Nan Zhiyi followed You Xin home as if sleepwalking.
You Xin’s place was a standalone, single-story house, maybe four or five separate rooms plus an attic. The interior was plain, with none of that cozy warmth, only the faintest trace of being lived in.
“…Is this your home?” Nan Zhiyi stood at the door, suitcase in hand, asking blankly.
“Mm.”
“A… rental?”
Seeing him stand there unmoving, You Xin walked over and took the suitcase from his hand. “My family bought it.”
Nan Zhiyi: “…………”
He felt he couldn’t keep standing in the doorway like a quail any longer, so he edged a small step inside and reached back to shut the door.
“Thank you, um, for taking me in.” After a long while, Nan Zhiyi managed dryly. “My phone got snatched on the way here.”
“The snatch-and-grab bike gangs are rampant around here.”
You Xin said it, then glanced at him. “Aren’t you going to come sit?”
Limbs uncoordinated, Nan Zhiyi made his way to one of the living room’s only two furnishings, the sofa, and sat down.
He stared at his suitcase set in the corner, belatedly remembering the files and inspiration notes on his phone he hadn’t had time to back up, and instantly felt his heart wrenched as if by a knife. “If I report it to the police, can I get it back… maybe?”
“It’ll be hard.” You Xin said. “If you stay here a bit longer, it’ll probably make it back to China before you do.”
“The last one of mine that got snatched ended up in Huaqiangbei [1] Shenzhen’s vast electronics gray-market district, where stolen phones get parted out jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2670426_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2670426_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); in about two months.”
Nan Zhiyi: “…………”
His whole world had died.
Nan Zhiyi collapsed limply onto the sofa. For a modern person, losing your phone was no different from losing your soul.
Especially in this exact situation, he couldn’t even lower his head and pretend to fiddle with his phone to cover his awkwardness.
But playing dead like this forever wasn’t a solution either.
Nan Zhiyi pretended to study the cover of some book on the coffee table while secretly sizing up You Xin out of the corner of his eye.
Three months out of sight, and this person didn’t seem to have changed dramatically, nothing like the “he’s completely fallen apart” descriptions in some online rumors. He looked far better than what Nan Zhiyi had imagined based on the information You Qing had given him.
Out of his team jersey, much of that “yux” keep-your-distance aura had dissipated.
Several streamers Nan Zhiyi was on good terms with had mentioned to him privately, when the subject of You Xin came up, that they found this Xiao You God a bit cold and aloof, the type who ignored people.
But the way Nan Zhiyi saw it, this counted as “acting cool” at most, the signature behavior of a little brat who hadn’t grown out of his teenage phase.
He then watched as this “little brat who hadn’t grown out of his teenage phase” produced a cigarette from who-knows-where and slipped it deftly between his lips.
You Xin pressed the lighter. He didn’t light it, his eyes fixed on Nan Zhiyi’s face. “Do you mind?”
Nan Zhiyi had no choice but to end his peeping.
Reason told him that whether or not the man smoked had nothing to do with him, but what ultimately came out of his mouth was, “You smoke?”
“Yeah.”
“…Didn’t you quit ages ago?”
The cigarette between his teeth, You Xin said in a muffled voice, “Felt like it again lately.”
Nan Zhiyi glared at him, momentarily at a loss for what to say.
After a good while, he seemed to make up his mind about something. “Could you not?”
“Sure.” You Xin readily complied, immediately putting away both cigarette and lighter.
The two stood off in silence a while longer.
“Actually, if there’s anything you want to ask, you can just ask me directly.” You Xin suddenly said.
Nan Zhiyi had still been working out how to broach it, and at this his train of thought stuttered straight off the rails.
“Uh, well.” He said. “Why are you here right now?”
You Xin: “I’m going to school here.”
Nan Zhiyi doubted his own ears.
“Language school.” Probably seeing the undisguised shock on his face, You Xin went on explaining. “My dad set it up. Since I only did one year of high school, I’ll have to do a foundation year afterward. He hopes I can—”
“No, no, no, no.” Nan Zhiyi cut him off.
What he wanted to hear right now was not all this jumbled explanation of academic systems, but—
“You Xin, you’re not about to tell me you’re actually planning to retire, are you?”
You Xin blinked.
He didn’t answer right away.
“You—” An unnamed fire surged and churned in Nan Zhiyi’s chest, and he stood up off the sofa without meaning to. “You vanish for three months without a word, don’t play matches, don’t grind ranked, run off to some godforsaken middle-of-nowhere, and now you tell me you’ve suddenly had a change of heart and want to go to school? Do you know how many people are worried about you? Do you know how frantic your fans are, not getting any news from you? You don’t log on, your phone’s off, some people are guessing you’re dead!”
“You… you’re not a kid anymore either. Could you maybe show a little sense of responsibility before you do things!”
Nan Zhiyi didn’t even know why he’d suddenly flared up so badly. His chest heaved, his heart slamming against his ribs again and again.
The finals three months ago felt like yesterday. The person on that stage had looked so unwilling to accept it, and now he was telling him he didn’t want to play anymore?
You Xin still didn’t speak.
He held the same posture as when he’d put the cigarette away a few minutes ago, hands in his pockets, not meeting Nan Zhiyi’s eyes directly, gaze slightly lowered.
After a good while, he actually let out a soft “pfft” of a laugh.
“Sorry.” He said it quickly.
Nan Zhiyi looked at him in disbelief. “Is what I said funny to you?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” You Xin drew his hands from his pockets. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying hard to wrestle his expression back to serious, and failing in the end. “Sorry… I didn’t expect you to care about me this much.”
For a moment Nan Zhiyi was floored by his talent for derailing the topic. He stood rooted in place, glare fixed on the man.
“Sorry.” You Xin apologized a third time, saying softly, “I’m not retiring. It’s a long story, you must be hungry by now, right? Let’s eat first, and I’ll explain slowly afterward, okay?”
He’d have been fine if he hadn’t mentioned it, the second he did, Nan Zhiyi suddenly felt ravenous.
He’d barely eaten before setting out today, and had only picked at the in-flight meal.
“Oh… okay.” Nan Zhiyi’s tone softened.
You Xin rolled up his sleeves. “There’s not much in the fridge, so we’ll have to make do for now.”
Only then did Nan Zhiyi realize that by “eat” he meant cooking himself.
He hurriedly said, “Don’t go to the trouble, just order takeout, anything’s fine. I’m not a picky eater.”
But You Xin’s resolve to cook seemed firm. “If you’d ever had the takeout near my place, you wouldn’t say that.”
He added, “It’ll be quick, under thirty minutes. If you’re bored, there are books to read in the study.”
You Xin changed his clothes and turned into the kitchen, leaving Nan Zhiyi alone in the empty living room.
Nan Zhiyi shrank back onto the sofa like a deflated ball.
He spaced out for a bit, then grabbed a random book from the ones spread on the coffee table, only to flip it open and find it was all gibberish.
He hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment, but looking back now, Nan Zhiyi felt struck by an incomparable wave of embarrassment.
The man had kindly taken him in, so why had he suddenly thrown a tantrum at him? Taking it back a hundred steps, even if You Xin really didn’t want to play anymore, in what capacity, and with what right, was he getting angry right now? As a fan frustrated that the iron wouldn’t become steel?
Nan Zhiyi didn’t know what was wrong with him either. He really wasn’t usually the type to lose his temper so easily.
“Hah…” He flipped idly through the pages, not taking in a single word.
You Xin didn’t leave Nan Zhiyi much time to brood. After going in and out of the kitchen a few times, an aroma soon spread through the house.
With one last clink of a bowl against the tabletop, You Xin called from the other end, “Food’s ready.”
Nan Zhiyi had no choice but to put down the book and get up, dragging his feet.
But the instant he turned around, he was stunned by the scene before him—
You Xin was standing by the dining table, wiping his hands with a wet wipe.
That was normal enough.
What wasn’t normal was that he’d already taken off the black hoodie from before, replaced by a black apron, its thin straps looped around his neck, the rest just barely covering a small patch of his front. The outer edges of his chest, his arms, his entire back, the lines of muscle were on full display, making it instantly clear the man had a workout habit.
On top of that, a silver necklace dangled at his chest, glinting and glinting, dazzling Nan Zhiyi’s eyes.
Nan Zhiyi felt his brain catch fire again. Only this time it wasn’t from anger.
“Why, why aren’t you wearing clothes?” he stammered.
You Xin looked at him, then looked down at himself.
“That shirt soaks up cooking grease.” He said, expression unchanged. “Sorry, I got used to living alone.”
Nan Zhiyi’s gaze darted everywhere except the man’s body, finally landing instinctively on the window outside.
He needed a reason to talk him into putting his shirt back on. “It’s winter right now… aren’t you cold?”
You Xin: “…”
You Xin: “I’ll go change.”
Author’s note:
If You Xin and Xiao Yi are both “pretending not to be close”, well, Xiao Yi genuinely isn’t, while You Xin is just pretending.
References[+]