Chapter 8: Living Together

Chapter 8: Living Together

That awkward, tangled position didn't last more than a few seconds.

Rong Hua didn't even see who made the first move before an immense force sent him flying, crashing heavily onto the ground several meters away, kicking up a puff of dust.

Shu Hanqing winced just from hearing the dull thud.

Mu Ye stood by the car door, his expression uncharacteristically cold, and said to Rong Hua, "Leave now. Go think about what you've done."

Rong Hua pushed himself up from the ground, slowly climbing to his feet, and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn't look at Mu Ye. Instead, his gaze swept past Mu Ye's shoulder and locked onto Shu Hanqing's face—the look of a starving wolf robbed of its prey, seething with resentment.

But he said nothing, turned, and walked away, his back as rigid as a drawn bowstring.

Lei Zheng watched Rong Hua's retreating figure, then turned his gaze thoughtfully to the other person still in the car.

"Hanqing," the next moment, Mu Ye leaned into the car, brows furrowed, "are you alright?"

Shu Hanqing was still somewhat dazed, still frozen in the position he'd been pinned into the corner, his collar pulled askew, lips swollen, and a bite mark on the side of his neck.

A complete mess.

He stared at Mu Ye with slightly vacant eyes.

Mu Ye assumed he was shaken and humiliated by Rong Hua's assault, so he softened his tone and reassured him, "It's probably the residual effects of that fruit still lingering in Rong Hua's system."

But what was actually buzzing through Shu Hanqing's mind was something else: he'd been completely helpless against Rong Hua—not even a shred of room to fight back!

He was way too weak in this body right now.

Mu Ye didn't say anything more. He beckoned Yun Ying, who was standing nearby, and said quietly, "Keep an eye on Rong Hua. Don't let him anywhere near Hanqing."

Yun Ying quickly nodded, her eyes wide and alert as she shot a wary glance in the direction Rong Hua had gone. Only then did Mu Ye reach out and help Shu Hanqing out of the car.

Shu Hanqing's legs were a little unsteady. Just as he found his footing, Lei Zheng, who had been silently watching the whole time, suddenly stepped forward as if to help steady him, grabbing his forearm. The man's fingers were strong, the warmth seeping through the fabric and burning into his skin, but Shu Hanqing's entire body went rigid.

Lei Zheng spoke, his gaze sweeping carefully over Shu Hanqing's face. "Have we met somewhere before?"

Shu Hanqing's scalp prickled. Without thinking, he lowered his eyes and said, "No, sir. You've got the wrong guy."

Lei Zheng didn't let go immediately. He stared at him for another two seconds before slowly releasing his grip and saying, "Is that right."

Mu Ye took half a step forward, subtly shielding Shu Hanqing, his brow furrowing deeper. "Officer Lei, you must be mistaken. He's the deputy captain of our squad, Shengsu. Yun Ying, take Hanqing to rest."

Their squad was named Shengsu, a name chosen to symbolize the hope that humanity's great civilization would one day be revived.

Even after Yun Ying had helped him walk a good distance away, Shu Hanqing could still feel that gaze boring into his back like a physical presence. A thin sheen of cold sweat broke out on his back, and when the wind hit it, he shivered.

The residual Lightning Ability from his spiritual power must have sensed the terrifying thunderous force lurking within Lei Zheng's body. As if pulled by an invisible magnetic field, it had surged uncontrollably through his limbs the moment Lei Zheng got near—fine, needle-like prickles of electricity crawling over his entire body, so intense his fingertips went numb.

Shu Hanqing had nearly lost control back there.

The military took over the aftermath completely, and their squad withdrew early.

Apparently, the intel from the mission center had been faulty—both the number and grade of the zombies were way off. It was a miracle their squad got out without casualties.

As compensation, they got plenty of mission points.

On the way back, Shu Hanqing barely said a word, keeping his eyes closed to rest. The soreness seeping from deep in his back grew more and more pronounced. The others made sure he didn't ride in the same car as Rong Hua.

That night, back at their temporary lodgings, the discomfort had escalated into a persistent, dull throb.

Yun Ying knocked and came in, handing him a small bottle. She said the captain had found something to help with the residual effects of that fruit and suggested he try it.

Shu Hanqing thanked her, took it, and downed it in one gulp. It was bitter and astringent.

He quickly sent Yun Ying off, closed the door, and went straight into the bathroom. Flipping on the light, he saw himself in the mirror—his face was pale, the swelling in his lips had gone down, but the bite mark Rong Hua had left on his neck was even more prominent now. He turned around, pulled his shirt off with some difficulty, and twisted to look at his back in the mirror.

His fingers froze when they touched the skin at the center of his back.

The skin there had darkened to a deep, bruised purple, and the pattern had spread further than when he'd last checked. The thicker lines had already climbed over his shoulder blade, while finer tendrils had crept another knuckle's length past his ear.

He looked like a piece of wood struck by lightning now.

Shu Hanqing slowly raised his hand in front of the mirror, fingertips gently brushing the skin behind his ear. The eerie, almost living purple-black markings sat just below the base of his ear, like a slowly tightening net about to engulf his entire body.

This Thunder Mark was just like its owner—unreasonable, savage, and crude, radiating pure brute force from the inside out.

That wild man Lei Zheng was exactly like that. Back when he'd known who Lei Zheng really cared about, when they'd first gotten tangled up together, every time Lei Zheng drove him out of his mind, he'd love to grip his chin, force his face up, and demand over and over who was fucking him, who owned him now—crazy talk like that, as if he had to brand some mark onto him.

Shu Hanqing had resisted at first, digging in his heels. But that man had too many tricks, endless variations, always finding ways to wear him down until his voice went hoarse in surrender. Eventually, he learned to play along—in bed, anything was fair game. Say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted.

But once out of bed, clothes back on, Shu Hanqing would always go against Lei Zheng, snapping back at every opportunity.

After seeing Lei Zheng that afternoon, Shu Hanqing's mood was thoroughly ruined. He'd barely held back the urge to punch him in the face. But not now. The gap in their positions was too vast—Lei Zheng was a man with real power in the military, while he was just the deputy captain of a civilian-registered squad.

If he threw that punch, the cost would be more than he could afford.

"It's been hurting all afternoon," Shu Hanqing said to the voice in his head, his voice a little hoarse. "My back's almost numb. Is there any way to ease it?"

The Plot Master's voice chimed in: "Like I said before, the first method is the fastest and easiest—find Lei Zheng and have him take back the Lightning Ability."

Easy to say. Walk up and say what? Hey, Officer Lei, this thing on me seems to be connected to you—mind taking a look?

Given the current timeline, he shouldn't even know Lei Zheng.

Shu Hanqing sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, the pain in his back drilling into his skull in waves. He took a breath, as if challenging himself or making a vow: "Forget it. Even if I die of pain right here, I'm not asking Lei Zheng for help."

He tossed and turned all night, flipping over like a pancake. The skin on his back burned and tingled, and he felt like those bizarre markings were slowly roasting him.

Finally, he gave up and got up to grab his handheld game console, staring at the pixelated farm on the screen, mechanically tapping to plant and harvest crops. He managed to level his estate up to twenty and unlocked the overseas shipping feature, which let him sell crops abroad.

The screen's glow reflected off his expressionless face, staying lit until the sky outside began to lighten.

Just before dawn, he finally managed to get an hour of sleep. His eyelids had barely drooped shut when a knock slammed him awake. Sang Mai's voice came through the door, muffled: "Brother Shu, the captain wants you in a meeting."

Shu Hanqing buried his face in the pillow and mumbled, "Not going."

Sang Mai continued, "The captain said if you don't come, he'll come get you himself."

Shu Hanqing didn't respond.

His position as deputy captain had long been nominal—most squad matters bypassed him anyway. But Mu Ye was definitely the type to come fetch him personally. He closed his eyes, resigned, and dragged himself out of bed. Every bone in his body ached like it was rusted. He grabbed a loose gray hoodie, pulled it on, cinched the drawstrings up to his chin, and headed out.

There weren't many people at the meeting.

He walked in with his head down, found the most secluded corner spot, pulled the hood up, and let the brim hang low. He barely managed to muster any semblance of alertness. He scanned the room—Rong Hua wasn't there.

Mu Ye was saying something up front, but Shu Hanqing didn't absorb a single word. He let the back of his neck rest against the cold wall, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, until he eventually drifted off.

As the meeting was winding down, he was jolted awake by the sound of chairs scraping around him. He rubbed his tired eyes without thinking, his voice still heavy with sleep as he mumbled to Yun Ying beside him: "...Is it over?"

Yun Ying was about to speak, but Mu Ye up front had already wrapped up the meeting.

People started drifting out. Mu Ye walked straight over to him and stopped.

"Hanqing," Mu Ye said, looking at him, "stay a moment. I have something to discuss with you."

Shu Hanqing hummed in acknowledgment, without much energy, and waited for everyone else to trickle out, leaving just the two of them in the meeting room.

The room went quiet all at once, only the faint sound of wind drifting in from outside the window.

Mu Ye sat down across from him, his gaze settling on Shu Hanqing's face, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes. His voice was gentle: "Didn't get much sleep last night?"

Shu Hanqing nodded, fidgeting with his sleeve. "Captain, didn't you say you had something? Go ahead and say it, I've gotta get going."

Mu Ye heard that word—captain. He couldn't remember when Shu Hanqing had started calling him that.

It hadn't always been like this. Before, Shu Hanqing would smile and call him shixiong, would sling an arm around his shoulder and talk about all kinds of random stuff, eyes shining, wanting to share everything new with him.

But now this person seemed to be off somewhere far away all the time, shutting himself off in his own little world, indifferent to everything, no energy, impossible to read. That deliberate sense of drawing a line was like a thorn stuck in his skin, aching dully every now and then.

"Did you catch any of what was discussed in the meeting?" Mu Ye asked.

A flash of embarrassment crossed Shu Hanqing's face. He shook his head, the hood of his sweatshirt swaying with the motion. "Sorry, I was just too tired."

He wasn't lying.

Mu Ye looked at him, silent for a few seconds, before speaking: "Lei Zheng's team wants to work with us—to escort an important person from District Ten back to the main base."

He watched Shu Hanqing's reaction. "It might be a bit dangerous, but the payout is good. If we land this mission, our team levels up. What do you think?"

Shu Hanqing didn't even look up. "You're the captain. Your call."

Same as always.

Mu Ye leaned in a little. "Hanqing, if something's bothering you, you've gotta tell me, okay?"

Shu Hanqing couldn't handle that look. It was too focused, and he just wanted to get out of there. He lowered his lashes, gave a vague, perfunctory "okay," then stood, pushed his chair back, and walked out without looking back.

Some big shot? Who?

On the way back, Shu Hanqing swung by the points exchange kiosk and swapped for a big handful of brightly colored candies.

They weren't anything special, but in this wasteland, they were a rare treat for kids. He walked to the old, run-down church on the street corner, where a few children who had lost their parents always lingered nearby. He called them over, had them line up, their dirty little faces looking up with wide, expectant eyes.

He handed out the candies one by one, dropping them into those small, outstretched palms—some clean, some dusted with grime.

Each kid, after getting a candy, would quickly mumble thanks and scurry off clutching it like treasure. When it came to the last one, Shu Hanqing's hand stopped mid-air.

That outstretched palm was much larger than the children's—broad, with defined knuckles and a few small scabbed cuts. Looking up, it was Rong Hua's face, his slightly long lashes lowered, casting a small shadow beneath his eyes.

Rong Hua was about Shu Hanqing's height.

There was a distinct bruise on his cheekbone, from where Mu Ye hit him yesterday. Rong Hua just stood there quietly, holding his hand out. Seeing Shu Hanqing not moving, his expression turned pitiful, as if silently asking: Not for me?

The moment Shu Hanqing saw him, the spot on his neck where he'd been bitten began to throb again. Though covered by his clothes, the bite mark definitely hadn't faded. This lunatic had been like a rabid dog in heat yesterday—surely the effects had worn off by now?

He stared at Rong Hua for two seconds without speaking, then sorted through the candies, plucked out the smallest, simplest-wrapped fruit candy, and placed it into Rong Hua's open palm.

Like he was finishing some chore, Shu Hanqing turned, waved goodbye to the few children who hadn't wandered off yet, and walked away.

Rong Hua stood there, looking down at that single, slightly pathetic fruit candy in his palm. The wrapper was see-through, faintly revealing the orange-yellow candy inside.

The fake pitiful look on his face gradually faded, and the corner of his mouth curled up involuntarily into a tiny arc. He didn't unwrap the candy, but carefully tucked it into the chest pocket of his jacket, patting it lightly.

Rong Hua started following behind Shu Hanqing at a leisurely pace, keeping a distance of about a dozen feet. When Shu Hanqing walked faster, he picked up his pace; when Shu Hanqing stopped to look at something by the roadside, he slowed too—like a passerby heading the same way.

The sunlight stretched Rong Hua's shadow out long, extending silently forward, nearly touching the heels of the person ahead.

This was straight-up stalking.

Yet Shu Hanqing didn't yell at him, didn't turn back to glare—just let him follow. The smug feeling Rong Hua felt from not being chased away swelled a little more, and his steps unconsciously drew closer, almost stepping onto the shadow in front.

He followed all the way to the bottom of Shu Hanqing's building.

Shu Hanqing stepped up onto the stairs, then suddenly stopped and turned around. Light from the window at the end of the hallway slanted in behind him, outlining his silhouette with a soft, fuzzy golden glow—even his hair seemed to glow. He looked at Rong Hua below the steps, face expressionless, and said just three words: "Come up."

Rong Hua pursed his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing, and followed. The wooden stairs creaked softly beneath his feet.

Once inside the room, Shu Hanqing didn't greet him, just said "wait a sec" before walking to the corner where a half-worn wooden box sat, crouching down to rummage through it.

Rong Hua stood at the door, not going in further, his gaze sweeping the room first.

The space wasn't large—same layout as his own dorm: a table, a chair, and two single beds pushed side by side. One was clearly Shu Hanqing's, with the blanket folded up pretty neatly.

The other was empty, piled with odds and ends—a few clothes, some books, and a sagging backpack.

Rong Hua's gaze landed on that empty bed, and it was like he'd been burned—he looked away quickly, then couldn't help looking back. His Adam's apple bobbed again, his ears getting hot, his cheeks flushing red.

Images flashed through his mind without him wanting them to—about this bed, about the person on it.

Shu Hanqing was still crouched by the box, his back to him. With the rummaging motion, the hem of his sweatshirt had ridden up, revealing a strip of his slender waist. The skin was pale, almost too bright in the dim room.

And those eerie, dark-purple-black markings crept out from the base of his spine, like snakes latched tightly into the flesh, part of them vanishing beneath the waistband—what was further down, unknown.

Rong Hua's eyes darkened, then lit with a different kind of heat. He still remembered how it felt to grip that waist yesterday. It was supple, so soft it was almost unreal—his fingertips could nearly encircle it with a little pressure, the skin beneath his pads fine and warm, flushing red with the slightest friction.

This room, saturated with Shu Hanqing's presence—that hard-to-describe, subtle scent unique to this person—sent a tingling numbness spreading through Rong Hua's very bones.

He thought: if only he could lock him up in here.

Just this room, this bed. Every day, no need to think about anything, no need to care about anything—just focus on one thing: watching him cry, watching him gasp, watching those eyes that always wandered off lose focus because of him...

Shu Hanqing's legs were so long—wrapped around his waist, they'd be even more thrilling than what he'd seen that day.

Rong Hua felt he'd gone bad, his mind churning with nothing but these unspeakable thoughts.

But whose fault was it? It was all Shu Hanqing's fault. This person was wicked—always looking at him with that indifferent, vaguely annoyed gaze, yet at certain moments, revealing an alluring side, like the worst kind of temptation.

"Got it."

Rong Hua's wandering thoughts were snapped back by the voice.

Shu Hanqing stood and turned to face him, holding a crystal core about half the size of his palm. The crystal was deep blue, with a faint glow of energy flowing within—not as pure or clear as the one Rong Hua had given up, but not bad either.

"Here, this is yours," Shu Hanqing said.

Rong Hua's eyes moved from the crystal in his hand to his face. He didn't move.

Shu Hanqing frowned. "Hold out your hand. I'm returning it to you. It's not as pure as the one you gave me, but it's not bad either."

"I don't want it," Rong Hua said, his voice a bit strained.

Shu Hanqing couldn't be bothered to argue with him. He stepped forward directly, grabbed his hand, and slapped the cold, hard crystal into his palm.

"Take it. Hurry up. I'm going out to eat."

Rong Hua looked down, his fingers slowly closing around it before pushing it back into Shu Hanqing's hand. "I don't want this. If you really want to repay me, buy me a meal instead."

Shu Hanqing looked at the crystal shoved back into his hand, then at Rong Hua's face that clearly said "this is what I want." He knew exactly how stubborn this edgy kid could be, and there was no way he was going to physically force him to take it.

He didn't want to owe this favor, but he absolutely did not want to be seen going in and out of the cafeteria with Rong Hua either.

So he tossed the crystal back onto the table. "Then stay here. Don't touch my stuff. I'm going out to buy food."

With that, Shu Hanqing turned, pulled open the door, and walked out, slamming it shut behind him, leaving Rong Hua alone in his room.

He really didn't bother to guard against him.

Footsteps quickly faded down the stairs.

Rong Hua stood still, his gaze sweeping over every item in the room before finally landing on the lone blue crystal sitting on the table. After a few seconds, he slowly walked over, picked it up, and held it in his palm. The cold touch pressed against his skin, like holding onto a faint trace of warmth Shu Hanqing had left behind.

By the time Shu Hanqing walked out of the cafeteria doors carrying two packed meals, he noticed the sky had turned overcast. A fine drizzle drifted diagonally, and the air carried a damp, earthy smell.

His building wasn't far from here—just a few minutes if he ran.

He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, covering his bangs, took a deep breath, and prepared to dash into the rain.

A black long-handled umbrella silently extended from the side, holding it steady over his head and blocking the cold raindrops.

Shu Hanqing paused mid-step and turned his head. Mu Ye stood half a step away, holding the umbrella handle, his gaze landing on the takeout bag that clearly held two portions before shifting back to his face.

"Hanqing," he said, his voice gentle, soft as the rain itself, "it feels like we haven't had a meal together in a long time."

Shu Hanqing shifted the takeout bag behind him, not wanting Mu Ye to get the wrong idea. He kept his eyes lowered. "I don't really eat at the cafeteria anymore. I'm heading back first."

Mu Ye didn't say anything, just pushed the umbrella into his hand. "Take it. I don't need it right now."

Shu Hanqing glanced at the rain growing heavier, then at the food in his hand. He didn't want his lunch to get ruined, and he didn't feel like playing tug-of-war in the rain, so he took the umbrella.

"Thanks. I'll return it tomorrow." He said it quietly, then, holding the umbrella, walked off into the rain without looking back.

Shu Hanqing didn't walk fast. As he neared his building, he spotted a figure sitting on the steps in the distance.

Rong Hua wasn't holding an umbrella, nor had he found shelter. He just sat there on the wet concrete steps, hair completely soaked, black hair plastered flat against his forehead. Water droplets clung to his cheeks and neck, and his clothes were dark in splotches, clinging tightly to his body, outlining his lean but solid young frame.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up. His wet eyes lit up the instant they focused on Shu Hanqing, like two little flames washed clean by the rain.

Shu Hanqing stopped a few steps away, umbrella in hand, taking in his drowned-rat state. "What are you sitting here for?"

Rong Hua stood up, water dripping from the ends of his hair. He looked at Shu Hanqing, then at the umbrella above his head. "Waiting for you. I wanted to come pick you up, but I didn't have an umbrella, and there wasn't one in your room either."

Shu Hanqing didn't even know what to say.

"Then you can't just sit here getting soaked, right?" The rain wasn't heavy, but sitting there for a while was enough to drench someone completely.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come back." Rong Hua looked at him, eyes glistening, tone stubborn.

Shu Hanqing: "...Would I really stiff you over one meal? Go upstairs."

He folded the umbrella by the door, and Rong Hua followed behind him, wet shoes leaving wet footprints on the floor.

Shu Hanqing pointed to the cramped bathroom. "Go take a hot shower."

He opened the old wardrobe and rummaged around, pulling out a set of clothes that had once been too big for him and had been buried at the bottom of it ever since. He shoved them into Rong Hua's hands.

"They're clean. Make do with them."

Once Rong Hua went into the bathroom with the clothes and the water started running, Shu Hanqing walked over to the cluttered table, pushed things aside to make a small space, and set down the two meals.

He picked up his game console, habitually tapping the screen to check today's daily tasks. When the interface loaded, he froze.

The cow he'd been saving—the one he'd planned to personally tend to when he got back tonight—already had a wobbly-legged calf beside her, nuzzling affectionately at her belly. The chickens in the coop all showed as fed, and their mood was cheerful.

The ripe vegetables in the field that were ready to harvest had already been harvested cleanly and neatly stacked in storage.

Shu Hanqing stared at the screen, at a loss for words.

He'd deliberately saved it, waiting for a quiet, ceremonial moment with no one around to disturb him to welcome the first new life on his farm.

Why did these people love robbing him of this sacred, simple, tiny joy?!

The sound of water in the bathroom had stopped at some point without him noticing. After a moment, Rong Hua's voice came through the door, muffled: "...Shu Hanqing, I forgot to bring my clothes in."

Shu Hanqing snapped back to reality and looked at the stool beside him—the clean clothes he'd tossed there were still sitting right there. He got up, grabbed them, walked to the bathroom door, and knocked.

He expected Rong Hua to crack the door open just a crack and reach out to take them.

Instead, with a soft click, the door swung fully open from the inside.

Heat and steam came rushing out.

Rong Hua stood there completely naked, water droplets still clinging to his skin, sliding down his firm chest and the lean lines of his waist. His skin was flushed a healthy pink from the steam, black hair slicked back, revealing a smooth forehead and sharp, handsome features.

Shu Hanqing: "..."

He swore he hadn't meant to look. His gaze lingered on that young body for barely three seconds before he jerked it away, shoving the clothes into Rong Hua's arms. Almost simultaneously, his other hand slammed the door shut.

Shu Hanqing stood outside, back to the bathroom door. His fingers twitched in the air as if measuring something out, then quickly dropped. His expression was one of pure, blank shock.

...So this was what the bottom in those n//p novels looked like? Was that size even human?!

By the time Rong Hua came out wearing his clearly ill-fitting clothes—pants a bit short, but everything else okay—Shu Hanqing was already seated at the table, expression carefully adjusted to look as natural as possible, eyes fixed on the computer screen as if a documentary about the African savanna were the most fascinating thing in the world.

The computer was a prize Shu Hanqing had gotten from a mission, and all the videos on it were pre-apocalypse shows.

"Hurry up and eat," Shu Hanqing said, pushing one meal toward him.

Shu Hanqing had bought his usual favorites: spicy diced chicken, mapo tofu, and a plate of stir-fried vegetables.

On the screen, a lion was mid-hunt. Rong Hua sat down across from him, picked up his chopsticks, and gently stirred his own portion, also watching intently, but eating painfully slowly—almost counting each grain of rice.

This meal left Shu Hanqing deeply uncomfortable.

The person across from him ate with agonizing deliberation, chewing a single piece of greens for ages, letting each grain of rice dissolve in his mouth before swallowing. It was like some kind of slow-eating performance art, as if it would go on until the end of time.

Outside, the rain gradually stopped, and the sky darkened completely.

When Rong Hua finally set down his chopsticks, not a single grain of rice left in his bowl, Shu Hanqing finally let out half the breath he'd been holding.

Rong Hua went ahead and cleared the table, carefully bagging up the trash, then rolled up his own soaked clothes into a bundle and hugged them to his chest. Shu Hanqing didn't expect them back—the last set he'd lent out had vanished without a trace, like throwing a meat bun to a dog—never coming back.

He walked him to the door, watched Rong Hua's silhouette disappear around the stairwell corner, then closed the door and locked it behind him, feeling like he could finally breathe. He flopped onto the bed, but before he'd even been lying there five minutes, before he could even start to get sleepy, the knocking came again.

—Thump, thump, thump.

Shu Hanqing stared at the ceiling for three seconds, hauled himself up with a resigned sigh, pulled open the door, and raised an eyebrow at the guy. Rong Hua was still standing outside: "I forgot something."

"What?" Shu Hanqing frowned. He couldn't recall anything in this room belonging to Rong Hua.

Rong Hua didn't answer. He slipped past Shu Hanqing, walked over to the cabinet like he owned the place, and picked up an orange-yellow fruit candy—the exact one Shu Hanqing had given him earlier that day.

He closed his fist around the candy, walked to the door, and said to Shu Hanqing, "Goodbye."

Shu Hanqing took a beat before forcing out two words: "...Goodbye."

What a pain in the ass.

Over the next few days, Shu Hanqing found he couldn't go anywhere without bumping into Rong Hua. On his way to the cafeteria, the guy was either up ahead, keeping a comfortable distance, or trailing a few steps behind, taking his sweet time.

When he went for a walk near that beat-up chapel, he'd barely take a few steps before he'd spot Rong Hua either leaning against a broken wall staring into space, or crouching on the ground trying to coax the mangy strays—though most of them wanted nothing to do with him.

Shu Hanqing got fed up and just stopped going out altogether, having Yun Ying bring him his meals instead.

Out of sight, out of mind.

One day, just as he was about to head downstairs for some air, Sang Mai cornered him at the stairwell.

Sang Mai rubbed his hands together, with an apologetic look on his face: "Brother Shu, there's a bit of a problem. One of the kids on our team had a falling out with his roommate and can't keep living together. You live alone, right? The dorms are really packed over there—think you could take someone in?"

Shu Hanqing knew resources were scarce in the team and Sang Mai was in a tough spot. As deputy captain, he should do his part. He was silent for a few seconds, then nodded: "Fine. Who?"

Then he watched Sang Mai bring two people out from around the corner.

One was Rong Hua.

The other was Wang Meng, the team's notorious player.

Wang Meng's reputation wasn't great, sure, but at least he was normal—unlike the one next to him, whose eyes seemed glued on with adhesive, always doing things that made no sense.

But right now, Wang Meng's face was bruised purple and blue, his lip split, his eyes glaring resentfully at the ground—clearly he'd just been in a fight and wasn't happy about losing.

Sang Mai said to Shu Hanqing, "These two had a falling out and got into a brawl. Brother Shu, take your pick—one of them moves in with you."

Shu Hanqing's gaze swept between the two.

Wang Meng had a questionable reputation, sure, but at least he was a normal person—unlike the one next to him, whose eyes seemed glued on with adhesive, always doing things that made no sense.

So Shu Hanqing raised his hand, his finger clearly pointing toward Wang Meng—

"He smokes, he drinks, he forgets his keys, he's messy, he brings women home overnight, he touches people's stuff without asking, he talks too loud, and he has no respect for others!"

Shu Hanqing: "..."

The words came out fast and urgent, tumbling from Rong Hua's mouth like beans pouring from a gourd, without a single pause between them.

The other three had never heard Rong Hua speak that quickly. When he finished, Rong Hua pressed his lips together hard, as if afraid he'd missed some offense.