His rosy lips curled up slightly as he answered with a gentle smile: “I just went to the convenience store to buy it.”
Belatedly realizing the double meaning embedded in his previous question, Shen Siyang’s face flushed red all at once.
He hurriedly took the water from Sang Xiaoshi’s hand and gulped down two large mouthfuls.
After drinking, he handed the bottle back to Sang Xiaoshi.
Sang Xiaoshi took it, naturally unscrewed the cap, and drank a few gulps straight from it.
In an instant, Shen Siyang felt the cold water he had just swallowed turn into boiling lava.
Averting his gaze, he took a moment to steady his composure before speaking: “Xiaoshi, if.”
After a short pause, he turned back to look at Sang Xiaoshi: “I mean if—what if we just remain friends forever? Would you be okay with that?”
Although the system had never stated that their time together in this world would be drastically cut short if they started dating, nor had it stated that he could stay in this world indefinitely if they didn’t.
This task had been remarkably vague and ambiguous right from the very beginning.
Only one thing was certain from start to finish:
There would inevitably come a day when he had to leave Sang Xiaoshi.
And when that day came, the deeper Sang Xiaoshi’s feelings were for him, the greater the hurt he would suffer.
Shen Siyang had always been a decisive person who faced problems head-on.
This was the first time he had raised his foot yet hesitated to take the step down.
He couldn’t find an optimal solution.
There was no solution where his Xiaoshi wouldn’t end up hurt.
Sang Xiaoshi’s expression stiffened for a fraction of a second.
He blinked softly, his gaze landing just below Shen Siyang’s eyes.
Ge Jiabao was right—Shen Siyang had been visibly weighed down by worry lately.
A person who used to feel miserable all day if he didn’t get a full eight hours of sleep now had faint dark circles showing beneath his eyes.
Taking it all in, Sang Xiaoshi slowly lowered his eyelids.
A moment later, he replied softly: “I would be okay with it.”
Hearing this answer, Shen Siyang was taken aback.
Although Sang Xiaoshi had always been gentle and soft-tempered, he wasn’t someone incapable of clearly expressing his preferences.
Therefore, such an accommodating answer caught Shen Siyang somewhat off guard.
Just as he was thinking this, he heard Sang Xiaoshi speak again: “But that’s not what I want.”
Sang Xiaoshi kept his eyes lowered, staring at the shadows of the two of them cast on the ground by the sunlight, his voice clear and gentle: “What you mentioned that day—that after graduating from university, we would part ways due to working in different places, each start our own families, get bogged down and busy with our respective households, and slowly drift apart as contact fades. I don’t want that.”
“I want to attend the same university as you. I want to work in the same place as you. I want to be the one who forms a family with you. I want to be the one who keeps you busy and running around for our household. I want to be the first person you see when you wake up every day. I want to be the one who gets to hold you and kiss you. I want every part of your life to be intertwined with mine.”
Only after finishing his words with quiet, unwavering conviction did Sang Xiaoshi finally look up at Shen Siyang again: “But if wanting that makes you miserable, then it doesn’t have to be me.”
Shen Siyang stared blankly at Sang Xiaoshi. With a single blink, tears spilled over his lower lids and rolled down his cheeks.
Sang Xiaoshi’s expression instantly turned panicked and helpless.
This was the first time in all these years he had ever seen Shen Siyang cry. Raising a hand in distress, he reached out to wipe away Shen Siyang’s tears, his tone unable to conceal a deep, heavy slump despite his best efforts to suppress it: “Brother Siyang, did I make you sad?”
Shen Siyang grabbed Sang Xiaoshi’s hand and shook his head. He wanted to speak, but no sound would come out—only tears streaming down his face continuously.
It’s not that you made me sad, Xiaoshi.
I’m just sad that I couldn’t meet you in the real world.
If I could have met you in the real world, it wouldn’t have mattered if I was thirty, forty, or even fifty years old.
Instead of now, where I don’t know at which exact moment I’ll suddenly vanish—forced to go through nine other worlds without you, only to spend the remainder of my life entirely without you.
Before I could even learn how to love you properly, I already have to start learning how to forget you.
It was the first time Shen Siyang had lost control of his emotions so completely.
Unable to hold back his tears at all, he could only bury his head and wait for time to dull the ache.
After an unknown amount of time, feeling the constriction in his throat ease up, Shen Siyang wiped his tears and said solemnly to Sang Xiaoshi: “What I said just now was only a hypothetical—it wasn’t my real answer to you, so don’t take it to heart. Once the monthly exams end the day after tomorrow, I’ll give you a proper, definitive answer.”
*
Shen Siyang turned in his exam paper fifteen minutes early.
The seating arrangements for this monthly exam had been completely randomized, so he and Sang Xiaoshi weren’t in the same classroom.
With October approaching, the weather in Xianxi Town was finally starting to cool down.
Draping his autumn school uniform jacket over his shoulders, Shen Siyang ambled over to the campus convenience store to buy an ice pop.
Out of habit, he reached for a flavored sugar-water pop, but his eyes suddenly caught sight of a melon-flavored Cornetto cone lying in the corner. By the time he snapped out of it, he was already at the register paying for it.
Carrying the Cornetto, he walked toward the old teaching building—which the school had converted into a laboratory building a few years back and sat down on a stone bench behind it to unwrap the cone.
It was a bit sweet.
The waffle cone was quite crispy and delicious.
Munching on the crunchy tip, he leaned back against the wall behind him and looked up at the sky.
It was very blue—pure and clear.
Two days was nowhere near enough time for Shen Siyang to figure out an optimal solution.
Let alone two days—even if he were given another two years to solve this impossible dilemma, he still wouldn’t be able to find an answer.
Ge Jiabao’s words from that day made a lot of sense, but they couldn’t be perfectly applied to him and Sang Xiaoshi.
Looking on the bright side, the system task hanging over Shen Siyang might drag on for decades without reaching the point the system deemed appropriate. But looking on the darker side, he could be talking to Sang Xiaoshi one second, and completely vanish into thin air the next.
Because up until now, the system had never set a clear timeline, nor had it ever defined what a “departure” was supposed to look like.
The biggest watershed moment in a person’s life is when they finish their student years and enter society to work.
That period acts like a boundary line dividing two very different lives: innocence and freedom lie on one side, while the full spectrum of life’s realities waits on the other.
Only after tasting those realities can one truly build the resilience needed to face goodbyes.
That was why Shen Siyang could ask for Sang Xiaoshi’s input and consider entering a relationship at twenty-eight, but he couldn’t do it at eighteen.
He couldn’t do it at eighteen—not when Sang Xiaoshi had yet to step out of Xianxi Town to see the country’s magnificent landscapes, not when he had yet to taste the varied cuisines of the north and south, and not when he had yet to meet the vastly diverse people of this world.
Love at eighteen is fiercely passionate and unreservedly sincere. Every extra degree of warmth would only turn into a sharper blade driven deeper into the flesh when the time came to part ways.
He couldn’t let Sang Xiaoshi be trapped at eighteen forever just because he loved him.
Not even if there were only a one-in-a-million chance of that happening.
Shen Siyang finished the last bit of the waffle cone, tossed the wrapper into the trash, wiped his hands, and stood up.
The final exam bell had rung almost five minutes ago; if he didn’t head back soon, Sang Xiaoshi would start getting anxious.
Perhaps because he had just eaten an ice cream, Shen Siyang suddenly felt a bit chilly.
Zipping his autumn uniform jacket all the way to the top, he walked into the quiet old teaching building, intending to leave.
If I’m lucky enough to stay by Xiaoshi’s side for a few more years.
When he turns twenty-five, if there’s still no one else by his side and he still likes me, I won’t have any hesitation left.
I’ll lay out the situation, and as long as Xiaoshi is willing, we’ll take it one year at a time—or two years, for as long as we can.
Thinking this, Shen Siyang let out a long, light breath.
As he walked out, he pondered how to phrase his words in a moment.
Maybe I should swing by the store and buy another ice cream for Xiaoshi before heading back.
Eating something sweet should make him feel a little better.
Amidst his thoughts, he rounded the stairs. Just as he stepped into the light, a hand abruptly yanked him backward.
A hand clamped over his mouth. Before Shen Siyang could react, he felt a cold bite against his neck.
Lowering his eyes, his gaze caught the sharp tip of a blade.
At the same time, a hushed voice came from behind him: “Don’t make a sound. Walk upstairs.”
His heart pounded frantically against his chest in panic.
Shen Siyang forced his breathing to even out, his eyes discreetly flicking over to the security camera in the top-left corner before settling back on the patch of sunlight beyond the turn.
The school’s old teaching building wasn’t completely deserted on ordinary days.
Since it had been converted into a lab building, classes would come here for science practicals throughout the day.
Today was an exception because of the school-wide monthly exams.
Even so, the old teaching building was close to the new one. Even if there was no one inside the building, there was no shortage of students passing by the main entrance around dismissal time.
Every now and then, noisy banter drifted in from outside.
Following the command of the man behind him, Shen Siyang moved at a slow, deliberate pace toward the stairs while his mind raced to formulate a strategy.
Just then, the two walked past a stack of broken mirrors piled in the corner of the stairwell.
Glancing at the reflection, Shen Siyang clearly caught the face of the man behind him.
The man wore a cap, and the murky eyes beneath the brim were filled with venomous malice.
It was a face Shen Siyang would never forget, no matter how much time passed.
The moment he saw that face, Shen Siyang changed his mind. He submissively followed the man’s instructions, walking step by step up the stairs.
The old teaching building wasn’t tall—only five stories high.
Since few people came here regularly, the door to the rooftop was unlocked.
The two made it onto the roof smoothly.
The wind on the rooftop was somewhat strong, puffing up Shen Siyang’s loose autumn school jacket.
Walking over to the edge of the railing, Shen Siyang glanced down. Below was an empty stretch with no one in sight.
The spot where they stood faced the back of the building.
The back of the old building opened into a small grove of trees, a path rarely frequented by anyone on normal days.
Only after confirming there was no one around did the man release his hand from Shen Siyang’s mouth.
An eerie, sinister voice sounded behind Shen Siyang: “Shen Siyang, guess who I am?”
Shen Siyang didn’t bother playing riddles with him, letting out a light laugh: “Uncle Luo, long time no see. If I had known you were getting out of prison, I would’ve gone to pick you up.”
Luo Qifeng’s hand around the knife tightened abruptly, his tone turning vicious: “You still have the nerve to crack sarcastic jokes at a time like this? Do you really think I don’t dare to kill you? I’ve already done time for so many years—a few more years won’t make a damn difference to me!”
A sudden sharp pain pricked his neck.
Perhaps because the rooftop was too quiet and the wind was too cold, Shen Siyang could even clearly feel the moment the blade slice open his skin.
Shen Siyang’s expression remained unchanged: “Of course I’m scared. Why else would I obediently follow you upstairs? After all, with my top-tier grades and handsome looks, my future is bright—I value my life very much.”
“You better value it,” Luo Qifeng snarled. “Call Sang Xiaoshi. Tell him to come up here and find you.”
Before Shen Siyang could speak, the phone in his pocket rang first.
He couldn’t help sighing in his heart.
Talk about terrible timing.
Luo Qifeng ordered, “Pull out your phone! See who’s calling!”
There was no need to think twice. At this hour, the only person who would call Shen Siyang was Sang Xiaoshi.
He had surely waited in the classroom for too long without seeing him return.
As Shen Siyang slowly reached into his jacket pocket, he lowered his eyelids in thought.
Luo Qifeng’s voice snapped in warning: “Don’t try playing any tricks!”
Shen Siyang lowered his gaze with a faint smile, pulling the phone out: “Uncle Luo, you have a knife pressed against my neck. What tricks could I possibly play?”
“You’d better behave!”
After issuing his warning, Luo Qifeng peered at the caller ID on Shen Siyang’s phone.
Shen Siyang’s contact name for Sang Xiaoshi was simply his actual name.
Luo Qifeng’s sinister laughter came from behind: “How convenient! Answer it! Put it on speaker!”
This time, Shen Siyang didn’t deliberately slow his movements.
He answered the call and pressed speakerphone.
Sang Xiaoshi’s voice quickly echoed across the rooftop: “Brother Siyang, where are you?”
Luo Qifeng stepped halfway in front of Shen Siyang, glaring at him with a warning look.
Shen Siyang answered truthfully: “I’m on the rooftop of the old teaching building.”
The line went quiet for a second before that gentle, soft voice sounded again: “Are you still coming back to the classroom? Your backpack and homework are still here.”
Luo Qifeng nudged the blade firmly against Shen Siyang’s skin.
Shen Siyang spoke up: “I can’t come back for now. I’m on the rooftop with Luo Qifeng.”
A sudden rustle came from the receiver.
Sang Xiaoshi’s voice instantly turned tense and urgent: “I’m coming over right now.”
Accompanied by the sound of sprinting and wind rushing into the microphone, Sang Xiaoshi’s voice rang out again. This time, all his usual gentleness was gone, replaced by a stern, sharp warning: “Luo Qifeng, if you dare touch him before I get there, you won’t get a single thing you want from me! Stay put and don’t move—we can still talk terms!”
Shen Siyang lifted his eyes and saw Luo Qifeng opening his mouth to speak.
Beating Luo Qifeng to the punch, Shen Siyang blurted out rapidly: “Don’t you dare come over! Call the police immediately! If I see you on this rooftop before the police arrive, don’t ever expect me to acknowledge you again! Sang Xiaoshi, I mean what I say!”
The moment he finished, just as Luo Qifeng lunged to snatch the phone away, Shen Siyang tossed the phone straight over the edge of the roof.
Then, raising both hands, he flashed a bright, fearless smile at Luo Qifeng.