Xie Lanzhi was a man of his word—he proved with action just how important it was to have a boyfriend around when suffering from “reverse CP.”
He told Qin Shu to relax, but Qin Shu couldn’t relax at all. Even though they’d done similar things before, even though they were in the privacy of home—not on the sofa, the kitchen, the balcony, those unconventional places—and even though this bed was one he’d slept in countless times, just the fact that the other person was Xie Lanzhi made it unbelievable. Fireworks were going off in his brain—forget “NingCheng” reverse CP, at this point he couldn’t even remember who Xu Ning or Chu Cheng were.
A light duvet was thrown over them. Curled in Xie Lanzhi’s arms, Qin Shu closed his eyes, biting his lip in restraint.
Xie Lanzhi kissed the corner of his mouth and murmured: “Don’t bite yourself.”
Qin Shu trembled: “B-but I can’t help it.”
“Oh? Then kiss me instead.”
Qin Shu obediently parted his lips and let Xie Lanzhi kiss him.
Mid-kiss, Xie Lanzhi suddenly stopped, lowering his head to look at him. The junior’s cheeks were flushed scarlet, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Feeling the pause, he finally opened his dazed eyes and whispered: “Brother?”
“Do you still remember what I just said?”
“W-what?”
“I said we should try something else.” With that, Xie Lanzhi lifted the quilt over his own head, gave Qin Shu a faint smile, and lowered himself down.
Qin Shu’s brain wasn’t just fireworks now—it was a hydrogen bomb.
“Brother, don’t—” He tried to push Xie Lanzhi away, but his hands were weak, resting on his shoulders more like reluctant acceptance than refusal.
Giving up, Qin Shu raised his hand and covered his eyes.
It wasn’t long before Xie Lanzhi lifted the quilt again. Qin Shu stared blankly at the ceiling, completely unable to believe what had just happened.
Pulling a few tissues from the bedside, Xie Lanzhi tidied him up. “I’ll rinse my mouth.”
Qin Shu, still dazed: “Mm…”
As soon as Xie Lanzhi left, Qin Shu buried his face in the pillow, pounding his chest and stomping his feet. How could he—how could he defile Xie Lanzhi like that? He wasn’t worthy!
Yes, it was normal between lovers, especially same-sex lovers—but making Xie Lanzhi do it for him gave him this inexplicable guilt, like he’d seduced a perfect male god into corruption.
When Xie Lanzhi came back, Qin Shu was still flopping about on the bed. He ruffled his hair and said: “Still this lively during post-org*sm clarity?”
Qin Shu sat up, eyes damp and rimmed red. “Brother, let me… help you too.”
Xie Lanzhi paused a beat, then said: “When your heart’s done hurting.”
Just twenty minutes ago Qin Shu had been bawling about “reverse CP,” life and death. Now he blinked, confused: “Heart hurting? What heart hurting?”
Xie Lanzhi: “…” So easy to coax.
“Let me help you,” Qin Shu insisted. “Courtesy demands reciprocity—it’s one of the traditional virtues of the Chinese nation.”
Xie Lanzhi just stood there by the bed, neither moving nor rejecting.
When Qin Shu got no answer, he plucked up courage, scooted to the edge of the bed, and tugged at the hem of Xie Lanzhi’s shirt to pull him closer. He wasn’t strong, but still managed to drag him within reach. Kneeling on the bed, he shut his eyes and leaned forward.
Xie Lanzhi was still in loose loungewear; Qin Shu deliberately didn’t take it off. Even through the fabric, it should be fine—after all, BL novels often wrote it like this.
Looking down at him from above, Xie Lanzhi stroked his cheek and asked hoarsely: “You really want to help me?”
Qin Shu looked up at him, gave a firm nod.
With that same cool, distant, handsome expression, Xie Lanzhi said: “Open your mouth.”
…
And so began Qin Shu’s “healing” life at his boyfriend’s home.
On Day One of reverse CP, after collapsing, he was cured by Xie Lanzhi’s special method and slept soundly.
On Day Two, his heart still ached faintly, but he could pet Snowball again and taste food.
On Day Three, he had a major class exam. Xie Lanzhi set an alarm for him, and he woke up early to the sound of a demonic ringtone:
“Of the thousands of roads, safety comes first. If you drive recklessly, your family sheds two lines of tears; of the thousands of roads, safety comes first…”
Still half-asleep, brain fogged, Qin Shu froze for a second before tumbling straight out of bed with a thud. Without even putting on shoes, he went tearing around the house. “Brother! Brother—!”
Xie Lanzhi had just returned with breakfast. Seeing him barefoot, he frowned. “Still not wearing shoes.”
Qin Shu barreled into his arms. “My god, I was scared to death—I heard something weird just now!”
Xie Lanzhi wrapped an arm around his waist. “Throwing yourself at me first thing in the morning?”
Calming down, Qin Shu pieced it together. “Brother… did you change my alarm ringtone?”
“Mm.”
Qin Shu laughed and cried at once. “Why?”
“You don’t focus when you drive.”
“That was just an accident! I didn’t mean to.” Qin Shu muttered, “Besides, nothing happened in the end.”
Xie Lanzhi said flatly: “If you don’t want to hear it, copy out lines.”
“Copy lines?” Qin Shu groaned. “Then I’ll keep the ringtone.”
“It’s just a warning. Don’t get distracted at the wheel again—I don’t want tears running down my face.”
“Don’t worry, Brother.” Qin Shu gave a bitter smile. “I’ve learned my lesson. Oh—how much for the car repair? I’ll transfer it to you.”
Xie Lanzhi ignored the question. “Wash up. Breakfast.”
Qin Shu had hidden out at Xie Lanzhi’s place for two days without seeing Chu Cheng or Xu Ning. The impact of “reverse CP” had dulled quite a bit—proving that, yes, avoidance might be shameful, but it was useful. But today he had to see Chu Cheng in the exam hall, and he worried he’d collapse again.
After hearing his concern, Xie Lanzhi said: “So long as Xu Ning and Chu Cheng are together properly, nothing else matters.”
Qin Shu sighed. “I know that in theory, but… forget it, you don’t ship CP, you don’t get it.”
Unable to empathize, Xie Lanzhi didn’t press. “If you’re worried about collapsing, give yourself a vaccine first.”
“Vaccine?”
“The only thing that can make you forget them temporarily is…” Xie Lanzhi lifted Qin Shu onto the desk and kissed him deeply. “Don’t think of them. Think of me.”
Blushing, clinging to his neck, Qin Shu whispered: “I-I’ll try.”
…
At the exam, Qin Shu sat behind Chu Cheng as always.
Chu Cheng waved. “Over here!”
Qin Shu forced himself to recall Xie Lanzhi’s kiss, drew a deep breath, and walked over.
Chu Cheng eyed him. “Your brain any better?”
“Nope. My insurance money ran out, can’t afford treatment.” Qin Shu was relieved that his voice sounded steady.
Chu Cheng chuckled. “Can’t do that—this sickness has to be cured, even if it bankrupts you. Otherwise Brother Lan will be stuck caring for an idiot for life.”
Expressionless, Qin Shu said: “I really want to strangle you right now.”
After the test, they walked out together.
Chu Cheng asked: “When are you moving back to the dorm?”
“Not sure yet.” Qin Shu gave him a sideways look. “What, lonely living alone? Don’t you have a hu—…husband?” He nearly bit his tongue on “husband.”
“F*ck off, you’re the one with a husband! Living alone is awesome, I just wanna know how much longer I can keep enjoying it.”
Outside, Xu Ning was waiting by the fountain. Qin Shu’s steps faltered. Chu Cheng tossed back a quick “I promised Xu Ning lunch” before dashing straight toward his “husband.”
Qin Shu: “…” He didn’t even ask if Qin Shu wanted to eat too. Not that he would’ve gone to gouge his own eyes out—but seriously, when he and Xie Lanzhi had dated, he’d often dragged those two oil bottles along. Guess it’s true: once a son’s married off, he’s like water spilled.
Just then, Qin Shu’s phone buzzed—a WeChat from Xie Lanzhi.
【Boyfriend: Done with the exam?】
【Xie Love Letter: Done.】
【Xie Love Letter: Everyone else got picked up by their boyfriends, only I’m left behind.】
【Boyfriend: .】
【Boyfriend transferred you 5200.】
【Boyfriend: Apology gift.】
【Xie Love Letter: Brother, I was just memeing. 0.0】
【Boyfriend: …】
【Boyfriend: Meme less. Do more of something else.】
Qin Shu did want to do more of “something else,” but exams were packed back-to-back. With all the reviewing, he had little energy left for anything else—which was a blessing in disguise. In between cramming, he still had to pick courses for next semester.
That’s right—the annual course selection war had arrived!
To students, course selection was as brutal as Double Eleven sales or Spring Festival train tickets. Everyone was asking: which electives were easy credits, which professors failed the least. The school forum even circulated a blacklist—those professors were like monsters in the eyes of slackers. As Lu Rulu put it: never underestimate the blacklist. Behind every name was the blood and tears of upperclassmen.
Of course, where there was a blacklist, there was also a whitelist. Whitelist professors had limited slots—so it all came down to speed. Dorm internet was trash, so Lu Rulu and Chu Cheng hauled their laptops to Xie Lanzhi’s place to leech his Wi-Fi.
Thankfully Xu Ning didn’t come, sparing Qin Shu another CP-eye-gouging session. He asked Chu Cheng: “Why didn’t Xu Ning come?”
“His art major’s special—their mentors get assigned in freshman year.”
“Soga.”
Xie Lanzhi, calm as ever: “You don’t need to make such a fuss.”
“This isn’t your place to talk, study god.” Lu Rulu stared at the clock. “Say what you want, but I have to get swimming class!”
Qin Shu asked: “Why swimming?”
Xie Lanzhi: “School rule. You can’t graduate without passing the swimming test.”
Qin Shu: “??? What kind of dumb rule is that—are we filming a live-action Free!?”
Lu Rulu’s eyes lit up. “So you can’t swim either?”
“I can.” Qin Shu mimed a breaststroke. “I can do breaststroke.”
Lu Rulu’s smile froze. “…Oh. Then just pick whatever for PE. Just don’t pick ballroom dance.”
“What’s wrong with ballroom?”
“There’s this guy in our class who picked it. First lesson, teacher demanded everyone bring a partner. You know our gender ratio. He couldn’t find a girl, ended up dragging his roommate. Tragic with a capital T.”
Imagining two burly guys ballroom dancing, Qin Shu shivered. Then remembered something. “By the way, Brother Yun, did your ex ever pay you back?”
At that, Lu Rulu’s face darkened. “Pay back my *ss!”
“Then why’d she ask you out?”
“She was using me as a prop, trying to make some guy jealous—the one who ignored her.”
“Oh? That handsome guy we saw on New Year’s?”
Xie Lanzhi narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah. She acted all lovey-dovey with me in front of him. He just looked at us like we were idiots… f*ck.”
“And then?”
“I told her to shut up and pay me back—haha! You should’ve seen her face. Two words: so satisfying.”
Author’s note: Here it comes, here it comes—next time it’s the real deal!
