After tormenting himself all day, Ji Ran returned home in the evening, exhausted. He slumped onto the sofa in silence.
Ran Qingshuang, who had just finished shopping with her girlfriends, pushed open the door to find her son sitting on the sofa in the dark living room, head bowed and lost in thought, looking as dejected as if he had just been through a breakup.
“Son, did you get dumped?” Ran Qingshuang turned on the living room light and quickly sat down beside Ji Ran, her voice full of concern.
“No,” Ji Ran sighed softly, a rare occurrence. “He didn’t come today.”
“Oh, he probably took a day off,” Ran Qingshuang said with a laugh, hooking her arm around Ji Ran’s shoulder. “It’s just one day, look at you. You should smile more.”
As she spoke, she pressed two fingers against the corners of Ji Ran’s mouth and lifted them upward, forcing a stiff, awkward smile onto his face.
“Smile more, and maybe he’ll start liking you.”
“Mm,” Ji Ran nodded. “He smiles a lot.”
Ran Qingshuang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, feeling her son’s answer was completely off-topic. She sighed helplessly, “Alright, I get it. The girl you like smiles a lot.”
Ji Ran didn’t respond, silently correcting her in his mind: Not a girl.
“You don’t mind me dating so young?” Ji Ran asked.
Ran Qingshuang burst out laughing, “Your mom dated early too! What’s the big deal?”
“But you’re turning eighteen in half a month. Mom hopes you can make your own judgments. You’re still in school, and I… I don’t want you to have regrets.”
Her voice choked up as she finished. She had always considered herself carefree when it came to relationships—able to pick them up and let them go easily. She and Ji Chen had loved passionately once, and now they parted amicably, living happily apart. But today, looking at her son, she suddenly felt a pang of regret.
Her son still didn’t know she and Ji Chen were already divorced.
Seeing Ran Qingshuang’s eyes red and brimming with tears, Ji Ran could only reach out and hug her.
He wasn’t good at comforting people. All he could offer was his presence.
For the first time, Ran Qingshuang found herself being comforted by her son. She clung to him, abandoning all decorum as she broke down in tears. “Your dad is so handsome! How could he be such a jerk? How? I, Ran Qingshuang, just wanted to find a handsome guy! Is that so wrong?”
“Maybe,” Ji Ran said thoughtfully, “you should get a divorce.”
Ran Qingshuang froze completely. “You want me to divorce him?”
“Yeah,” Ji Ran gently patted her back. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.” Then he turned and walked back to his bedroom.
If he guessed correctly, his parents had probably already agreed to divorce, and Ms. Ran Qingshuang had generously chosen not to take him.
But what did it matter?
He hoped Ms. Ran Qingshuang could always just be herself.
Xu Yan hadn’t come to class for four days in a row.
Teenagers could never suppress their curiosity, so rumors began to spread wildly through the class.
“Hey, Yang, do you know why Xu Yan hasn’t been coming to class?” Sun Rui plopped down on Xu Yan’s desk as soon as class ended, stretching out an arm to pat Qiu Muyang, who was buried in his homework.
“What?” Qiu Muyang looked up, startled by Sun Rui’s expression.
Sun Rui’s face was twisted, mouth askew and eyes squinted, wearing a smirk that was almost a grimace. Combined with how close he was leaning in, he looked like a hobbit in Qiu Muyang’s eyes.
“Don’t get so close to me,” Qiu Muyang pushed Sun Rui away impatiently. “Why do you care so much?”
These past few days, Sun Rui had been constantly pestering him for information about Xu Yan, whether there was a reason or not. The endless questions left him inexplicably irritated—he felt Sun Rui was paying far too much attention to Xu Yan.
“You really don’t know?” Sun Rui raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the closest to him?”
Qiu Muyang’s brow furrowed. “We are close, but whether he comes or not is his private matter. I’m not that curious to dig into it. If he’s not here, he must have his reasons. Stop asking.”
“Tch, do you really think he considers us friends?” Sun Rui said with a hint of disdain. “Has he ever reached out to you during holidays?”
Qiu Muyang let out a cold laugh. “I can reach out to Yanzi myself.” With that, he turned back to his homework, ignoring Sun Rui.
Having made no headway, Sun Rui, seeing Qiu Muyang’s indifference, went straight to the point. “The news about Xu Yan’s family has been spreading around our neighborhood. That night, police cars showed up downstairs at his place. They say he had his own father sent to jail. You really didn’t know?”
Qiu Muyang: “…”
Why should he know?
“Get off his desk.” Ji Ran had just returned from the restroom when he noticed the unwelcome visitor on Xu Yan’s desk. Suppressing his anger, he walked coldly over to Sun Rui, pulled out his own chair, and tossed out the words.
Sun Rui shivered from the chill in his tone and quickly scurried away.
Ji Ran stared at Xu Yan’s desk, then calmly took out a tissue and silently wiped it spotless.
After the second class ended, Xu Yan walked into the classroom wearing a mask, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
It was the long break between classes, and not a single person was in the room. The classroom was eerily quiet, broken only by Xu Yan’s faint coughing.
It was early November, and the temperature had dropped sharply. Busy taking care of Xu Yao, Xu Yan hadn’t paid enough attention and had caught a cold.
After two days of fever, he’d rushed to school as soon as he felt slightly better, braving the cold wind. But as soon as he sat down at his desk, his headache returned.
Too hasty—he should’ve taken one more day off. That’s what Xu Yan thought, but his hands were already rummaging through his desk, pulling out stack after stack of test papers.
“Hahaha, it’s only been a week.” Xu Yan laughed loudly, though his eyes held no light. Flipping through the papers, he noticed something familiar tucked behind each one—Ji Ran’s notes.
The handwriting was neat and precise, in beautiful regular script. For a moment, Xu Yan felt his headache vanish. He could take on these papers for three hundred rounds!
“Yanzi! Damn! You’re back!” Qiu Muyang returned from the break exercises and spotted Xu Yan with his head buried in his arms on the desk. Excited, he rushed over and pulled Xu Yan up by the collar.
Xu Yan’s drowsiness vanished instantly. Looking weary, he tugged the back of his collar free from Qiu Muyang’s grip.
“What’s up?” Xu Yan yawned, his voice sounding like a worn-out bellows—hoarse and raspy.
“Are you sick?” Qiu Muyang asked, hearing his voice, then reached out to feel Xu Yan’s forehead. “Thank goodness, no fever.”
“Almost better… cough…” Before he could finish, an unbearable itch rose in Xu Yan’s throat, and he couldn’t help but cough.
“Drink some warm water.” As Xu Yan coughed, a thermos appeared in front of him—handed to him by Ji Ran.
Xu Yan took it, startled, and took a sip, gradually calming down.
Then another cool, large hand covered his forehead again. He heard Ji Ran say, “You’re still a bit warm. Should I go with you to the infirmary again?”
Xu Yan remained silent for a moment before immediately insisting, “I’m definitely fine! I’m not going to the infirmary. It’s just that I can’t stand you guys taking turns touching me like this! Stop touching me!”
Taking turns touching his forehead—what a bunch of weirdos.
“Alright, alright, we’re just worried about you, aren’t we?” Qiu Muyang chuckled, then, as if remembering something, said mischievously, “This week, we covered new lessons and did test papers, so there are a lot of notes. Do you want my notes? Call me ‘Dad’ and I’ll lend them to you.”
“No need, Ji Ran already let me copy his,” Xu Yan replied hoarsely.
“What?” Qiu Muyang was full of confusion. He glanced at Ji Ran, then turned to Xu Yan and asked, “Can you even read the top student’s handwriting?”
After all, Ji Ran’s messy, cursive scrawl had been publicly displayed by the Chinese teacher on the projector last time—it was hard to forget.
“What do you mean, can’t read it?” Xu Yan pulled out a neatly written, clearly organized draft paper with a puzzled expression. Qiu Muyang’s jaw dropped instantly.
“Wait, you’re telling me this is Ji Ran’s handwriting?”
“Yeah. What’s the problem?” Xu Yan nodded, completely failing to understand Qiu Muyang’s shock. Ever since the last monthly exam, Ji Ran’s notes had all looked like this. Was it really that surprising?
Qiu Muyang stared at the draft paper as he spoke, “No problem, great, really well written.”
As he spoke, Qiu Muyang smiled, but inside, his heart was shattered. Who could understand the pain of studying Ji Ran’s messy scrawl for hours when he borrowed the notes last time? Who could understand!
Qiu Muyang looked at Ji Ran, who appeared calm and aloof as usual, and silently cursed in his heart: Hypocrite.
“Mhm. You don’t need his.” Ji Ran remembered what Ran Qingshuang had said and, completely ignoring Qiu Muyang’s disdainful look, smiled gently at Xu Yan.
Smile more. Maybe that person will like you too.
Xu Yan happened to look up and meet Ji Ran’s smile. He felt that his previous understanding of Ji Ran had been off—Ji Ran wasn’t cold at all. Once you got to know him, he was easy to get along with.
So he replied brightly, “Thank you, Ji Ran!”
“You’re welcome.”
He wanted Xu Yan to owe him even more, to bring their relationship even closer—closer than Qiu Muyang’s.
“Ji Ran, give me your hand.” To repay Ji Ran for letting him copy the notes, Xu Yan dug out the fruit candy he had prepared earlier to cheer up Xu Yao and gently placed it in Ji Ran’s palm.
“Fruit candy. It’s very sweet. I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“I like it.” Ji Ran slowly closed his palm. He thought, How could I not like it? I like anything Xu Yan gives me.
“Wait, I don’t get any?” Qiu Muyang exclaimed in shock.
In this three-person dynamic, was he just the backup?
“Oh, right,” Xu Yan lowered his head and searched, then smiled awkwardly. “There’s none left, Yang’er.”
Qiu Muyang was speechless.
Another hypocrite.
By the afternoon, Xu Yan was in a terrible state.
He kept taking off his mask to drink water, but his lips were still so dry they peeled layer after layer. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, with occasional ringing in his ears.
The teacher on the podium was speaking passionately, but all Xu Yan could hear was: “Buzz… buzz… buzz.”
Xu Yan muttered quietly, “Buzz, buzz, buzz. Why don’t you just fly around like a little bee?”
“Hmm?” Ji Ran tilted his head and saw Xu Yan’s eyes glistening, his entire demeanor seeming off, his pupils even appearing somewhat unfocused.
“Xu Yan.” Ji Ran called softly, but in Xu Yan’s ears, it sounded like a muffled hum.
“What did you say, Ji Ran?” Xu Yan looked up at him, but Ji Ran’s figure grew blurry before his eyes—he could no longer see clearly.
“Teacher, Xu Yan isn’t feeling well. I’ll take him to the infirmary.” Without waiting for the teacher’s approval, Ji Ran lifted Xu Yan’s limp arm and hoisted him onto his back.
“Hmm?” Xu Yan’s mind couldn’t process what was happening anymore. He could only instinctively lean against Ji Ran’s shoulder, letting out faint, muffled groans.
“Ji Ran, I feel awful.”
“We’ll be at the infirmary soon,” Ji Ran said, quickening his pace.
Xu Yan couldn’t hear Ji Ran’s words clearly and grew anxious. He muttered softly, “Talk to me.”
“I’m here,” Ji Ran replied.
“Talk to me, please. I feel so terrible.” Unable to tell whether Ji Ran had responded, Xu Yan continued on his own, “They’re so strange—blaming me for calling the police, blaming me for being immature.”
“Blaming me for not taking good care of Xu Yao.”
“Blaming me for talking back.”
“Blaming me for being sick.”
“It’s their fault,” Ji Ran replied calmly, sensing faintly that Xu Yan was crying on his shoulder.
Still unable to hear Ji Ran’s words clearly, Xu Yan said with a hint of grievance, “But I’m only seventeen.”
People seem to become especially fragile when they’re sick. The emotions Xu Yan had suppressed for days now completely unraveled. He leaned silently against Ji Ran’s shoulder, his body trembling with quiet sobs.
“Drip—” Ji Ran felt a teardrop fall onto the nape of his neck.