What was he supposed to do now that he’d stepped into the bedroom of a perfectly healthy high school boy?

This was the question weighing on Gu Chuan’s mind.

Would Wen Tinghan suddenly flash a mysterious smile and say, “Gu Chuan, come take a look at this treasure~”?

Wait—what weird thoughts was he having?

A faint sense of danger prickled at the edge of Gu Chuan’s subconscious.

Familiar… almost like the vibe around Qiu Muzhe and the others…?

He shook his head, hastily banishing the messy thoughts.

Maybe he should cut back on Bilibili.

When bored, Gu Chuan usually alternated gaming with watching videos there.

Now, his mind finally snapped back on track.

Right—when hanging out at a guy friend’s place, wasn’t it natural to game and chat about girls?

His gaze swept Wen Tinghan’s room, curiosity sparking.

“Tinghan… what do you usually do at home?”

“Eh…” Wen Tinghan, already tense and awkward in his seat, flustered further under Gu Chuan’s look.

“U-Usually… studying… reading.”

When nervous, Wen Tinghan’s voice turned slightly hoarse—delicate, soft.

Gu Chuan raised an eyebrow, teasing:

“Why’s your voice suddenly so high? Almost like a girl’s.”

Wen Tinghan instantly covered his mouth, but panic flickered plainly in his eyes.

He let out a soft cough. Tone steadied—but stayed low.

“N-No… Gu Chuan, I-I’ll get you fruit.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Mind if I lie down?” Gu Chuan loved lounging on beds at home. Cat-like: clean, lazy.

Here too, Wen Tinghan’s soft bed drew his eyes first.

(No wonder An Qianmeng had been so startled last time he’d lain on her bed.)

“If it’s you, Gu Chuan… sure.”

Wen Tinghan stood. Legs wobbled for a heartbeat—then he hurried out to the living room.

In her words, Gu Chuan seemed uniquely trusted.

Wen Tinghan returned with strawberries, mangoes, and plump cherries.

Cherries had dropped in price lately, but Gu Chuan rarely touched such “bourgeois” fruit—mostly ’cause he was broke.

Dewdrops glistened on the washed cherries, crystal-clear like Wen Tinghan’s lake-deep eyes.

“Thanks.”

Gu Chuan sprang up neatly. Light hair swayed. He popped a vividly red strawberry into his mouth.

“So sweet…”

Just then—*meow meow!*—Zaizai trotted in through the unclosed door.

Fresh from the bathroom, belly full of dried fish, he was in a generous mood—even Gu Chuan seemed less annoying.

*Meow!*

But Wen Tinghan shot him a *“You’re ruining my moment!”* glare, eyes urging: *Scram.*

Offended, Zaizai yowled louder.

*Miao-ao! Mew mew!*—a signature grumble meaning *I’m not happy!*

“Hungry for fruit, Zaizai?”

*Meow!* Affirmative.

Days with Xuechun had sharpened Gu Chuan’s “cat language.”

A strange bond bloomed only with her: he’d grasp her meows; she’d understand his words.

Sometimes—one speaking Chinese, the other *meowing*—they’d “chat” seamlessly, neither blinking.

But Zaizai was just an ordinary kitten. Meaning hid only in tone.

Gu Chuan bit the strawberry tip—careful not to taint it—placed it in his palm, and offered it.

Tempted, Zaizai set aside his grudge.

Tiny paws *pattered* over. Whiskers twitched as that round face sniffed the sweetest part.

Then—tiny tongue out—licking gently.

Zaizai was a gentle cat. Even neglected, he’d only sulk quietly, never bite.

He licked patiently at Gu Chuan’s palm until the strawberry was his, then chewed while shaking his little head.

The brush of cat tongue felt like fine bristles.

Gu Chuan withdrew his hand, wiped it, and watched Zaizai fondly.

Wen Tinghan watched *him* tenderly.

One watched the cat. The other, the captivating scene.

Zaizai glanced at Gu Chuan—*Since you fed this lord a strawberry, I’ll spare you and my master this moment!*

With a wobble of his plump rear, he waddled out. Paused at the door.

*Meow!* (Go for it!)

“…”

Turns out cats sometimes see truth clearer than people.

Silence settled. Just Gu Chuan and Wen Tinghan again.

“Do you wear perfume?” Gu Chuan asked suddenly.

“N-No…”

“Then why’s your room so fragrant…?” He murmured to himself, “Though… you always smell nice. Like gardenias.”

Wen Tinghan’s gaze wavered. Hearts race in unguarded moments.

Gu Chuan, treating it as casual chatter, scooted closer with a clueless smile.

“G-Gu Chuan?”

A blush crept across Wen Tinghan’s cheeks.

“Tinghan, so proper even at home? It’s just us guys. Got any hidden treasures you keep from parents? Y’know… the kind every guy has?”

This was Gu Chuan’s first friend, first time in a friend’s home. He wanted closeness.

Start with teenage-boy secrets: hidden novels, game consoles… *those* magazines.

*That’s* how you build “best bro” bonds.

Wen Tinghan seemed too quiet, too perfect. Maybe a hidden side?

Even Gu Chuan owned a few doujinshi from last comic con—useless, sure.

But if he had a friend to invite over? He’d share everything. Even his Steam library.

“S-Secrets… N-No such thing…”

Wen Tinghan’s breath hitched. Eyes flicked—just once—toward the wardrobe.

Too late to hide.

Gu Chuan followed the glance.

“Inside?” he whispered.

“Tinghan… you’re not very good at lying.”