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Shen Yuan had only learned how to play the piano because his parents had insisted on it. It started when he was really young, about five years old. They gave him the same old talk about how “you will need to have a special talent to make it into college”, “a person can’t go around without knowing how to play at least one instrument”, and, more often, “it will make you smarter”.

What he didn’t expect was that such instrument would capture his attention in a way not even his old Gameboy had been able to.

There was nothing too interesting about it at first glance. It was too large for him, and it looked too luxurious. But when the instructor had started playing, everything changed.

Shen Yuan had dropped his toys at once. The sound had caught him off guard. No, it isn’t fair to call it just a sound—it was more than that. A melody so beautiful, and yet unique, that transported him somewhere else. It was not like the music his mother played when cooking, it was something more authentic. It enveloped the room and made it so that every note expressed a different feeling, a different tone, a different sensation.  

Well, that’s how Shen Yuan thought about it now.

But five-year-old Shen Yuan had only one thought after breaking out of his trance.

Now, that seems fun.

It started out as a game, of course. He was well-behaved, and he minded the rules, but he had moments of rebellion when he started pressing the keys randomly, much to his instructor’s dismay. At some point, he kept playing even when his lessons of the day were over. The poor Gameboy was completely forgotten.

The years blended into each other, and soon he turned fourteen. He was an expert player by then, and he still played a few—or many—melodies after school. Then, he would half-ass his homework and get to playing games.

Playing the piano became a habit. A habit that kept him sane. He no longer had to focus strenuously on the notes or the keys as he played; his hands pretty much moved on their own. He would use that time to let himself be carried away, to reflect.

In a way, it was like reading. Except that when he read, he felt the urge to nitpick the words, criticize them, and wonder how we would have arranged them differently. While he was harsh on himself as he played, most times the music simply silenced his mind and let him be carried away. He didn’t know where. He just knew that it was a magical place.

But then, there comes a time in life when you have to worry about more than just passing your classes, eating, and enjoying your hobbies. There comes a time when your parents will start giving you side-glances during dinner and ask you, “Have you thought about what you want for the future?”

Which was really just a way of saying “You better choose a college and major soon.”

Shen Yuan was seventeen, and he didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t want to think about college. He just wanted to keep playing music, to keep wasting time with games online, and to keep reading novels he didn’t even really like just to fool around in the comment section.

But he still felt pressured. He started looking things up on the internet: what major should I choose? How to know what to study in college?

Most sites said the same thing: that you had to think of what you liked, what you were passionate about, what you’d like to do for the rest of your life.

The only thing Shen Yuan could say he had any passion for was playing the piano. He knew the instrument better than he knew his own home. He composed songs as if he were creating stories in his head, and his hands immediately let go of all tension as they meet the instrument’s keys.  

But there was one more matter to be considered: what you choose should earn you money.

And it was a widely known fact that most artists in general struggled to pay rent and could only afford a diet based on instant food.

Yes, his parents had money. He probably wouldn’t struggle much if they were willing to help him out. But would they? Would they even allow their son to follow such a path?

He sighed, closed that useless website, and got to reading another poorly written stallion web novel.

Shen Yuan had convinced his parents to let him take a break for a year after finishing high school. He had dramatically bullshitted about how he wanted to ponder very well about what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, that he wanted to make a responsible decision, and about how “wisdom comes with time.”

Yeah, right.

Truth was, he was more idle than ever. Yes, he was still playing the piano, but the stress of not knowing what the hell to do had made him fall into a bit of a low. He was nearly nineteen, and he was spending his days away in his room, reading more trash and playing more questionable videogames.

One day, he got a text message:

Shang Qinghua: You will get really smelly if you never leave your room. Wanna go out for some smoothies?  

How dare he.

Shen Yuan: You would know about that, right? See you there.

He left at once, knowing that it would do him some good to get out of the house.

He arrived at the usual place, the one that was right in front of his home.

Shang Qinghua could be best described as a friend he was glad to have because it always reminded him that, yes, he could be doing worse. He was also pretty funny. And annoying.

He got there first, as usual. And he knew he would have to wait for his gremlin of a friend for at least fifteen minutes.

Shang Qinghua had indeed lost track of time. He had been fighting against the outline of the new chapter of his anonymously written novel, and then he had realized that he had made Shen Yuan, that clown, wait for twenty minutes!

He hurriedly left his apartment and hurried to the usual place.

There were more people there than usual. His eyes started to search for Shen Yuan immediately, but he could not spot him.

And then, there he was. The loner sitting on their usual table at the back of the place.

He laughed as he let himself fall into the red, comfy chair—his spot, the one no one else could take.

“Finally!” he joked, amused by the way his friend was already rolling his eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t leave your apartment for another three weeks.”

Shen Yuan sighed. “Look who’s talking. How dare you make me wait? I’ve told you, that’s a really nasty habit of yours.”

“Ah, but you’re used to it already.”

“Unfortunately.”

Right then, the waiter suddenly came to them, took their order, and tried not to stare when they asked for six smoothies—even though they were just two people.

“How’s the college thing going?” Shang Qinghua asked. “Are your parents pressuring you too much?”

“No further than the usual looks of disappointment and the awkward silences during dinner.”

“Hm. And do you know what you want to do now?”

Shen Yuan bit his lip. He remained silent for a moment, then met his friend’s gaze. “No.”

Shang Qinghua sighed. “Is it that you don’t know, or that they’d never accept what you want to do?”

Shen Yuan shrugged. His gaze was set on the table, and he didn’t dare look up, as if the question was giving him a headache.

“Listen,” Shang Qinghua tried, “I know you like music. I also know that everyone thinks studying music is tantamount to being broke, but it doesn’t have to be that way. And it’s not like your family wouldn’t be able to back you up. Besides, there are some pretty rich musicians out there.”

Shen Yuan raised a brow. “Now, what even are the chances of getting both money and a career as a musician? I would like to know.”

“I’m being serious! I don’t like seeing you like this. Don’t make me say it ever again, but you’re pretty smart, when you’re not being an idiot or an ass. It doesn’t make sense for you to remain stuck.”

Shen Yuan shrugged, rolled up a napkin and used it to give his friend light pats on the head. “Thanks for your concern. But let’s not pretend that you aren’t in a similar predicament. What have you been up to, great advice giver?”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened. “Ah, nothing much, really. Hahaha.”

“Yes, nothing. I knew that already. What I’m trying to say is that you haven’t really chosen a major for college either.”

“Ah, that. Yeah. Uuh—you know, maybe, I don’t know. Hahaha.”

Shen Yuan face palmed. “We are helpless.”

The waiter came with their six smoothies and left at once.

Shang Qinghua’s face lit up, and he rushed to grab his favorite, a banana smoothie. Meanwhile, Shen Yuan took a strawberry one, watching his friend as he did.

He tilted his head. “Didn’t you like to write fanfiction back in middle school?”

Shang Qinghua choked. “What are you talking about?!”

Shen Yuan closed his eyes, as if he were focusing hard on something.

Then, he opened them again. “Ah, I remember now. ‘Sasuke had secretly been waiting for Naruto to take his shirt off, so when he—”

“Shut up.” Shang Qinghua was nearly in tears. “Please. Just forget it. Pretend it never happened. It was just a phase. Wait—when did you even read it?!”

“Your passwords are always ridiculously easy to guess, and you left the document open. Anyway, maybe that was your passion. What you’re meant to do.”

“Fuck you. I doubt one can make a living out of fanfiction.”

Shen Yuan was drawing circles in his smoothie with a straw. “You’re probably right about that. But people do read stallion novels and all that stuff.”

Those words sent shivers up Shang Qinghua’s spine.

He gulped. “Ha, only idiots like you read that.”

Shen Yuan shrugged. “Fair enough. But only idiots like you write that, so at least it’s an option you can consider.”

Shang Qinghua sighed. “Okay, okay. Ah, you talk so much that I had forgotten about this.” He reached into his pocket for what seemed to be a piece of paper, smoothed it out on the table, and passed it to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan frowned. It was an announcement for a music contest.

“It’s a big deal. It’s held by the best college for music in the country. You should try it out.”

Shen Yuan felt something uncomfortable in his stomach.

He tried to keep up his carefree appearance, forcing himself to smile. “What does that matter to me? Let’s talk business, what’s the prize?”

“A lot of money. It’s a big fucking deal.”

He tilted his head, inspecting the piece of paper as if it were a strange and dubious object. “Just imagine what type of people are going to sign up for that. It’s no place for me, is it?”

“Stop that. I’ve heard you play, and it’s no joke. You’ll never know if you don’t try, and there’s nothing to lose.”

He pressed his lips together.

It was tempting, but it was equally terrifying. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he had no idea what he was doing with his life, and that the possibilities in front of him were so many and yet so few at the same time that he felt as if he were swimming without destination. He knew he would run out of breath soon.

He looked up. “You’re right, for once.”

Shang Qinghua smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Their glasses clacked together. “Here’s to you. And to me. Because what would you do without me?”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes.

Shen Yuan took a seat in front of his piano.

The weight of the decision he had made was too overwhelming. He had not played for about a month. Facing the piano felt like facing a part of himself he had been too comfortable ignoring.

He took a deep breath. He could almost feel the instrument staring back at him, and his hands shivered as he reached out for it. But after just a few seconds, he retracted them, as if touching it would scald him.

It was too hard.

The music sheet for one of the songs he had composed was still there, and he started playing it in his head.

He let himself get lost in it. He knew it by heart.

There was only one thing missing.

He let his hands rest on the piano’s keys. He felt his heart go cold, and his hands started to shiver again. He fought it away. He had to do this.

He pressed down on one key. Then on another, and then another.

Soon, the deep frown on his forehead faded bit by bit.

He practiced every day. Coming back to his piano, and to his own melody, felt like listening to your favorite song from years ago. It was a little strange, but the sense of familiarity remained, and soon it was all memorized as if you had never stopped listening to it.

Unfortunately, time goes by way too quickly. Before long, the big day had arrived.

He looked at himself in the mirror, all suited up. It made him chuckle. He preferred his usual hoodies, so he felt as if he were looking at a stranger.

But certain sacrifices had to be made, sometimes. He could only hope it would be worth it.

He was not expecting to win. He didn’t even know if he would make it past the first stage, but he wanted to get a taste of what it felt like to perform in front of more people than just his family or a few friends.

Shang Qinghua was waiting for him outside his house. But the gremlin wasn’t just standing there outside, no. He had gone to pick him up, apparently. In an actual nice car.

Shen Yuan couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Okay, who did you steal this from?” he asked, near scandalized, as he stepped in.

Shang Qinghua laughed. “Shut up. I’m borrowing it.”

“From whom? Don’t tell me you secretly have a rich friend?”

“Do I look like it? Of course not.”

Shen Yuan narrowed his eyes. “I expect the full story sometime.”

Shang Qinghua gulped, looking away from him. “I’ll see if you deserve to hear it depending on how you perform. No excuses about it being different because it’s not your piano but another one, okay?”

“No excuses.”

“Good. Now, tell me, how the hell does this work? Is it a one-time thing or are there rounds to it?”

Shen Yuan shut his eyes as his friend started to drive like a freak. He hoped they would make it to the contest alive.

“I would appreciate not dying like this, thank you. And there’s two stages. Today’s just the first stage, and they’re choosing ten people. The second and final one will be in pairs—which means that if I pass, I will have to work with another one of the finalists.”

“We won’t die. Don’t be a crybaby. Ten out of how many?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Oh. That’s a bit intimidating.”

“Hm. We’ll see what happens.”

They did not die. They arrived at the venue, the college itself, safely. Except for minor psychological trauma.

The place was enormous. It was clearly an old building, but it did not look deteriorated. It looked like the type of college that only appeared in movies, and it stole both their breaths away.

Shang Qinghua patted his back. “Stop staring. You look dumb. Let’s get moving.”

“Shut up. You were staring too.”

The auditorium was even more gorgeous. Shen Yuan even felt that he should be paying for getting to sit in those rich velvet chairs and for getting to look at that stage. It stood high and imposing, and Shen Yuan would soon play there. And he would play that piano—that looked like it was more expensive than perhaps his whole house.

Shang Qinghua looked like he was about to start crying. “Shit. Will they charge us for breathing here? I didn’t bring enough money, I really did—”

“Calm down. They won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. Now, shut up.”

An old man that looked like he had not combed his hair in weeks took the stage. He gave a boring introductory speech and then called the unfortunate first name.

They saw the girl trip as she went up the stairs. Shen Yuan sighed and mentally sympathized with her; it was nerve-racking enough to even be there, to be the first one to play was plain torture.

As the contest progressed, Shen Yuan became acutely aware of one thing.

They were all undoubtedly talented.

Except perhaps for the boy that had started crying mid-country song performance, but that was besides the point.

Everyone else was incredibly talented. Shen Yuan didn’t know if he could compete with them. They were on another level.

But then, before long, his name was called out.

He felt as if someone had splashed him with ice-cold water, and soon his skin got filled with goosebumps.

Shang Qinghua noticed that his friend wasn’t moving. “Hey—”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes and stood up. “I know.”

He walked to the stage slowly, not wanting to repeat the girl’s embarrassing accident.

He went up the stairs one by one, but it didn’t feel like he had gone up some regular stairs, but rather a mountain.

He took a deep breath and sat in front of the piano, trying to calm down his racing heart.

For a moment, the image of the imposing and luxurious piano got blurred, and it blended with that of his old piano at home. It made it easier.

He would just pretend that he was at home, alone. That it was just him, the piano, and the song he had composed.

The notes came easily to him. His hands moved without him having to tell them what to do, and he just focused on the melody. It flowed out of him easily, as if it were part of him.

He had composed that song a couple of years ago, after one of the college fairs at his school. All his classmates had approached at least one stand, talking about their plans and aspirations with that familiar glow in their eyes.

But Shen Yuan didn’t have a plan.

And it’s terrible. It’s terrible to see how everyone has carved a path for themselves while you feel like you’re stuck in a labyrinth. And so, he did the only thing he knew how to do: he translated that feeling into music.

Before long, it was over. And it had felt like just an instant.

The applause broke him out of his trance. He stood up, bowed, and went down the stairs and back to his seat.

Shang Qinghua’s mouth was wide open.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Now, that was great. You got even better! They should just give you that award already. Are you sure you wrote that, or did you—”

“Keep your voice down,” Shen Yuan interjected, but he was smiling.

More people performed after him. One of them was a girl dressed in a short red dress, with eyeliner sharp enough to dissect a frog like they once did in high school, who started playing an electric guitar. She was great; there was no doubt about it, but perhaps she had come to the wrong event.

Next came a lady with the lower part of her face covered. Nobody knew why; most just assumed she was doing it for the aesthetic. She was gorgeous, and nobody could take their eyes off her as she played the harp.

The next one was a girl that looked slightly younger, with her hair up in two buns. She looked nervous, but she still played the flute so nicely that Shen Yuan almost didn’t want her to finish. But he did, because his ass was hurting from sitting for too long.

It was then that he noticed that Shang Qinghua was focused, but not on the stage. He followed his line of sight, and it fell on a tall man with silver hair.

He narrowed his eyes. Why did that man feel so familiar?

And then he remembered—he was on his sister’s posters! That man was Mobei-jun!

He pinched Shang Qinghua. “Don’t tell me you’re a fan of his. Are idols your new ‘phase’ or something?”

Shang Qinghua sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

And Shen Yuan was about to let it go, but then Mobei-jun himself turned his head toward them and a message showed up in Shang Qinghua’s phone.

Shen Yuan reached for it. “You have to be kidding me. You know him?”

Shang Qinghua shut his eyes. “Lower your voice. I do, okay? I know him, um, very well, and he lent me the car—I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

“So, you got a famous boyfriend and thought you could—”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“My sister is going to be so disappointed. And here I am, my friend is dating a celebrity, and I didn’t even know.”

Shang Qinghua sighed. “We aren’t dating. It’s really casual. I’ll tell you the whole story later, okay?”

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes. He turned his attention back to the stage. And then he felt his heart skip a beat.

The boy on the stage seemed to be about a year older than him. He had long wavy hair, and part of it was tied up with a red ribbon. Though his eyes were black, they shone as if there were stars within them.

His violin seemed to be part of him. He played with all of his body. Every part of him, of his very soul, was in the melody. He smiled, then shut his eyes, all according to the highs and lows of the song.

The melody was deep, frantic, sentimental, and chaotic in the most beautiful of ways. Not just anyone could pull that off.

Shen Yuan couldn’t take his eyes off him. Just when you thought the melody would start to slow down, the boy would hit an achingly high note with his violin, demanding all your attention back on him. It went up, then down, then up.

And then it ceased.

He got a standing ovation, of course. Shen Yuan stood up himself. To be able to play and compose that—he had to be a genius. Not everybody could transmit so much emotion with a song.

When he stopped playing, the boy let out a deep breath. He had to be somewhere between nineteen and twenty, but his appearance was imposing and almost frighteningly alluring. Nobody could take his eyes off him. He seemed to be searching for someone in the audience, but then suddenly remembered to bow and left the stage.

Not many people performed after him. Before long, the contest was over. The judges took some time to deliberate, then called out the name of ten people.

The first one was “Luo Binghe”.

It was the boy with the violin. Shen Yuan clapped along with everyone else. He deserved it.

More names were called afterward, but Shen Yuan wasn’t listening. He could only hear his own heartbeat.

And then,

“Shen Yuan.”

He let out a breath he had been holding for the past minute. He stood up, and Shang Qinghua cheered like a soccer mom.

They were told to wait in small rooms before the next steps were announced. Shen Yuan assumed they were going to decide who was going to work with whom and so on.

Shang Qinghua had made an excuse about going to the bathroom, but Shen Yuan knew he was going to find his celebrity not-boyfriend. Thus, he walked to the room he had been assigned and shut the door, wanting to get some quiet time to think about what he’d do for the second stage.

But just as he sat down, someone knocked on the door.

For fuck’s sake. Was Shang Qinghua planning to introduce him to his not-boyfriend or something?

He opened the door and was ready to yell for him to go away when he felt himself freeze.

It was not Shang Qinghua. Nor Mobei-jun.

His eyes were the color of ink, just as his hair was. His skin was unfairly perfect, and his cheeks were blushed a faint pink.

Luo Binghe.

He smiled, then took a step back, realizing he had been too eager to walk in. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

Shen Yuan titled his head. He wanted to speak, but just what was he supposed to say?

It took him a moment to collect himself. Even his voice was charming. What kind of boy was this?

He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. Can I help you?”

The boy pressed his lips together. “Ah, yes. I’m Luo Binghe. It’s nice to meet you.”

Come on. He already knew who he was. How could he forget that performance?

“The pleasure’s mine. I’m Shen Yuan.”

The black-haired boy nodded. “I know. Your performance”—he paused, his eyes shining as if there was a fire within them—“it was an honor to listen to it. I wanted to talk to you about that. Can I come in?”

What? His performance?

He must have heard wrong. He took a step back, and the boy made his way inside at once. Shen Yuan’s head was still spinning when he turned around.

Luo Binghe took a deep breath, then blurted out, “I really enjoyed your performance. No, I did not just enjoy it. I have never seen someone play like that in my life.”

Shen Yuan felt that his mind was playing tricks on him.

“What?”

The boy nodded. “You’re really talented—you feel the music. I know you do. You don’t just see notes. You see a story.”

He shook his head. He could feel his face burning, but he cleared his throat. “I really am just an ordinary player. Nothing compared to you.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes shone even brighter then. “Did you like my performance?”

Like it?

“I know how to recognize a genius when I see one.”

“A genius?” Luo Binghe frowned, looking genuinely confused. “How could that be? If there’s a genius in this room, it’s you.”

Was this boy aware of his own talent? What nonsense was he saying?!

“Ah,” Shen Yuan mumbled, “of course not.”

Luo Binghe took a step forward. “I mean it. But I’m glad you liked my performance, because I have an offer to make.”

The world stopped for a moment.

Shen Yuan raised a brow. “And what is that?”

Luo Binghe paused briefly, then gulped. “I want you to be my partner for the next stage.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You.”

Shen Yuan hesitated. “Are you sure about that?”

Come on! There was really nothing special about him! How could he play with a person who had made the whole audience stand up, who could compose music like that?!

It was as if someone were comparing a horse painted by a professional to the sausage-like things a kindergartener drew!

“I’m sure,” Luo Binghe replied. “Shen Yuan, I don’t think you’re aware of your own talent. But maybe I could make you see it.”

…

What was wrong with this boy?!

He sighed. “Okay. But can we even choose who we get to work with?”

Luo Binghe’s face lit up at once. His smile couldn’t be contained. He started walking around the room in circles.

“Thank you! I promise to do my best!”

Shen Yuan frowned. “Ah…but can we do this? I thought it was the judges who chose the pairs?”

Luo Binghe turned to him. “Oh, are you worried about the rules? You don’t have to be. If I say I want to work with you, I’ll work with you.”

Which meant that, regardless of whether he had agreed or not, he would have been dragged into this?!

But wait… why could he disregard the rules so easily?

Luo Binghe seemed to notice his confusion.

He nodded, apparently thinking that his curiosity was reasonable. “My father was the previous chairman of this college. I’m already a student here, and I don’t mean to say that I get special treatment, but, um, it was my great-great-I-don’t-know-how-many-greats-grandfather that founded this place.”

Luo. Luo. Of course.

Shen Yuan facepalmed internally. He had researched about the college and it was indeed the Luo family that had founded it. How could he not have recognized the name?

More importantly, how the hell was he supposed to collaborate with Luo Binghe?

Luo Binghe took a step toward him again. For some reason, he looked nervous.

His voice took on a more anxious tone, “You don’t have to think about my lineage. I told you about it because I didn’t want to keep it from you, but I—I would really appreciate it if you didn’t think of me like that. I’m just a normal person, and I want to play music with you. That’s it.”

That’s it.

Shen Yuan nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Let’s do this, then.”

Luo Binghe looked as if he hadn’t dared dream those would be his next words. He smiled so widely that Shen Yuan even felt like he should give him a moment of privacy.

“Ah, I’m so happy,” Luo Binghe muttered, his voice trembling. “I’ll go tell them! Oh, and”—he took a small sheet of paper out of his pocket and scribbled on it—“this is my phone number. Call me and we can agree on when to start working and everything. The second stage will most likely take place next week.”

“Okay, thank you,” Shen Yuan said. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “You’ve done more than enough. You can go home and get some rest.”

However, even after he finished speaking, he didn’t stop staring at him. Shen Yuan felt his face heat up again, and he broke eye contact.

Then, Luo Binghe finally broke out of his trance, smiled, and walked out of the room.

So much had happened in just one day. Shen Yuan was exhausted. He got home, changed into one of his hoodies and some pants, and lied down on his bed. He opened his laptop and got to reading a mediocre webnovel.

It was only after about forty minutes had gone by that he realized something—he had forgotten about Shang Qinghua!

He called his friend at once, then waited for a few moments before the other picked up.

“What is it? Do you miss me?”

“You wish. Hey, I, um, might have forgotten that you were there. I’m at home already.”

“I noticed! What a good friend you are, huh! Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I’ve got some company.”

“Pfft! You’re shameless! You haven’t even told me the full story about your affair with a national celebrity.”

“It’s not the right moment, okay? Oh! By the way! Did you hear? You got paired up with Luo Binghe.”

He sighed. “I know. He—uh, well, he kinda asked me to.”

“He what?!”

“He went to find me after the contest.”

“Wow! Okay, I have to know all about that. Oh, wait. Shit, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

“Sure. Huge man tiddies before bros, I guess.”

“Shut up!”

Shen Yuan chuckled and ended the call.

Luo Binghe.

He remembered then. He took the piece of paper Luo Binghe had scribbled on out of his pocket, stared at the numbers for a moment, and added the contact on his phone.

He typed out a text message.

Shen Yuan: It’s me, Shen Yuan. Text me back when you can, there’s no rush. When are we meeting up?

He put his phone down. He could only imagine what a day in the life of Luo Binghe looked like. He was ridiculously rich. His parents had passed away when he was young, but they had left him a fortune. He was busy with college affairs, because rumor had it that, though he was a student, he was also part of the administration.

What would happen if he looked him up?

He typed his name in the search bar. He didn’t expect to find that the boy was already fairly well-known, but there were above a hundred pictures and videos of him playing music, and even singing in some.

What the hell?!

The fact that he would get to work with such a person sent shivers up his spine. It felt ridiculous. It did not even feel real.

But apparently, Luo Binghe wasn’t that busy, because he replied after only two minutes.

Luo Binghe: I’m so glad to hear from you! Does tomorrow work for you? We can meet up wherever you want. I’ll be there.

Wherever he wanted?

Then the smoothie place would do. It was right in front of his house.

He texted him the address, then decided he had had enough nonsense for the day. He went to sleep.

He left his home right after showering, still not quite believing that he’d get to work with such a person.

When he got there, he was mentally prepared to wait. After all, a lifetime of friendship with Shang Qinghua made one used to that.

But, unexpectedly, Luo Binghe was already there.

Shen Yuan couldn’t quite believe it. And then he panicked.

Had he made Luo Binghe wait?

He rushed to the table as if his life depended on it. He sat down at once, trying to catch his breath.

Luo Binghe looked at him curiously, then laughed.  “Why are you in such a rush?”

Shen Yuan looked up. Luo Binghe was wearing red pants and a black shirt. A jade pendant was hanging from his neck, and his hair was let down. His most noticeable feature were still his enormous black eyes, though. And now, they stood out even more because he was wearing a bit of eyeliner.

And how could someone have such long and curly eyelashes?! Was that boy actually real?!

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Luo Binghe tilted his head. “You didn’t. I got here early.”

He breathed out, feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Now, what was he supposed to say?

Hey, I found out that you’re already kind of famous, why would you choose a nobody like me as your partner?

Ha.

Fortunately, Luo Binghe took the initiative. “So, when did you start playing the piano?”

Shen Yuan was caught off guard by the question. He had thought they’d start planning their project right away.

“Ah, I must have been around five years old. My parents thought it was important for me to.”

Luo Binghe smiled. “That’s a long time. It’s no wonder you play so well.”

Shen Yuan shook his head. “It’s nothing, really.”

The black-haired boy, for some reason, looked offended on his behalf. “It is. I saw you. I heard you. It’s no small deal.”

…

What was he supposed to reply to that?!

“Ah, thank you, thank you. Um, when did you start playing?”

Luo Binghe paused for a moment. He looked far into the distance, as if he were remembering something.

“I must have been very little. I have been playing since I have recollection of anything.” He shrugged. “It was my parents' influence too.”

Shen Yuan knew that the topic of his parents was a sensitive one, so he was anxious to change it.

“I see. And what do you like playing? Just the violin?”

Luo Binghe’s gaze darted back to him. He smiled.

“No. I guess the violin is the instrument I understand best, but I can play pretty much anything.”

“Anything?”

“Try me. Mention any instrument you want.”

“The saxophone.”

“Learned how to play it when I was eight.”

“The harp.”

“It was my mother’s favorite, and one of the first I learned to play.”

“The Erhu.”

“Learned it back in middle school.”

“The Veena.”

“I spent a year in India. I can play it.”

He laughed. “Wow. I can’t say that I’m not impressed.”

Luo Binghe’s smile grew even wider. “You have nothing to be impressed about. I wish I could play the way you do. Quantity means nothing when compared to quality.”

“What are you talking about? You have both!”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “There’s something about your music. You achieved something with that song, something I haven’t been able to. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

…

Well, he clearly didn’t know what it was either!

He could only chuckle. “If you say so, I guess. Um, would you like to order something?”

As if she had heard him, a waitress came over.

Shen Yuan ordered his usual strawberry smoothie, and Luo Binghe asked for a vanilla one.

Soon, the waitress came back and placed their smoothies on the table.

Shen Yuan excitedly grabbed his, temporarily forgetting about his company. However, when the silence dragged on for too long, he broke out of his trance.

And found that Luo Binghe had been staring at him the whole time.

What the hell?

He cleared his throat. “Uh, how’s your smoothie?”

Luo Binghe didn’t even blink. “Ah, it’s fine. But I’m curious, can I try yours?”

Had he heard wrong?

“Oh, sure. Here.”

He handed him his glass. He had thought Luo Binghe would use his own straw, but what happened was that he used his, and even looked right into his eyes as he did.

Time stopped for a moment. Shen Yuan wondered if he had overslept and was currently having a nightmare.

Then, the boy handed him back his smoothie and smiled, as if nothing had happened.

“Yours is better,” Luo Binghe decided.

Shen Yuan felt shivers go up his spine.

“Thank you?”

Luo Binghe laughed. “What do you have in mind? What kind of music do you like to compose?”

Ah. They were back on topic, finally.

“Just about anything. It usually depends on my mood.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes widened immediately. He looked as if he had said that he usually composed music while naked or while cleaning dog poo.

“What?” he asked, unsure of what had caused such a reaction.

Luo Binghe frowned. “Your mood?”

What was wrong about that?!

“Sure! You know, sometimes you’re in the mood for something bubbly, sometimes you aren’t, and so on.”

“But I…” Luo Binghe muttered. “It’s just—my parents always told me that it was about the rules. Not your feelings.”

Shen Yuan went silent.

“And my teachers…they’ve always said the same thing. It’s always about doing things right, not the way you want to do them. To compose whatever I want… why would I do that?”

Shen Yuan found it hard to hide his shock.

What kind of education had Luo Binghe received? Had he been taught to repress his emotions? To separate music and his feelings?

That was too… That was too cruel.

He wasn’t sure of what to say.

“I think they might have taught you wrong,” he admitted.

Luo Binghe met his gaze, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s okay,” Shen Yuan said. “I can only imagine how much you were pressured to get to where you’re at today. We can compose whatever you want, whatever you think is best. I’ll cooperate with your progress.”

Luo Binghe seemed to be taken aback. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes! Or whatever you were taught you should? I don’t know. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” Luo Binghe muttered, as if the word were foreign to him.

Then, something unexpected happened. The lights went off.

Everyone gasped at once. Shen Yuan blinked. It was then that he finally became aware of how hard it was raining outside.

One of the waitresses came over to their table. “I’m sorry, we don’t have a backup. We don’t know when the power will return.”

Luo Binghe chuckled. “It’s okay. Haha, I can’t see a thing.”

Shen Yuan couldn’t either. The waitress left after apologizing again, and then they both went silent.

… Now what?

Luo Binghe sighed. “I should’ve brought the car with me. I came in a motorcycle, so I’ll get drenched on the way back home.”

…

He could let the boy get soaked. It would save him the awkwardness of taking him home.

But perhaps that would be too cruel, even for him.

“Actually,” he started, already half-regretting it, “I live right in front of here. I didn’t bring an umbrella, so we’d get wet for a couple of minutes, but then we’d be at my home.”

Silence.

“Are you—are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother, what if someone’s at home…”

“How could you be a bother? That’s nonsense. Besides, my parents are usually out working, and my sister spends a lot of time hanging out with her friends. You’re fine.”

It was true. Shen Yuan spent most of his time home alone.

“Really?”

Shen Yuan shrugged. “Sure. Come on, let’s go.”

He stood up, waiting for Luo Binghe to come. He couldn’t really see the boy, but he could hear his steps, so he got to the door and then confirmed that he was beside him.

He looked embarrassed.

His gaze was on the ground. “Are you sure it isn’t a bother?”

Shen Yuan smiled. “I’m sure. Come on, it’s right in front of here.”

Luo Binghe nodded, then took off his jacket and tried to cover their heads with it. He was leaning more toward Shen Yuan’s side, which he noticed, but he didn’t know what to say about it, so he just walked faster.

He opened the door and moved aside. “Be my guest.”

Luo Binghe’s cheeks were flushed pink. He nodded and went inside.

Shen Yuan followed, and then he closed the door.

As expected, there was no one home.

“I have good news for you,” he said, pressing a button right beside the entrance. The lights came on at once.

He turned to Luo Binghe. “We have backup power.”

Luo Binghe smiled, then curiously took in his surroundings.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “You didn’t have to…I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing, really,” he said, then handed the boy a towel while he cleaned his own hair. “C’mon, let’s go up.”

Shen Yuan walked comfortably around the place, but Luo Binghe was being cautious with each of his steps, as if he were walking on a place full of landmines.

His sister had left her door open. Damn. Her wall was full of posters of Mobei-jun.

He heard a light chuckle behind him.

“Is that your room?”

…

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, feeling extremely offended. “It’s my sister’s. She’s insane.”

“I don’t know if she is or not, but what she is going to be is disappointed, when she finds out she won’t marry the man of her dreams.”

Shen Yuan slowed his steps, then opened the door to his room, let Luo Binghe in, and sat on the couch.

“What do you mean?”

Luo Binghe looked around. His fists were clenched at his sides. He had grown incredibly more tense now that he was in his room.

“Ah, I, um,” he mumbled, choosing to sit next to Shen Yuan after a moment. “I know Mobei-jun. When my parents passed away, his parents took me in for a while, so we grew up together for a few years.”

Suddenly, Shen Yuan felt a bit starstruck.

He laughed. “And why should my sister be disappointed about that?”

Luo Binghe diverted his gaze. “He’s dating a man.”

Shen Yuan froze.

Dating?

Hadn’t that idiot, Shang Qinghua, implied that it was more complex than that?!

“Uh… dating?”

Luo Binghe tensed up. “Ah, yes. Um, is there… is there a problem with that?”

His gaze nervously met his. It was then that Shen Yuan realized Luo Binghe thought he was taken aback by Mobei-jun’s sexuality, and not his relationship status.

He cleared his throat. “Of course not. People should do as they please.” He shrugged, then stood up to reach for a notebook under his bed. “This should do. Let’s brainstorm for a bit.”

Luo Binghe let out a deep breath of relief, then nodded.

“A bit” turned into two hours and a half. They had first started talking about what they usually played, the kind of songs they composed, and then experimented with different concepts and ideas. They even wrote down a few notes. Luo Binghe copied what they had done in a sheet of paper Shen Yuan gave him, and then excused himself.

He got back his motorcycle at the smoothie place, then made his way back home.

Shen Yuan could be a bit stupid at times, but he wasn’t blind.

He had noticed certain things about Luo Binghe. For example, sometimes, when he had finished talking about something, he had turned to Luo Binghe and found the other looking at him. He wouldn’t speak for a while, and then deviate his gaze.

Besides that, there was his abnormal nervousness at times, and his bone-chilling boldness during others… like back at the smoothie place.

He felt as if something were pressing down on his stomach. First thing in the morning, he dealt with it the only way he knew how to.

He called his idiot friend, Shang Qinghua.

The asshole didn’t pick up the first time. But he picked up the second.

“What is it?”

Shen Yuan laughed. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. I made it home really late last night, so I was hoping to sleep until late, but someone isn’t letting me.”

“You can be a sleeping beauty later. Listen, Luo Binghe knows Mobei-jun.”

Shang Qinghua yawned. “Ah, yes. What about it?”

“Well, yesterday, when he saw my sister’s posters, he said Mobei-jun was dating a man.”

“What was Luo Binghe doing at your house?!”

Shen Yuan’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t make it sound so wrong! We were at the smoothie place and the light went off because of the rain, so there was no other way! Anyway, that’s not the point. He said dating.”

Shang Qinghua’s idiot brain took some time to process that information. And then, he gasped.

“What?”

“You heard me right. I think you have a boyfriend.”

“No, that’s… that’s… what is going on?!”

“I think Mobei-jun thinks you two are official, and you don’t. Let me press an F in the—”

“Shut up. God. Okay. Okay. What do I do?”

Shen Yuan sighed. “It depends on what you want. How should I know?”

“Ah, this is madness. Should I talk to him?”

“How are you gonna talk to him without mentioning I heard this from Luo Binghe?”

“I can pretend to have a ‘what are we’ crisis. Maybe the drama classes in middle school are finally going to be of some use, after all.”

Shen Yuan chuckled. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He found that he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

He made up some excuse, then ended the call. Maybe a cold shower would fix everything.

It didn’t.

He unlocked his phone to find an unread message:

Luo Binghe: Hi! Are you free today? I was thinking you could come over, so we can continue working!

Shen Yuan sighed, closing his eyes.

Maybe he was overreacting. All he had to do was focus on the job, on the song, and pretend not to notice everything else.

Having made up his mind, he texted him back and waited for Luo Binghe to send his address. They agreed on an hour, and it was done. Just like that.

But, unfortunately, Shen Yuan was the type of person who couldn’t do anything all day when he made an appointment. He spent all his time wondering how things would go, what he’d do, what he’d say.

Luo Binghe lived in a fancy building, in a fancy apartment. Shen Yuan was impressed, but he also couldn’t help but wonder if the boy’s life was as lonely as it looked.

He walked into the apartment and was pleasantly surprised by a wonderful aroma, right out of his wildest dreams.

Was that… Was Luo Binghe cooking?

He gulped. It smelled too good.

Luo Binghe soon came to greet him. He still had an apron on, and his hair was tied up on a ponytail.

He smiled. “I thought you’d want to eat some lunch. Come in, everything’s ready!”

Shen Yuan froze. Had Luo Binghe cooked for him?

He followed after him, then watched as Luo Binghe started putting food on the table.

Shen Yuan sat slowly. “You didn’t have to—ah, I’m embarrassed. I gave you so much trouble.”

Luo Binghe blinked, apparently not understanding what he was saying.

“Oh!” he realized. “You mean the food? No, I love cooking. I do it all the time. It isn’t a bother at all.”

… Was the boy a musician or a maid?!

Even the whole apartment was squeaky clean. Shen Yuan suddenly felt that he had offended Luo Binghe somehow by making him see his messy room.

"Do you clean around here?” Shen Yuan asked curiously, watching as the other took off his cooking mittens and served them both a bowl of soup.

He smiled. “Yes. I do everything on my own.”

This whole situation was making Shen Yuan feel really bad about himself.

When Luo Binghe finally sit down, he waited, staring at Shen Yuan as if he expected him to do something.

Did he want him to try the soup?

He did, and his life changed forever. In just a second, everything about the world changed for him.

Simply put, it was like nothing he had eaten before.

Was the boy secretly a cook or something?!

That was not an ordinary soup. It was the kind of soup you couldn’t get enough of, that warmed you up within and would make you drool with just its smell.

Before Shen Yuan knew it, he had eaten three bowls, and there was more food waiting for him at the table.

Luo Binghe watched him eat, said very little, and looked overjoyed throughout all of it.

“Did you like it?”

Shen Yuan licked his lips. “Like it? I think you should consider becoming a chef instead.”

Luo Binghe laughed, but then shook his head. “No, I don’t like cooking for just anyone.”

Shen Yuan felt himself freeze. He chose not to think about it too much, then wiped his mouth, drank some water, and stood up.

“Thank you for the meal. I owe you one.”

But then he suddenly remembered something.

He turned around. “Wait a second… did we forget to pay yesterday? At the smoothie place?”

Luo Binghe pretended to think for a moment, then smiled. “No. I paid for both of us since before you got there.”

…

“I owe you two meals!”

Luo Binghe laughed, then waved the matter off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing, really.”

“No, it does! I’ll pay them back, you’ll see!”

“Then, I’ll be looking forward to it,” he replied, getting up himself. “Come, follow me.”

And so, Shen Yuan did. That apartment was bigger than some people’s houses. It was only until they reached the end of a long hallway that Luo Binghe pushed a crystal door open.

He motioned for Shen Yuan to go in, and then he entered the room himself.

The room was mostly empty, save for quite a bit of different instruments. There was a piano at the center.

Luo Binghe motioned for Shen Yuan to sit. “This is my studio. It is a bit improvised… but I think it doesn’t look too bad.”

Improvised.

Too bad.

Come on.

The place was gorgeous. There was a huge mirror in the wall in front of them, so that you could see yourself as you played. Pretty much any instrument you could think of was there.

Shen Yuan marveled at the piano in front of him. It was all white, and the keys felt as if the instrument itself was new. He felt that he should be paying for getting to touch it.

“Are you sure I can use it?”

Luo Binghe raised a brow as he took his violin out of its case. “What? Of course.” He took a sheet of paper out of his pocket, then spread it out in front of Shen Yuan.

“This is what we worked on yesterday. I was thinking we could explore it a bit more today.”

Shen Yuan nodded, then shut his eyes. He let himself play the notes that came to his head, the ones that had been haunting him all morning.

Luo Binghe listened with his eyes wide open. Then, he took the paper and wrote what he had played down.

“That was… yes. That was great.”

Shen Yuan smiled. “Try to play it with your violin. We need to figure out how to make our instruments meet to play the same notes eventually, then let them go their own way again.”

And so, they did. Shen Yuan was impressed by Luo Binghe’s talent, but Luo Binghe was just as impressed by everything Shen Yuan did.

Before long, the sun had set. It felt as if the day had gone by in mere minutes.

Luo Binghe cooked for them again, and Shen Yuan felt as if he had ascended because of it. Everything the boy made was just so good—he felt spoiled. He had not been able to help much with the cooking. Luo Binghe had not allowed him to.

After they finished eating, Luo Binghe opened the door to his balcony, inviting him to spend some time over there to feel the wind greet their faces.

Luo Binghe took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming over today. I’ve had a great time.”

Shen Yuan shook his head. “I’m the one that should be thanking you.”

“No, really. I’ve worked with many people—it’s part of what I do. I’ve worked with nice people, with rude people, and with some so annoying that I’ve had to wonder if one can use a violin as a murder weapon…but I haven’t worked with anyone like you.”

Shen Yuan laughed. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Could you?” Luo Binghe tilted his head. “I wonder. I don’t know. It’s just—music is usually stressful. I hadn’t enjoyed it in a while. Not until today.”

“… Why?”

“It becomes a duty. Something you have to do. Something other people tell you how to do, and something others criticize to their heart’s liking. It feels as if you were being watched, always expected to meet certain standards. And yet you need to keep surprising them each time.”

Shen Yuan bit his lip. “Is that what it is like? Studying music?”

Luo Binghe paused for a moment, taking in the question. “Yes and no. It probably depends on how much you let it affect you.”

“Then, do you enjoy it at all?”

“Me?” Luo Binghe asked, furrowing his brow. “I thought I didn’t anymore. But I think—I think you’ve changed my mind. That you’ve made me rediscover why I like it in the first place.”

Shen Yuan’s heart skipped a beat. Then, he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’re so brave.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes widened. “Brave?”

Shen Yuan shrugged. “Yes. You put yourself out there, let people say what they want, and then you keep playing. You made the decision to do whatever you wanted with your life, even though you knew people were going to say you were just trying to be like your parents, even though you knew it wouldn’t be easy. That’s really brave.”

Luo Binghe seemed to have frozen. For a moment, Shen Yuan wondered if he had said something wrong.

But then he smiled. “Thank you. When you put it that way, it makes me feel much better about myself.”

Shen Yuan didn’t know what to say.

“Do you want to study music?” Luo Binghe asked.

“Ah, I…” Shen Yuan muttered. “I don’t know? I think so? I’m not brave enough.”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “That’s nonsense. You’ve got all you need.”

“But do I?” Shen Yuan mused, looking up at the night sky. “I’ve got so many expectations to meet. My parents already think of me as a failure, I don’t want to worsen their perspectives of me.”

He paused. He suddenly realized that he had said much more than he wanted to.

Luo Binghe stayed silent for a moment, then spoke, “I understand. But I think that if you chose to do—or be—something else just for the sake of making your parents happy, then you’d probably be miserable. They wouldn’t like to see you like that.”

Shen Yuan clenched his fists. Those words meant two different things to him. Two things he wasn’t ready to accept, two things about himself that he wanted to ignore, two things he wasn’t ready to tell his family.

Fortunately, Luo Binghe continued speaking, “Think about it this way. The world is pretty harsh already, you could choose to enroll in a major your parents like, but chances are you’d still only have an average salary after you graduate. The chances of getting rich, if that’s what your parents want you to be, are too low, no matter what you choose to do. So, you might as well pick something you like.”

Shen Yuan chuckled. “I don’t know if they want me to be rich. They just say they want me to have a good life.”

Luo Binghe raised a brow. “A good life? Is sitting in front of a computer, wasting your life away in a job you don’t even like, what they consider a good life?”

Shen Yuan froze. Luo Binghe’s voice was soft, like silk, but his words were always sharp.

“Let me tell you something,” Luo Binghe continued. “Few people feel any real passion for what they do. But you are passionate about music. I believe you could make it in any field you set your mind to, but I’m even more sure that if you choose music, you’ll achieve things you haven’t even dared to dream about.”

Shen Yuan got goosebumps. He turned to Luo Binghe, feeling his heart race. He pressed his lips together, then tried to look away. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

It seemed that Luo Binghe was more or less experiencing the same thing. He was looking right into his eyes, and then his gaze fell on his lips.

And it was unfair, really. It was unfair that Luo Binghe’s face looked even better under the moonlight, that a few curls were escaping out of his ponytail, that his eyes always shone, and that his lips were just the right shade of pink.

It was even more unfair that Luo Binghe leaned in, and that it would’ve felt just right to let him do what he wanted.

It was unfair that he wanted it too.

But he leaned away, and then rushed back into the apartment, collecting his stuff to leave at once.

Luo Binghe went after him. He looked terrified.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Shen Yuan clenched his fists. And then he walked over to him.

He kissed his cheekbone, right below his eye. He felt Luo Binghe’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek, and he had to hold back the urge to kiss his eyelids too.  

Then he stepped back, turned around, and ran out of the apartment.

Shen Yuan told his family he had already had dinner, then locked himself up in his room.

He lied down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling.

He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to pretend that none of it had happened.

And yet, the very clothes he was wearing were proof of the opposite.

Earlier that night, he had failed to hide that, though the weather was mostly warm, just a short-sleeved shirt wasn’t enough. Luo Binghe had noticed it and borrowed him a sweater.

And the sweater smelled like him.

Shen Yuan breathed in, closing his eyes. He would let himself enjoy at least this much.

He woke up with a headache. He unlocked his phone, noticing there were a bunch of unread messages from Shang Qinghua, all asking about how the collaboration was going.

Shen Yuan threw his phone to the floor.

He took a shower, wanting to forget the world for a while.

He knew he’d have to go back to return the sweater. But he wanted to pretend that wasn’t the case, if only for a moment.

By the time he came out of the shower, his parents and sister had already left.

He was alone at home, again.

He made himself some breakfast, then decided to waste time away by watching TV, because he deserved to be lazy for a while.

But then someone knocked on the door.

What, had his mom taken a liking to online shopping again? For God’s sake, she just ordered like crazy and it was him that had to receive the packages.

He got up from the sofa, opened the door, and then felt his soul leave his body.

That was...

He had not expected it to be Luo Binghe.

And yet, there he was. With his hair down, wearing a black sweater, and carrying his violin on his back.

He looked like he was about to cry. He gulped, then took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to let me in if you don’t want to.”

Shen Yuan felt his heart skip a beat.

God. What was he supposed to do?!

He shook his head. “What are you talking about? Come in.”

He stepped aside. Luo Binghe took slow, cautious steps, then just stood there inside his house, not moving a muscle.

But then, he seemed to notice something about Shen Yuan, and his face flushed pink.

What? What?

And then he realized.

Fuck!!! He had put on his sweater again after showering!

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What was he supposed to do?! He wanted the ground to swallow him whole!

He would fake insanity. Yes. He just had to pretend nothing was wrong.

He cleared his throat, then tried his best to smile. “Um, yes, anyway. How can I help you?”

Luo Binghe broke out of his trance, then seemed to look for something desperately around the room.

And then he saw the piano and walked over to it. He put his violin down, then spread out a sheet of paper over the piano, folding the upper part of it.

Shen Yuan approached him curiously.

And then he realized that Luo Binghe had finished their song.

Luo Binghe took a deep breath. “I stayed up all night. We already had the foundations, but I wanted to finish up the last details for you. It’s done, I think. Do you… Do you like it?”

Shen Yuan blinked.

Like it?

He gulped. Luo Binghe had written the most beautiful melody he had ever come across with.

Well, they had.

He met Luo Binghe’s eyes, and only then did he realize that the boy had eyebags. He really had stayed up all night.

He smiled. “What, should we play it?”

Luo Binghe froze. And then he nodded repeatedly, taking out his violin.

Shen Yuan sat in front of the piano. Then, he started playing.

Luo Binghe’s violin entered the melody before he did. When his turn came, his fingers moved freely, as if this was the song he had been supposed to be playing all along.

Sometimes, they played the same notes. Sometimes, his notes went down when Luo Binghe’s rose, and sometimes it was the other way around.

But the song conveyed it all. What they had lived together. What they both experienced separately. What they found in each other.

And when it ceased, a weight was lifted from their shoulders.

Luo Binghe chuckled, putting his violin down. “That was something else.”

Shen Yuan turned to him. “It was our song. Of course it was on a different level.”

Luo Binghe was going to reply, but then paused. He shut his eyes, as if he was working up the courage for something.

Shen Yuan just waited.

And then, Luo Binghe unfolded the upper part of the music sheet, revealing the title of their song:

My Love Is Too Loud to Be a Secret.

Shen Yuan took a deep breath, feeling his heart stop.

Luo Binghe waited, each second seeming to last hours.

And then, Shen Yuan stood up, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

It felt so right.

When they ran out of breath, they pressed their foreheads against each other.

Shen Yuan smiled. It felt as if he were flying and would never be able to land.

Luo Binghe wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him even closer toward him.

“Is this real?” he muttered, his tone revealing a smile.

Shen Yuan chuckled. “I’m kind of wondering the same thing.”

Luo Binghe kissed his cheek. “You can keep it, by the way.”

Shen Yuan blushed. “The—the sweater?”

“Hm. You seem to like it.”

Shen Yuan light-heartedly hit the other’s back. “Stop it.”

Luo Binghe laughed, resting his head on his shoulder. “We are going to win. You know that, right?”

I already won, Shen Yuan thought.

“Yes,” he said. “I know.”

And they did. The contest had gone by smoothly. Shang Qinghua and Mobei-jun seemed to finally have talked things through and sat right next to each other, holding hands during all of it. Shang Qinghua had cried after their turn, then almost fainted when they had won.

The prize was more than generous: money, which they split in two, and an offer for a scholarship, for Shen Yuan.

Truth be told, the scholarship wasn’t part of the prize. It was something the judges had decided to offer after seeing their performance.

And had it happened just some days ago, Shen Yuan might have rejected it. But meeting Luo Binghe had not only changed his life. It had also taught him to follow his heart.

So, he accepted it. When he told his parents about it, he didn’t do it as if he were apologizing for something. It was an achievement. An achievement he damn well deserved, for God’s sake.

And he promised them: he would make it. He would be happy.

Just a few days later, someone knocked on his door when he was home alone again.

He had been busy making a list of what he’d have to buy for when the semester started, but he rushed to the door at once. He had memorized the way Luo Binghe knocked.

But, alas, he was still caught off guard.

Luo Binghe was carrying a brand-new portable keyboard.

Shen Yuan couldn’t believe his eyes.

Luo Binghe smiled. “Here. It’s for you. You won’t have to worry about buying one anymore.”

Shen Yuan broke out of his trance, let him in, and unpacked the keyboard at once. He couldn’t stop looking at it.

“I…” he tried, but his voice failed him. “Binghe, you didn’t have to. I—Thank you.”

Luo Binghe hugged him from behind. “I wanted to. I’m so excited for you to be my xuedi, so that I can see you around campus every day.”

Shen Yuan leaned his head back, then turned around to hug him, kissing his cheek repeatedly, then his lips. “Say, what do you want to eat today? I’ll treat you.”

Luo Binghe was beaming. “We can go wherever you want to.”

“You always let me choose what to do. Fine, then. Then I want you to spend all day with me.”

Luo Binghe took his hand. “What a coincidence. I want to do just that, too.”

And then, Shen Yuan knew that he would be fine.

With Luo Binghe by his side, college wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. With Luo Binghe by his side, everything seemed to have fallen right into place.