Chapter 29#

Zhou Ruofei was stopped outside the school gate and asked Tan Xiao irritably, “Why won’t they let me in? I’ve never heard of needing an appointment to visit a school!”

Tan Xiao patiently explained, “Because there are so many tourists! Entering randomly would disrupt the normal order. Everyone has to book two days in advance. Every place has its own rules.”

The meaning was: now that you’re in China, you must follow China’s rules.

Zhou Ruofei said, “Who are you calling not Chinese? It’s not like I haven’t lived in Beijing. I used to ride my bike in and out of the school gate whenever I wanted, and no one ever stopped me. These rules didn’t exist back then.”

He grew up in Beijing until he was seven or eight, then went abroad and became a little American. Back then, some of the older generation were still around, and he often came back to visit. It’s only been in recent years that his visits have become less frequent.

“Your bike is pretty cool,” speaking of bicycles, Zhou Ruofei noticed Tan Xiao’s bike. “Let me ride it for a bit.”

Tan Xiao treasured this bike far too much and immediately declined, “It’s aerodynamic; you won’t know how to ride it. Careful you don’t fall flat on your face.”

He immediately changed the subject: “Brother, I woke up late and haven’t eaten. Let’s have brunch together.”

Zhou Ruofei also missed Chinese food specialties and decided on the spot, “I want to eat a grilled chicken leg burger.”

In McDonald’s, after randomly ordering two sets, Zhou Ruofei added, “I don’t want cola. I want to drink mung bean juice (douzhi).”

Tan Xiao rode his bike out again, went to a nearby snack shop, bought mung bean juice, and brought it back. But then Zhou Ruofei left the mung bean juice untouched and drank the cola instead.

Purely to mess with his younger brother.

“Brother, stop being angry,” Tan Xiao was a very stable “mini-capybara” himself. “Things are already as they are.”

Zhou Ruofei asked, “What do you mean ‘as they are’?”

Tan Xiao said, “It’s… the rice is already cooked.” And it was a very fragrant and sweet Eight-Treasure Rice.

Zhou Ruofei said, “Are you two registered? Do you have children?”

Tan Xiao went silent, his good mood dampened. He turned to look out the window.

The weather was very good today, a bit hot. June was approaching, and some students were already packing their things to leave school.

Zhou Ruofei said relentlessly, “Just because you slept together, he’s going to cling to you for the rest of his life?”

“It’s me who wants to cling to him,” Tan Xiao decided to speak decisively and finally. “It’s me who’s devoted to him, it was me who insisted on sleeping with him. He wasn’t even willing at first; I was the one who forced him.”

As he spoke, he almost believed it himself—what a great story of a wealthy young master’s “forced love.”

Zhou Ruofei was furious, almost crushing his cola cup.

He treated Tan Xiao like a biological brother. How could he not be angry when his brother was being tricked by some “poor” CEO, losing both his body and his heart?

“Stop talking nonsense with me,” Zhou Ruofei said. “You, ‘forcing’ him? If you liked men, why didn’t you like me?”

Tan Xiao’s jaw dropped, stunned by these words. His head spun, and he accidentally picked up the wrong cup, almost drinking the mung bean juice. At the critical moment, the smell of the juice hit him, and he escaped a fatal blow, quickly pushing the juice far away.

“Brother,” Tan Xiao said melancholy, “speak like a human. Did you leave your brain in New York? Do you still want to play with me in the future?”

Zhou Ruofei said confidently, “Every gay man I’ve ever met has liked me! You don’t have those feelings for me, do you? Then you can’t possibly be gay.”

The reasoning was quite rigorous. But is being liked by every gay man you meet something to boast about?

Tan Xiao said, “I’m not gay, so I only like Zhang Xingchuan, and I only want to sleep with him.”

Zhou Ruofei’s eyes went dark. Hearing the words “sleep with him,” he automatically imagined Tan Xiao being “ravaged” and felt like he was going to break down.

He actually couldn’t remember exactly what Zhang Xingchuan looked like, only that he looked about his own age but insisted on wearing an old-fashioned “cadre jacket”—an “old” man.

That perverted old gay, how could he lay a hand on a child?

He also selectively forgot that he had initially praised the man for being handsome.

Zhang Xingchuan rarely wore cadre jackets in his daily life; it was just that the occasion for that day’s social engagement required him to dress that way.

And their bedroom life was as harmonious as a spring breeze; no one was ravaging anyone.

Zhou Ruofei said, “What do you plan to do then? Your sister will never agree.”

Tan Minhong wouldn’t interfere in Tan Xiao’s private life; he changed wives almost as often as he changed phones and truly didn’t take love or marriage seriously. If he knew Tan Xiao had also started a “romantic” life, he might even praise him for finally growing up.

However, Tan Yun treated Tan Xiao as a human being.

“She might not necessarily disagree,” Tan Xiao said. “Maybe she’ll be happy for me.”

He had no qualification to compete with Tan Yun for the position of primary heir anyway. Now that he had essentially become gay, there would be no children of his in the future to compete with Tan Yun’s children for the next generation of inheritance.

Tan Yun was sincere towards him, and he treated her as family. Since there was no conflict of interest, if Tan Yun knew he was happily in love with someone he liked, she really might be happy for him.

Zhou Ruofei thought he was being too simplistic.

Tan Xiao said, “Weren’t you going to slap me? Come on, slap me quickly. I have to go back and revise my thesis after you’re done.”

Zhou Ruofei was very fierce; he tapped Tan Xiao on the head with his cola straw, a full three times.

He had flown for over ten hours and came to the school as soon as he landed. His jet lag hadn’t subsided, and he was exhausted, planning to sleep first. He would be in Beijing for a few more days anyway.

On the way here, he had thought about it carefully. Tan Xiao finding an older partner didn’t seem like an unexpected situation.

When he met Tan Xiao, Tan Xiao was only six, and he was already a high school student studying in Europe. He had a secret crush on his senior, Tan Yun, and would find any excuse to hang out at the Doria home, wanting to be as close to his goddess’s life as possible.

At that time, Tan Yun hadn’t yet reached her full “queen” form and was still a teenage girl who would blush slightly when teased by Zhou Ruofei.

One day, while Zhou Ruofei was following Tan Yun like a puppy, they passed a secluded lawn in the manor and saw Tan Xiao sitting alone, looking at a picture book.

Zhou Ruofei was curious: where did this Chinese child come from? Tan Yun told him that he was her biological brother.

Tan Xiao’s childhood was completely different from now. Except when politeness required it, he rarely smiled. Outside of class, he often stayed alone and didn’t talk to others. He learned things very quickly; he was smart but not lively. Most of the time, his expression was as stern as an adult’s.

Zhou Ruofei heard the servants in the manor gossiping in private, calling the little Asian-faced master scontrosa, an Italian word for a solitary, awkward, and strange child.

But after observing, Zhou Ruofei felt that Tan Xiao was just constantly on guard and was actually a child who really needed friends. There were very few people there who could speak Chinese. Zhou Ruofei successfully became friends with little Tan Xiao just by speaking authentic Beijing-accented Mandarin.

Tan Xiao returned to China two years later. It was his own initiative and persistence that finally won permission. As soon as he returned to China, he became happy and returned to being his true self.

Zhou Ruofei was an only child and had always wanted a younger sibling. His feelings for Tan Yun made him love everything associated with her. He regarded Tan Xiao as his own younger brother and never forgot to visit him whenever he came to China.

Tan Xiao was also taken back to Europe every winter and summer holiday, staying in the manor like a prisoner to study various subjects. Zhou Ruofei, who continued his university studies in Europe, would also drop by the Doria home every once in a while to say he was taking his younger brother out to play with his friends.

Tan Xiao didn’t actually like interacting with those friends, but going out was always relaxing. Zhou Ruofei could feel that he didn’t like those young masters and ladies; he would only sit in a corner, drinking juice and reading. If a friend saw how pretty he was and came to tease him, he was always polite, but there was never any further development beyond politeness.

Zhou Ruofei had a vague feeling back then that this brother would definitely fall for an older partner in the future. A precocious and gifted child looking at peers might find them cute or interesting, but would find it hard to see them as having sexual charisma.

Why did Zhou Ruofei have this feeling? Because he liked an “older sister”—Tan Yun was several years older than him.

In terms of appreciating the charm of an older partner, he believed he could understand Tan Xiao to some extent.

Tan Xiao, however, had never analyzed his own psychology in this regard, nor had he thought about what “type” he liked.

He had always been muddled about love. His feelings for Zhang Xingchuan arose naturally. It was as if it were destiny, that he was meant to wait for Zhang Xingchuan’s appearance for his love to sprout in his heart.

As for whether the charm of Zhang Xingchuan that captivated him was due to being older, he couldn’t be sure, nor could he hypothesize other possibilities. Because Zhang Xingchuan was just like this from the moment he appeared, he felt it must be that whatever Zhang Xingchuan was like, that’s what he would like.

In the evening, Zhang Xingchuan came to find him for dinner. The restaurant was in a nearby commercial area. When parking in the underground garage, they first shared a hot kiss in the car, almost “eating” each other before the actual meal.

Lovers who are smitten with each other are like this during the honeymoon phase: as soon as their eyes meet, their minds are filled with the other’s most sexy image.

Tan Xiao had passed his defense and only had the task of revising his thesis left. The pressure wasn’t great. Since the defense, he had been spending every night at Zhang Xingchuan’s house.

Zhang Xingchuan’s work state remained the same. With no business trips scheduled recently, he spent his days working and his nights with his “wife.” For a CEO in the prime of his life who also loved physical exercise, managing these few things was very easy.

Because Tan Xiao had an appointment to meet his advisor tomorrow morning to discuss some matters, he had to stay in the dorm tonight.

Zhang Xingchuan had no choice but to send him back to school after dinner. Upon arrival, he was still reluctant to leave, so the two took a walk on campus, enjoying their romance.

The CEO hadn’t engaged in any campus romance back in the day. Now, by coincidence, he had developed an intimate relationship with a junior alumnus. Walking on campus truly gave him a sense of destiny, as if time were flowing backwards.

He was very well-favored. Tan Xiao had seen photos of him from his student days; he looked no different from now. If one had to say, it was just that he looked like a wealthy man now.

During his student days, Zhang Xingchuan was a genuine “poor student.”

“Back then, my monthly living allowance was one thousand yuan,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “In my freshman year, I was also growing rapidly and could eat eight bowls of rice in one meal. If I really asked my family for money, they wouldn’t refuse, but if I spent my allowance early and had to ask for more, I felt a bit of shame and couldn’t bring myself to say it.”

Tan Xiao was surprised. “So you studied on an empty stomach?”

Zhang Xingchuan laughed, “Do I look like someone who’s gone hungry? I could earn some extra money by helping write code or doing part-time jobs. Later, in the second semester of my freshman year, I started having projects to do. In those years, project subsidies and various scholarships for computer science were already plentiful. Plus, my work was both good and fast. By my junior year, external companies were specifically asking for me to build systems. I remember one time most clearly: I finished a project in one week, and the client paid twenty thousand yuan.”

Tan Xiao said, “That’s amazing.”

Zhang Xingchuan felt a bit embarrassed after saying it. From his personal experience, he hadn’t truly suffered from poverty; even as an undergraduate, he was considered wealthy on campus. But this bit of income was truly nothing to the young master.

“You really are too amazing,” Tan Xiao admired him sincerely. “My undergraduate classmates—several of them would practically starve to death at the end of every month.”

He himself had never experienced a life where he needed part-time jobs for pocket money. He had seen undergraduate classmates who were “millionaires” at the beginning of the month, “middle class” in the middle, and “poor peasants” at the end, starting to eat “chaff and wild herbs.” During those days, Tan Xiao would automatically become a “wealth-distributing boy,” supporting several dorms full of large-stomached men by himself.

He was young then and didn’t have much guile. Thinking back now, perhaps some classmates had discovered he was from a wealthy background, but they just weren’t clear on exactly how wealthy.

However, his classmates were all very good to him, taking care of him in both studies and life. Everyone he met in his eight years of university life was very lovely. This truly was the happiest time of his life, not to mention that in this final year, he was lucky enough to meet Zhang Xingchuan at an alumni event.

He would love his alma mater for the rest of his life and cherish the countless beautiful memories from these eight years.

Zhang Xingchuan asked, “Where are all your good friends from your undergraduate days now?”

Tan Xiao introduced several of those he was closest to: some were studying abroad, some were doing graduate studies next door, some went to big tech companies, some had already achieved small success in startups, and one had mysteriously disappeared after passing the civil service exam—probably gone to some confidential unit.

Zhang Xingchuan was a bit surprised. Before, he always felt that Tan Xiao had many friends and was very sincere when interacting with them, but those emotions were short-lived. To Tan Xiao, making friends seemed like a consumable for maintaining enthusiasm for life.

“Of course not,” Tan Xiao said. “Some people are no longer in contact just because our lives no longer intersect; we don’t disturb each other. I’ll silently wish them well from afar. Hearing that they’re doing well, I’m genuinely happy for them.”

Zhang Xingchuan smiled and said, “It’s very happy being your friend. I’ve felt it.”

They had a very pleasant time as friends too, both giving and receiving sincere happiness. If they hadn’t developed their current relationship, they probably would have missed such a friend after parting.

“If we had only ended up as friends,” Tan Xiao said, “I would also have wished you, Senior, a peaceful life and that you’d find true love soon.”

“If I didn’t date you, I wouldn’t have found it,” Zhang Xingchuan didn’t share his sentiment. “I haven’t told you yet, but for me, it was probably love at first sight.”

Tan Xiao just took it as a joke. “Wait, aren’t you straight?”

“Yes,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “Precisely because you’re a boy, I only realized much later that that feeling was my heart fluttering. If you were a girl, I probably would have started pursuing you that very day.”

Tan Xiao found it hard to believe. “Why? Am I that good-looking?”

Zhang Xingchuan said, “It’s not just because of looks; it’s a feeling.”

He thought for a moment and said, “You’re like something the Creator custom-made for me.”

After saying it, he felt his internal emotions surging and, feeling quite embarrassed, quickened his pace.

Tan Xiao caught up with him and whispered, “What an erotic description.”

Zhang Xingchuan’s emotions were not in that direction at all. “How is that the meaning? I mean you’re perfect, grown according to my imagination.”

“I like it whichever meaning it is,” Tan Xiao was overjoyed, feeling dazed by his husband’s coaxing. “Say more, praise me more, tell me how much you love me.”

“I’m already at a loss for words; you’re so perfect there are no words to describe you,” Zhang Xingchuan asked. “What about you? What was your first impression of me?”

He suspected Tan Xiao had forgotten; after all, Tan Xiao was a happy puppy who left affection everywhere.

Tan Xiao, however, said, “What a handsome brother, why don’t I look like that?”

Zhang Xingchuan was a bit puzzled but also laughed. This was very likely something Tan Xiao had just made up to coax him, but it was well-made, he was very good at it.

This time it really wasn’t; that was Tan Xiao’s actual thought that day. He said, “When I was little, I thought I would grow up to look like you. You look very ‘standard,’ as if you were made from a mold for the most handsome Chinese man; you came out just like this.”

It was the first time Zhang Xingchuan had heard someone describe him like that, and he laughed so hard he stumbled. What an absurd compliment.

The two were holding hands, walking into the shadow of a tree. With no one around and a good atmosphere, they stopped in a tacit understanding, wanting to share a kiss.

The breeze blew, and the leaves rustled.

Tan Xiao’s body was always hot, while Zhang Xingchuan’s was always warm. Every time they embraced, they could feel the other’s special temperature. The same went for kissing. Zhang Xingchuan was very different when being intimate compared to his usual self; he was very aggressive. While Tan Xiao could be a bit sharp-tongued in daily life, as soon as Zhang Xingchuan held him, he automatically became a “sweet bottom.”

They had just started kissing, losing themselves in it.

Zhou Ruofei called, giving Tan Xiao a huge fright, and he and Zhang Xingchuan quickly separated.

Tan Xiao answered the phone dejectedly. Zhang Xingchuan pretended to look at the trees nearby. These trees are really tall.

Tan Xiao said, “Big brother, what do you want now? There’s no mung bean juice for sale at night.”

Zhou Ruofei said, “I’m awake. Where are you? Let’s finish talking about that matter.”

Tan Xiao said, “At school, busy being in love. Let’s talk later.”

“Wait,” Zhou Ruofei said, “how did he get into the school? Didn’t you say you need an appointment two days in advance?”

Tan Xiao said, “Because he has an alumni card.”

“Why is Tsinghua still selling this kind of card?” Zhou Ruofei had just woken up, and his Chinese-English switching system hadn’t fully recovered. He hadn’t correctly interpreted “alumni card” as such, but understood it as “annual card.” He asked, “Where can I get one? How much do I need to top up?”