Chapter 2: Grass Grows

Bo Ren casually closed the door to the private room and then said, “I must have been bullied by those old-timers in the maintenance team.”

“Why are you only mentioning this now?” Zou Ji replied nonchalantly, “Come on, spill the details. Let’s see who I should side with.”

Yang Qiao commented, “It’s surprising enough that he isn’t the one bullying others.”

Bo Ren walked in and took off his jacket, revealing a khaki shirt underneath. If you didn’t look closely at the State Grid embroidered logo on his chest, you might think he was wearing some high-end brand.

He hung his jacket on the nearby coat rack and, turning around, ended up standing right behind Yang Qiao, seemingly to make it easier to talk to Zou Ji, who was sitting further inside.

Yang Qiao didn’t look back at him, holding his teacup and sipping his tea.

“How am I talking nonsense? You two gentlemen of leisure,” Bo Ren said. “I spent an entire afternoon working alone on a high-voltage tower while the senior technician and his apprentice were down below drinking soda and snacking on mixed nuts. I called down and asked them to throw me a pack out of kindness, but they refused, saying it was too dry up there and they were afraid I’d get heat rash from eating them. If that’s not workplace bullying, what is? Not even a pack of nuts for me.”

Zou Ji burst out laughing.

Yang Qiao rubbed his brow with his fingers, unable to even look at Bo Ren anymore.

Bo Ren continued behind him, “Finally, when it was time to clock out, I got caught in traffic, so I rented a shared electric bike to come meet you two. Barely five minutes after getting on, it started raining and blowing wind, freezing me to the bone. I was shivering all the way here—anyone who saw me might have thought the bike was leaking electricity. But that’s not the worst part. The most infuriating thing? Just as I parked the bike nearby, the wind stopped and the rain ceased. I was so mad, I couldn’t help but laugh. The heavens must be messing with me.”

After finishing his story, he naturally slipped his hands into the collar of Yang Qiao’s shirt to warm them.

Yang Qiao shivered from the cold and hissed, “Fine, fine, you win. Get your hands out of there, quick!”

Bo Ren laughed, withdrew his hands, and rested one on Yang Qiao’s shoulder, then casually sat down next to him.

Zou Ji propped his chin on one hand, glancing back and forth between the two with a knowing smile.

Bo Ren chatted idly with Zou Ji across Yang Qiao, asking a few trivial questions. When the server arrived to take their order, both of them left the decision to Zou Ji, who flipped through the menu and discussed options with the server.

Only then did Bo Ren turn his attention back to Yang Qiao.

Yang Qiao was replying to someone on WeChat, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Bo Ren lazily draped one arm over Yang Qiao’s arm and asked, “What have you been up to these past few days?”

“Nothing much, just staying home and playing on my phone,” Yang Qiao replied.

“What’s so fun about your phone?” Bo Ren asked. “Why didn’t you call me to hang out?”

Yang Qiao replied, “Because I’m heartless.”

Bo Ren said, “Your memory is really sharp.”

Yang Qiao glanced at him briefly before returning to his messages.

Bo Ren began fidgeting, grabbing Yang Qiao’s wrist to check his watch, tugging at the elastic strap on Yang Qiao’s phone, then reaching into Yang Qiao’s jacket pocket to fish out a box of throat lozenges. He opened it, popped one into his mouth, and then stuffed the box back into Yang Qiao’s pocket—acting like someone with ADHD, trying to fully capture Yang Qiao’s attention.

Yang Qiao, however, just continued replying to his messages, ignoring Bo Ren’s playful antics.

After the server left, Zou Ji, with a mischievous tone, said, “Stop messing around. Mu Tou is busy with a blind date right now, don’t get in the way.”

A colleague had just asked Yang Qiao something important online, and as he was focused on figuring out how to respond, he tuned out Zou Ji’s voice.

But Bo Ren heard it loud and clear.

Zou Ji continued, “Someone introduced Mu Tou to a potential partner—a male college student, young and handsome. He even showed me a photo earlier, and they’ve been getting along pretty well on WeChat.”

Bo Ren looked surprised and quickly leaned in to see the screen of Yang Qiao’s phone, but the screen had a privacy filter on it, so he couldn’t see anything.

Yang Qiao finally heard the nonsense Zou Ji was spouting, and with a head full of frustration, he pointed at Zou Ji and said, “If you keep making stuff up, your parcel stations will go out of business tomorrow.”

Zou Ji immediately raised both hands in surrender, insisting he’d stop and begged for the curses to end.

They opened the bottle of Tianzhilan that Zou Ji had brought from home. The three of them didn’t play any games but casually chatted and evenly drank the entire bottle.

Since it was supposed to be a housewarming, Yang Qiao took the initiative to pay the bill after dinner. Then, both Zou Ji and Bo Ren, with different thoughts but the same words, said they wanted to go hang out at Yang Qiao’s new place.

The spring rain had only drizzled a few drops, barely wetting Bo Ren, and it had long since stopped, leaving the ground dry.

It was Zou Ji’s first time at Yang Qiao’s house. As soon as he entered, the beautiful three-story house struck a nerve. After touring it inside and out, he clicked his tongue in admiration. When he emerged, his expression was crestfallen, and he collapsed onto the living room sofa, suddenly bursting into tears like a weak willow in the wind.

He had a baby face and was a very emotional and endearing person. Whenever he was moved, he would cry without hesitation, even in front of his friends. This wasn’t the first time he had sadly reminisced about the past:

He, Zou Ji, the young master of a once-wealthy family, was supposed to live the life of a pampered second-generation rich kid. But alas, his father was incompetent, and the family business collapsed halfway through his life. Now, instead of living a life of luxury, he was reduced to delivering packages, and his beloved goddess had left him to go to Shanghai—Shanghai, of all places…

“Give it a rest,” Bo Ren said with no sympathy, cutting through the sentimentality. “Your goddess barely paid attention to you even before your family’s business collapsed.”

“Don’t say that!” Zou Ji couldn’t bear to hear the truth and, mumbling to himself, fell asleep right there on the spot.

Yang Qiao and Bo Ren exchanged a glance, both feeling helpless.

Together, they lifted Zou Ji and carried him to the guest bed to make sure he would sleep comfortably and avoid stumbling around in the unfamiliar surroundings if he woke up in the middle of the night. The living room was still cluttered with things Yang Qiao hadn’t finished unpacking.

After carefully closing the guest room door, Yang Qiao and Bo Ren stood in the hallway and exchanged another glance. Suddenly, Bo Ren burst out laughing, finding the situation amusing.

“His alcohol tolerance is so bad, and yet he’s always the one bringing the drinks,” Yang Qiao said without a trace of humor. “Has he gained weight since the last time? When we carried him at your place during the Lunar New Year, he didn’t seem this heavy.”

Bo Ren replied, “He hasn’t gained weight; you’ve just gotten weaker. Carrying a pig makes you this winded. Have you been staying home all month without exercising even once?”

He reached out to squeeze Yang Qiao’s shoulder, but Yang Qiao turned away before he could touch him.

Yang Qiao walked over to the island counter to get some water.

Bo Ren casually followed, hands behind his back. Just as Yang Qiao filled a cup halfway and was about to drink it himself, Bo Ren snatched it from him and drank it instead. Yang Qiao grabbed another cup to fill for himself.

Bo Ren placed the empty cup aside and bluntly asked, “So, what’s the deal with you and that college student? Is it really going somewhere?”

Yang Qiao replied, “Mind your own business.”

Bo Ren said, “Then at least show me the photo.”

Yang Qiao tried to dismiss him, “You should go home. Don’t you have work tomorrow? My place is pretty remote; you’ll end up being late.”

“Yunzhou isn’t Beijing,” Bo Ren retorted. “It’s only about ten kilometers from the south to the north end of the city. I could crawl to work and still not be late.” He continued, “You let Zou Ji sleep at your place but not me? Why are you playing favorites?”

He tapped the marble surface of the island counter with his knuckles and added, “I oversaw the renovations for this house, and now you’re kicking me out? Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?”

Yang Qiao reluctantly said, “Fine, fine, you can stay too. The room across from Zou Ji’s is just as nice. Go ahead.”

He finished his water and casually set the cup aside.

Bo Ren didn’t leave. Instead, he aligned the two slender glass cups side by side, pressing their edges together.

Both of them stared at the pair of touching cups.

“The age difference is too big; it’s hard to be truly happy like that,” Bo Ren said in the most earnest tone while spouting the most nonsensical argument. “You should find someone your own age. A college student isn’t right for you.”

Yang Qiao replied, “Thank you for your concern, but I’m only twenty-six. That kid is in his third year of grad school, just one year younger than me.”

Bo Ren said, “That’s still not good. You’re a powerful CEO; what’s it going to look like if you get involved with a student? Are you trying to show off your wealth? People will just say you’re keeping a young boy.”

Yang Qiao responded, “Then I should keep a few more, really show off. If you’ve got money and don’t flaunt it, you’re a fool.”

Bo Ren added, “The person who introduced you doesn’t have good intentions. Why would they suddenly want to set you up? Sounds like a scam from someone you know.”

Yang Qiao said, “It’s fine. My life’s been too smooth anyway; it’s about time I hit some bumps and got some life experience.”

Bo Ren was completely speechless, his expression showing he was about to burst with frustration.

Yang Qiao was doing it on purpose. He kept thinking about Zou Ji’s earlier encouragement.

This time, when he returned to Yunzhou, he vaguely felt that Bo Ren was treating him a little differently than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how. Was it just his imagination? If not, what exactly had changed?

After pondering for a moment, Yang Qiao said, “Why does it matter to you whether or not I’m going on a date? What’s it to you?”

“How could you say something like that?” Bo Ren protested, “Do you think I wouldn’t be hurt? I’m the person in the world who cares about you the most.”

Yang Qiao replied, “Are you? I thought that title went to my parents.”

Bo Ren clearly wanted to argue back, but in the end, he just said, “Fine, then I’m in third place.”

“Alright.” Yang Qiao thought for a moment, then pulled a round, egg-yellow coaster from a pile of miscellaneous items next to the island counter and handed it over, saying, “Here, take your bronze medal and go to bed.”

Bo Ren took a deep breath but still accepted the coaster, looking down at his clothes as if he was seriously preparing to wear the “bronze medal” with pride.

Yang Qiao’s phone rang, and he picked it up to reply to a message. Throughout the evening, he kept having to respond to one or two messages, either about work or work-related social interactions.

His colleagues and peers were all night owls, and nighttime was the busiest and most active time for many in the self-media industry.

Bo Ren fiddled with the coaster in his hands, spinning it around, and asked, “Who are you chatting with on WeChat?”

“You don’t know them,” Yang Qiao replied. “You sure ask a lot of questions. How about this—I’ve set up paid consultations on multiple platforms. You have a Zhihu account, right? You can go there and ask me questions. Two thousand yuan gets you six questions.”

“…” Bo Ren, now furious, tossed the “bronze medal” aside.

That day at the home goods store, they had both tried out and liked the same sofa. Bo Ren had felt it was a very happy day.

But why, on such a happy day, did a random male grad student have to appear? And in his third year of grad school, no less! Isn’t that too much? Going out on a date on the weekend—what if he can’t graduate, you reckless kid!

The more Bo Ren observed Yang Qiao, the more he felt that Yang Qiao was probably chatting with that third-year grad student, just trying to hide it from him. Otherwise, why would he be blushing if it were just work?

“Stop talking to him, will you!” Bo Ren decided to throw a fit. After twenty-two years of friendship, he knew this tactic always worked with Yang Qiao.

Bo Ren said, “Stop talking to him. I’m upset. I don’t like it when you act like this.”

“Like what?” Yang Qiao, startled by Bo Ren’s sudden outburst, asked, “Have you had too much to drink?”

Bo Ren replied, “No, I haven’t.”

But then he quickly changed his tune, saying, “Actually, yes, I’ve had too much. Ah, my head is spinning.”

He skillfully played the role of a drunk, grabbing Yang Qiao’s arm and leaning on his shoulder like a baby koala… This enormous “baby,” standing at 1.85 meters tall, tried to snatch the phone from Yang Qiao’s hand, intending to stop him from chatting with anyone else. It didn’t matter who he was talking to.

Yang Qiao’s face was a bit flushed, but it wasn’t because of the guy he went on a date with—it was because of the Tianzhilan they had at dinner.

Now, his face turned even redder.

He quickly dodged Bo Ren’s hand, avoiding having his phone snatched. He pushed Bo Ren’s face away with one hand to keep him at a distance and held his phone to his ear with the other, saying seriously, “Hello?”

Bo Ren froze—was he actually taking a call now?

Yang Qiao spoke into the phone with a straight face, “Is this 95598? I have an engineer here at my house who’s causing a drunken disturbance. Are you going to do something about it? His employee number is…” He skillfully recited Bo Ren’s employee number.

Bo Ren burst out laughing, and Yang Qiao joined in, finally bringing an end to their usual childhood-friend antics.

Bo Ren stopped laughing and, with a somewhat serious expression, said, “I’m not trying to interfere. I just hope you’ll be careful when choosing a partner.”

This was essentially saying, “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“I know,” Yang Qiao suddenly lost interest and said, “I’m done playing around. I’m going to bed.”

The greatest illusion in life—one that he had fallen for countless times—was always thinking, always assuming.

Without paying Bo Ren any more attention, Yang Qiao went upstairs alone.

In Yang Qiao’s home, Bo Ren was never one to be polite. He would certainly find the most comfortable way to spend the night, and the next morning, he would rummage through the house for food, fully using his initiative to solve the breakfast problem. But before leaving, he would also make sure to clean up the kitchen thoroughly. If time allowed, Bo Ren would likely even help organize the clutter in the living room.

Bo Ren had good living habits, and these habits were consistent whether he was at home or elsewhere. Although his personality seemed carefree, he was actually very reliable at his core.

During the years when Yang Qiao wasn’t in Yunzhou, whenever something came up at home, Bo Ren handled it with more care than Yang Qiao himself.

Bo Ren was undoubtedly the best of friends, and anyone who had a friend like him should cherish them deeply.

Yang Qiao returned to the second-floor bedroom and didn’t turn on the light. He sprawled out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think about something, but his mind was flooded with countless thoughts—some about money, others about emotions. Each thought was important, but he couldn’t focus on any of them right now.

In the end, he decided not to make things difficult for himself. He exhaled a relaxed breath and thought he would tackle it after a good night’s sleep.

Money and emotions are, in essence, objective realities—they exist whether you think about them or not, unchanging, without joy or sorrow.

At some point, Bo Ren came upstairs too and appeared at Yang Qiao’s door.

“Perfect timing, close the door for me,” Yang Qiao said, eyes closed. “I’m too lazy to get up.”

Even in a home where he was the only one living, Yang Qiao had the habit of closing the bedroom door before sleeping. It made him feel safe.

Shortly after, he heard the sound of the door closing.

As he was drifting off to sleep, Yang Qiao felt the mattress dip slightly and knew that Bo Ren had sat down on the edge of the bed. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Stop messing around, enough is enough. Go to sleep.”

Bo Ren didn’t say anything; the room was very quiet.

Yang Qiao fell asleep. But just a moment later, he woke up again. He opened his eyes, and sure enough, Bo Ren was still sitting there, seemingly watching him, though Yang Qiao couldn’t see clearly.

“You’re crazy,” Yang Qiao said, “You scared me.”

He thought about it and decided to seriously explain to Bo Ren that there was nothing going on between him and the grad student. He had simply played host, showing the guy around Yunzhou for a day, and then they amicably agreed to part ways, never contacting each other again.

Given Bo Ren’s stubborn nature, if this wasn’t clarified, he would definitely keep harping on it.

Just as Yang Qiao was about to get up, Bo Ren suddenly moved. He leaned in close, and just as Yang Qiao was about to say something, Bo Ren’s kiss landed on his lips.

The curtains were half-drawn, the inner layer of new off-white sheer curtains fluttered slightly, and outside, a light spring rain had begun to fall again.

Bo Ren had no experience kissing anyone and was relying entirely on instinct as he kissed Yang Qiao. He was very nervous, but Yang Qiao was even more tense than he was. One acted with awkward initiative, and the other with stunned passivity, which somehow created a balanced understanding between them.

When Bo Ren attempted to part Yang Qiao’s lips with his tongue, Yang Qiao felt intense anxiety but couldn’t bring himself to react in any way. He simply accepted the deep kiss mechanically and submissively.

After a moment, Bo Ren tried to wrap his arms around Yang Qiao’s body, and the thin shirt couldn’t block the searing heat of their skin.

At this point, Yang Qiao finally realized what they were doing, and his body began to respond reflexively. He wanted to push Bo Ren away, his hand already raised and resting against Bo Ren’s shoulder.

Bo Ren’s movements halted, as if waiting, a bit anxious, wanting to confirm whether Yang Qiao would reject him.

But this was Bo Ren—the one person in Yang Qiao’s twenty-six years of life that he couldn’t refuse.

Instead of pushing him away, Yang Qiao’s hand moved around Bo Ren’s shoulder, resting on the back of his neck. Gently but firmly, he pulled Bo Ren closer.

The moment he felt Yang Qiao’s acceptance, Bo Ren seemed to be completely liberated. His kisses became more fervent, more assertive.

Because Yang Qiao didn’t reject him, it meant that Bo Ren could completely, and fully, claim Yang Qiao as his own.