Jiang Juan sat at his desk, starting his daily study routine like clockwork. He skipped measuring his body data today—after all, that annoying guy was outside, and he wouldn’t risk exposing such a private matter.
After scribbling calculations for a while, Jiang Juan couldn’t help recalling how he’d suppressed his shame earlier while gathering each piece of women’s clothing into his bedroom, and Guyen’s deliberate avoidance.
"Let me be clear: I have zero interest in women’s clothing. Don’t misunderstand me," he said seriously, looking at the laid-back boy sprawled on the sofa.
Guyen raised an eyebrow, mouth slightly open as if hesitating. Finally, he spoke, "Well, everyone’s interests are their own business. You don’t need to explain anything to me."
At this thought, Jiang Juan subconsciously tightened his grip on the pen. His tender white toes, peeking from his slippers, curled uncontrollably.
"Don’t think about it, Jiang Juan. Don’t think. It’s over—only he knows," he whispered after a deep breath, as if trying to hypnotize himself.
Jiang Juan flipped through his book, trying to numb himself with exercises. But he kept starting and stopping, until he flung the pen onto the desk.
He got up, clenched his fists, and tapped them against his forehead.
Jiang Juan walked to his bed, fell straight onto it, grabbed a nearby pillow, and covered his head tightly.
After calming down, he released the pillow and looked up. His eyes caught the tracksuit hanging on the side wardrobe—Jordan’s smiling face beamed down at him.
Jiang Juan parted his rosy lips, clenched his right fist, and pounded the mattress. Hunched over, he let out a silent scream.
Meanwhile, just a door away, Guyen lounged on the living room sofa. Bored and phoneless, he’d turned on the TV to kill time.
Guyen scratched his side, yawned, and peered toward the bedroom with drooping eyelids. "So quiet."
---
Time crept on. Window lights outside gradually dimmed, leaving only a few stubborn households glowing against the bright moon.
Guyen lay on the sofa, the TV screen long dark. The living room was pitch black except for a sliver of light seeping from under Jiang Juan’s bedroom door.
He pulled the thin blanket tighter, a tracksuit covering his lower body—both coldly tossed to him by Jiang Juan earlier.
Guyen recalled Jiang Juan’s parting words: "From now on, you can sleep with Jordan for life." He couldn’t hold back a short laugh.
So diligent, still studying past midnight. Guyen stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. His tired brain signaled for sleep, but his mind drifted far away, lingering in that afternoon’s memories.
Uncontrollable flashes played in his head—he felt like an audience member watching a film called "Growing Up." Gu Yu’an’s past sacrifices washed over his heart like a tide, swelling into bittersweet ache.
"Jiang Juan, are you asleep?" Guyen asked, still staring up, though he knew the answer.
Darkness brought no reply. Words he’d never say by day now crashed over him like waves—thoughts and guilt he couldn’t share with Zhang Ning or Zhao Zhuoyang spilled naturally from his lips.
"I grew up in a single-parent home. As far back as I remember, it’s always been just Gu Yu’an with me."
"I’ve never seen my dad. He was probably no good. Gu Yu’an never mentions him, and I don’t ask."
"When I was little, she feared I’d be bullied. Not knowing how to cheer me up, she gave me pocket money. It kept rising—higher than teachers’ salaries. After that, I had no worries."
Guyen paused, raised his left arm, and covered his eyes.
"Gu Yu’an’s beautiful, young, and wealthy—she could have any man. But she never mentioned finding me a stepfather."
"Back then, men always approached her. But Gu Yu’an, stubborn as a mule, never gave them a warm welcome. I knew she feared I’d be wronged."
Guyen bit his lower lip. "What grievances do I have? Young studs, handsome older men—whatever she likes. As long as they’re over ten years older but under fifty, I’d accept it."
"You know how vicious gossip gets—a young, beautiful, wealthy single mom. ‘Mistress,’ ‘messy private life,’ ‘has diseases’—as nasty as it comes."
"Gu Yu’an’s fiery. Hearing that, she’d curse them out on the spot. Then, like a proud peacock, she’d stride away in high heels. But at night, in my room, I’d always hear her crying secretly next door."
"Later, I’d hear a rumor and beat up the source. I was small then—when I couldn’t win, I’d bite them. Caused her no end of trouble." Guyen chuckled softly.
"My dad must be blind. Otherwise, how could he abandon a woman like Gu Yu’an?"
"Are you asleep? I don’t mean anything. My heart just feels heavy. Treat it as a story—ignore me."
Guyen closed his eyes. The faint scent of lemon lingered—same as Jiang Juan’s shampoo.
He didn’t know why he’d opened up to Jiang Juan. Maybe because, though they weren’t close, their shared secret had bridged the distance.
He’d never show this weak side to Zhang Ning or the others. After all, he was Guyen—their laid-back, carefree, bold Brother Gu.
As thoughts drifted and sleep crept in, Guyen faintly heard a voice through the door, clear yet edged with indiscernible emotion.
"Just apologize. How nice it’d be—someone cares about you. How wonderful."
His mind disconnected. Guyen sank into deep sleep, a slight curve on his lips.
