Chapter 10#
Offerings to the Homophobic Straight Man: Crematorium 10#
“Cough! Cough, cough, cough—!”
This time, Qiao Qing was truly choked, his pale face instantly turning bright red.
He held his chest with one hand, his eyes welling with physiological tears from the coughing fit.
Shen Youli’s expression changed slightly, and he immediately stepped forward.
He firmly supported Qiao Qing’s shoulder, which was trembling from the cough, and carefully brought the water cup to his lips with his other hand.
His tone carried a sense of urgency: “Take it slow, have a sip of water to soothe it.”
Using Shen Youli’s hand, Qiao Qing took several messy sips of water before finally managing to suppress the itch in his throat.
He leaned against the pillow, panting slightly, his chest heaving. It took him quite a while to find his voice.
“No… I, I didn’t hear wrong, did I? You… have a crush on me? For over a decade? Since high school?”
Every word was filled with doubt. He felt either he had damaged his brain in the car accident and was hallucinating, or Shen Youli was playing a prank on him.
Looking at his incredulous state, Shen Youli smiled helplessly, yet his gaze was exceptionally focused and serious.
He nodded and, speaking clearly and slowly, repeated the sentence: “Yes, you didn’t hear wrong. Qiao Qing, I’ve had a crush on you since high school.”
Qiao Qing opened his mouth to say something but found his mind blank.
The amount of information was simply too much, providing a shock that felt even greater than the impact of being hit by the car.
Seeing him dazed and at a loss, Shen Youli knew he needed some time to digest it.
He softened his tone and asked softly:
“Do you remember, during your third year of high school, on that old bridge in the west of the city, you saved a middle school student who wanted to jump into the river?”
“You pulled him out of the water, gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and then carried him on your back to the hospital…”
Qiao Qing’s pupils contracted again as the gates of buried memories were violently pried open by these words.
The cold river water, the soaked school uniform, that thin and pale boy with dead eyes, the smell of hospital disinfectant…
“That person… was you?”
“It was me.”
Shen Youli gave a definitive answer, looking at him with a deep gaze.
Qiao Qing fell into complete silence.
He leaned against the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling. His brain was working at high speed, yet it still crashed.
Saving someone, a crush, disguising himself as a caregiver to get close…
These elements combined were even more far-fetched than an 8 PM soap opera.
Watching his profile as he fell into deep thought, Shen Youli didn’t press him further or offer more explanations.
He knew this took time.
He picked up the chopsticks again, grabbed a piece of sushi, and brought it to Qiao Qing’s lips once more. His voice returned to its previous gentleness:
“Eat first. We’ll talk about everything else after you finish eating.”
This time, Qiao Qing didn’t refuse.
He mechanically opened his mouth and ate the food Shen Youli fed him, though he couldn’t taste anything as his thoughts had already drifted far away.
The ward fell silent again, except for the faint sounds of chewing and the distant noise of traffic outside.
In the dining room of the Yu family’s old mansion, the heavy mahogany dining table reflected the light from the crystal chandelier, but the atmosphere was not bright.
Lin Jinbai was absentmindedly picking at the rice in his bowl. Sitting opposite him was his grandfather, Yu Nanxiong, the head of the Yu family.
The old man was nearly seventy with white hair, but his eyes were still as sharp as an eagle’s, commanding respect without needing to show anger.
The table was set with an exquisite meal of four dishes and a soup, but Lin Jinbai found it tasteless.
Yu Nanxiong took a slow sip of soup, his gaze seemingly accidentally sweeping over his grandson. He spoke in a steady voice, breaking the somewhat heavy silence at the table:
“You and that boy from the Qiao family… had a falling out?”
Lin Jinbai’s hand holding the chopsticks paused almost imperceptibly, and then he immediately retorted in a somewhat stiff tone: “No.”
He denied it subconsciously.
What kind of person was Yu Nanxiong? How could he not see through his grandson’s insincerity?
He put down his spoon with a slight clink, his eyes filled with a clear understanding of everything. His tone was flat yet carried an unquestionable pressure:
“Then it’s a spat. Otherwise, why have you been running back to this old mansion of mine so often these past few days?”
“Usually, asking you to come back is like dragging you to an execution ground. I won’t believe you’ve suddenly found your conscience and want to accompany this old man.”
This hit Lin Jinbai where it hurt.
He pursed his lips and didn’t respond, instead forcefully poking the piece of bright-colored sweet and sour pork in front of him with his chopsticks.
The pork was poked out of shape. He picked it up and took a bite, then immediately frowned.
Not right.
The taste was wrong.
Too sweet, the vinegar wasn’t mellow enough, the flour coating was too thick, and the meat wasn’t tender enough.
An image of another plate of sweet and sour pork uncontrollably surfaced in his mind—the one made by Qiao Qing.
The best sweet and sour pork he had ever eaten was always the one made by Qiao Qing.
But thinking of their recent fierce argument, Qiao Qing’s cold gaze, and that eyesore of a caregiver in the ward…
A wave of frustration hit Lin Jinbai’s heart, and the little appetite he had just managed to muster vanished instantly.
In its place was a hollow bitterness and a restless irritation with no outlet.
He hung his head, staring at the messy pork in his bowl, like a deflated balloon.
Yu Nanxiong took in his reaction. A flash of displeasure crossed his cloudy but shrewd eyes, but his tone remained steady:
“It’s good for you to settle down. You’re thirty now, no longer young. It’s time to consider serious matters.”
“Hurry up and find a girl from a family of equal status, get married, and settle down.”
“Oh.”
Lin Jinbai responded absentmindedly, his mind still circling the images of Qiao Qing and that caregiver.
Seeing his stubbornness, Yu Nanxiong’s tone grew heavier.
“What does ‘oh’ mean?”
“You’re thirty and still don’t want to get married—how long do you want to wait? Until I’m in my grave? Or until you’re eighty?!”
These words, carrying a sense of reprimand and coercion, acted like a fuse, instantly igniting the accumulated frustration and rebellious spirit in Lin Jinbai’s heart.
He slammed his chopsticks onto the table with a sharp “clack” and stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping harshly against the floor.
“I’m full.”
His voice was hard, and he didn’t even look at Yu Nanxiong’s face, which had instantly darkened.
“Grandfather, please enjoy your meal.”
Having said that, he turned and left, his back showing clear resistance and anger as he strode out of the dining room.
He left behind the old man’s angry gaze and the table full of exquisite dishes that had barely been touched.
He walked quickly up the stairs and returned to his room, which was spacious but felt new.
Because he spent most of his time living with Qiao Qing, his room in the old mansion hadn’t been occupied for a long time.
He closed the door, blocking out the sounds from downstairs, and leaned against it, closing his eyes tiredly.
Marriage?
Equal social status?
Settle down?
These words spun in his mind but failed to form a concrete image.
He irritably ran a hand through his hair. What kept reappearing in his mind was still Qiao Qing’s bloodshot eyes.
He felt that being with Qiao Qing was settling down.
If there were no accidents, he had even taken it for granted that they could live like this for the rest of their lives.
Just the two of them, like the past ten-plus years, close and inseparable, possessing each other.
Bound by a special tie that transcended friendship and bordered on kinship.
This thought was so natural it had almost become the foundation of his world.
But Qiao Qing didn’t want to just be friends. Qiao Qing wanted to be with him, to become his legitimate and unique partner.
But… how could two men be together?
This thought instantly choked his breathing, bringing almost physiological discomfort and fear.
He craved the warmth and stability Qiao Qing provided and couldn’t imagine a life without him.
Yet he couldn’t accept Qiao Qing standing by his side with the identity of a “lover.”
These two opposing forces tore at him wildly, making him suffer.
He opened his eyes abruptly and punched the wall beside him with a dull thud.
A sharp pain came from his knuckles, but it was not even a fraction of what he felt in his heart.
What should he do?
Letting Qiao Qing leave—he couldn’t do it.
Just thinking about someone else appearing by Qiao Qing’s side, that another man might take his place, made him crazy with jealousy and so panicked he could hardly breathe.
But accepting Qiao Qing’s feelings? Crossing that line?
A wave of nausea rose in his stomach, making him almost want to vomit.