Chapter 108 Extra High School Student Xie Yan

Chapter 108 Extra: High School Boy Xie Yan

Feng Jiuyue could feel the person beside him was deeply displeased. Whenever Xie Yan was unhappy, he’d adopt this lifeless demeanor: brows tightly furrowed, thin lips pressed into a straight line, radiating an aura that warned others to keep their distance. Feng Jiuyue opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Xie Yan’s long strides quickly put distance between them. He had to quicken his pace to keep up.

Earlier that day, he had come to pick Xie Yan up after school. They were walking along, happily discussing dinner plans, when suddenly someone blocked their path. The person wore the uniform of No. 1 High School, thick black-rimmed glasses perched on their nose, face flushed bright red. They bowed their head, nervously extending a pink love letter towards Feng Jiuyue.

"Classmate, I’ve noticed you for a long time."

"You’re really beautiful, exactly my type. This is a love letter I wrote for you. I know you might not like me, but I hope you’ll read it carefully."

"Thank you."

Feng Jiuyue was utterly stunned. It was a novel experience—he had never received a love letter before. Yet, seeing the other person’s nervous, trembling form, he was vaguely reminded of his own lack of confidence when he had confessed to Xie Yan. A wave of empathy washed over him.

Back then, he hadn’t been much different from this student. Both were drawn by appearances. But this person seemed to be around Xie Yan’s age, about eighteen, still very green and awkward. Being older than both of them, Feng Jiuyue felt he ought to offer proper guidance.

So he reached out, accepted the love letter, and with a serious expression, told the student, "Thank you for your affection, but I’m already married. I truly cannot return your feelings. I hope you’ll focus on your studies and get into a good university."

University—that was it, right? He often heard Xie Yan mention it. Getting into university must be a remarkable achievement.

"You’re married? How is that possible!" The student’s eyes widened in disbelief, indignantly adding, "Even if you don’t like me, you don’t have to make up such an absurd lie to deceive me. Hmph!" With that, they darted off, leaving Feng Jiuyue standing there, bewildered, holding the love letter and unsure whether to open it or put it away.

But Xie Yan coldly commanded him, his phoenix eyes sharp and intimidating, his solemn gaze carrying an invisible threat, "Throw it away."

"I won’t." How could he throw it away? Perhaps Xie Yan had never written a love letter, nor done anything so humble, but to Feng Jiuyue, discarding it would be trampling on someone’s genuine feelings. He always put himself in that position—if Xie Yan had thrown away his love letter back then, he would have been devastated. He couldn’t do that.

It was because of this incident that Xie Yan was angry, walking ahead in silence, treating Feng Jiuyue like air, no matter what he said. Feng Jiuyue dreaded this unyielding, cold shoulder most of all.

"What do I have to do for you to make up with me?" He blinked, reaching under the table to touch Xie Yan’s leg, but Xie Yan immediately swatted his hand away, expressionlessly clearing the dishes and heading to the kitchen, leaving Feng Jiuyue alone and bewildered.

Feng Jiuyue racked his brain, but could think of no other solution. Blushing, he finally picked up the pristine maid outfit and headed to the bathroom.

Xie Yan had brought it back from the hotel. Initially, Feng Jiuyue thought Xie Yan would throw away the odd garment after bringing him clean clothes, but instead, Xie Yan had carefully folded it, placed it in his backpack, and even washed it, hanging it fragrantly on the balcony.

From that moment, Feng Jiuyue knew Xie Yan might actually be quite fond of this strange outfit. Otherwise, given Xie Yan’s personality, he would have tossed the flimsy fabric right away.

When the bathroom door opened, Xie Yan was doing homework. He looked up to see steam pouring out as the boy walked toward him, wearing a short white dress. The exposed collarbones, shoulders, slender waist, and long legs were as pale as fresh milk. His ears were red, eyes bright, lips slightly pouted, skin white as frost, and he shyly sat on Xie Yan’s lap.

"What are you doing?" Xie Yan was angry, leaning back to put distance between them, his breathing growing heavy. His dark eyes didn’t know where to rest—on the delicate collarbones or the narrow waist. Damn it, he was getting worked up again. Gritting his teeth, he demanded fiercely, "Feng Jiuyue, do you know what you’re doing?"

"I know," the boy in his arms replied calmly, looking at him with pleading eyes that were slightly red—whether from genuine hurt or feigned pitifulness. His arms wrapped around Xie Yan’s neck like a seductive enchantress, intent on stealing his life and soul. "Don’t be angry, Yan," he said pitifully.

He pressed his entire steam-flushed face against Xie Yan’s chest, listening to the frantic heartbeat inside, and spoke with innocent sincerity, "That love letter was written with genuine feeling—it’s their true intention. We don’t have to accept their affection, but we shouldn’t trample on their sincerity."

"Have you forgotten that I wrote you a love letter before? If you had thrown mine away, I would have been heartbroken too. So when I put myself in that person’s shoes today, I felt I shouldn’t discard it. I really didn’t mean to make you angry."

The boy’s pleading words washed over Xie Yan’s ears like a warm breeze. His expression had softened slightly, but at the mention of the past, his face hardened again. Before he knew it, he gripped the boy’s smooth, tender chin and fiercely bit down on those talking lips.

He knew he was a substitute but had never pointed it out, allowing himself to believe that this person liked him—that the smiles, the coquetry, the intimacy were all for him, not because he reminded him of someone else.

"Yan, you’re hurting me," Feng Jiuyue gasped softly, looking at him with a mix of reproach and anger. Xie Yan could see his flushed cheeks, blood-red earlobes, and the corner of his lips bleeding from the harsh bite.

His cool fingertips brushed against the slender neck. Even after so long, the hickey on this person’s neck hadn’t faded, like a brand left by that man.

How many more hickeys were there on his body?

Visibly, they extended from the neck down past the collarbones, like red blooms on snow-white skin. Were there more on the waist, so slender it could be snapped with one hand? On the thighs? He had seen bruises on the pale calves and ankles—what kind of recklessness had caused those?

Observations Xie Yan had deliberately avoided now flooded his mind. High school boys were at their most impulsive. After he brought this person to class, his roommate had sneakily shared some adult videos with him, opening his eyes to many things. He felt a deep jealousy toward that man and hated his own ability to connect the dots—if he hadn’t seen those videos, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine the intimate moments the boy had shared with that man. Each thought was like a blunt knife, slowly cutting into his heart.

"When did you ever write me a love letter?"

After a long silence, he chose to play the thief, donning the guise of that man to coax a bit of warmth from this naive, almost foolish boy. Perhaps he resembled that man so much that this person couldn’t tell reality from illusion. The devil in his heart screamed as he heard himself say, "Xiao Qiu, can you write me another one?"

The boy was very serious when writing, long eyelashes fluttering as they occasionally veiled his misty eyes. His slender, delicate fingers held the pen firmly, his gaze focused, the slightly upturned lip pressed against the lower one, and his fine brows knitted together as if composing some epic pronouncement.

When he finished, he let out a long breath and proudly presented the letter to Xie Yan.

"I love you, love you, just like a mouse loves rice?"

"This is the love letter you wrote?"

"Yes," the boy nodded earnestly, speaking with gravity. "I heard everyone singing this on their phones. The lyrics are very poetic. You’re so studious—can’t you tell? A mouse must really love rice, and I love you too. Understand?"

He looked at Xie Yan with a hint of disdain, as if frustrated by his lack of appreciation, then waved a hand magnanimously. "Fine, if you don’t like it, give it back."

But before his hand could reach the paper, Xie Yan had already tucked it into his pocket. His eyes gleamed darkly, like a venomous beast finally baring its sharp fangs, as he coaxed with a venom-laced tongue, "I accept your confession. From now on, you’re my boyfriend. I’ll take responsibility for your future. But you must promise me—from now on, you’ll only like me. Okay?"

His cool lips pressed down without waiting for consent or refusal, leaving Feng Jiuyue breathless. Dazed from the kiss, Feng Jiuyue heard Xie Yan’s clear, gentle voice, "From now on, only like me, okay? Forget all those irrelevant people. Only like me, only let me touch you. Okay?"

Though the kiss was forceful, Feng Jiuyue could inexplicably sense Xie Yan’s insecurity. His strong arms held him tightly, his hot breath scalding Feng Jiuyue’s ears. Feng Jiuyue could only wrap his arms around him more firmly, murmuring softly, "Okay."

"Don’t go back on your word," Xie Yan chuckled lightly.

The cunning wolf had deceived the kind Mr. Dongguo and coaxed him into a lifelong promise.

Time flew by quickly, and Xie Yan was content with his life. He woke early to make breakfast, coaxed the boy out of bed to eat, then left for school. After school, he’d see that slender, willow-like figure waving eagerly at him. They’d chat while grocery shopping, return home for dinner, attend evening self-study together, and afterward, stroll on the sports field, enjoying the evening breeze, talking, and kissing.

On weekends, when Xie Yan worked part-time, the boy would wait patiently at the shop all day without complaint. Xie Yan had heard his roommate complain about his girlfriend’s pickiness—how being a few minutes late risked a breakup. But the boy was never like that. He was always gentle, his eyes curving when he smiled, his lips sweet to taste—everything about him was perfect.

Once Xie Yan got into university, he planned to bring the boy along. University life would be more flexible. They could rent a place nearby, and during weekends and holidays, Xie Yan could work to support them. After graduation, they’d find time to get married abroad. Even if God objected, he would never let go.

Xie Yan’s plans were thorough and precise, without a single flaw. Though more mature and responsible than his peers, he still bore the marks of youth. He naively believed this beautiful life would last until his dying day—even in death, he never imagined letting go.

One day, his homeroom teacher called him into the office to share good news: he had been exceptionally admitted to a prestigious medical school with a full scholarship, exempt from the college entrance exam. This meant more time to spend with that person and more opportunities to secure their financial future through additional work.

Even someone as stoic as him couldn’t help but smile slightly. How should he break the news when he saw him later? A kiss first, or a hug? All this sudden joy seemed to have started with his arrival. Without him, perhaps such good fortune would never have come his way.

But the boy wasn’t at the school gate. Xie Yan searched repeatedly but found no trace. He comforted himself, thinking maybe the boy was tired today and staying in, needing to be coaxed.

They’d have a nice dinner—some crabs, cola chicken wings (which he loved), and a few peaches. The picky eater adored these. After paying, he carried two heavy bags of groceries and knocked on the door. There was no response—no excited pounce, no soft arms wrapping around his neck, no pitiful questions about why he was late. All the things that had burdened his life were gone. Without this burden, he should feel lighter. So why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe?

Dropping the bags, his hands trembled as he unlocked the door. An inexplicable sense of loss washed over him, threatening to drown him. The door creaked open. The rental was so small, everything was visible at a glance. But it was empty—completely empty. Xie Yan frantically searched every corner—the kitchen, bathroom, wardrobe—but found nothing.

At lunch, the boy had cleared the table, obediently seen him off, stood on tiptoe to give him a sweet kiss, then blushed and turned to wash the dishes. He washed them spotlessly. The towel on the balcony still carried the scent of shower gel and a faint floral fragrance—his scent. He always smelled so good, so intoxicating that even a light touch made Xie Yan lose control.

He was gone, taking only the phone with him.

Xie Yan let out a shaky laugh and dialed the familiar number. The message inbox contained thousands of texts, all sent when the boy missed him.

"Miss you so much."

"When will you be back?"

"I want to eat cola chicken wings."

"Thinking of you."

"XOXO."

"I like Yan."

He scrolled through them one by one, then suddenly burst into laughter. In a fit of madness, he smashed everything in the house—dishes shattered across the floor, the wardrobe crashed down with a thud. Amid the violent clamor and the ensuing cold silence, only one sound played on loop: "The number you have dialed is turned off. Please try again later."

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

That person must be feeling quite smug now—where else could they find a dumbass like him? For a whole year, he had provided food, shelter, and care to a clumsy fraud, even handed over his heart. And in the end, all that person took was the only thing of any value—the phone.

How ridiculous.

He regretted it so much. Out of respect, he had suppressed his deepest desires for that person, naively thinking that he couldn’t touch him until he had earned enough money. All he allowed himself were torturously brief kisses and fleeting brushes of the lips. Haha, Xie Yan—you’re nothing but a complete and utter dumbass.

[Author's Note]

He's gone dark.