Chapter 8: In Short

Compared to the boisterous room of Jian Yanzhi and Lu Xue, the villa across the street was remarkably quiet.

 

He Yuan had just woken up and was yawning as he descended the stairs.

 

“Hey, Eldest! You’re finally up! Don’t worry, Auntie saved you some ribs,” Lin Mao said from his computer, propping his head up with one hand.

 

He Yuan grunted in acknowledgment and walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He had barely taken a sip when someone suddenly pounced on him from behind.

 

“Eldest! You’re practically my savior! I love you, I love you, I love you!”

 

“Pfft!” He Yuan spat out the entire mouthful of water onto the glass countertop.

 

“Eldest! I saw your Weibo post! It moved me to tears!” Jian Boyi howled dramatically, throwing his head back to the sky.

 

He Yuan narrowed his eyes, his voice strained with suppressed fury. “Get the fuck off me.”

 

Jian Boyi obediently slinked to the side, but his effusive praise continued unabated. “Ah… I never knew Shen Yuan was like this! Don’t worry, I’ll follow your lead from now on!”

 

He Yuan eyed him suspiciously. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

 

Jian Boyi gave him a knowing look. “Hey, I get it. You’re a bit shy. Posting that Weibo must have been a little embarrassing.”

 

Post on Weibo?

 

He Yuan paused, his sleep-fogged mind slowly clearing. He vaguely recalled Manager Yang Dong entering his room while he was still asleep that morning, waking him when he grabbed his phone.

 

What had Yang Dong said when He Yuan threw a pillow at him? Something about using his phone to post on Weibo?

 

Too drowsy to care, He Yuan had simply kicked the manager out and fallen back asleep without a second thought.

 

He Yuan’s eyes narrowed as he walked toward Yang Dong, who was sitting on the sofa. “Where’s my phone?”

 

Yang Dong glanced up. “On the table.”

 

“Eldest, here you go!” Jian Boyi chimed in, eagerly handing it over with a fawning grin.

 

A sense of foreboding washed over He Yuan. Grim-faced, he opened Weibo.

 

The platform was flooded with notifications, but his eyes immediately fell on his own pinned post. After a quick glance, his expression darkened further.

 

“So? Didn’t I write it perfectly? Even the trolls have scattered!” Yang Dong grinned smugly, as if expecting praise.

 

“Perfect?” He Yuan sneered. “This piece of garbage is why you barged into my room and stole my phone at dawn?”

 

Yang Dong chuckled sheepishly. “This has been brewing for too long, and it’s not good for Xiao Jiu. I knew you wouldn’t bother posting anything, and even if you did, it would just be a few half-hearted words with no impact. I had to handle it myself.”

 

He Yuan glared at him. Yang Dong cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, don’t delete it, okay? Otherwise, they’ll start spreading rumors again.”

 

Jian Boyi, who had been listening in confusion, asked, “Wait, Brother Dong, you posted that Weibo?”

 

The manager nodded. “Yup.”

 

Jian Boyi turned to He Yuan, feigning indifference. “Wow, you ruined my emotional moment.”

 

Lao Yao emerged from the bathroom, zipping up his pants. “Naive. Who do you think Shen Yuan is? He’d never stoop to sentimental tactics. What a joke.”

 

As Lao Yao passed Jian Boyi, he slapped him on the shoulder and casually wiped his hand on it. “Kid, Shen Yuan has always let his skills speak for themselves!”

 

“Oh,” Jian Boyi replied, glancing at his shoulder. “…Did you wash your hands?”

 

Lao Yao paused, thinking. “Hmm, don’t think so.”

 

Jian Boyi lunged at him with a furious shout: “You son of a bitch!”

 

He Yuan glanced at the two wrestling figures with disdain.

 

“A Yuan, you won’t delete the Weibo, right?” Yang Dong asked anxiously, sidling closer again.

 

He Yuan didn’t even glance at Yang Dong. He nonchalantly opened his game interface and, after a long wait that felt like an eternity, finally acknowledged the impatient Yang Dong with a perfunctory “Hmm.”

 

The grunt sounded dismissive and annoyed, but Yang Dong breathed a sigh of relief. He knew He Yuan was all bark and no bite; though the Weibo post had made his stomach churn, as their captain, He Yuan would undoubtedly stand by his teammates.

 

That was why Yang Dong had dared to post the tweet using He Yuan’s phone in the first place.

 

Later that day, Jian Yanzhi sat in front of her computer, watching He Yuan’s livestream.

 

She had enabled the chat, and the stream was flooded with comments about the morning’s Weibo post. Yet the man on screen remained indifferent, engrossed in his game and ignoring the chatter completely.

 

“Damn it! Who the hell tore down Xiao Yanzhi’s poster and used it as a table leg pad?!” A sudden, furious voice shattered the stream’s calm.

 

The chat went silent for a split second, then erupted with laughter:

 

“Mao Mao’s love for Jian Yanzhi runs deep!”

 

“Shen Yuan, just because you can live like a monk doesn’t mean your teammates can! How could you use her poster like that?!”

 

“Why become a monk? Shen Yuan already has Ninth Brother!”

 

“Moderator, ban that Qingfeng guy,” He Yuan scoffed, spitting out the word, “Filth.”

 

Jian Yanzhi grinned mischievously as she banned the user who had typed “Shen Yuan has Ninth Brother.” Her username, “God Yuan’s Little Fox,” had recently been granted moderator privileges in the livestream chat, giving her the power to ban anyone she pleased.

 

He Yuan’s words were music to her ears. “Shen Yuan has Ninth Brother”? How vulgar!

 

No sooner had she banned the user than He Yuan casually remarked, “Mao Mao, stick the poster to his door. If he wants it back, he’ll have to tear it off. Did anyone really think I’d use someone’s poster as a table leg? Do I look that bored?”

 

The chat exploded:

 

“Hahahaha, on his door? Shen Yuan and Mao Mao must be neighbors! So Jian Yanzhi’s face is the first thing he sees every time he opens his door?”

 

“Seeing the goddess every day—how does that make Shen Yuan feel?”

 

“66666”

 

“How does it feel?” Jian Yanzhi asked. He Yuan’s lips seemed to twitch upward, but his words were sharp. “I’m tired of looking at it.”

 

“…………”

 

“Tired of looking at it?” Jian Yanzhi froze for a moment, then leaped out of her chair. “My sister is as beautiful as the moon, and you dare say you’re tired of looking at her!”

 

That evening, Jian Yanzhi, clutching a large box of cherries Jian Heshu had bought for her, knocked on the opposite door.

 

A minute later, He Yuan opened it.

 

“What are you doing here?” Jian Yanzhi asked, surprised to see him.

 

“What’s wrong with it being me?” He Yuan glanced down at the box in her arms, his lip curling. “What’s that?”

 

Remembering his earlier remarks during his livestream, Jian Yanzhi glared at him. Without a word, she squeezed past him into the room.

 

He Yuan: “……”

 

“Ah, Xiao Yanzhi’s here!” Lin Mao and the others were engrossed in a game, which explained why He Yuan had answered the door.

 

“Sit down,” He Yuan snapped, pinning Lin Mao to his chair with a glare before the excited gamer could launch himself forward.

 

“Xiao Yanzhi, wait for me! This game will be over in a minute,” Lin Mao pleaded, too intimidated to act up in front of He Yuan.

 

“Don’t worry about me. I just brought some fruit,” Jian Yanzhi said, placing a box of cherries on the dining table. “They’re freshly picked today.”

 

“Great! You’re so thoughtful!”

 

Jian Boyi chimed in, “Since you brought them, why don’t you wash some for me to eat?”

 

Jian Yanzhi rolled her eyes but stopped mid-sentence, her attention caught by a crumpled poster on the table.

 

The person in the poster was her… Oh, this must be the one that used to be stuck on He Yuan’s door, the one someone had later used as a makeshift coaster.

 

A few minutes later, Jian Yanzhi approached the group with a plate of cherries, nibbling as she offered them one by one, starting with Lin Mao on the left and working her way down the line.

 

He Yuan, seated in the middle, was next after Lao Yao freed a hand to take his share. He Yuan hadn’t started his game yet, leaning back in his chair and reaching for a cherry.

 

With lightning reflexes, Jian Yanzhi yanked the plate away just as He Yuan’s fingers neared a particularly plump, crimson cherry. The plate arced gracefully past him, landing beside Jian Boyi instead.

 

Jian Boyi grabbed a handful of cherries, shoved them into his mouth, and grumbling, went back to his game. He Yuan’s hand, which had been hovering in the air, paused momentarily. His gaze finally shifted from the computer screen to Jian Yanzhi’s face.

 

Seemingly oblivious to his stare, Jian Yanzhi remained fixedly watching Hang Wenjie’s computer screen.

 

“This game is a disaster! The enemy jungler keeps invading my jungle, and I’m falling way behind,” Hang Wenjie complained bitterly.

 

Jian Yanzhi nodded absently, her attention elsewhere. She knew He Yuan was watching her, even if only briefly. His calm, scrutinizing gaze made her feel as if she were sitting on pins and needles.

 

*What are you looking at? So what if I didn’t give you a cherry? You’re the one who said you were tired of seeing my face!*

 

Later, after He Yuan finished a game and disappeared, Jian Yanzhi chatted with the others in the room for a while before heading home.

 

As she left, Jian Yanzhi turned back to help close the front door.

 

She turned back…

 

“Ah!”

 

Someone had silently approached behind her, and she collided with him with a soft thud, stumbling backward.

 

A soft thump echoed as the back of He Yuan’s hand lightly brushed against the door. His palm, however, firmly supported the back of her head.

 

“So jumpy. Did you see a ghost?” He Yuan withdrew his hand, moving the cigarette he held in his other hand farther away.

 

Jian Yanzhi looked up, startled, and stared at him for a moment. “You snuck out to smoke.”

 

He Yuan scoffed, his expression oozing roguish charm. “Sneak? Do I have to hide to smoke?”

 

“Then why were you standing behind me?”

 

“Just got back from buying cigarettes at the convenience store,” He Yuan replied, glancing down at her with amusement. “I was heading back to my place, not lurking behind you.”

 

Jian Yanzhi pressed her lips together, finding herself speechless.

 

“Move.”

 

She stepped aside.

 

He Yuan placed his hand on the doorknob, about to push the door open, when the girl beside him suddenly blurted out, “Shen Yuan, am I really that hard to look at?”

 

“Hmm?” He Yuan paused, turning his head to look at her.

 

Gathering her courage, Jian Yanzhi repeated, “Am I… hard to look at?”

 

He Yuan narrowed his eyes, a bewildered expression crossing his face. “Why are you asking me that?”

 

Jian Yanzhi felt her breath catch in her throat. Seeing the man’s nonchalant demeanor, she suddenly felt ridiculous.

 

“Oh, right. You like men. It’s normal for you to get tired of looking at women.”

 

A sudden realization washed over her. How had she forgotten that He Yuan was gay? Why had she been feeling so stifled just because he might be tired of looking at her?