Guyen was woken by the door creaking open. He shifted slightly, murmuring drowsily, "Five more minutes. Just let me sleep five more minutes."

No reply came after a long wait. Still groggy, Guyen wondered why Jiang Juan was being so patient today.

A plastic rustling sounded again. Guyen yanked the annoying thing off his face. Opening his eyes, he saw a Jordan tracksuit grinning at him.

"How’d this end up on my face?" Guyen snapped awake, scratching his side and yawning as he looked at Jiang Juan by the dining table.

Jiang Juan ignored him, arranging breakfast from the plastic bag on the table.

"What time is it?" Guyen didn’t mind, propping his head with his hand. His voice was husky and lazy from sleep.

"Past eight. Get up and leave if you’re awake." Jiang Juan turned back, expression blank.

"You sleep later than a dog and wake earlier than a rooster. Plus morning runs? Training for an Ironman?"

"You’ll have plenty of time to sleep sixty years from now." Jiang Juan strode to the coffee table, tossed the bag into the trash, and raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Too lazy to argue. I’ll leave after eating." Guyen pushed up from the sofa, peering at the table.

"Tofu pudding? Did you bring chili?"

"Stop staring. It’s not for you. Tofu pudding with chili? What kind of person are you?" Jiang Juan shot him a disdainful look.

"Different paths, no shared plans." Guyen avoided the age-old debate.

"No way, really no share for me?" Guyen stood, walked to the table, eyed the neat bowl of tofu pudding and two plump custard buns, then turned to Jiang Juan.

"Do I owe you breakfast?" Jiang Juan’s lips parted slightly, tone utterly matter-of-fact.

"Hmm, fair point." Guyen clapped once, pursed his lips, and nodded.

"Can I borrow your bathroom, President Jiang?"

"Of course." Jiang Juan returned a fake smile.

At the bathroom mirror, Guyen turned off the tap. He shook water droplets from his hair and touched the bruise on his face.

"Sigh, even this can’t hide my looks. Such a sin." He swept his bangs back flamboyantly, twisted his neck forty-five degrees like a stiff neck, glanced sideways at the mirror, and nodded satisfied.

"Don’t use my towel." Jiang Juan’s voice came from the living room.

"Got it, got it." Guyen dropped his hand, brushed his bangs, and walked out.

"Tissues are below." Jiang Juan lifted his chin toward the coffee table, then slipped into the bathroom.

After washing, Jiang Juan saw Guyen still on the sofa. He raised an eyebrow. "Why aren’t you gone?"

"Eager to kick me out, huh?" Guyen draped the tracksuit over his arm, legs crossed casually.

"Should I keep you for lunch?"

"Okay, okay. My school uniform’s here too. Hand it over." Guyen uncrossed his legs, stood, and smiled.

Jiang Juan didn’t reply. He headed to the bedroom, returned, and tossed the uniform at Guyen.

"Oh, one more thing." Guyen caught it, draping it over the tracksuit.

"Can’t you say it all at once?" Jiang Juan narrowed his eyes, impatient.

"You know I’ve no money or phone."

"So?"

"Lend me bus fare home." Guyen gazed pleadingly. Without the bruises, he’d have that trendy puppy-eyed look.

Jiang Juan wasn’t a girl or gay. Oblivious, he said, "How you came last night, go back the same way."

"I rushed to see you last night. Now no food? No strength to walk." Guyen raised an eyebrow, tone light and nonchalant.

"Fine." Jiang Juan pulled out his wallet, flicked a one-yuan coin toward Guyen.

"Seriously? No breakfast. At least ten yuan. I’ll pay back." Guyen caught it, resigned.

"A hundred yuan. Keep the change." Jiang Juan watched him, a faint smile on his lips.

"Don’t take advantage. This is one yuan. Where’s a hundred?"

"Told you—a hundred. Keep the change." Jiang Juan’s smile widened, unable to hold back, warming the room.