CH 75

Chapter 75: The Status of Lover

Yue Zhishi thought his brain must’ve been utterly fogged up from his asthma attack to have kissed Song Yu in front of everyone in public.

His breathing had still yet to completely even out, and he was still very weak; he looked a bit pitiful when he pulled away. He was still very flustered, so he coughed again a few times, as though he really hoped the people around them didn’t see the foolish thing he’d done. He hoped Song Yu wouldn’t be harassed.

But Song Yu hugged him, face to face, and stroked his hand up and down the back of Yue Zhishi’s head and his nape in comfort. “Everything’s okay now.” Reaching out, he picked up the cup of water on the floor and helped Yue Zhishi stand up, supporting him with his arms; he then said to the staff member gawking by the side, “I apologise for my boyfriend’s asthma attack affecting your work. I’d like a cup of hot water with some sugar, please.”

The staff member initially stared at him blankly before immediately nodding. “No problem. Please take a seat first.”

Song Yu supported Yue Zhishi over to a sofa booth and then kissed his forehead. “Wait here for me.”

He hurried over to the display counter they were just in front of and knelt down to pick up all of the items Yue Zhishi had spilled over the floor. He checked the medicine Yue Zhishi had brought with him, directly punching out the correct dosage of pills from the aluminium foil, and pushed both Yue Zhishi’s luggage and backpack over to him after packing everything up.

Yue Zhishi was resting on top of the table, and he looked very helpless and miserable to Song Yu. He walked over, sat next to Yue Zhishi and tugged him into his arms, smoothing a hand down his back.

“You haven’t eaten anything yet. What made you allergic?” Song Yu softly asked.

Yue Zhishi pushed his face into Song Yu’s shoulder, feeling Song Yu’s slightly damp coat. “I was very unlucky and accidentally bumped into the man carrying in flour. Actually, only a little bit of flour flew into the air, but I just so happened to breathe it in.” His voice still sounded somewhat weak and breathless, and Song Yu seemed to really notice it — he hugged him with very gentle arms.

“It’s good you listen and bring your meds with you wherever you go.” Song Yu touched Yue Zhishi’s hair and gave him the pills in his hand. “Any other allergic reactions?”

“Not so far.” Yue Zhishi shook his head.

Song Yu was wearing a black coat, and Yue Zhishi noticed there were many, almost imperceptible, water droplets on his woollen coat. It looked like he’d gone through a drizzle, and that reminded him — Song Yu shouldn’t have appeared here right at this very moment.

“Weren’t you in the northwest? You said you’d come back two days from now.”

“I also said that was the original plan. The rest of the people in the research team wanted to stay and travel for a few days as a group, but I thought I’d better come back earlier. After you later said you were going to Guangzhou and gave me your flight number, I decided to head there as well.” Song Yu was lightly patting his back. “But I couldn’t buy tickets for the earliest flight towards Guangzhou. I was worried something would happen after seeing all the news about the typhoon, so I called the airline. They told me your flight was going to be diverted.”

“Luckily enough, it was really easy to buy a plane ticket to Changsha so I flew here directly.”

Song Yu spoke in a particularly calm — even flat — voice about how he’d made his decision after so many unexpected events. He completely avoided talking about why he’d left his work early and travelled over to Changsha; he looked like he was just here for work, and was much calmer than the other travellers with their journeys delayed.

“No wonder I couldn’t call through to you,” Yue Zhishi said. Song Yu had been on the plane. He leaned on Song Yu’s body and asked in a muffled voice, “What if I’d left? You would’ve travelled over for no reason.”

“I wouldn’t have. You temporarily can’t go to Guangzhou, and there was a high probability of you waiting in the airport after the flight was delayed instead of choosing to take another travel method. You’re not in that much of a rush.”

He was like a machine calculating predictions. “After the airline company informed everyone of the flight delays, you would’ve stayed in the airport, watched a few episodes of anime, ate something and then continued to wait.”

All correct.

Yue Zhishi sniffled, pulling away from Song Yu’s arms, and suddenly noticed the girl sitting at the table diagonally across from them was staring in their direction — he only then realised his and Song Yu’s actions seemed to be overly intimate. But he didn’t retreat a distance away, only rather obstinately saying to Song Yu, “So you would rather risk a wasted journey instead of telling me you were coming over.”

After staying quiet for two seconds, Song Yu revealed a very rarely seen expression: he looked like he couldn’t understand what was happening. The staff member from earlier now came over with a cup of hot sugar water and even gifted them a hot Americano.

Yue Zhishi gave her his thanks and also said he’d troubled them. The staff member was very frightened. “Not at all, it was really our fault. Our shop’s being renovated so we couldn’t open the back door. Our delivery person also missed two bags of flour this morning, which is why he was here just then. It was too dangerous.”

“It’s fine.” Yue Zhishi smiled at her.

“It’s a good thing you’re okay, I was so scared.” She looked at Song Yu as she spoke and couldn’t help but praise, “Your boyfriend honestly feels so reliable.”

“Ah…” After hiding it for long, Yue Zhishi was very much unused to other people knowing about their relationship. He became a bit bashful, not knowing what to say. “…thank you.”

“The two of you really match each other.” The staff member acted like a young girl, covering half her face with her tray. “I won’t bother you guys anymore, please let me know if you need anything.”

“We will.” Yue Zhishi watched as she left, immersed in the delight of someone praising Song Yu as reliable. He carefully lifted up his cup and drank some water, throwing his pills into his mouth as well.

He’d yet to swallow when he heard Song Yu belatedly ask, “You’d like it more if I told you ahead of time?”

“Hm?” Yue Zhishi had just taken a large sip of water, and his cheeks were puffed up; he widened his eyes and blinked at Song Yu in confusion.

“Me suddenly showing up — you don’t like it?” Song Yu asked again.

Yue Zhishi quickly swallowed his pills and then shook his head, worriedly saying not at all. “I just found it strange why you didn’t tell me. What if you arrived and I wasn’t…” Halfway through his words, looking like he’d realised something, he abruptly froze, and he touched Song Yu’s arm with a hand.

“Gege, did you want to give me a surprise?” Yue Zhishi slanted his head.

Song Yu suddenly coughed, turning his head away to drink some water. He still didn’t look at Yue Zhishi even after he put down the cup. “I just didn’t want to tell you.”

Yue Zhishi stared at him for a while and then unexpectedly threw himself into Song Yu’s arms very happily. “Thank you.”

“I originally thought there wouldn’t be any issues with me going to Guangzhou by myself. It would’ve been fine if you didn’t come, I would’ve just had to work a bit harder with a lot more small inconveniences.” With his arms around Song Yu, Yue Zhishi raised his head and looked at him with very sincere eyes. “But now that you’re here, I don’t even mind the small inconveniences.”

He’d thought after his attack eased, he would’ve had to awkwardly clean up his mess, leave the store and then continue to wait, to board his flight — to head towards an unfamiliar city all by himself.

But Song Yu didn’t allow any of that to happen.

Even though he was so very clumsy and had no way to admit he’d wanted to surprise him, there was no one else like him who would always immediately arrive at Yue Zhishi’s side.

Song Yu hugged him back, his body finally relaxing.

He’d only just gotten off his plane when he called Yue Zhishi. He’d thought they would see each other very soon, and his heart had been overflowing with sweet pleasure. He had taken only a few steps when he heard the sound of coughing through the phone.

He’d already forgotten how he’d madly, wildly run over — how he’d desperately and frantically searched for the cake shop Yue Zhishi had mentioned. He must’ve looked so messy and panicked and very unlike himself.

“I don’t want any inconveniences. I don’t like them.” Lowering his head, Song Yu kissed the top of his head.

They took a short rest, and then the two of them left the airport. Flights were severely affected by the weather, and since Song Yu was worried about flight safety, he bought bullet train tickets from Changsha to Guangzhou for slightly later that day. They went to the hospital near the train station for Yue Zhishi to be given a last minute injection, and they didn’t have enough time to eat. Song Yu busied himself with buying Yue Zhishi some rice soaked in meat broth and sugar oil rice cake, staying next to Yue Zhishi in the hospital injection room as he finished the food.

“This one’s yummy, sticky and chewy. Really sweet.” Yue Zhishi attempted to feed Song Yu, but Song Yu dodged away.

“It’s too sweet.” Song Yu told him to finish all of it by himself.

His allergic rash had faded mostly away, but the side effects of his allergy meds left him woozy with some slight chills. But Yue Zhishi didn’t feel sad because of his attack — in this foreign place, he could keep holding Song Yu’s hand. No one knew how convoluted their relationship was.

The typhoon, the torrential rain, the unexpected emergency landing — all of these accidents weaved together a perfect escape plan, letting him and Song Yu temporarily flee from the title of ‘brothers’. They could be an uncomplicated pair of lovers, indifferent to the eyes of others.

There were a lot of people on the bullet train, and because Song Yu had purchased their tickets so hastily, their two seats weren’t next to each other. Yue Zhishi didn’t say anything, and yet Song Yu towed their two luggages to the front and even took the initiative to look for the person meant to sit next to Yue Zhishi. It was a young girl, and while Song Yu had always hated trouble, he asked very mildly if he could switch seats with her.

After seeing Song Yu’s face, the girl was slightly awed and somewhat shy. “You want to sit in my seat?”

“Yes.” Song Yu shifted slightly, turning his body sideways so she could see Yue Zhishi. “We didn’t buy seats next to each other.”

“Ah, I see.” The girl’s eyes brightened the moment she saw Yue Zhishi, and she stood up very quickly. “Then your seat is?”

“12A, the one next to the window.”

Their seats were actually all in the same row, and she swiftly agreed and moved over, continuously waving her hand in dismissal when Song Yu expressed his gratitude.

Song Yu had Yue Zhishi sit down next to the window, and he put away their luggages, taking off his large coat and draping it over Yue Zhishi’s body.

“I’ve always been really curious. Why don’t bullet trains have E seats?” Underneath the carriage lights, Yue Zhishi’s hair looked very soft, and it faintly shimmered with gold.

“I think they’re meant to be the same as airplane seating.” Song Yu sat down as well. There wasn’t quite enough space in a second class seat, and so his legs couldn’t really stretch out; he was really not used to it.

Nodding, Yue Zhishi said in Japanese, “I see.” His hands, hidden under Song Yu’s coat, were sneakily moving around. He pushed away his armrest and then went to look for Song Yu’s, but because he touched Song Yu’s arm first, he conveniently gave that forearm a squeeze.

He was just about to push away Song Yu’s armrest as well when the girl from earlier stood up and headed in their direction. Yue Zhishi lifted his eyes, looked at her and saw her press her lips together and say to Song Yu, “Um, excuse me, is it okay if I add your WeChat?”

Song Yu only then raised his head to look at her, but the carriage was very noisy — his whole attention had been on Yue Zhishi’s hand, and he didn’t hear a single thing she’d said. “What?”

“I’d like to add your WeChat.” The girl was a bit embarrassed. “If I can.”

If he hadn’t just switched seats with her, Song Yu might’ve rejected her as coldly as he usually did. But he was in a bit of a difficult situation right now: he guessed that if he rejected her, there might be a decent chance of her asking to change their seats back.

Compared to sitting together with Yue Zhishi, exchanging WeChat details was nothing.

Song Yu was just about to take out his phone when Yue Zhishi abruptly tossed away the coat. He spoke neither loudly nor softly, but he said to that girl very frankly, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Song Yu’s first reaction was to cover Yue Zhishi back up with his coat, realising only after what Yue Zhishi had said — he twisted his face over to look at him with some surprise.

Instantly, the look on the girl’s face turned slightly awkward; her eyes swept over Yue Zhishi and Song Yu twice, and she asked, still not quite sure, “…really?”

“Yes.” Yue Zhishi’s light-coloured eyes glowed under the lights. The words that came out of his mouth were very blunt, yet they intriguingly left others with no way to refuse them. “Can you not ask him for his WeChat? I’ll get jealous.”

Song Yu threw him a glance. “You will?”

“I will.” Yue Zhishi pursed his lips and smiled at him. The corners of Song Yu’s mouth gently curved upwards a bit as well, but he used his formidable strength of will to turn them back down.

As she watched them, the girl understood and prepared to leave after saying sorry for disturbing you. Yue Zhishi hurriedly called out and gave her the mango mousse he’d bought from the cake store; he felt slightly better only after she started smiling again.

“That was my first time doing something like that.” He pushed away Song Yu’s armrest and leaned against him. He said very quietly, “I hope she won’t be unhappy.”

Song Yu simply found him adorable, so he chuckled.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing. I just thought you’re really like one of those small dogs who bark and bother other people only when next to their owners.”

Yue Zhishi wasn’t very satisfied with Song Yu’s description of him; he got up from his shoulder and turned to face Song Yu. “I’m not that bad.”

“I know.” Song Yu caressed Yue Zhishi’s chin.

The train started moving, and Yue Zhishi spoke to Song Yu softly, his words going in circles. He stealthily pulled Song Yu’s hand underneath the coat and fiddled with it.

“The staff member from the cake shop said we really match each other,” Yue Zhishi whispered. “Did you hear?”

Song Yu shook his head — at that time, he’d been lost in his frustration at failing to surprise Yue Zhishi and hadn’t heard a single thing.

But he quickly said, “But I agree with her.”

Yue Zhishi was amused by his serious words and pinched Song Yu’s hand. “Why do you agree?”

It was just a casual question, and he hadn’t hoped to get any real answer — but Song Yu actually responded. “According to people’s current widespread beliefs, there are a few criteria for whether two people suit each other. Looks, body, education, income and family background.”

He answered as though he was earnestly completing an academic question, strictly analysing each criteria one by one. “Looks and body both belong to aesthetic taste with no standard answer…”

“I really like your face,” Yue Zhishi softly interjected.

Turning to look at him, Song Yu raised an eyebrow. “Only my face?”

“…” Yue Zhishi then said, still softly, “And your body.”

Song Yu seemed to be a bit more satisfied at that answer. Yue Zhishi shifted back onto Song Yu and asked in a very faint voice, “Then do you think I look nice?”

Yue Zhishi was very close to him when he asked that question, the fine, soft down on his cheeks visible. His western bone structure mingled well with the smooth, delicate skin of Asian background, and when he blinked, his brown eyes, layered with dense yet long eyelashes, gave him a kind of uncommon innocence.

Asking a question like that with that face…

“I don’t know if you look nice or not,” Song Yu deliberately said.

He laughed when he saw Yue Zhishi’s hurt puppy dog eyes. “You really don’t know yourself at all.”

That pretty much meant Song Yu thought he was good-looking and liked his looks, so Yue Zhishi cheered up again very quickly.

Song Yu continued calculating. “Education — we’re from the same schools. Income — even though you don’t have any right now, you’re going to be a lawyer in the future. Your income should be relatively impressive. And it’s not like my future income won’t be enough to keep you.”

Yue Zhishi really liked the word ‘keep’; he stroked Song Yu’s arm with great cheer.

“As for family background…”

At that final criteria, both of them simultaneously fell silent for a few seconds, and then Song Yu chuckled like he was laughing at himself. “If your father were still around, we would be considered as old family friends. Since your dad’s not here, then our family background is from the same family — and so on a certain level, we could be considered as having the same status.”

Yue Zhishi lifted his head, looking at him, and bent his head onto Song Yu’s shoulder with significant emotional attachment.

“Looking at it like that, then we truly do suit each other, don’t we?”

He cared more about Song Yu’s feelings than anything else. As for those metrics — they were just inconsequential fun.

This escape, destined to head straight into a wild storm, wasn’t suited for anxious hearts.

Streaks of rain once again appeared outside the carriage windows, and in the pitch black night, the strands of rain that landed on the glass shone the brightest. Sleepily, drowsily, Yue Zhishi rested on Song Yu’s shoulder and told him it had also been like this earlier that day on the plane — it had been raining, and there had been so many people.

“The plane was so bumpy. I was so scared.”

Song Yu stroked his face, helping him pull up the coat that had slid down.

“I thought about that airplane disaster movie we’d watched together.”

“It wasn’t that serious,” Song Yu said. “Flight diversion is very common.”

Yue Zhishi thought about how he’d felt at that time. A lingering fear still remained in his heart — he knew Song Yu would think he was being very childish, very immature, but Yue Zhishi had an inherent fear of disaster.

“I thought the aircrew would give me a will. I’d already thought about what to write.”

To be more precise, he’d already written a rough draft in his phone.

Song Yu thought he was really cute, but once he truly thought about it, he felt scared, even somewhat heartbroken — he didn’t want to come across as caring too much, so he pretended and said in a relatively relaxed voice, “What did you want to write?”

“Hm…” In his heart, Yue Zhishi flicked through that very simple will and picked something that didn’t appear all that important. He told Song Yu, “I have over $13,000 RMB savings in total in my phone and bank card. But I still owe $2,000 in monthly payments. Please help me repay that, or else I won’t be able to die in peace. The leftover money should be split into three equal portions and given to you, Aunt Rong and Uncle.”

“The sketchbooks you gave me — the two of them. Can you burn them for me? Even though I know it’s really superstitious, but I want to have those two things. I don’t have to have anything else.” And then, Yue Zhishi considered a little bit. “I don’t know if those superstitions are believable or not. If I don’t receive them after they’ve been burned, then it would’ve been an utter waste.”

At certain times, Yue Zhishi would always be both innocent and cruel. Song Yu didn’t really want to keep listening, so he didn’t say a single thing.

Or maybe he should ask Yue Zhishi — when he imagined himself possibly dying, did he think about him.

Other than money, did he think about leaving anything else to him.

And very tacitly, Yue Zhishi stopped speaking as well. He stretched out a hand and wrote the ‘yu’ character in Song Yu’s name on the glass window before wiping it away with his fingers. The conversation jumped to what they should eat tomorrow, and he told Song Yu he’d read many guides on what to eat in Guangzhou before he’d left; he chattered away, and in the end, he grew tired and fell asleep on Song Yu’s body.

Time flowed so slowly after he fell asleep. Underneath the coat, Song Yu clutched Yue Zhishi’s hand tightly, as though he could feel a bit more reassured that way.

No one would take something like that seriously, except for Song Yu. He thought he’d long gotten used to the possibility of losing Yue Zhishi at any given moment — but now he realised, he hadn’t.

There was still one more stop until Guangzhou. Yue Zhishi’s phone suddenly vibrated, and he refused to wake up despite it bothering him. Song Yu could only release his hand and go searching for Yue Zhishi’s phone; he finally found it in the pocket of Yue Zhishi’s coat. The screen was lit up — it was Yue Zhishi’s alarm.

He really liked using alarms as a method to remind himself to do something. Song Yu helped him turn it off, but after only thirty seconds, a new alarm rang.

He really liked setting multiple alarms one after another.

Because of the noise, Yue Zhishi was no longer resting on Song Yu, shifting himself towards the window. Song Yu had no choice but to type in the password and unlock the phone, turning off all five consecutive alarms.

When he was swiping back out, he accidentally hit one of the apps running in the background, and it just so happened to be a memo Yue Zhishi had written. Song Yu knew he shouldn’t pry into his privacy, but he still read it.

The entire memo wasn’t long, only a few lines. But the title of it was the single word of ‘will’, and it was entirely something Yue Zhishi would do.

Song Yu immediately saw the last few sentences.

[I know we’re required to be cremated, but if there are any ashes left, please give them to Mr. Song Yu. I’ve written his phone number at the very top — you can contact him.

I’m not sure about inheritance rules, but I have no immediate family members. He is my lover.]