The evening self-study bell hadn’t rung yet, and the classroom was a chaotic, noisy mess.
Tomorrow was finals, and after that, the long-awaited winter break. Even the most disciplined students were distracted, chatting in small groups rather than studying.
In the past, members of the student council would have shown up with disciplinary books to dock points by now.
But the hallway was deserted, no sign of anyone, and the entire building seemed to have succumbed to the holiday mood.
None of it mattered to Bo Jin.
He stood there, eyes downcast, staring at the notebook in his hand.
The handwriting on the page was messy, with no clear logic or structure, like someone writing whatever came to mind. An uninformed person glancing at it wouldn’t pay it any attention. But the highlighted entries of “Sunshine Orphanage” and “Boss Wang’s Teahouse” made Bo Jin acutely aware that this was about him.
Bo Jin stared at the words “prevent suicide,” feeling his temples throb.
He remembered how, the first time they met, Xie Ruan had misunderstood him climbing to the rooftop as an attempt to jump. He often teased him about it as a joke. But… Bo Jin closed his eyes, a wild thought surfacing in his mind. Could it be that Xie Ruan had always thought he wanted to die?
Otherwise, why would he be looking up things like suicide prevention and depression?
He recalled how Xie Ruan had talked about depression before, as if he assumed Bo Jin would be intimately familiar with it. At the time, Bo Jin had thought it was just because Xie Ruan admired him, thinking he knew everything.
But now, looking at the huge “X” on the notebook, Bo Jin was suddenly uncertain.
Why did Xie Ruan look up depression? Was it really because he was a fan of that celebrity with depressive tendencies, as he’d claimed? Or did he think Bo Jin had depression?
Once a seed of doubt is planted, it takes root and grows, sprawling into every corner of the mind.
Bo Jin clenched his jaw, gripping the notebook so tightly he nearly tore the paper.
What about all those times he secretly helped him, joined his fan group, or went to Uncle Wang’s shop to dig up information about him?
What was all that for?
Was it really because he liked him?
Bo Jin’s intuition told him he shouldn’t dig any deeper, that the answer might be one he couldn’t bear to accept. But even after closing the notebook, the words remained vividly etched in his mind.
He couldn’t forget, nor push them away.
Taking a deep breath, Bo Jin forced himself to calm down. He knew his expression must be grim, so instead of seeking out Sun Haoxiang directly, he pulled out his phone and sent him a message.
[Bo]: You know the admin of my fan group, right?
[Bo]: Ask her to screenshot part of the message from the person who got tagged at 6:34 p.m. on November 9th.
Bo Jin never paid attention to the school forum. The only reason he knew about the group was because Sun Haoxiang had told him. Sun Haoxiang had once complained that he’d finally had a girl show interest in him, only to find out she was actually after Bo Jin.
Sun Haoxiang, who had been discussing holiday plans with He Mingjie, froze when he saw the message.
He looked up at Bo Jin in confusion, unable to understand why he suddenly wanted that.
[After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang]: Who’s that? Why do you need their chat records?
[After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang]: I thought you didn’t care about that stuff.
[After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang]: What’s up, Bo? Developing a celebrity complex?
Bo Jin wasn’t in the mood to banter and, repressing his impatience, replied:
[Bo]: Cut the nonsense.
Sun Haoxiang, noticing Bo Jin’s serious tone, dropped the sarcasm and responded with an “OK” emoji before setting off to find the person in question.
Bo Jin sat quietly for a while, then got up to open the window.
The icy night wind hit him squarely, bringing with it a chill that penetrated to his core. The night was a heavy black, weighed down as if pressing in on him. There wasn’t a single star, only dim lights from the shops near the small forest.
Impossible, Bo Jin thought, trying to steady himself.
Xie Ruan liked him.
Xie Ruan blushed around him, never resisted their subtle flirtations. Even when he occasionally made slightly inappropriate jokes, Xie Ruan would only turn red and kick him, never actually getting angry.
He wasn’t like that with others, like Sun Haoxiang, He Mingjie, or Pan Yu.
Thinking this way, Bo Jin felt a little better.
It was probably just a misunderstanding, and he was letting his mind run wild.
“Why’d you open the window? Close it, it’s freezing.” The familiar voice pulled Bo Jin from his thoughts. He turned to see Xie Ruan, hands still wet from washing, coming over with a disgruntled look on his face.
No matter what expression he wore, he always looked good.
Bo Jin didn’t move, simply watching him.
Feeling uneasy under his gaze, Xie Ruan shifted uncomfortably. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Bo Jin closed the window as he was told and moved to give him some space.
“You…” Xie Ruan started to say something, but Bo Jin interrupted him.
“Are you planning to see that singer’s concert over winter break?”
The “singer” referred to the celebrity Xie Ruan had once mentioned he liked.
“Huh?” Xie Ruan didn’t get it, asking reflexively, “Who? What concert?”
Bo Jin felt his heart sink as he forced himself to reply, “Didn’t you say you liked him? He’s holding a concert in our city next month; you didn’t know?”
One lie leads to countless others. At that time, Xie Ruan had casually named a celebrity fitting the scenario, never actually following the star’s news or schedule. He had no idea about any concert.
But he couldn’t admit it. Letting out a weak laugh, he said, “Of course I knew. I just didn’t react for a second.”
A heavy blow seemed to land on Bo Jin’s chest, leaving an empty space there, filled with a chill that settled in.
Concert? The singer wasn’t holding a concert in their city.
It turned out that Xie Ruan wasn’t researching depression because of some idol, but because of him. Only after confirming that Bo Jin wasn’t ill did he cross out that entry and continue looking for answers.
That was why he went to the restaurant on Sunday.
It wasn’t about romance or love—it was just concern for a troubled classmate. He couldn’t bear to just stand by and do nothing.
Bo Jin’s phone buzzed. He looked down; it was a message from Sun Haoxiang.
Unlocking the screen, he read it.
[After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang]: Whoa, no wonder you asked for that chat record. That person is seriously strange; LOL!
【After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang】: He’s been in the group chat for days without saying a word, just sending reaction stickers.
【After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang】: Impressive, impressive. Bro Bo, do you know him? Can you introduce me? Honestly, I just want his reaction stickers.
【After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang】: [Image][Image][Image]
Bo Jin ignored Sun Haoxiang and opened the images.
Each funny sticker looked lively, almost mocking his own self-deception.
Bo Jin struggled to type a few words:
【Bo】: Is he still in the group?
【After repeatedly turning down the school beauty, Sun Haoxiang】: No, he left on the first day he got the info. A girl even told me she’s not getting new stickers because he’s gone.
Everything was clear now. Bo Jin put down his phone.
Xie Ruan had joined his fan group just to look up information about him, as he’d said. He hadn’t even bothered to send a single punctuation mark.
If it was love, there’s no way he would have acted like that.
No wonder Xie Ruan’s attitude toward him had softened over those days—Bo Jin had thought it was his flirting that finally persuaded him to take a step forward.
But that wasn’t it. Xie Ruan had only felt sympathy after learning that he grew up in an orphanage.
A choking sensation rose in his chest, and suddenly, Bo Jin couldn’t stand to stay there any longer. Gripping his phone, he strode out of the classroom and headed for the rooftop.
He didn’t even stop when Xie Ruan called after him.
Bo Jin sat down on the ground and lit a cigarette.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked down, his whole figure shrouded in shadow, emotions unreadable.
The phone rang several times. He acted as though he couldn’t hear it, smoking half a cigarette in one go before finally calming his turbulent thoughts enough to glance at it.
It was a call from Xie Ruan.
Bo Jin’s grip tightened slightly, and a small glimmer of hope started to surface despite himself.
Xie Ruan blushing at him wasn’t fake, nor was the affection he showed.
Knowing Xie Ruan, he wouldn’t have played along with the game of “I love you, shamelessly” if he didn’t want to. He would’ve broken the rules and left, rather than lying on the ground letting Bo Jin do push-ups on top of him.
Bo Jin’s heartbeat quickened, leaving him a little dizzy.
Even if Xie Ruan had approached him due to a misunderstanding at first, what if he’d later developed feelings for him?
Taking a deep breath, Bo Jin slowly answered the call.
As soon as he did, Xie Ruan’s slightly anxious voice came through: “Where are you going this late?”
Realizing he was concerned about him improved Bo Jin’s mood considerably.
Holding the cigarette in one hand, Bo Jin paused before replying, “Going to a net café to play games.”
Games? Then it’s fine.
Xie Ruan breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back from where he’d been about to head out. Seeing Bo Jin’s expression earlier had made him think he was going to the rooftop.
Just as he was thinking this, Bo Jin added, “With Feng Qiao.”
He spoke slowly, drawing out each word as if to make sure Xie Ruan could hear him clearly.
Feng Qiao? Who was that? A friend of Bo Jin’s? He didn’t recall anyone by that name.
It wasn’t that Xie Ruan had a bad memory—when Feng Qiao came to ask Bo Jin for his WeChat that day, Xie Ruan had been distracted, focused on correcting a question he’d gotten wrong on a test. He hadn’t caught Feng Qiao’s introduction.
Since Bo Jin wasn’t on the rooftop, Xie Ruan didn’t think much of it. Casually, he replied, “Oh, well, you guys have fun then.”
It was like a bucket of cold water dumped over him, extinguishing the faint hope Bo Jin held. If Xie Ruan truly liked him, hearing that he was hanging out alone with someone who liked him would have sparked some jealousy.
But like someone clinging to a lifeline, even knowing it wasn’t enough to save him, Bo Jin still couldn’t let go.
“Xie Ruan,” Bo Jin inhaled deeply, his tone calm and even, “Don’t you have anything to say?”
Say what? Xie Ruan didn’t understand. Then, realizing tomorrow was the final exam, he figured Bo Jin might want some encouragement. Hah, even the “Unbreakable God Bo” wasn’t immune to vanity.
Clearing his throat, he said, “You’re awesome. Confidence comes with strength.”
The last flicker of hope was extinguished. Bo Jin laughed softly, then ended the call.
So, it was all clear now.
Xie Ruan didn’t like him. He never had.
He was simply kindhearted, unwilling to let a classmate go astray, trying to lend a hand wherever he could.
He blushed because he was shy, and he tolerated Bo Jin’s small gestures out of compassion for a “dying man.”
It was all Bo Jin’s own imagination, mistaking pity for love and running wild with it.
The rooftop was cold, dark, and silent without any lights. Bo Jin leaned back against the wall, the red ember of his cigarette flickering, casting a faint glow in his eyes, which were rimmed red.
