Do you like guys?

Nine characters plus a question mark. Not long at all — you could read it at a glance.

Jiang Yan stared at it for a full ten minutes.

A full ten minutes.

Only then did he actually register that this person was asking him if he liked guys — not liked some girl, not liked some deskmate.

“…What the—”

Jiang Yan sometimes genuinely wondered if his little deskmate’s brain was wired differently from normal people’s — differently in every way imaginable.

He still remembered the first time he’d seen her, at the school convenience store. A girl in her school uniform — the standard blue-and-white short-sleeve T-shirt, uniform trousers, plain white shoes.

Pale skin. Standing there chatting with a friend, her smile barely there, her whole manner vaguely languid.

He’d thought she was a gentle little white rabbit. Turns out when a white rabbit gets cornered, it bites too — all bared teeth and bluffed aggression.

Ideas that flew off in unexpected directions. A way of doing things that followed no ordinary script. More often than not, she’d come out with something that left people with nothing to say.

And somehow completely unaware of it all.

Like right now.

One random message, and he couldn’t get out a single word. The strange thing, though, was that Jiang Yan found he wasn’t annoyed at all — in fact, he kind of wanted to laugh.

How strange, exactly?

If something like “do you like guys” had come out of Hu Hanghang’s mouth, or anyone else of that group, Jiang Yan was fairly sure they would no longer be among the living.

But right now.

Jiang Yan looked down at the dark screen of his phone, his own features reflected back at him on the glass.

Only one side of the room was lit — the light was dim, but his reflection in the screen was still clear enough to make out the faint smile at the corner of his mouth, and the warmth that wouldn’t leave his eyes.

Jiang Yan exhaled a quiet, drawn-out sound, let himself sink into the back of the sofa, his gaze drifting to a small spot of light on the ceiling.

Low, and very helpless, he let out a sigh.

Nothing he could do.

There was absolutely nothing he could do.

Lin Tao had received the friend request while still stuck in traffic with Fang Yisong on the overpass.

It was Friday, and right in the middle of rush hour — the overpass was backed up like a dragon, barely inching forward.

She lowered the window, caught a dense whiff of exhaust fumes, and rolled it back up. She looked down and tapped open the friend request.

The display showed only the single character Jiang.

Among everyone Lin Tao knew, there was only one great one with that surname. She accepted the request and sent a message over.

The other side took its time replying.

Lin Tao opened his profile picture. Jiang Yan’s WeChat profile picture was of striking originality: a solid black image with no pattern whatsoever.

She enlarged it and looked carefully — and found, in the bottom right corner of this black image, a pinprick-sized dot.

Very tiny. You’d never notice it without looking closely.

After examining the profile picture, Lin Tao didn’t hesitate for a second — she opened the great one’s contact card, casually updated his display name, then went into his Moments feed.

A single line of pale grey text filled the screen —

This user only shows Moments to the past three days.

“…”

The Moments were thoroughly sparse. Lin Tao backed out, and not much later, Hu Hanghang suddenly added her to a group chat called “Haicheng, Here We Come”.

[Hu Hanghang, more handsome than Peng Y Yan]: Tao-mei! Have you sorted out your schedule for the National Day trip yet?! We should book the tickets early or there won’t be any left.

[Hu Hanghang, more handsome than Peng Y Yan]: Tao-mei!!!!!!!!!

[Lin Tao]: Give me a sec.

Lin Tao sent her reply and looked up to talk to Fang Yisong about it. “Mom — will you and Dad be working overtime during this National Day holiday?”

Fang Yisong kept one hand on the wheel and glanced over at her briefly. “Yeah, things have been pretty busy at the company lately — the branch office…”

She caught herself mid-sentence, realizing this wasn’t the right thing to be saying to Lin Tao, and quickly changed direction. “Do you have any plans for the holiday?”

“Some classmates want to go to Haicheng — I was thinking of going with them for a few days.” Lin Tao glanced at the chat on her phone. “Oh, Mom — can you help me get some plane tickets to Haicheng?”

“My classmates say there aren’t any good flights available to book right now.”

“Sure. Send me their ID numbers — I’ll have your dad’s assistant take care of it.”

“Okay.”

Lin Tao posted in the group about the tickets, and Hu Hanghang and the others responded quickly.

[Hu Hanghang, more handsome than Peng Y Yan]: 1XXXXX…

[Xu Chuanchuan, more handsome than Wu Y Zu]: 2XXXXX…

[Song Yuanyuan, more handsome than Liu D Hua]: 3XXXXX…

Lin Tao: “…”

Every single one of them outrageous.

Lin Tao copied down all three of theirs, and waited a long while without getting anything from Jiang Yan. She went back into Jiang Yan’s private chat and sent him a message.

Then went back to idling in the group chat, chatting with the others. Hu Hanghang, with nothing to do, sent a video call invite.

Lin Tao wasn’t planning to pick up, but they were stuck on the overpass with nothing happening, so she dug her earphones out of her bag and answered.

They didn’t talk long before Hu Hanghang said he was going to go find Jiang Yan.

He didn’t end the video call, and Lin Tao heard a series of thundering footsteps, then Hu Hanghang’s unmistakable loud voice: “Yan-ge, Tao-mei says she has time during the holiday—”

The abrupt pause made Lin Tao look up, and she found Hu Hanghang had turned the camera around at some point.

Through this angle, Lin Tao saw — across the room, on the sofa — two figures tangled together.

“…”

What the—

Everyone was stunned into stillness.

Two people in a thoroughly suggestive position. The one on top — a pair of peach-blossom eyes, full of warmth, gazing at the boy pinned beneath him.

And the one on the bottom — forearm braced against the peach-blossom eyes’ chest, in an air of reluctant welcome.

Lin Tao was staggered.

It was Hu Hanghang who recovered first and launched into a rambling string of words.

Lin Tao didn’t respond — she watched through the screen as the peach-blossom eyes climbed off the boy in black and walked up close, calling out a greeting.

“…”

Lin Tao ended the video call and sat with it for a long time before she could come back to herself. A while later, the great one suddenly sent over his ID information — nothing else.

She had been hit with an impact unlike any other she’d experienced.

After a long internal struggle, Lin Tao put voice to the question that had been building in her heart — but she waited and waited, and no reply came from the great one.

She decided the great one must be fuming and mortified.

That had to be it.

The Haicheng trip was quickly finalized. A group of seven, with Lin’s father’s help, successfully boarded a flight to Haicheng on the second day of the holiday.

Haicheng was far from Xixi City.

The flight took over seven hours, landing at Haicheng airport shortly after four in the afternoon. Stepping out of the plane, they were met by warm air — humid and heated, carrying what felt like traces of the sea.

Haicheng had a tropical climate — warm year-round, with a more intense heat in summer. All seven of them had changed into summer clothes before boarding.

Talking and laughing, the seven of them went to collect their luggage. They weren’t traveling for too short a time but not too long either — Lin Tao and Meng Xin each dragged a large suitcase.

The five boys between them had three bags in total.

Lin Tao stood by the luggage conveyor waiting for her bag. Jiang Yan stood to her left, head down, looking at his phone.

The boy was in a white T-shirt and black trousers, a black earphone cord looped around his chest. He seemed a little drowsy — his eyelids heavy, his manner tired.

“Are you sleepy?”

“Hm?” Jiang Yan raised his eyes to look at her — reddened eye corners, his voice thick with fatigue. “Yeah. Sleepy. Very sleepy.”

“…”

Lin Tao’s bag was the last to come out. As the conveyor brought it over, she leaned down and reached for it.

The person beside her had already reached over first — lifted the suitcase off, pulled out the handle, and stood it beside himself. “Let’s go.”

“…Okay.”

The airport was some distance from the beachside villa they’d booked. Lin’s father had arranged everything in advance, including a minibus waiting outside the airport.

Coming out of the airport, they saw on the other side of the road a minibus in an unmistakably beach-resort style, both in shape and color.

And the driver and tour guide standing beside it, wearing floral shirts and floral shorts.

Lin Tao had no idea what her father had said to arrange this — but when she saw the two of them holding up a banner that read “Warmly Welcoming Seven Young Friends to Haicheng!”, she really, really wanted to drag her father out and…

Actually, no. Her father controlled the family finances. She couldn’t just drag him out willy-nilly.

Under the collective gaze of everyone in the airport arrivals hall, the seven of them hurried onto the bus.

The vehicle had eight seats including the driver and front passenger seats.

Lin Tao and Jiang Yan were the last to board — and with impressive silent coordination, the other six had left the back row for the two of them.

Lin Tao got on and looked back at Jiang Yan following behind her, hesitating slightly. “Do you want me to swap with Guan Che?”

“…”

Jiang Yan’s jaw tightened slightly. He regarded her with calm, distant eyes — saying nothing.

Lin Tao suddenly understood that expression of the great one’s.

Keep a low profile.

Right.

Out and about — keep a low profile.

Around people — keep a low profile.

Lin Tao said nothing more. She walked quickly to the back row and sat down. Jiang Yan followed and sat beside her.

The space suddenly felt very close.

Lin Tao didn’t notice it at first — until the minibus rounded a sharp corner and she couldn’t help tilting sideways.

Their legs came into full contact, no gap at all.

Lin Tao had changed into denim shorts before boarding the flight — two long legs bare, pale and straight, the curve of her knees clean and neat, calves soft and without a trace of muscle definition.

And now, in the minibus making its unhurried way along the asphalt road —

Every sharp turn had her brushing against Jiang Yan — knee catching the edge of his trouser leg, calf pressing to his calf.

Intimate. Charged with something unspoken.

At yet another sharp turn, Lin Tao was in the middle of thinking about something, hadn’t paid attention, and simply fell sideways into Jiang Yan’s lap — her arm pressed into his waist, her cheek against the warmth of his chest.

In her ear: a steady heartbeat.

“…I think this driver doesn’t know how to drive.” Lin Tao quickly sat up straight, brushed the stray strands from her cheek to the back of her head, an involuntary flush of pink warming her face.

Jiang Yan turned to look at her, and gave a low sound of assent.

The days were long and blazing in Haicheng. Even the afternoon sun was fierce, the light brilliant. Outside the window, tropical trees blurred and streaked past.

The few sitting in the front rows had put on earphones and eye masks as soon as they boarded and were asleep.

Lin Tao had slept on the plane and wasn’t drowsy, leaning against the headrest watching the scenery flash past outside — and then felt a sudden weight on her shoulder.

“…”

Lin Tao went completely still.

She shifted her gaze over slowly. Jiang Yan had fallen asleep at some point — his head resting on her shoulder, cheek pressed against it.

The light outside gave his soft dark hair a warm glow, and with the movement of the bus it would brush lightly against the curve of her neck — a small, faint sensation, soft and buzzing.

From this angle, she couldn’t see his expression.

The boy was asleep deeply — his fingers crossed and resting on his stomach, his knuckles pronounced and pale, the veins on the back of his hand clear, his nails neatly trimmed.

The space between the seats was narrow. His legs were slightly bent, the hem of his dark shorts shifting upward a little.

Lin Tao looked, quietly, and then quietly looked away. The faint scent of mint lingered around her.

Outside, the light was full and generous, tree shadows swaying gently, the sea wind warm and pleasant, the sky freshly washed blue, without a single cloud.

The interior of the minibus was hushed and still.

Lin Tao could hear her own heartbeat.

One beat, and then another.

As though it had lost its rhythm.

More than two hours later, the minibus stopped in front of a villa.

The sun had long begun its descent, pulling back its brilliant light. The whole sky was wrapped in dusk, the evening clouds vivid and magnificent.

The seven of them climbed out of the bus and stood in the fading light.

Lin Tao was the last one off. She’d fallen asleep herself in the second half of the journey — and woke up to find she’d been using Jiang Yan’s shoulder as a pillow.

The person who had been asleep before her had apparently woken up at some point, and was now head down, playing on his phone.

Lin Tao lowered her eyes and glanced at his screen.

“…”

He was scrolling through physics problems.

What kind of monster was he.

Lin Tao was so genuinely startled that she sat bolt upright, her voice still carrying the soft, slightly blurred quality of someone just woken. “Jiang Yan — I’m starting to believe you actually earned that competition first place yourself.”

“…”

Jiang Yan’s eyes stayed low, long lashes slowly descending, having just caught up on some sleep, a hint of languid ease in his manner. The corner of his lips curved — a quiet, barely-there laugh.

He didn’t say anything, just put his phone away and looked at Lin Tao.

Lin Tao looked up and met his light, pale gaze. For a moment she didn’t know what to say — her lips parted slightly, and no sound came out.

The two of them fell quiet again.

From the front seats came the sounds of Xu Yichuan and the others playing a game, and Hu Hanghang endlessly chatting with the tour guide.

Lin Tao felt more and more that something was wrong with herself.

She had just been looking at Jiang Yan. Just looking. And in that one instant, her heart had jumped completely out of control, racing off to some erratic, rapid tempo all its own.

And before that.

That twilight corridor after the exams, the boy bent forward over her, asking her — in that slow, low voice — whether she listened to her deskmate.

That time too, for a moment, her heart had run off the rails. Her whole mind had gone blank, as though whatever he said was simply what was.

This was too strange.

Lin Tao had sat beside boys before — it wasn’t the first time. But every single one had given her the same feeling: just a classmate, and at most, just a deskmate.

Jiang Yan was different.

He was classmate, deskmate — and more often, a friend.

And then what.

She was someone for whom being in this person’s presence could send her heart spiking to some unimaginable speed. This was almost impossible to believe.

Lin Tao was not a slow person.

She thought she probably already knew the reason for all of this.

After a long exhale, Lin Tao looked away, dug her phone out of her bag, and began tapping the screen rapidly with her pale, slender fingers.

Jiang Yan only saw her open WeChat and send a message.

Half an hour later, Fang Yisong had just come out of a meeting and returned to her office. She picked up her phone and saw a WeChat message from Lin Tao —

Mom, do you know any cardiologists?

(Author’s note: — Yan-ge: … — Yan-ge: get your eyes checked, I think — Today’s also-nearly-driven-to-death Yan-ge 🙂 )