earlier, but judging from his reaction, he probably hadn’t checked his phone. Feeling cornered, Shen Ran braced himself and said, “Yang Xin, this is my friend, Zhao Jiyu. He’s joining us for dinner today. Is that okay?”

Yang Xin was naturally outgoing, and since Zheng Mingjin hadn’t mentioned anything about Zhao Jiyu and Shen Ran, she simply smiled warmly.
“Of course, no problem. Have a seat.”

Zhao Jiyu reached out to shake her hand lightly before letting go. Then, he extended his hand toward Zheng Mingjin with a warm smile.
“Hello, I’m Zhao Jiyu.”