Chapter 230: IF Route 2 (Extra 4)
The teacher had already booked the hotel in advance. After unexpectedly running into Wu Heng on the bus, she tried to make another reservation, but the hotel was already fully booked. She completely ignored Wu Heng’s suggestion along the lines of “I’ll go stay at another hotel,” treating it as if she hadn’t heard it at all, and decisively assigned him and Lin Mengzhi to share a room with another classmate.
Only Xie Chongyi and Xue Shen were given a separate twin room. The two of them were particular; they would rather spend extra money to get an additional bed—one to sleep in and one to place their belongings on. The teacher then split the two people who had nowhere else to go into their rooms separately.
Wu Heng stood at the doorway for a moment before pulling his suitcase inside. The room was larger than he had expected. If it weren’t for the absence of extra doors, he would have mistaken it for a suite.
“The rooms were booked collectively by the teacher, but you can contact the hotel yourself to upgrade,” Xie Chongyi said, putting down his suitcase. He rolled up his sleeves, went into the bathroom to wash his hands, and then came out to continue, “Rooms of thirty to forty square meters are too small. They’re not suitable for living in.”
“Which bed do you want?” he asked Wu Heng.
Wu Heng casually pointed to the one by the window. “This one.”
Xie Chongyi took off his coat, pulled out a clean set of clothes from his suitcase, and went back into the bathroom.
Wu Heng didn’t change his clothes. He usually wouldn’t directly sit or lie on the bed while still wearing clothes he had worn outside. He let go of his suitcase handle and walked silently to the bedside. Their side of the room faced away from the bustling city, looking out toward a few quiet lakes instead.
Watching the occasional passersby below, Wu Heng didn’t know how much time had passed before he suddenly began to regret agreeing to share a room with a stranger. At least right now, Xie Chongyi was no different to him than a stranger.
As his whole body and mind started to feel increasingly uncomfortable, Wu Heng turned around, took a few steps back, grabbed his suitcase again, and prepared to leave to book another room—when Xie Chongyi came out of the bathroom, carrying a faint scent of steam.
“What’s wrong?” Seeing that Wu Heng looked like he was about to leave, a faint, almost imperceptible trace of confusion appeared between his brows.
For a long time, the deliberate obedience Wu Heng had maintained felt like his mouth had been sealed shut with melted sugar water. As the temperature of the sugar water gradually dropped, it clung tighter and tighter, until he could no longer open his mouth at all.
Wu Heng pushed his suitcase into the corner. Behind him came the sound of pages turning. He quickly glanced back—Xie Chongyi was already sitting on the bed, absorbed in studying.
There were no activities scheduled that day. In the evening, everyone ate together, and the teacher reminded them to rest early, as they would need to get up early the next morning.
Wu Heng didn’t eat much. He had never had much of an appetite to begin with, and even after lying down, he still couldn’t fall asleep.
There were other people in the room, so he didn’t take out his phone. He simply lay there with his eyes open, quietly staring at the ceiling of the hotel room.
Until he heard movement from the bed beside him, Wu Heng unnecessarily closed his eyes.
“Wu Heng, are you feeling very uncomfortable?”
“…No.”
After a while, Xie Chongyi’s voice became noticeably lower, as if he was getting sleepy.
“I originally wanted to stay up and talk with you, but if there’s nothing wrong, I’ll sleep now.”
Facing the window, Wu Heng looked at the overlapping dark clouds outside the glass and thought to himself: the class monitor is really kind-hearted.
After a long time of enduring it, Wu Heng finally began to feel sleepy. Several times, he suddenly woke up in a cold sweat and turned to look at Xie Chongyi, as if he had mistakenly wandered into the nest of a more dangerous beast, worried that the owner of the nest might not be so hospitable after all, but was merely treating him as stored food for the winter.
As a result, the next day, Wu Heng woke up even earlier than both of their alarms.
When Xie Chongyi’s alarm went off, Wu Heng was already sitting in the hotel buffet restaurant. By the time Xie Chongyi came out of the room, Wu Heng had just come out of the elevator with Lin Mengzhi. Whether or not Wu Heng did it on purpose, they had completely and perfectly missed each other’s activity schedules, even causing Xie Chongyi to feel a rather subtle sense of being disliked.
The day’s itinerary began, and Wu Heng followed at the very end of the group without saying a word. It had to be said that although he didn’t like moving around in large groups, there were at least some benefits to the current situation—at the very least, Lin Mengzhi wasn’t clinging to him anymore.
Around ten o’clock, they had just arrived at a local museum. The number of tourists pouring in from all over the country was unusually large, and Xie Chongyi, acting as class monitor, noticed that Wu Heng had disappeared from the group.
The teacher didn’t strictly restrict their movements, but most of them still remained within his line of sight.
Wu Heng had completely vanished by dusk. The teacher only said a few brief words to him and even asked whether he had eaten. Only then did Xie Chongyi realize that Wu Heng’s “free activity” had clearly been reported to the teacher in advance—just not told to him.
Too distant.
So distant that it didn’t even feel like they were classmates; it would be hard for anyone to believe they were even schoolmates.
In the room, the two beds were clearly separated, and the two of them were the same—neither of them said a single word. Only when it came to using the bathroom did Xie Chongyi sit at the desk and say, “You go shower first. I’ll finish a worksheet.”
After Wu Heng took his pajamas and went into the bathroom, no sound of running water came for a long time. When he came out after changing, he muttered, “There’s no water.”
His clothes had clearly been thrown on hastily; a large section was still tucked into his waistband, revealing a wide stretch of pale lower back and uneven patches of bruising.
“Does your father hit you often?” Before realizing how intrusive the question was, Xie Chongyi had already spoken.
Wu Heng didn’t try to hide it. “Occasionally. When he’s in a bad mood.”
“Have you reported it to the police?”
“The police aren’t going to live in my house.” When facing the police, Wu Shiming would put on such a well-behaved act that he could easily pass as the victim instead. Anyway, graduation was almost here—he would be able to leave this place soon enough.
By the time the conversation reached this point, it had already come to a natural stopping place for both Wu Heng and, even more so, for Xie Chongyi, who had initiated it in the first place.
Xie Chongyi closed his test paper and walked into the bathroom, tinkering with the showerhead on his own for a while. Wu Heng couldn’t help, so he stood at the doorway. The other boy was crouched by the shower controls, chin tilted up, his features sharp and clearly defined.
The bathroom lights were warm-toned. The clean clothes he had brought in were draped over the edge of the bathtub. Nearby, an incense stick was burning, filling the space with a calm, woody scent.
At that moment, something in Wu Heng’s chest gave a sudden, faint tightening. Light and shadow blurred the person in front of him into indistinct blocks of color. He almost absentmindedly turned his head away, as if to confirm once again that they were in a hotel room and not some private space like home. Only then did his heartbeat gradually return to normal.
Wu Heng wasn’t used to being too close to anyone. He rarely even shared a room with Lin Mengzhi.
Crash—
Lost in thought, he was startled by the sudden sound of water. Unexpectedly, it splashed directly over Xie Chongyi’s head.
Xie Chongyi calmly turned off the water. His hair was still dripping as he glanced toward the door. “Should I shower first?”
Wu Heng blinked blankly and closed the door for him.
Standing outside, the sound of water started again. Only then did Wu Heng begin to feel that there was something more human about the class monitor after all—at least that air of aloof pride had been broken.
During Xie Chongyi’s shower, Wu Heng sat at the end of the bed reading a mystery novel. He had already guessed the culprit when the character first appeared, but he never read books as a “whodunit” game. If the identity of the murderer couldn’t be known from the start, he simply wouldn’t continue reading.
“Wu Heng?”
Someone called him. The voice came so suddenly that his shoulders instinctively tensed—he had been too absorbed.
Xie Chongyi was asking him to hand over his pajamas from the bed.
Wu Heng didn’t think much of it. He picked up the pajamas from the adjacent bed and brought them to the door, knocking twice. When the door opened, a wet, sharply defined hand reached out from inside. Its target was slightly off—it grabbed Wu Heng’s wrist in one swift motion.
“Sorry.” Xie Chongyi reacted and let go quickly, but there was still a patch of warm water left on Wu Heng’s wrist where he had grabbed him.
Steam drifted through the bathroom. Facing the bathtub, Xie Chongyi slightly lowered his head and pulled the pajamas over himself from above. At the same time he lifted his eyes, Wu Heng’s pajamas and the clean cotton underwear placed on top of them were within his line of sight on the edge of the tub. For a brief moment, for reasons unknown, he gave a faint smile.
So thin.
After both of them had finished showering, the unfamiliar tension in the room had eased slightly. Wu Heng leaned against the headboard, working on tomorrow’s schedule.
“You really don’t like group activities,” Xie Chongyi said. He was also leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone, but clearly trying to start a conversation with Wu Heng.
“Is the class monitor trying to say I don’t fit in?” Wu Heng asked without looking up.
“You’re also very good at assigning blame to people.”
Wu Heng’s fingers stiffened slightly. He turned his head to look at Xie Chongyi. His hair wasn’t completely dry yet, damp strands falling near his eyes. His black-and-white gaze, washed clean by water, made him look like a young beast—innocent, dangerous, and strangely calm all at once.
“I don’t,” he replied weakly.
“Then let’s eat together tomorrow,” Xie Chongyi said, lifting his phone. Wu Heng’s eyesight was good enough to clearly see what was on the screen: a roast duck restaurant.
Wu Heng had just opened his mouth to refuse when Xie Chongyi cut in first.
“Just the two of us.”
The resistance in Wu Heng’s eyes turned into confusion. “Class Monitor, are we friends?”
Xie Chongyi looked at him with a gaze filled with interest. “We can be.”
Wu Heng didn’t speak again. After a long while, he softly let out a “mm,” because he didn’t truly resist the other person’s approach. After all, there were very few faces he could actually remember.
Another reason was that he had once had two encounters with two men who resembled him and the class monitor. One time was at school, and the other was at home. Both times, they had been together as companions. Although he only trusted his present self absolutely, the choices of another “self” could still be used as reference.
—
Their group leader teacher was knowledgeable and well-read; there was no need for one-on-one explanations, as he could clearly explain the origins and stories behind many of the museum’s artifacts. Xie Chongyi even knew, with his eyes closed, where several of the most popular exhibits were placed. He couldn’t listen anymore, so he made an excuse and left early, telling Wu Heng to follow him quickly.
This time, Wu Heng did not slip away on his own. He first informed Lin Mengzhi, but Lin Mengzhi’s brain was currently being flooded with knowledge and didn’t register what he said.
“Teacher, I’ll go take a look around elsewhere first.” Wu Heng reported to the teacher as well, then similarly ran off with his backpack.
In the crowded square, Xie Chongyi spotted Wu Heng as he came looking for him.
He called out to him from behind.
“You’re not from Han Province, are you? Are you from the capital?”
Wu Heng’s sensitivity was almost uncanny.
No matter how naturally someone behaved in a strange city, the cultural imprint of their hometown still made them look slightly out of place. Yet Xie Chongyi had none of that at all.
As expected.
“My parents work in the capital. I studied there until high school,” Xie Chongyi said as he led Wu Heng onto a bus. “It’s more convenient than the subway.”
Wu Heng sat down in the last row, and when Xie Chongyi sat beside him, he casually asked, “You seem to like the capital quite a bit.”
Wu Heng looked at the white blossoms scattered across the sidewalk and lifted his gaze.
“What kind of trees are those?”
“Locust trees.”
“Oh.”
Wu Heng wasn’t very good at lying, but Xie Chongyi was highly adept at reading people’s thoughts, so all he could do was change the subject.
More than an hour later, Xie Chongyi got off the bus with Wu Heng. The wind at the turn of spring and summer still carried a faint chill. Far away from the crowded streets, Xie Chongyi led Wu Heng into a narrow alley and suddenly ran into a small convenience store, coming out with two candied hawthorns. He handed one to Wu Heng.
“I don’t like sweet things,” Wu Heng said without taking it.
“It’s not sweet. You can try it.”
“You’re very familiar with this place.”
“I used to walk this route after school.”
Wu Heng looked at him with some doubt, then lowered his head and carefully bit one of the hawthorns. The sugar coating was thin and crisp—it crackled when he bit into it, then quickly melted in his mouth, balancing out the natural tartness of the hawthorn.
It tasted better than any candied hawthorn he had ever had before. Wu Heng looked at Xie Chongyi again with a slightly surprised expression and, with one cheek puffed up, said it was good.
“The owner only makes hawthorn ones. She sells them together with the convenience store goods. She still uses the old-fashioned method, so it definitely tastes better than those flashy ones outside.”
The roast duck restaurant Xie Chongyi brought him to was also hidden in the alley. It had a three-section entrance corridor, and each courtyard was planted with neatly arranged greenery. After passing through the final gate, they almost bumped into a woman wearing a floral apron.
She froze for a moment, then suddenly exclaimed, “Oh my!”
“When did you come back?” she asked Xie Chongyi happily, then leaned forward and asked, “Is this your friend?”
Friend? Wu Heng didn’t think their relationship was that close yet.
But Xie Chongyi very naturally pulled the boy to his side and smiled as he introduced him.
“This is Wu Heng.”
Then he turned to Wu Heng and said, “I stayed here for a while when I was younger. You can call her Aunt Lou like I do. This restaurant is hers.”
Aunt Lou happily led them to an unreserved private room. She didn’t even ask much—she had already decided the menu in her mind. Still, she asked at the end, “Wu Heng, do you have any dietary restrictions?”
Wu Heng was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head.
It was the first time someone had asked him that.
Since they weren’t familiar with each other yet, there wasn’t much to say. One of them looked at his phone while the other looked out the window, until the waiter began bringing dish after dish to the table.
The first to arrive was two bowls of duck carcass soup, with ginseng roots and goji berries inside. Not having to share a single bowl with others made Wu Heng quietly feel relieved.
After the soup came roast duck skin placed on slices of dry bread and apple. It was cut into small, bite-sized cubes—savory, sweet, and crispy—with a few grains of white sugar sprinkled on top to cut the richness.
Across from him, Xie Chongyi started eating. He first took a lotus-leaf pancake, layered it with cucumber sticks, scallion strips, and hawthorn strips in order, then wrapped it up, dipped it in sweet bean sauce with a bit of sugar. Instead of eating it himself, he directly held it out to feed Wu Heng.
Wu Heng froze and leaned back. “I’ll do it myself.”
But Xie Chongyi kept it there, moving forward slightly. In the end, Wu Heng had no choice but to open his mouth and bite it. Only then did Xie Chongyi give up.
It was a large roll; Wu Heng took a long time to finish it. A faint sheen of oil remained on his lips, making him look a little less withdrawn than before.
“I used to come here a lot, so don’t worry about me,” Xie Chongyi said. He didn’t eat much himself, just picking up snacks with his fingers and eating casually.
Wu Heng didn’t speak for a long time, simply eating quite a lot on his own. He wasn’t picky, but he hadn’t lost the ability to judge taste, so he only nodded in response to Xie Chongyi every so often.
“You don’t seem to like anyone in your class, and you don’t seem to like the world either.”
“Is it because your family is bad?”
To Wu Heng, Xie Chongyi was someone who had grown up in a life of comfort and privilege. For comments like this, he simply let them go in one ear and out the other.
Xie Chongyi suddenly felt, for the first time, that he was being overly eager. He had never done something like this before. Perhaps it was because Wu Heng suited his taste—like a white corn snake he had once raised. Quiet, but with a temperament that was clearly anything but docile at a glance.
Wu Heng’s appetite was unusually large—larger, in any case, than Xie Chongyi’s, even though they were both in adolescence. By the time he was full, the table had been cleared of dishes. Only then, with his mind briefly going blank, did he ask the question in his heart.
“Why me?”
“What?” Xie Chongyi didn’t understand.
“Why…” Wu Heng lowered his eyes. His eyelashes were very long. “Do you want to be friends with me?”
He had no friends. Lin Mengzhi was someone who had existed since his earliest memories—more like family to him. He didn’t even know how people were supposed to interact with friends.
“I like you,” Xie Chongyi said, resting his hands neatly stacked on the table, his posture obedient-looking, though his expression carried an unusually strong sense of intrusion. “I like you.”
Wu Heng froze completely. His mind seemed to crash for a long time.
“But don’t misunderstand,” Xie Chongyi added gently, noticing his shock. “It’s not a confession. It’s just the kind of liking between friends.”
This was the first time he had ever actively tried to make a friend. If the other person refused, he felt he might go to any lengths, by any means necessary, to change that outcome.
