His Secret Crush
Four hours later, the match ended.
Unfortunately, the fighter Jiang Zhuoye supported and loved the most lost.
Jiang Zhuoye had practically shouted his voice raw, but there was no comeback. In the end, the fighter was sadly defeated. After being knocked out, he didn’t get back up even ten seconds later.
The arena erupted in painful cries.
Standing in the stands, Jiang Zhuoye watched the figure slowly get up on the stage, and a deep sense of loss hit him.
He didn’t howl along with the crowd, but when he saw the fighter he’d liked since high school slowly wave to the audience and smile apologetically, his nose even felt a little sore.
Because of that, he was in low spirits after the crowd dispersed. He bought himself a can of iced cola from a vending machine outside. Even after getting into Bo Yun’s car, he was still quiet, drinking his cola in silence.
Bo Yun drove slowly, occasionally glancing at him from the corner of his eye.
It was rare for them to sit together this calmly.
Even after getting married, they hadn’t spent much time alone.
After hours of watching the match, the grassy and lily-of-the-valley scent on Jiang Zhuoye had faded a lot, mixed with a bit of sweat, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
The night breeze flowed in through the slightly open window, lifting Jiang Zhuoye’s red bangs. His bright eyes now looked dull and droopy, like a wronged puppy.
Bo Yun turned his wrist slightly.
He really wasn’t used to such a quiet Jiang Zhuoye.
“Are you that upset?” he asked.
Jiang Zhuoye really wanted to roll his eyes at him. Such a heartless question really did sound like something Bo Yun would ask.
But that day he didn’t have the energy to argue. He just gave a low “mm.”
Since the date was arranged by Bo Yun, he pursed his lips and still explained a bit more to this cold-blooded man.
“Because Kane is retiring this year,” Jiang Zhuoye sighed softly. “At the end of the year, he’ll have one last match in T Country. That’ll be his retirement fight.”
“I’ve liked him since my first year of high school. He wasn’t always this famous. He worked really hard to fight his way out of the slums. It’s hard to accept a hero growing old. I can accept him retiring, but I want him to have a better ending. I want him to face his last matches properly and look back on his whole career with pride.”
“Now that he’s lost this match, the next one is even more important. The pressure on him will be huge.”
Jiang Zhuoye’s voice was low. He blinked, and maybe because the lights ahead were too bright, his eyes even looked a little wet.
Bo Yun wasn’t good at comforting people, especially since he couldn’t really share Jiang Zhuoye’s feelings.
Winning and losing were normal in competition.
He thought that the moment a fighter stepped into the ring, they should already be prepared for failure.
But he didn’t like the gloomy look on Jiang Zhuoye’s face right now.
The red light passed, and Bo Yun stepped on the gas.
He said, “I don’t know the fighter you like, but maybe he can accept this better than you. He chose to step into the ring, so he knew losing was a possibility. Besides, do these losses erase what he achieved before? Would you stop admiring him because of this?”
Jiang Zhuoye froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected Bo Yun to show some humanity for once and actually comfort him.
But Bo Yun’s side profile was still cold, with no warmth to it.
Jiang Zhuoye chuckled softly. “You’re right. But who doesn’t want a perfect ending?”
Still, there was no point dwelling on it. The match was over, and at least for that night, everything was settled.
Bo Yun glanced at Jiang Zhuoye’s disappointed face from the corner of his eye.
He should have driven straight ahead, but instead, he turned left.
“Do you want a late-night snack?” he asked.
“Huh?”
Jiang Zhuoye looked confused and hadn’t reacted yet.
“There’s a late-night place I know that’s pretty good,” Bo Yun said quietly. “Want to go?”
Jiang Zhuoye stared at him for a moment, then slowly smiled.
“What,” he asked lightly, “you saw I was in a bad mood and want to comfort me with food?”
He added softly, “That’s kind of old-fashioned.”
Bo Yun didn’t deny it. His eyes stayed on the road ahead. “More or less.”
He slowed the car and asked again, “So are you up to it?”
“Yes.”
Jiang Zhuoye rolled down the window. The damp summer air rushed in, filling his breath with the smell of plants.
Looking at the passing scenery and the starry sky above, he said lazily, “Someone’s treating me to food. Why would I refuse?”
The corner of Bo Yun’s mouth moved almost imperceptibly.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jiang Zhuoye leaning against the window. The streetlights lit up his face, even his eyelashes tinted red-gold.
Looking ahead, Bo Yun suddenly thought of his high school days, when young couples would gather in small groups, waiting to go on dates together, waiting to eat late-night snacks.
Back then, he had watched those boys and girls full of young desire and thought they were boring, stupid, their hormones floating in the air, polluting it.
But now he was driving a sports car, with Jiang Zhuoye sitting beside him.
And he thought that back when Jiang Zhuoye was in high school, there were probably plenty of people waiting stubbornly at the school gate, just hoping he would spare them a glance.
….
Bo Yun took Jiang Zhuoye to a seafood place. It wasn’t in a tall building, but hidden inside a quiet residential area.
Once inside, though, it opened up. The space was large, and even at midnight there were many customers. The place was full, and they were only given a small table by the window.
Jiang Zhuoye found it pretty surprising. It was hard to imagine Bo Yun eating in such a noisy place.
Bo Yun really looked like a stiff, over-polished elite type.
Jiang Zhuoye didn’t mind. He’d often gone out for late-night skewers with classmates in high school and college.
After sitting down, he flipped through the menu and asked, “How did you even find this place?”
Seeing how busy it was, it had to be a well-known old shop.
But it didn’t even have a sign. The outside was dark. How would Bo Yun know about it? It couldn’t be that his secretary found it.
Bo Yun checked a few items on the menu and said casually, “I passed by once. It had just opened, so I came in and had a clay pot congee. It tasted good. After that, I often had my secretary order takeaway from here.”
As he said that, he looked up at Jiang Zhuoye.
It had actually only been last year. He’d come back before the Spring Festival, but Jiang Zhuoye hadn’t been home—and hadn’t even come with his parents to visit.
He suddenly had nothing to do, driving aimlessly on the road, when he happened to come across this old shop.
“Is that so.” Jiang Zhuoye didn’t think much of it, carefully picking out seafood. “I’ll have charcoal-grilled oysters, hmm, also a portion of red shrimp, and some marinated raw stuff too.”
Bo Yun was genuinely worried whether his stomach could handle it.
But seeing Jiang Zhuoye so serious, a pen spinning quickly between his fingers, looking even more focused than in class, he could only shake his head helplessly.
Cooking would take some time, and a timer in the shape of an hourglass was placed on the table.
Jiang Zhuoye fiddled with the hourglass. His eyes followed the flowing sand, not looking at Bo Yun.
After a moment, he spoke softly: “I originally thought going on a date with you would be really boring.”
Bo Yun lifted his eyes from his phone and looked at Jiang Zhuoye.
Jiang Zhuoye tapped the hourglass again, sat up a little straighter, and smiled at Bo Yun.
“I thought you’d take me to work, have me sit beside you in your office watching movies or playing games while you handle work, even order dinner as takeout, and as long as I stayed for three hours, it would count as a date.”
He had even picked the movie he wanted to watch before coming out, not bothering to negotiate with Bo Yun.
Bo Yun thought: indeed, that does sound like something he would do.
But he said: “I’m not that work-obsessed.”
He put down his phone, looked directly at Jiang Zhuoye, and asked, “So, do you feel bored today?”
Jiang Zhuoye raised an eyebrow, recalling the roaring crowd in the arena earlier.
“Not really.”
He stretched out the words, but his eyes held a hint of a smile. “Barely satisfied.”
Which really meant he was quite satisfied.
Bo Yun translated that silently in his mind.
Soon, the seafood claypot congee arrived, filled with crabs, fresh shrimp, abalone, the aroma rich, the steam hitting their faces.
Jiang Zhuoye served himself a small bowl and tasted it, nodding in approval.
“Not bad.”
He slowly sipped the piping hot congee, looking past the chandelier at Bo Yun.
They rarely sat together so peacefully and harmoniously.
He still found it hard to believe that he was actually married to Bo Yun.
The person who once looked down on him, arrogant and cold, was now sitting across from him, sharing a steaming bowl of seafood congee.
It was almost surreal.
Jiang Zhuoye thought.
He took another sip, then suddenly said to Bo Yun: “Do you remember? You actually took me out for a late-night snack when I was a kid too.”
Bo Yun didn’t remember. He paused and asked, “When?”
Jiang Zhuoye guessed, lightly humming: “When I was in elementary school, you were in high school. One time I did badly on a test and didn’t want to go home, so I stayed at school, and even the driver couldn’t convince me to leave. You happened to pass by, told the driver to go ahead, and said you’d take me home.”
That year, he was only ten, and Bo Yun was eighteen.
He was still small, while Bo Yun already had the presence of an adult—tall, handsome, composed, and able to pick him up easily with a single hug.
That was also one of the brief times Bo Yun had been kind to him.
Thinking of this, Jiang Zhuoye felt a bit heavy-hearted, though he didn’t show it, instead letting out a soft laugh at Bo Yun: “You were so stingy as a senior. You took me to that little Hong Kong-style snack stall by the school gate, ordered fish balls, egg waffles, and a hot cocoa for me.”
But the fish balls and egg waffles tasted good, so he ended up buying them often later.
Bo Yun really didn’t remember. Ten years ago felt so far away.
He looked at Jiang Zhuoye: “And then?”
Jiang Zhuoye shrugged: “Nothing after that. You were more attentive back then than now. When I told you I did badly on a test, you’d give me a good luck charm, saying it would bring me luck and I’d do much better next time, and then you’d take me home.”
It was a total kids’ trick, but he believed it at the time.
Bo Yun drove him home, and he always clung to Bo Yun’s hand reluctantly along the way.
Bo Yun, in his white school uniform shirt, would sit upright in the car, bending slightly to speak to him, looking just like a prince from a fairy tale.
Jiang Zhuoye’s eyelashes drooped further.
Even after so many years, he still remembered Bo Yun sending him home, saying goodnight under the garden lights.
For the next six years, with Bo Yun studying abroad, he could only see him occasionally—his “fiancé,” that outstanding, dazzling, coldly elegant prodigy in everyone else’s eyes.
Bo Yun became more impressive each year—finishing his studies with double degrees, joining the family business, bouncing back quickly after his father passed, becoming the Bo family’s most admired heir.
Perhaps no one would ever know.
Before he met Ryan, before he truly had a first love that made his heart ache, he had secretly watched Bo Yun’s back.
Who doesn’t feel a bit of innocent affection at some point?
The handsome, poised young man who drew attention even while quietly reading by the window was his fiancé.
Bo Yun even wore a red thread on his hand, the same as his, proof of their engagement back then.
Outwardly, he didn’t care, but inside he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction.
So what if others admired Bo Yun? This unattainable man was bound to him by an unbreakable marriage contract.
He allowed himself a little fantasy:
That Bo Yun would smile at him.
That he could act childish and Bo Yun would tolerate it.
That he could clash with Bo Yun, yet Bo Yun would see him differently.
But he knew such thoughts were immature and foolish.
Fortunately, it was only a fleeting fantasy from when he was fourteen or fifteen. Soon, Bo Yun shattered all illusions.
He became very aware that Bo Yun was truly a cold, ruthless man.
Yet, on nights like this when they sat peacefully together, he couldn’t help but be a little curious.
Did Bo Yun even have the “love nerve”? If not for this accidental wedding, would Bo Yun be gentle and considerate to anyone else?
Jiang Zhuoye’s expression was complex, a bit scrutinizing as he looked at Bo Yun across from him.
He asked: “Do you remember that night you ran into me, and there was a female classmate with you? Was she your girlfriend at the time?”
Bo Yun raised an eyebrow.
“What the hell?”
“Never happened,” he said coldly, “I never had any close female classmates.”
Jiang Zhuoye wasn’t pleased: “You’re lying. I remember that girl clearly. She was tall and pretty, wearing the same school uniform as you, high ponytail, walked with you, and even gave me candy because I was your neighbor.”
He bit the tip of his chopstick, glancing meaningfully at Bo Yun: “She was your girlfriend, right? Stop denying it. I remember you told her to go home first, and she was unhappy.”
Bo Yun denied firmly: “Impossible. I never dated anyone in high school.”
This guy really is stubborn…
Jiang Zhuoye thought.
He hadn’t lied; there was indeed a female classmate with Bo Yun, but Bo Yun’s attitude was cold—he said she wasn’t his girlfriend, and he believed it.
But he insisted on digging deeper.
“Fine, let’s say she wasn’t,” Jiang Zhuoye said, putting a piece of meat in his mouth, watching Bo Yun. “But you’ve dated people since, right? I’ve never had a partner, but you must have had one, two, three… maybe seven relationships.”
He had told Fang Chen and the others he wasn’t interested in Bo Yun romantically.
But in this dimly lit restaurant, he felt a bit curious.
Bo Yun put down his chopsticks and asked him: “Why do you think that?”
Because you have a cruel, fickle, and heartless face.
Looks like you’ve gone through love affairs seven times and got splashed with wine by girls.
Jiang Zhuoye thought to himself.
But on his face, he gave a small smile, offering some polite words: “I’m not entirely clueless about you. I heard from your grandfather that girls confessed to you at home in high school. And also, 28 and no romantic experience, that’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?”
Jiang Zhuoye sipped his sparkling water but kept watching Bo Yun.
“But I really can’t imagine anyone putting up with your sharpness,” he couldn’t resist telling some truth. “Which girl could tolerate your biting personality? It’s not Stockholm syndrome.”
Bo Yun heard this, but didn’t get angry.
Under the dim yellow light, he looked at Jiang Zhuoye’s face.
Jiang Zhuoye’s lips were on the glass rim, with plums in his sparkling water and a slice of lemon. His red lips were moist from the condensation.
And Jiang Zhuoye openly assessed him, thinking ill of him in his mind.
Bo Yun looked at Jiang Zhuoye, corner of his mouth lifting slightly—whether it was a smirk or a mock, it was unclear: “Is that so? What does it matter to you? Even if I had relationships, would you get jealous? Don’t worry, at least before marrying you, my side is clean. Otherwise, not just you, my grandfather wouldn’t allow it either.”
Bo Yun lowered his head and drank water, though he actually wanted a bit of alcohol.
Jiang Zhuoye, unsurprisingly, got a little annoyed.
“You…”
Truly incomprehensible, impervious to reason.
But he thought for a moment, held back his temper, and gave Bo Yun a slight eye-roll.
“I told you, we’re incompatible,” he said coldly, “Do you even know what small talk is? We’re eating a late-night snack, asking a bit of gossip. If you don’t like to talk, just don’t.”
After that, he ignored Bo Yun, lowered his head unhappily, focused on eating, picky as ever, even picking out ginger slices from the congee.
Bo Yun quietly watched him for a while.
He glanced at the other diners. In this lively late-night food stall, there were many couples on dates, but unlike the tense, silent atmosphere at their table, these couples were all lively, smiling, and attentive to each other.
Everyone knew how to please the one they loved.
Everyone received the affection of their beloved.
“I once liked someone.”
Bo Yun spoke suddenly, his voice a little softer than usual, like a fragile bubble about to burst in the air.
Jiang Zhuoye was still checking his bowl for ginger slices and didn’t hear clearly at first.
When he realized what Bo Yun had said, he quickly lifted his head.
In principle, he wasn’t willing to engage with Bo Yun.
But gossip made him curious.
He hesitated for two seconds, then asked: “And then?”
Bo Yun’s expression didn’t change; he remained calm, his gaze fixed on Jiang Zhuoye: “Nothing else. I didn’t confess. It just ended like that.”
Huh?
What kind of story was that?
A complete anticlimax.
Jiang Zhuoye felt like he’d been listening to nothing at all. If this were a novel, he would have declared the author impotent.
He muttered in frustration: “You’re so dismissive. That’s your entire romantic experience? That’s nothing compared to mine—I’ve even told you about my first love.”
He looked at Bo Yun skeptically: “No way, you can’t have only had that one. Tell me more.”
He didn’t believe it.
Even saying it aloud sounded lame.
“Other than that, no comment.”
Bo Yun said calmly.
“But knowing I failed at my crush made you happy, right?” Jiang Zhuoye retorted.
Jiang Zhuoye immediately realized this, and forgetting his earlier annoyance, his expression shifted to one of glee.
Well, Bo Yun had experienced a failed crush too.
That really was worth noting.
He just didn’t know this “brave warrior”; otherwise, he would have gone to present a banner praising them for their heroic effort.
But he couldn’t resist asking further, blinking rapidly, staring intently at Bo Yun: “Who did you have a crush on? Do I know them?”
He was genuinely curious and wanted to meet this person who had caused Bo Yun such anxiety.
Bo Yun read the gleeful mischief on Jiang Zhuoye’s face.
So sly, like a little fox staring at him, yet somehow hard to be angry at.
“I already said no comment.” Bo Yun said, his gaze falling on Jiang Zhuoye’s hand, where they both wore their wedding rings on their left ring fingers.
It was also part of their agreement, a symbol of mutual loyalty.
He added: “He was very childish, ridiculous, and carefree. If I could, I wouldn’t have liked him at all.”