Chapter 235: IF Route 7 (Extra 9)
Wu Heng knew that this way of thinking was wrong. He could love the class monitor, and the class monitor could love him too, but he couldn’t possess him alone.
They were just friends. Friendship was the kind of relationship that demanded the most emotional restraint from both sides in the world. Family and lovers could confidently say, “You’re not allowed to leave me for the rest of your life,” but friends couldn’t. Any demand between friends could only be brushed off with, “At the end of the day, you’re just friends.”
That wasn’t fair. His love for Xie Chongyi was no less than anyone else’s.
Although he had never managed to give the class monitor anything in return, the other person was the one thing he had desperately wanted to possess in his dim, unremarkable life over all these years.
Wu Heng felt that he could exchange everything he currently had for him—even if it meant continuing to live under Wu Shiming’s feet like a dying dog.
But if he were to be honest, Xie Chongyi hadn’t actually done all that much for him either. At least not enough to be worth Wu Heng trading everything he had. Most things that people desperately wanted were worth less than their own existence—but he still wanted it. Wanted it. A craving like a moth throwing itself into a flame.
He was poor. He was barren. He had never seen much of the world, and he wanted to grasp everything in his hands.
But Wu Heng never told Xie Chongyi what he was thinking. He knew it would scare him.
Unfortunately, this kind of thing couldn’t be hidden. And he wasn’t deep or skilled enough to pretend in front of Xie Chongyi and get away with it. Xie Chongyi knew snakes better than anyone—when it was emotionally unsettled: its appetite dropped, it became less active, and it grew irritable.
Xie Chongyi, however, was better at hiding things than Wu Heng. He was hiding something far more serious. At times he thought Wu Heng had noticed, and at times he thought he hadn’t. Eventually, he realized that wasn’t the issue at all—the real problem was that his current thoughts had already been completely pulled along by every single movement of Wu Heng.
The two of them usually didn’t eat at home. The kitchen stayed cold and unused; since Wu Heng moved in, the stove had never even been lit. They either ate at school or somewhere near their home.
One weekend, Xie Chongyi suddenly got the idea to cook a big meal at home.
The boy’s idea was good in theory, but after a chaotic attempt, they unanimously decided to order a hot pot base from a delivery app and simply cook all the ingredients in one pot.
The ingredients Xie Chongyi bought were all high quality. Even after being boiled, the flavors remained fresh and delicious. He even opened an expensive bottle of red wine, and the empty house finally felt a little warm and alive.
The weather had already started to warm up. It wasn’t quite hot enough to need air conditioning yet—but with the steam and alcohol filling the air, it didn’t feel that way anymore. Wu Heng’s skin, usually pale, was flushed into patches of soft pink, like peach skin, even prettier than blush.
Xie Chongyi’s dining table was too large. The two of them sat with what felt like a steaming sea between them. The loudest presence at the table, however, wasn’t either of them—it was the parrot.
The African grey parrot’s bowl was placed on the side, filled with its own food, but it wanted what was in the pot. Ignored by everyone, it kept making muttering, croaking complaints.
Wu Heng had something on his mind and didn’t eat much. He barely looked at Xie Chongyi, and tried not to think about him either, in case it truly brought disaster upon him. He understood himself—he wasn’t someone pure and spotless at heart.
He used to think the person across from him was some kind of saintly, immaculate figure, while constantly framing himself as the worse one.
But Xie Chongyi was no better than him—only more restrained in his badness. His gaze repeatedly stripped the boy across from him of his clothes and put them back on again, over and over dozens of times, tossing all the virtues he had learned—morality, intelligence, physical fitness, aesthetics, and labor—into the pot until they melted down, impossible to retrieve.
“You don’t handle alcohol well,” Xie Chongyi said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Wu Heng’s slightly flushed face.
“I’ve never drunk before,” Wu Heng replied, head lowered. “Not even beer.”
“My fault,” Xie Chongyi said.
Wu Heng looked up at him, not understanding.
“I forgot to tell you, this bottle of red wine is actually quite high in alcohol content. It just doesn’t taste like it. I suggest you don’t drink any more.”
Wu Heng really did stop drinking. The taste itself wasn’t particularly good anyway, and the alcohol fumes made his stomach feel uneasy.
“Then I’ll go brush my teeth and sleep.”
Sleep already?
For the thousandth time, Xie Chongyi felt like Wu Heng had discovered something and was avoiding him.
The dishes and chopsticks were just left there; the maid could deal with them tomorrow. After sitting in his chair for a while, Xie Chongyi followed him to the bed.
The bedside lamp cast a faint glow. The distance between the two of them felt like an insurmountable chasm. Xie Chongyi found himself blaming Wu Heng in his mind—if he was going to move in, he should have said so earlier. He would have replaced this oversized, luxurious bed with a smaller one so they could squeeze together, pressed tightly, their organs practically merging—heart, liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys—everything mixed together, indistinguishable from one another.
Wu Heng’s breathing sounded heavier than usual. Because of the alcohol, it was hard to tell whether the boy was even asleep.
Xie Chongyi rolled over to face him, his gaze brighter and hotter than usual.
If Wu Heng, still awake, had the courage to turn and look back, he would have been startled half out of his wits. That gaze was predatory—like a beast in nature locking onto prey.
“Wu Heng,” Xie Chongyi called his name, not moving his body, keeping the distance between them.
“Mm.” Wu Heng answered quickly. He wasn’t asleep.
“…How does it feel living at my place?” Xie Chongyi wasn’t afraid. Wu Heng couldn’t run anyway, but he didn’t want to take too many detours.
Ideally, as soon as he said it, Wu Heng would just roll into his arms—everyone happy.
So he planned to take it slow, to simmer things properly, to avoid anything half-cooked on the outside but frozen in the center.
Wu Heng thought for a long while. “I like it here.”
Then, as if worried his answer was too vague and might make the host think he was being perfunctory, he added, “It feels more like my home here.”
But if Xie Chongyi weren’t in this house, then it wouldn’t be any different from any other place, Wu Heng thought. The “liveliness” of a home probably referred to exactly that.
That was a good sign.
Xie Chongyi shifted a little closer toward the boy.
“Are you happy playing with me?” Xie Chongyi asked in a lowered voice.
Only then did Wu Heng sense that something was odd—not that the question itself was strange, but that Xie Chongyi himself was strange.
Did the class monitor even care about this? Wasn’t he only concerned with whether he himself was happy?
Wu Heng rolled over. He still hadn’t noticed that the distance between him and Xie Chongyi had already narrowed—Xie Chongyi had been very careful about it.
“Yes,” Wu Heng answered honestly, seeing nothing unusual.
“But I feel like you haven’t been very happy lately. Did I do something wrong?”
Wu Heng tried to argue and almost bit his tongue. “No, you’re very good.”
Oh. So there were other secrets unrelated to him. That was even more irritating.
“Then why aren’t you happy?” Xie Chongyi asked in a sharp tone.
Wu Heng froze. In his memory, Xie Chongyi had never spoken to him in a sarcastic or biting tone before.
His heartbeat suddenly sped up. He felt a kind of humiliation—like his sincerity had been misplaced. How could the class monitor be harsh with him?
He had become abnormal precisely because of the other person, so how could that person turn around and question him like this?
Wu Heng felt cold inside, the warmth in his body slowly fading. “Class monitor, do you really care whether I’m happy or not?”
Xie Chongyi, however, asked back, “Do you think I should care?”
“…Whatever.”
Whatever?
Almost instantly, a surge of hostility rose in Xie Chongyi’s chest. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Wu Heng’s chin. No matter what their relationship was, he would not allow “whatever.”
Even if they were only friends, Xie Chongyi couldn’t accept being the kind of person who was optional or insignificant.
He would rather Wu Heng overthink him, resent him, even find him disgusting—so long as, when Wu Heng grew old and died, he would still remember that at sixteen or seventeen, there had once been a boy his age who had made him feel thoroughly disturbed.
Just thinking about being remembered in that way made Xie Chongyi smile faintly. Even the pressure on Wu Heng’s chin eased slightly.
Meanwhile, Wu Heng was left confused and dazed. Whatever—was that bad? Wasn’t that exactly what friendship was?
But Xie Chongyi was already considering whether he should just kiss him outright.
If he kissed Wu Heng, Wu Heng probably wouldn’t get angry anyway. Wu Heng didn’t have that much temper.
But Xie Chongyi himself didn’t quite want that. He preferred that any kiss or embrace happen only after Wu Heng understood his intent.
That way, it would be easier for Wu Heng to remember.
“I like you,” Xie Chongyi said directly, releasing his grip on Wu Heng’s chin.
The words and the action loosened in opposite directions, like a balloon suddenly inflated and then quickly deflated—Wu Heng hadn’t even had time to react.
After a moment, a faint voice broke the silence in the room.
“Class monitor… if you say that, I might misunderstand.”
?
Xie Chongyi had worried for nothing. The other person simply couldn’t understand.
No matter what, Wu Heng showed no sign of disgust or rejection. He didn’t even pull away. Xie Chongyi understood very well that even among friends, “I like you” could make some people so repulsed they changed expression immediately.
His fingers, hidden beneath the blanket, quietly moved closer to the other boy. The fingertips brushed against warmth, but still hadn’t touched skin—they paused there, waiting, ready to strike.
Between them, Xie Chongyi’s words had ignited a small fire. It was neither fully burning nor extinguished, depending entirely on who would breathe on it next—whether to turn it into a roaring blaze, or snuff it out completely.
Xie Chongyi could only continue pressing forward, encroaching.
“You don’t need to misunderstand,” he said. “Yes, it really is liking. The kind of liking that means I want to be with you for a lifetime.”
That sounded far too innocent—so innocent that even Xie Chongyi felt a bit embarrassed.
What was really on his mind went far beyond the childish, make-believe nonsense he’d just spoken.
Wu Heng’s ears had caught only the words “together forever,” which happened to be exactly what he’d been hoping for.
Even if you were handing him a pillow when he was dozing off, it wouldn’t have been this quick or this perfect.
A few stars lit up in the young man’s eyes. “Really?” Listen closely, and you could hear the excitement in his rising tone.
But Xie Chongyi’s heart grew a little colder. “What are you so happy about?”
“Don’t you want to be with me forever?”
“Yes…” Xie Chongyi said through gritted teeth.
“Then let’s be together.”
Xie Chongyi didn’t understand him, nor did he intend to. Things that could be explained would eventually be understood; things that couldn’t be explained were hopeless even until death. In any case, Wu Heng had agreed to him—that much was certain, set in stone, and there was no escaping it.
The fingers the boy had been hiding under the covers for ages clamped down like iron pincers, seizing Wu Heng’s fingers resting on his stomach with lightning speed and precision. The captured fingers were soft and warm; they didn’t struggle, yet he nearly lost his grip. To hide his lack of composure, he lunged forward, pinning Wu Heng beneath him, covering him with his body.
Wu Heng looked at Xie Chongyi with innocent eyes, as if extending an invitation.
Xie Chongyi accepted the invitation.
Xie Chongyi bit down on Wu Heng’s mouth. It was so soft—so soft that he couldn’t help but hold it in his mouth and suck endlessly. He didn’t spare either of Wu Heng’s lips; he let the two peach-blossom-like lips swell into two little peaches in his mouth. He bit down hard, not wanting to hurt Wu Heng, he believed he should hold Wu Heng in the palm of his hand.
Months ago, on the train, that was exactly what he’d thought. But now that he actually held him there, all he wanted was to stuff him into his mouth, bite him to pieces, and swallow him whole. And he deserved to do just that—what place in the world could be safer than inside his own body? After convincing himself of this, Xie Chongyi’s kisses moved to Wu Heng’s neck.
When Wu Heng whimpered, Xie Chongyi said, “That sounds good. Do it louder.”
If Wu Heng didn’t realize by now just how far his relationship with the class monitor had gone, he’d have to be a complete fool. But not only did he feel no aversion, his fingers even instinctively intertwined with Xie Chongyi’s.
He thought he needed Xie Chongyi more, but when the kiss landed, Wu Heng sensed in their embrace that Xie Chongyi needed him just as much as he needed Xie Chongyi.
Xie Chongyi kissed him too fiercely, too deeply.
Their tongues collided in a chaotic tangle, and it felt as though countless electric currents were surging through both of them.
Wu Heng’s mind went blank. When he came to his senses, the boy was lying on his stomach like a young leopard, biting the soft flesh of his abdomen.
The sparks between them leapt into Wu Heng’s belly, burning ever brighter.
Wu Heng curled his legs as if unable to bear it, thrusting his knee upward. He didn’t know what he’d struck, but Xie Chongyi suddenly bit him hard, and both of them let out muffled groans.
They lay in each other’s arms, drenched in sweat, having kissed every inch of each other—and yet, ten minutes felt more than enough.
Sweaty and clinging to each other, they fell asleep, like two otters swimming and resting in the water. They had both left their original packs; they were a pack of their own. Whoever found food would drag it back for the other to feast on together. Once full, they would lazily sprawl on a rock to bask in the sun. They bathed each other, groomed each other’s fur, and tickled each other with their teeth. They depended on each other for survival in the wild.
—
They overslept, but the teacher didn’t hold it against them.
After oversleeping for a whole week straight, the two were finally summoned to the office.
“Wu Heng, you’re a good kid. You’re usually the one who gives me the least trouble. The college entrance exams are coming up soon—you need to focus. There will be plenty of good days ahead!” He spoke with conviction, his eyes darting repeatedly toward Xie Chongyi.
Xie Chongyi had already secured a direct university admission and was the class monitor, yet you couldn’t really call him a “good student.” But you also couldn’t label him a troublemaker either.
If you insisted on describing him, he was a troublesome case—he did good things, but he also caused plenty of trouble. Most people tended to go to extremes; he went in both directions. Even the homeroom teacher couldn’t be bothered to lecture him anymore.
But the homeroom teacher did worry about Wu Heng. He knew Wu Heng’s family situation, and compared to students like Xie Chongyi, who had a stable background, Wu Heng had no fallback at all.
That concern turned into anger half a month later when the monthly exam rankings came out—Xie Chongyi had “led Wu Heng astray,” and now Wu Heng was also heading toward both extremes.
The homeroom teacher slammed his desk repeatedly.
“A student should behave like a student!” he shouted.
He wanted to say, I should call your parents and have them deal with you properly, but then he remembered that neither of their families were the type to show up. The words died in his throat. Frustrated with his own softness, he stomped his feet and told them to get out—“Get out! Both of you!”
A teacher this decent would also not call the parents of his students right when they were in their best and most motivated state.
So instead, Wu Shiming and Zeng Like came uninvited.
It was during geography class. The teacher, Ying Liuquan, had handed out a stack of practice questions for them to review. He himself was leaning on the podium preparing the next set of exercises when a well-dressed couple knocked on the classroom door.
Amid the buzzing of cicadas, they raised their voices:
“We’re looking for Wu Heng.”
Most of the students in the room had the same thought at that moment:
His father is really handsome. His mother is really beautiful.
Having substituted for three years, Ying Liuquan wasn’t as familiar with every student’s family situation as the homeroom teacher, but he did know about some of the more unusual cases—and Wu Heng was one of them.
He immediately sensed this would not be good.
So he said, “Parents, we’re in class right now. If there’s anything, please wait until after class.”
Teacher Ying really was “made of water,” as everyone at the school commonly said—but not as praise. It was a mocking way of saying he was soft and weak.
Under normal circumstances, he should have gone to pour these two a cup of hot tea. Instead, he firmly refused them.
Something was wrong.
Dozens of energetic faces in the classroom were full of confusion. Heads turned like spinning tops. Wu Heng’s family affairs—small as sesame seeds in a sieve—had somehow all been shaken out. No one knew who had started it.
Or perhaps they already knew; after all, they even knew which cousin was someone’s mistress and which uncle was involved in questionable jobs.
“Hey, what’s going on? Do you have to go home to beat him here?” someone shouted from the back of the classroom.
“Uncle, auntie, have you not hit your kid in a few days and your hands are itching again?”
“Wu Heng, don’t go! I looked it up—you can get student loans in university, and work part-time for living expenses. For a family like that, you should cut ties as soon as possible!”
The classroom was buzzing with voices, like a group of inexperienced but enthusiastic people carrying an injured person, applying every remedy they could think of—some offering ointment, others painkillers. Anything that might keep him alive seemed worth trying.
Wu Heng sighed and still walked out.
In front of outsiders, Wu Shiming and Zeng Like were always impeccably respectable people, so Wu Heng wasn’t worried they would lay a hand on him at that moment.
“You’ve been gone for the past two months. Don’t you know your parents would worry?” Zeng Like said as soon as she saw him, finally letting out a breath of relief. “Your little sister misses you too.”
Wu Heng’s tone was cold. “Is that so?”
Wu Shiming adjusted his glasses. “Come home with us first.” He reached out his hand toward Wu Heng.
Wu Heng, very experienced, shifted his left shoulder away. It was the only tacit understanding between father and son—Wu Heng knew exactly where Wu Shiming would strike first.
“I’ve already arranged a transfer to a different school with your mother. This school has bad discipline—you’ve picked up bad habits here. Look at your classmates, the way they speak, what they say, you—”
“I’m not transferring.”
“Do you think you get to decide that?” Wu Shiming felt that Wu Heng had become disobedient. The scar on his head, stitched with seven or eight stitches, began to throb faintly again.
“I’m already an adult.”
“Then you don’t care about your little sister anymore? She loves you so much!” Zeng Like clutched her bag tightly, eyes reddening.
Wu Heng’s eyelids drooped slightly as he looked at her. “She’s not my child. Not my responsibility.”
Of the two adults, the most skilled at putting on an act wasn’t Wu Shiming—this time, the one who snapped first was him.
He raised his hand, swinging it down halfway—
At that moment, a hand reached out from behind the boy.
Xie Chongyi did not block it. Instead, he struck back.
A sharp crack echoed out, so loud it startled the cicadas in the tree by the balcony into flight.
Seated right beside the balcony, Xue Shen’s pen slipped from his fingers—his understanding of “Old Xie” had still been far too limited.
The boy smiled politely, his eyes and cheeks full of a courteous, almost gentle smile. He didn’t step forward. Even after making his move, he remained standing behind Wu Heng, in an unmistakable protective posture.
“Hello, uncle and aunt,” he said.
Wu Shiming immediately recognized him—the same boy who, months ago, had broken his hand.
But the person in front of him now was clearly still a high school student. Not only did the age not match, even the sharp, unrestrained youthfulness he now saw was completely different from the person he remembered.
It couldn’t possibly be the same individual.
And yet, that similar face alone was enough to make Wu Shiming feel disgust. Not to mention he had just been struck again—half his face was already swollen, overlapping with the injuries Wu Heng had previously caused, ringing in his head like a double echo.
“Take care of yourself,” Wu Shiming spat out, throwing down the words before leaving in fury.
Zeng Like didn’t leave in such a hurry. She hadn’t been hit yet.
She stood where she was, suspiciously examining the two of them—though it was more like she was examining them as if they were a single entity. After a long moment, her throat convulsed as if she had swallowed a fly.
“If you refuse to acknowledge us, that’s even better. At least you won’t bring home a body full of filth and infect the family with it.”
Unable to tolerate any longer, she turned and ran off in haste.
Yet Wu Heng only felt the afternoon sun warming his entire body.
There was only a faint stinging in his eyes. Whether it was healthy flesh or rotten flesh, cutting it away would always hurt a little—but only by removing the rotten parts could he get better. He understood that very clearly.
Xie Chongyi walked around in front of him and leaned casually against the balcony railing. Turning back, he gave Wu Heng a smile full of a classmate-like friendliness, showing none of the dark, dangerous edge he had displayed with Wu Heng in bed late at night.
“Wu Heng, congratulations,” he said, very much like a class monitor would. “Your future looks promising.”
