“Song Song, seriously, what is going on with you? Are you planning to only be friends with Bei-huai Lu and stop hanging out with the three of us?”
“You haven’t replied to our messages for days, and you’re even standing up for Lu. What is that supposed to mean?”
“You even fought with Ming Zhou for him. You didn’t treat Lu like this before. You used to call him your dog and said he was after something of yours. Are you just going to let him openly go after you now?”
After PE class, Lu was called to the office by a teacher.
Song was left alone in the classroom, surrounded by the F3 trio, fighting a lonely battle.
He had just experienced a massive “social death” for an introvert and was currently in a state of self-imposed isolation.
He kept working on his problems while listening to the three of them chatter around his desk. Their gazes were intense, questioning why his attitude had changed so drastically.
He realized he had underestimated the complexity of the plot. He had only heard the main storyline from his sister and didn’t know the original “Qie Song” had such a complicated “bro-line” going on.
Now, his kindness toward Lu had triggered the collective anger of these three.
But he had never handled this kind of relationship before. What should he do?
Looking at the situation, the best way was to “keep the bowl level.” He had to be good to Lu, but he couldn’t let his relationship with these three break either. Even if he found a way to survive with Lu, he couldn’t ignore the powerful backgrounds of these three.
Finally, he sighed, stopped writing, and looked up at them:
“Brothers, I’m someone who has stared death in the face. As they say, a drop of kindness should be returned with a fountain. Lu saved me. If I still bullied him, God might get fed up and take me out in another car accident.”
Jingchu Xie leaned on Song’s desk, resting his head on his hand as he stared at him. “So, you’re just remembering that day? You think the three of us didn’t save you in time, so that’s why you’re being cold to us?”
“How could I?” Song gathered his courage, copying the “balanced treatment” skill he had observed in Lu. He picked up his pen and lightly tapped Xie’s forehead. “You guys are still my best brothers.”
Being tapped lightly by the pen and meeting Song’s slightly curved, smiling eyes, Xie felt a wave of numbness spread through half his body.
“What about me?”
Song pulled back his pen and looked at the resentful Ming Zhou nearby. “I’m not fighting with you. If something is wrong, you can just talk to me normally.”
“Then why didn’t you reply to my messages last night? And you haven’t chatted in the group for days.” Zhou’s long legs occupied the aisle. He placed his hands on his thighs and leaned in close to Song, his eyes burning with intensity. “Aren’t you just mad at me?”
“Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?” Before fully understanding their relationship, Song decided to use a vague, roundabout tactic: “Regarding this matter, let me just say a few words. As long as we understand each other, it’s fine. This is the situation right now. As for the specifics, you already know.”
The three of them: “?”
Song lowered his head again. “Yeah, those who get it, get it.”
The three of them: “???”
Song added another line: “Those who don’t understand will never understand. If you don’t get it, forget it.”
The three of them looked at each other in silence: “…”
Zhou couldn’t help but ask again, “Then why are you being so good to Bei-huai Lu now? What about us?”
Song’s heart skipped a beat. Here it was—the question of death. He really didn’t know the exact nature of the relationship between “Qie Song” and these three. He knew the definition of “fair-weather friends,” but now it seemed to be more than that.
He gripped his pen nervously and said, “If you put it that way, then we can’t really look at it that way.”
Zhou: “…?”
Song: “The key to this problem is to find the key problem. As for what the specific situation is, we have to look at the specific situation.” He glanced at Zhou. “Do you understand?”
“Pfft.” Tingsi Shen, leaning against the desk, couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He reached out and ruffled Song’s hair. “What are you doing, Song Song? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Forget it, Ming Zhou. Let’s just follow Song Song. If he really wants to play with Lu, we’ll just bring Lu along.”
Zhou frowned. “Song Song, you really want to hang out with Bei-huai Lu?”
Song nodded. “Yes.”
Because he wanted to live.
Zhou looked at Song and noticed his cheeks were a bit thinner from being sick. With his hair dyed back, he looked even more fragile. “Didn’t you say before that you hated Lu but he kept sticking to you? That guy has such deep designs on you—aren’t you afraid anymore?”
Song: “?”
Oh? Oh-ho?
Another new clue?
The original “Qie Song” knew Lu had “deep designs”? What did that mean? Was there a background reason for the bullying? It made sense—how could a small, weak guy like “Qie Song” ever win against Lu?
He pushed down his emotions, looked at the three of them, and said softly, “I am afraid. So, can we please stop fighting?”
He was totally copying Lu’s style here.
When the three of them met those beautiful, glass-like eyes filled with water, and saw him holding his pen against the window light—his fair, clear skin making him look exceptionally well-behaved—a strange “filter” kicked in.
This guy was acting cute and spoiled with them again.
He never used to do this. He used to be habitually arrogant and stubborn with them. Sometimes he was so annoying that they wanted to punch him. He was a real handful.
Now he was soft and sweet. Was it really because he started to cherish life after being sick?
Standing outside the classroom door, Bei-huai Lu watched this scene with a dark expression. Seeing Song surrounded in the middle, he felt like laughing. He knew it—how could Song only like him? This person had a whole ocean in his heart.
He liked everyone.
The water bottle in Lu’s hand was heartlessly tossed into the trash. The bottle was already dirty; so many people had used a single straw—it was disgusting.
In the following days, everyone noticed a huge change in Song. The once useless, bullying “rich brat” started studying seriously and even helped his classmates.
He even dragged the F3 along with him. As long as Song was in the classroom studying, those three were always by his side and of course, Lu was there too.
At first, people thought it was another one of their mean jokes, but it turned out they really were “turning over a new leaf.”
He even helped other students, which was as shocking as a collision between Mars and Earth.
During this time, Song used a “meticulous care” strategy. Whenever Lu was out of sight, he would send messages to check on him. For example, when Lu went to his part-time job at night, Song stopped prying too much into what he was doing and just asked when he’d be back. It was better to ask than not to ask, even if he didn’t really want to know.
After all, it was a private matter unless Lu chose to speak.
Not only that, but his family noticed the change too. He stopped shouting at the maids, uncles, and security guards. He became a polite and well-bred boy. He stopped staying out late, stopped playing around at the expense of his health, and stopped challenging his parents’ authority.
Naturally, his parents were the most touched.
“Goodnight, Mom and Dad.” Song politely said goodnight to his parents before going upstairs.
Song’s parents stood side-by-side, watching their rebellious son become a “good boy” in just two short months. They were deeply moved.
His mother felt emotional. Her son, whom even dogs used to dislike, had finally grown up. “Honey, do you think this is a blessing in disguise?”
“It’s good. As long as he’s well-behaved, I don’t need him to do anything.” The father’s expectations were even lower. “When he’s a bit older, I’ll ask my friends to introduce their daughters. We need someone who can keep this kid in line. He should get married and settle down soon.”
“Arrange a marriage for him? Have you asked his opinion?”
“With his personality, which young lady could handle him? He has the temper of a spoiled princess. But with our family’s wealth, I won’t let any girl who marries in suffer. The condition is that she must be able to control this brat.”
Song, standing on the stairs: “…”
Great. Please hurry up and reveal that I’m the fake son, otherwise I’ll have to get married.
Let Bei-huai Lu get married instead.
He sighed and walked back to his bedroom with a heavy heart. He took out his phone and saw a notification from the group chat.
[Group Name: There is a Master Here]
‘Ming Zhou poked ‘This Master’
‘Jingchu Xie poked ‘This Master’
‘Tingsi Shen poked ‘This Master’
He simply replied with a question mark.
[Jingchu Xie: Song Song, do you want to go out for spring break?]
He thought for a moment: [I kind of want to study.]
Tingsi Shen sent a ‘silence’ emoji.
[Ming Zhou: I heard this is the place Bei-huai Lu wants to visit most.]
Song saw this, thought for two seconds, and replied quickly: [Then let’s go.]
Lately, Lu had been in a very bad mood for some reason, even though Song was trying his best to show him care.
Even so, it took time to enter the heart of this “gloomy boy.” Every day after school, Lu would disappear. Song didn’t know what his job was, but every time he came back, he had new injuries—especially on his hands.
[Jingchu Xie: Song Song, do you have to spoil him so much? I’m going to get jealous.]
[Tingsi Shen: I’m jealous too.]
[Ming Zhou: Me too.]
Song: “…”
Speaking of those three, he logged into the original “Qie Song’s” social media accounts. All the chat logs were gone. The only thing he could study was the “Moments” feed. From the posts, he could see the four of them were indeed very close.
The posts featured all four of them, whether they were out playing or celebrating holidays.
The way Xie, Shen, and Zhou treated Song was clearly “more than friendship.” As for how much more, he didn’t dare to guess. This wasn’t a plotline he could handle.
All he could do was keep things balanced and fair in terms of friendship.
As for Lu, that required a different approach.
Late at night.
The bedroom door was opened softly again. A tall figure walked to the bedside. The nightlight was dim, but blood could be seen soaking through the bandages on his muscular arm.
He stood by the bed without moving, watching the sleeping boy.
Song looked so peaceful while sleeping. In the soft glow of the lamp, his cheek was slightly puffed out, his breathing was steady, and his youthful face looked soft and innocent.
The bandaged hand pulled back the blanket, grabbing the slender, pale calf once again. He could wrap his hand entirely around it; it felt so fragile it could break with one squeeze.
The rough palm didn’t wake the sleeping boy at all; it seemed nothing could wake him.
The air was filled with the smell of medicine. The bandaged hand held the ankle without moving.
“Qie Song.”
A deep, hoarse voice echoed in the night. It sounded dark, greedy, and full of resentment.
“Why didn’t you message me today to ask when I’d be back?”
“You little liar. You jerk. I hate you.”