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There was a crick in his neck from the way his head was twisted to look at his roommate as he preened in their apartment's foyer mirror, but Mobei Jun would be damned if he didn't try to glare Luo Binghe into submission. Even if there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being successful.
"Just invite him," Mobei Jun growled, annoyed and unfamiliar with not immediately getting his way.
Luo Binghe hummed absently, while fluffing his hair; it looked like he had used rollers last night like Sha Hualing had suggested.
"No, all he does is take up all of Shizun's attention. He'd ruin my date, he always does."
"But it'd be a double date," Mobei Jun insisted. "He'd be talking to me. He wouldn't bother you guys."
"Yeah, no." Luo Binghe deemed his hair sufficiently fluffed and summoned a tube of lip oil before very carefully applying it in a way that he would claim to be subtle. "Shang Qinghua is terrified of you because you don't talk. You just stare menacingly, and he'll freak out and panic until Shizun takes him home."
His roommate paused to purse his lips at himself in the mirror before pulling out some rogue, dusting it lightly around his under eyes and cheeks.
Mobei Jun felt his cheeks flush in what he would say was anger; not everyone could rely on being sticky and clingy to finally wear down their crush into liking them. It certainly had nothing to do with his deep set insecurity about how badly he stumbled through even the most basic interactions.
“Shut up, just do it please, Binghe?” His words ended in a softer tone as Mobei Jun was forced to try to appeal to Luo Binghe's sense of humanity, or at least the camaraderie they had once shared in being deeply feared by the object of their affection.
Luo Binghe narrowed his eyes.
In other circumstances, Mobei Jun might have been wary of him, but with his hair curled and teased and his lips oiled and his cheeks blushed, he looked more like a tsundere love interest seconds away from throwing a tantrum than a guy capable of besting him in a brawl.
“Fine,” Luo Binghe huffed, pulling out his phone and undoubtedly using a barrage of overly cutesy emojis to update Shen Qingqiu about the change in plans. “But you owe me a favor, and promise me you'll actually keep him busy. I can't get a word in edgewise when Shen Qingqiu and him talk to each other.”
Mobei Jun nodded, already getting up from the couch to retreat into his room.
He didn't have much time.
However, that didn't matter much when he had made a date contingency strategy weeks ago after accidentally scaring the flighty brown haired student into avoiding him like the plague. There was a too small cream shirt that he had been meaning to get rid of for a bigger size until Shang Qinghua had complimented him on it; some black slacks he had worn a few times to their shared business logistics course that he knew made the other man stare at his butt; and finally the fleece lined jacket that he had once loaned to Shang Qinghua when leaving a late night study session that still faintly smelled like the lavender shampoo that he used at the collar.
Shang Qinghua wouldn't be able to slip away this time without falling irreversibly in love with him, Mobei Jun was certain of it.
Down the hall, Luo Binghe yelled his name, threatening to leave without him, and Mobei Jun was suddenly aware of the fact he had been doing some preening of his own in the bathroom.
He fumbled through the clutter of his dresser to find the cologne that Shang Qinghua had complimented a few weeks ago and hurriedly applied it to his pulse points. The memory was probably one of the fondest ones he had of the other man.
Mobei Jun had already been doing his absolute best to flirt with Shang Qinghua at this point, and he had invited the other out to his gym to watch him box after classes. It was utterly fool proof, despite whatever Sha Hualing and Luo Binghe had to say, giving him an opportunity to flaunt his abs to his unsuspecting crush.
It was common knowledge, even without having read Shang Qinghua's prolific xianxia web novels, that the mousy accounting student had a weakness for men with muscles, and he had been smug for days on end off of the way Shang Qinghua had gawked open-mouthed up at the ring while Mobei Jun absolutely pummeled his sparring partner while shirtless.
But the best part of that day had been afterwards, where he had come back from the showers, hair still dripping down his neck and freshly cologned when Shang Qinghua had run face first into his chest.
Before the awkward brunette could fall to the ground, Mobei Jun reflexively wrapped an arm around a plush waist to steady the other man. And for his efforts, he was rewarded with the other's shocked stillness before Shang Qinghua slumped into his chest.
He had hummed then, and the tiny vibrations of it nearly burst Mobei Jun's heart.
“You smell nice.” Shang Qinghua had murmured before thrusting himself away from him, stuttering out a string of apologies before launching into some tangentially related aside with a cute flush high in his cheeks.
Shang Qinghua had the habit of fiddling with his hair whenever he got flustered, and in that moment, he combed his fingers through his wild, sun-bleached curls and Mobei Jun was hypnotized all at once.
The errant way his curls zigged and zagged while hanging suspended in midair like perpetually in the wake of a gentle summer breeze reminded Mobei Jun of Dirt. Dirt, of course, being his beloved childhood pet rat that had curled whiskers and fur that was the same lighter brown as Shang Qinghua's hair. The rat had been more of a gag gift from his uncle, made worse by his childhood ingenuity with its name, but Mobei Jun had adored that rat more than anything. It was fiercely protective of him, nipping at and peeing on people it sensed that young Mobei Jun didn't care for, all while also being steadfastly dedicated to being at his side whenever possible, spending a good portion of its life tucked away at the side of his neck or nestled against him.
And as Mobei Jun gave it more thought, the comparisons between the two did not stop there as he reflected upon all the times Shang Qinghua would trail after him complaining about coursework across campus and the different ways Shang Qinghua had seen to it that annoying classmates or his uncle's cronies were always mysteriously dealt with.
In that moment, Mobei Jun had felt the corner of a smile struggling across his face, and he knew he was irrevocably in love with the other man.
Shang Qinghua liked him back; Mobei Jun was sure of it. Those less than discrete glances and the gentle way the other man brought peace and order to his otherwise turbulent life had to mean something. His feelings were returned, he assured himself again as Luo Binghe shouted again that he'd be leaving him if he wasn't at the door within the next 30 seconds. With a final look in the mirror, Mobei Jun left before Luo Binghe started screaming about keeping his “precious shizun” waiting, certain that today would be the day he finally pushed through his usual social fumbles and claimed Shang Qinghua's heart once and for all.
Of course, though, nothing ever went to plan for Mobei Jun.
His entire life had been a series of increasing tragedies one after the miserable other. Starting off with his emotionally disconnected mother dying, his father's general indifference towards him, and the betrayal from his once beloved uncle, Mobei Jun had very little he felt truly grateful for, besides maybe Dirt.
So, of course, what should have been an absolutely foolproof date with Shang Qinghua had been going disasteriously.
Thankfully, Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe had made it to the coffee shop exactly as Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqui had walked up.
There was a very embarrassing display as Luo Binghe went out of his way to shower Shen Qingqiu in compliments for what was honestly an underwhelming outfit in Mobei's eyes.
Shang Qinghua had rolled his eyes at Luo Binghe and his roommate's antics, but had squeaked at the way Mobei Jun had complimented his own outfit. The smaller man was wearing something aside from the oversized hoodies that he basically lived in and had actually managed to find a well fitting knit sweater and some jeans that accentuated the soft curve of his hips.
It was a far cry from the usual baggy look Shang Qinghua usually sported, and the form fitting outfit was dangerously distracting to Mobei Jun, so much so that he didn't snap back into reality until they were already seated, pinned into a booth by the others.
By that point, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were already deep in conversation about things that Mobei Jun had absolutely no interest in, leaning over the table as if they were being pulled together by an unseen force.
The accounting student was seated next to him, against the vacuum of cold of the large window their booth was pressed up against. Afternoon sun shone off of the delicately styled curls as he combed his fingers through stray honeyed tresses, reminding him of his beloved companion from so many years ago.
Just as it occurred to Mobei Jun to say something so that he wasn't just awkwardly staring at the other man, a waiter approached with a sour look.
He asked for their orders in what was maybe the bored tone Mobei Jun had ever heard, but he seemed to be the only one bothered by it. Once it was his turn to order, he turned to the menu on the table blindly and picked the first drink that he figured he could tolerate.
“Polynesian dancer.”
The waiter cocked an eyebrow. “A Polynesian dancer?”
A tiny and distant voice in the back of his head that sounded like his crush started to rave about how getting worked up now wouldn't really accomplish anything and could really mess up his plans for the date if he let his emotions get the better of him, but it was too late. There was a bit too much judgment in the waiter's voice, and Mobei Jun was already seething.
Suddenly, there was a hand covering his fist against the table top.
“Yeah, can we do that Polynesian dancer with full sugar? Actually no, extra sugar for that please. And then a plain black coffee, no cream, no sugar for him please.”
The waiter glances at Shang Qinghua, visibly evaluating the two of them against the order before finding his suspicion appeased and leaving.
Mobei Jun glared as the waiter retreated back across the cafe.
There was a gentle tap against the side of his leg that was enough to pull Mobei Jun out of his glowering.
“Don't worry about him, boss.” The other man leaned across the table, with a conspiratorial look as he took a quick sweep of the cafe. “I come here all the time,” Shang Qinghua confided, “He's harmless, just your classic typical moody teenager really.”
There was a pause before he continued even quieter, with big amber eyes meeting with his solemnly, demanding his full attention and swearing him to secrecy. “Mostly harmless anyways. He has a habit of dropping things. His mom owns the place, so I think he's trying to get out of working.”
Mobei Jun huffed, not quite seeing what he was supposed to do with that information, except maybe get madder that his Qinghua was subjected to this kid's unpleasantness more than once.
“No, it's true!” His hands slapped over his mouth as he peeked back towards the waiter, now crashing about loudly with a pair of blenders behind the front counter. “I come here every week with Shen Yuan, and I've probably seen him break eleven glasses!”
“Eleven?”
Shang Qinghua nodded, the bun his hair was pulled into shaking loose a few curls. “I swear it's the truth. But his mom won't budge. I've lost a few good shirts at this point to him, but the coffee and wifi here are so good that I keep coming back.”
In all honesty, despite his deep admiration for the accounting student, Mobei Jun could not imagine him owning more “nice shirts” other than the one he was wearing.
It was made apparent to him quickly though that he was unable to keep his thoughts from ruling his expression.
“Okay, maybe the shirts weren't the nicest, but I still paid good money for them. We can't all be rich kids blessed with trust funds.” Shang Qinghua huffed and pouted, resting a plump check on his hand, looking like a particularly upset but still incredibly cute hamster. “Some of us have to slave away writing thousands of words of mediocre fanservice for a living.”
“I'd buy nice shirts for Qinghua if he asked me.”
He had said it without thinking, and in retrospect he wouldn't have said as much since Shang Qinghua had a tendency to shy away at his usual bluntness.
The waiter announced the arrival of the drinks with a slam of Shen Qingqiu's iced green tea on the table before Shang Qinghua could answer.
Mobei Jun glowered at the teen as he proceeded to slam down Luo Binghe's meticulously ordered latte and Shang Qinghua's coffee, both drinks landing so harshly that they ran over the sides of their glasses as they attempted to settle.
His glaring wasn't even acknowledged until the waiter had his drink in hand, and that's when his soda fell from the waiter's hand in an uncontrollable free fall before spilling all over the far side of their table.
Hardly could be called an accident, Mobei Jun thought darkly as he stared down at the large spot where his drink had assaulted his Italian cotton shirt.
Shang Qinghua cried out in distress, looking down at his ruined cream sweater, now splattered with blue down the front. “Oh, this will take forever to get out.”
“Can't you just take it to a dry cleaner?” The waiter sounded annoyed to even be still speaking with them now.
With Shang Qinghua still looking down in shock, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu still too disgustedly engrossed in each other to even spare their situation a glance, and the waiter looking as disinterested as ever, Mobei Jun decided to take the lead this time around. “Can you just get us another drink?”
The waiter rolled his eyes before leaving again for the front counter.
“I'm so sorry, Mobei. I probably jinxed us earlier.” Napkins were summoned inexplicably into Shang Qinghua's hands as he made quick work of mopping up the table. “Lean over, I know a trick for getting stuff out.”
One of the qualities about Shang Qinghua that Mobei Jun admired was his innate ability to have a solution just about every problem he ever encounters; nothing seemed to ever be able to truly catch the man unaware despite how he may put on a show of being shocked, which was a good quality, Mobei Jun thought, for the future partner of the heir to Northern Desert Holdings. The ability to predict and mitigate the many schemes of upper management and other board members was vital for survival.
Mobei Jun may have been swooning just a bit as he leaned over the table.
The napkin in his hand quickly swept down into Shang Qinghua's canvas bag for a brief second before snatching up a fallen piece of ice still left on the table. A wet spot swelled across the napkin as Shang Qinghua squeezed the ice cube, and once it was judged to be the right size, it was slammed against his chest, fiercely wiping down the stain.
Having grown up in a series of vast but largely empty manors in remote snow-logged mountains, Mobei Jun didn't mind the chill of the melted ice seeping through his shirt, much too enraptured by the focused look on Shang Qinghua's face.
There was a peek of tongue from the other man's mouth between pink bitten lips, and Mobei Jun may have forgotten how to breathe.
“There.”
The other man leaned back into his side of the booth, leaving Mobei Jun reeling and hoping he hadn't zoned out for too long.
“Good as new,” Shang Qinghua praised with a smile before turning down to set about resolving the blue mess on his own shirt.
Surprisingly enough, a quick look down at his shirt showed that Shang Qinghua hadn't been exaggerating. While a bit soggy at this point, any obvious blue was entirely gone; it looked more like Mobei Jun had an altercation with an ornery faucet than having a good part of a blue soda poured down his shirt.
Once again, Shang Qinghua proved his abilities to be numerous and ever useful. He could only hope Shang Qinghua could find an equal amount of utility in his own meager skills.
Shang Qinghua was still tackling his own shirt, head bent and bronzed eyes honed into his task. It looked to be particularly challenging as he scrunched his nose left and right as he worked.
Vaguely, Mobei Jun was struck with the memory of Dirt doing something similar, perched in his hands twitching his nose left and right at him as if considering all the hardships of the world and how to best evade them when Mobei Jun had been crying over the newest tragedy that had stricken him. He had laughed then at his pet's antic through his tears, and, ever his hero, Dirt had run up his arm to nuzzle into his neck, as if to assure him everything would turn out okay in the end.
Just as the other man had finalled deemed his work done, Mobei Jun found the words falling out of his mouth.
“Qinghua, you remind me of Dirt.”
“I remind you of… Dirt?”
There was a pause long enough for Mobei Jun to sense he had said the wrong thing, but not quite enough for him to organize his thoughts together so that he could figure out how to fix whatever he had set into motion.
“As always I appreciate your honesty, Boss. I had used some bronzer when I had gotten ready but I probably didn't blend out as much as I should have.” Shang Qinghua rubbed the back of his neck and turned sharply towards the window so that most of his face was covered by some curls that had wrestled free from its loose style. “I also probably need a new brush for it too. I kinda use the same one for most everything nowadays, and I won't be bullied for it. I mean eyeshadow, blush, bronzer, highlighter– it's all going on your face. What's the big deal? I can't be buying and replacing 6 different brushes for my face– Shen Yuan's honestly lucky I don't just put everything on with my fingers.”
Seeming to only just realize he was off on a tangent, Shang Qinghua glanced back at him, before letting out a very stressed, very forced laugh. “But that's besides the point, I'll take extra care to make sure that I don't look like a mess whenever we hang out moving forward.”
Mobei Jun could feel the situation slipping away from him, reeling mentally at the idea of Shang Qinghua putting on makeup and struggling to process through half of what the other man had said, and in his desperation, he blindly applied one of Luo Binghe's tried and true tactics. “Shang Qinghua looks fine with or without any makeup.”
“Oh,” Shang Qinghua was taken aback for a moment before pushing onwards, “That's nice of you to say, Mobei, but I can take constructive criticism. I need to if I want to look half as good as you do some day.”
Shang Qinghua laughed nervously, and Mobei Jun felt all his progress unravel itself into nothing.
And all at once, he found himself overwhelmed and entirely fed up with the entire thing. The annoying whine to Luo Binghe's voice when he was playing cute to Shen Qingqiu, the irritating smug smile Shen Qingqiu had when Luo Binghe flattered him, the judgmental look from the waiter, the whir of the blenders grating ice, the infernal buzz of midday rush conversation across the cafe, and the crushing disappointment he felt at the way Shang Qinghua was visibly withdrawing back into himself.
“Let's go.” It was more of an announcement than a suggestion but Mobei Jun was more focused on leaving as quickly as possible. Things could probably still be salvaged if he could just get somewhere a bit more calmer.
He turned to Luo Binghe who was crooning sickening compliments to Shen Qingqiu and looking up at his tutor from beneath curled eyelashes. “Qinghua and I are leaving.”
Luo Binghe glanced at him long enough to send him a skeptical frown, but he quickly recovered, grabbing ahold of his tutor's hands across the table. “That's a good idea. Shizun, we should go to that museum that you were talking about.”
A skeptical look crossed the pale man's face before he glanced over at his roommate. “Will you be alright on your own?”
Shang Qinghua laughed, less nervous now, resting his head on the other's shoulders and batting his eyes overly coquettishly. “Aw,” he teased, “are you worried about little old me?”
That awful snide look crossed Shen Qingqiu's face as he shoved the accounting student off of him.
“As if.” He let himself be pulled onto his feet while Luo Binghe silently yet very conspicuously imagined punishing Shang Qinghua for daring to touch his shizun.
Mobei Jun stepped out of the booth in between the smaller man and Luo Binghe and sent back a death glare of his own, only just managing to not bare his teeth at the other man.
Luo Binghe frowned before an idiotic smile was slapped across his face the second Shen Qingqiu turned to him. “Shizun, let's go already.”
There was a brief attempt made by both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua to offer to pay for their own drinks before Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe were able to (in varying degrees of gentleness) insist that they pay for their respective dates before the group made their way out of the cafe with Luo Binghe leading, pulling his tutor alongside him.
In what was almost a display of mental fortitude and physical strength to Mobei Jun, Shen Qingqiu was able to resist Luo Binghe's pulling long enough to idle for a moment to turn to Shang Qinghua. “Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?”
“I'll be fine, A-Yuan. You two go ahead.” Shang Qinghua shooed him away with a mischievous grin.
Shen Qingqiu looked at Shang Qinghua unconvinced before glancing at Mobei Jun.
Mobei Jun decided he didn't want to try to decipher what meaning that could possibly have and just focus on the relief he felt at being freed from the constant stimulation inside the cafe.
Luo Binghe started up his whining again, and Shen Qingqiu let himself be dragged away, taking one last look at Shang Qinghua and making a series of expressions that was most likely some sort of secret language between the two.
With the other two men walking off into the distance, Mobei Jun could see the confidence drain out of Shang Qinghua as the two got further and further away until they were eventually out of sight all together. Once they were gone, he seemed to regain his usual insecurity and curl into himself before turning to him with a nervous smile.
“So what would you like to do, boss?”
“What does Qinghua want to do?” He really hadn't had any plan besides getting out of that overwhelming cafe.
“Let's just walk around downtown. I've been meaning to look around at what's out here for the longest time. Shen Yuan is always saying I need to get out more, and then I've always wanted to explore the city more. You know it's really strange that I could live here for so long and never have been. It's funny, actually-”
He could feel Shang Qinghua's words wash over his frayed nerves. Each breath came easier as the tightness that had settled over his chest loosened, and his frustration melted away the way it always seemed to do the moment he was around Shang Qinghua.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Shang Qinghua cut himself off abruptly. “I'm rambling again. Sorry about that, boss. Let's head over-”
“Don't say sorry.”
Shang Qinghua cowered slightly at that, biting his lip very distractingly. “Oh?”
“I like when Qinghua talks. Let's go.”
His confidence had returned, so he felt bold enough to grab Shang Qinghua's hand and drag him along down the street. He earned a brief fit of sputtering and a blush that went all the way to Shang Qinghua's neck for his efforts, so Mobei Jun counted it as a success.
Things would have been easier from there if Mobei Jun had built any talking points into his foolproof plan to woo Shang Qinghua instead of putting all of his efforts into looking the part. Shang Qinghua would talk for stretches of time with Mobei Jun able to coast along with a hum or a nod, but would eventually look to him for an opinion where Mobei Jun would say the entirely wrong thing, which would make the smaller man look a bit hurt or force an awkward silence between the two of them before Shang Qinghua recovered enough to pick a conversation back up.
But still, despite his blunders, Shang Qinghua's hand stayed intertwined with his, so Mobei Jun was glad that he was at least doing something right.
And so it went. Mobei Jun following along the rapid asides and anecdotes from the man beside him, before eventually getting a bit lost in the warmth of his eyes, then getting caught not having had been paying attention, and then suffering a bit of Shang Qinghua's displeasure before the other man was able to start up again about something entirely different, as if they hadn't been swirling through this awkward dance for a good chunk of the evening already. All the while, Mobei Jun felt the night dwindling away from them and remembered the high hopes he had for himself just a few hours earlier.
Mobei Jun decided all at once that he was tired of his own inaction.
“Do you want to kiss?”
Shang Qinghua startled at that, pausing for a moment at his side, wetting plush lips with a peek of pink tongue.
There was a half-strangled “yes” that tumbled out of his mouth before Mobei Jun was leaning down to kiss the shorter man.
It was a bit stiff for half a breath, where Mobei Jun panicked, thinking he acted too rashly, before Shang Qinghua wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing into the line of Mobei Jun's body and raising up onto his toes.
A pleased hum escaped him as he wrapped his arms around Shang Qinghua's waist, earning a dazed sound of pleasure for his efforts, and all was right in the world.
They parted, and Shang Qinghua seemed to glow under the soft streetlight.
“Was that… like a joke or something?”
And all at once, everything shattered. Mobei Jun stumbled backwards, ears buzzing with static as his heart froze solid in his chest.
“A… joke?”
Shang Qinghua looked down at the pavement, wrapping his arms around himself against the light nighttime breeze. “Yeah, like let's make fun of Qinghua for having a crush on Mobei Jun. Because you're so totally out of my league, it's funny. Like how could I even have a chance at being with you?”
And suddenly, once again, everything was right again, better than alright really. Mobei Jun felt his heart flutter at the confession, and an irrepressible smile forced its way across his face.
He pulled Shang Qinghua closer to him, cradling his face and wiping away a lone tear with the side of his thumb. The smaller man refused to meet his eyes, sniffling wetly. Mobei Jun rested his forehead on Shang Qinghua's unruly curls and laughed.
“It's not a joke, Qinghua. I've liked you for a long time.” That made the other man pause, and Mobei Jun pressed onwards, emboldened and riding the high of requited love. “I've liked you for longer than I can remember at this point.”
Shang Qinghua sniffled, turning to face him with a distrustful look and the cutest pout that Mobei Jun had ever seen. “Do you usually tell people you love that they look like dirt or am I just an exception?”
A hot flush broke out across his face, and Mobei Jun wished that Shang Qinghua was still looking away. “No, I…” He sighed and looked at his feet. “Dirt was my pet rat growing up. He had really curly brown fur. Kind of like your hair.”
“So you're saying I look like a rat? …Well, at least you're not the first person to tell me that.”
He felt himself stumble through some rushed assurances that he didn't mean it like that before Shang Qinghua tilted his head back and laughed, cradling Mobei's hands with his own warm ones against his face and exposing the long trembling line of his throat.
Shang Qinghua raised up on his tiptoes, so that their frosted breaths mingled together and Shang Qinghua's lavender shampoo filled Mobei Jun's senses. A wide smile broke across his face with a slight apologetic tilt.
“I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have teased you like that. Honestly, it's really cute that you named your pet rat Dirt.”
“He was my best friend,” he found himself confessing before he could stop himself.
The other man was still beaming up at him as if he wasn't able to help himself. “And what about me reminds you of him?”
His memories replayed before Mobei Jun for a moment. He saw himself looking at Dirt perched on his shoulder after he had bit Linguang-Jun for teasing Mobei Jun. He saw the way the sun shone on the curls within Dirt's honeyed coat as he laid on top of his textbooks deep in sleep. He saw the way that Dirt slept, at times, curled up on his chest, but always facing the door, as if ready to defend Mobei Jun from intruders.
“You're both very noble. Dirt wasn't just my best friend, he was also almost protecting me if that makes sense.”
Again, Shang Qinghua's head tilted back as his laughter rang out. Their hands, still intertwined, fell between them.
“A noble rat,” he laughed before looking back up at him with eyes the color and the intensity of bronzed sunlight. “That's the first time I've been called that.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, still struggling to look the other man in the eye. “I'm messing this all up. I'm not the best with words.”
There was a kiss pressed against his nose playfully before Shang Qinghua's typical shyness caught up with him and his face burned pink.
“Well, I like you all the same, Mobei Jun.”