Wen Yong’s apartment was on the riverbank, a single-floor flat with only one apartment per floor. Unlike others, he hadn’t enclosed the large south-facing balcony, keeping its original design.
The balcony was filled with a lush variety of plants, green and full of life, giving the place a cozy, lived-in vibe.
Zhao Qin was stunned by the sight. “Old Wen, when did you develop an interest?”
He and Wen Yong were good friends, and he’d visited several times, but this was the first he’d seen of his gardening hobby. Curiosity piqued, he started to step forward to get a closer look.
“Just something I do to pass the time,” Wen Yong stopped him, raising the bag in his hand as he deftly changed the topic. “Let’s eat first, or it’ll get cold.”
Turning to Bo Jin, “After dinner, you two still need to keep working on that bug.”
“Fine,” Zhao Qin, with his typical dedication to the technical stuff, immediately lost interest in the plants on the balcony and instead sat on the sofa, opening up the takeout bags.
All three of them had been working all day and were starving. Wen Yong didn’t order anything fancy—just hearty portions to fill them up.
Zhao Qin devoured four slabs of braised pork in one go, finally feeling some satisfaction in his stomach, and then looked over at Bo Jin. “Is that all you’re eating?”
He looked at Bo Jin’s bowl of rice noodles with some disdain. “Can you even get full on that?”
Bo Jin was casually picking at the noodles, seeming completely unbothered by his hunger, a stark contrast to Zhao Qin’s ravenous eating. He swallowed his soup calmly. “Sure, it’s enough.”
Zhao Qin shook his head, unimpressed by Bo Jin’s choice of food. “Too plain. It’s like you haven’t eaten anything at all.”
Bo Jin, surprised by Zhao Qin’s keen observation, realized he had underestimated him. Zhao Qin, usually straightforward and seemingly naïve, suddenly seemed like someone with hidden potential.
“You noticed, huh?” Bo Jin put down his chopsticks and smirked. “Well, no point in hiding it then. Wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
Zhao Qin: “???”
Wait, did he figure something out? How come I don’t even know it myself?
Is this guy digging a pit for me again?
Zhao Qin’s brain hadn’t fully caught up yet, but his instinctual wariness shot up. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his buddy—it was just that he’d stepped into Bo Jin’s traps one too many times!
He couldn’t help but scoot a little further away and gave a warning: “Just eat your food properly and leave me out of it.”
“Quit flattering yourself,” Bo Jin didn’t even glance his way, sitting there perfectly composed. “I’m not interested, thanks.”
Zhao Qin: “…I’m not interested in you either! I like long-legged girls!”
Bo Jin: “Oh? You like them so much you’ve stayed single for thirty years?”
Zhao Qin: “???”
Zhao Qin almost threw his spoon at Bo Jin’s face. They were just having a regular conversation—how did it turn into a personal attack? Did he choose to be single since birth? There wasn’t even a female mosquito in sight around him; where was he supposed to find a date?
All he could do was watch female streamers online and have imaginary relationships.
“What were you saying about something uncomfortable?”
“Oh, that.” Bo Jin pointed at the bowl of rice noodles in front of him, looking casual. “Xie Ruan asked me to order it, worried it might bother you.”
Zhao Qin’s brain still hadn’t caught up, and he instinctively replied, “What does it have to do with me?”
He hadn’t met Xie Ruan, nor was Xie Ruan someone he liked. Why would he be bothered by it?
Right on cue, Bo Jin was enjoying Zhao Qin’s need to get to the bottom of things.
“I have someone who cares about me. You, on the other hand, don’t. Got it?”
Bo Jin stretched out his long legs, lounging as he shook off the day’s work stress, looking particularly smug. “He… you haven’t met him, so you wouldn’t know. He’s this shy little guy, not like me. Normally, he blushes if we even hold hands. Yet tonight, he didn’t forget to send a message reminding me to eat lighter.”
Bo Jin shook his head, pretending to complain, “After a long day, I wanted some meat, but he’s so strict. With that stubborn streak of his, I have to go along with it. Otherwise, he’ll definitely make a fuss when I get back.”
Zhao Qin was now absolutely sure—Bo Jin was practically stuffing dog food down his throat. He even hiccuped from the frustration, his face, thirty years of singlehood written all over it, turning green.
But his dear friend didn’t notice and kept going, pouring out his sweet annoyances: “No choice but to listen to him. He’s about to take the college entrance exam, and he wants to go to the same school as me. Shouldn’t I at least give him a good study environment? Hey, Old Zhao, why’s your face green? Oh, did that female streamer you followed last month start dating?”
Yet another unexpected jab. Zhao Qin had reached his limit. “Shut up!”
“Hey, what’s with you?” Seeing Zhao Qin’s teeth starting to grind, Bo Jin reluctantly wrapped up, still savoring the moment. He couldn’t resist one final callback, “You knew hearing all this would be uncomfortable, yet you still kept asking—curiosity’s a killer, huh?”
Who the h*ll was curious?!
Zhao Qin used every ounce of patience his thirty years of singleness had granted him to keep from punching Bo Jin. If he’d known all this talk would come from his comment of it being “plain,” he would’ve kept silent or thrown himself out the window rather than mention it!
Seeing Zhao Qin nearly bristling with anger, Bo Jin chuckled, his annoyance at being away from Xie Ruan suddenly gone.
Turns out, transferring one’s frustration to someone else really does make you feel better.
Finishing the rice noodles down to the last drop of soup, Bo Jin took out his phone and sent Xie Ruan a message. When there was no reply after a few minutes, he checked the time and understood. Xie Ruan would be in evening study sessions right now, and, given his personality, definitely wouldn’t be sneaking glances at his phone.
Thinking about Xie Ruan concentrating on his studies, Bo Jin opened his laptop. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could return to see him. He didn’t want to be in Shuicheng for too long.
The lines of code stretched across the screen, forming blocks of programming language that were impossible for outsiders to understand. Bo Jin frowned, a sense of unease creeping back.
Honestly, when it came to skill, Zhao Qin was better than him.
Zhao Qin’s drawback was a lack of patience. This issue wasn’t too difficult, though; with some diligence, they’d find it—it just took time.
But why would the program suddenly have such an issue?
It didn’t seem like a simple bug. It felt almost… like it had been sabotaged from the inside.
Impossible.
Their team was full of top talent. Once programmers reach a certain level, they’d never stoop to petty actions like this. Plus, delaying the project wouldn’t benefit any of them.
He dismissed it as overthinking when Zhao Qin finished eating and came over, and they got back to work.
The two of them worked until past ten before they’d mostly resolved the issue.
Zhao Qin let out a long sigh, collapsing onto the sofa. “I hate these kinds of tasks. They don’t take much skill, but it’s all repetitive work.”
Just at this critical moment of collaboration, the two had identified the program’s issue but couldn’t figure out why it occurred. Not trusting anyone else with the task, they had to tackle it themselves.
“Do this one more time, and I’m going to get a hump on my back.”
While they were working, Wen Yong was also busy replying to emails nearby. Hearing this, he looked up and smiled, “I told you to hit the gym; who’s the one always refusing?”
“Too lazy.”
Did Zhao Qin know working out was good for him? Of course. But he only wanted to enjoy the sloth of now, not chase the health of tomorrow.
Wen Yong chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and offering him one. “Want one? Just got some good stuff.”
Zhao Qin’s eyes lit up, eagerly accepting and lighting it. After a deep inhale, he exhaled in satisfaction. “Definitely worth the price; I’d never splurge on this.”
Zhao Qin came from a poor mountain village, one of eight siblings. Despite building a successful business and achieving wealth after university, he couldn’t shake his frugal habits.
“You’re such a miser.” Wen Yong looked at him with playful disdain and moved away a bit, then offered a cigarette to Bo Jin. “Want one, Little Bo?”
“Thanks.” Bo Jin accepted it and pulled out his lighter.
“You don’t get it,” Zhao Qin said proudly, “there’s an old saying—‘you won’t go broke by eating or drinking; only by failing to manage expenses.’ I’m just following that wisdom… Hey, Little Bo, where are you going?”
“Out to the balcony for some fresh air.”
Bo Jin had a habit of smoking on the balcony, enjoying the night view and breeze. All his friends knew this.
“Wait for me, I’ll join you,” Zhao Qin said, getting up. But Wen Yong stopped him.
“Old Zhao, is Feng Mingyi from your department quitting?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Zhao Qin immediately abandoned the balcony chase, sitting down. “Yeah, he’s leaving. I tried talking to him, but it was no use; he’s already secured another job. It won’t affect us much, though—I’ve got a few candidates from the headhunter, and I’ve scheduled interviews for tomorrow. We’ll have it sorted in no time.”
This resignation had irritated Zhao Qin for quite some time. Feng Mingyi was a junior from his university and joined the company fresh out of school, mentored by Zhao Qin from his internship onward. But now, he’d grown up and grown ambitions, dissatisfied with the company’s package. He’d been looking for a new job for months, and now that he’d found one, he was eager to leave, loyalty be d*mned.
So as soon as the topic came up, Zhao Qin abandoned all other thoughts and began complaining to Wen Yong.
Wen Yong glanced briefly at Bo Jin’s back and quickly turned back to Zhao Qin, listening intently. No one noticed his brief moment of distraction.
Meanwhile, Bo Jin, with an unlit cigarette in hand, received a call from Xie Ruan halfway to the balcony.
On the other end, Xie Ruan sounded slightly out of breath, as if he’d been exercising. “Where are you?”
“At Wen Yong’s place. Just finished work. You were running?”
“Yeah,” Xie Ruan replied. “There was a fight on campus, and Song Xinghe dragged me along to watch the show.”
Bo Jin wasn’t surprised—if Xie Ruan was watching a fight, Song Xinghe had to be involved. “You really got into that? What if you’d gotten caught in it?”
“Come on,” Xie Ruan said defensively. Fighting was practically his specialty. “Who could take me?”
Bo Jin could practically see the smug expression on his face—a proud peacock, oblivious to how he looked. Amused, Bo Jin asked, “You home yet?”
“Not yet. Called you right when I left school.”
“Good boy.” After a day apart, Bo Jin’s tone softened with affection, a shift from his usual playful demeanor.
“Cough, cough.” Xie Ruan cleared his throat, sneaking glances around even though no one could hear the conversation. “Behave yourself.”
“What am I doing wrong?” Bo Jin chuckled. “I’m just speaking the truth.”
Xie Ruan couldn’t argue with Bo Jin’s twisted logic and simply changed the subject.
“Why are you at Wen Yong’s and not in a hotel?”
“There was some work, and his place is more convenient.”
“Oh.” Xie Ruan nodded understandingly and continued walking, stopping at a roadside stand selling roasted sweet potatoes. He motioned to the vendor, signaling for one, and continued chatting with Bo Jin. “What floor is he on?”
Bo Jin was amused by Xie Ruan’s ever-present vigilance around heights. “Eighteenth.”
“Eighteenth?” Xie Ruan’s voice rose in concern. “Stay off the balcony, okay?”
There was a pause on the other end.
Xie Ruan knew Bo Jin too well and quickly realized what was happening. “Are you on the balcony right now?”
“Great minds think alike,” Bo Jin replied, lighting his cigarette and laughing lightly. “Just stepped out. Thought I’d have a smoke.”
“You—” Xie Ruan was at a loss for words, caught between anger and worry. He’d warned Bo Jin countless times about high places, and now, he wished he could fly over to yank him back. “Get inside now! Why do you have to smoke on the balcony?”
His tone was laced with real concern, and Bo Jin’s irritation faded, softened by the genuine worry in his partner’s voice. “Sweetheart, tell me honestly—why are you so scared of me being up high?”
Xie Ruan froze, completely forgetting the burning hot sweet potato in his hand. Feigning toughness, he replied, “No reason. Just listen to me.”
“Bossy, aren’t we?” Bo Jin chuckled, his hair tousled by the gentle night breeze. The air around him seemed to soften with an unspoken tenderness. “Don’t worry; your man isn’t going to fall.”
He intended to gently confront this issue of Xie Ruan’s so that his partner wouldn’t always be so anxious. He placed his hand lightly on the ivory-colored balcony railing and gave it a reassuring nudge. “Relax. It’s sturdy—”
Bo Jin’s voice suddenly cut off.
In the pitch-black night, the railing he touched seemed to have suffered some kind of severe damage, splintering inch by inch. In the blink of an eye, only broken remains stood starkly against the dark, radiating a chilling gleam.
