Chapter 77

Both of them were beat that day. Wen Fu had gone out with Fei Bolin to deliver food for the first time. Said he was fine, but the second they got home he chugged three glasses of water straight, felt like delivery dust was even in his hair. Without Fei Bolin having to push him, he went to the bathroom on his own and washed himself clean from head to toe.

After dinner Fei Bolin dropped onto the sofa, exhausted all over: 'Ah.'

Wen Fu dropped onto Fei Bolin, exhausted all over: 'Ah.'

Both too tired to think, staring at the ceiling, neither wanted to say a word.

Fei Bolin blinked. Just ate, his thoughts were floating. By habit his hand found Wen Fu's head resting on his waist, rubbing as he asked: 'Want to go out again next time?'

After running around with him for a whole day, knowing what delivering food is really like, he shouldn't keep pestering to tag along.

Wen Fu blinked at the white ceiling too, slowly ran Fei Bolin's words through his head, then nodded: 'Yeah.'

Fei Bolin glanced down at him, weird expression: 'Not tired?'

Wen Fu admitted without hesitation: 'Tired.'

He paused, then said: 'Bo-ge alone is more tired.'

Fei Bolin didn't say anything.

Wen Fu exposed him without mercy: 'Bo-ge lied to me.'

Wanted him to think delivering food wasn't tiring before.

Not going out to hustle, treating him like a pet cat.

Fei Bolin: '...'

Fei Bolin rolled over, shaking Wen Fu off himself.

Wen Fu got dumped on his butt on the floor, sat there stunned for two seconds, then glanced at Fei Bolin's back. Too lazy to argue with an embarrassed adult, he snorted softly, got up on his own, and went to clear the dishes in the kitchen.

Sunday he had to go to Music Academy for class. Fei Bolin couldn't chase him off—whenever he tried to shoo Wen Fu to school, Wen Fu would go silent, wearing baggy shorts and an old-man shirt, just circling around Fei Bolin at home.

Fei Bolin asked: 'Not going to class?'

Wen Fu talked back: 'Wasn't my class to begin with.'

Fei Bolin was the one who'd insisted he audit next door.

Talking about it got him fired up: 'Everyone else in the same department rests on weekends. Only I have class.'

Fei Bolin crossed his arms and watched him, seeing he was asking for a scolding again: 'Then what do you want to do?'

Wen Fu, completely matter-of-fact: 'I'm going to deliver food with Bo-ge.'

Fei Bolin laughed coldly: 'Fine. Let's go.'

Downstairs, helmets on, Fei Bolin told Wen Fu to sit tight on the back seat, then drove them straight to Chuan Yin College of Popular Music.

'Get off.' Fei Bolin's tone left no room for argument.

Wen Fu obediently took off his helmet and got off. Feet barely touching the ground, he turned and started walking back the way they'd come.

Fei Bolin, not looking up: 'One.'

Wen Fu kept walking.

Fei Bolin: 'Two.'

Wen Fu kept walking.

Fei Bolin: 'Three.'

Wen Fu turned around and came back.

Fei Bolin: 'Go to class.'

Wen Fu lowered his head, refused to move.

Fei Bolin said: 'When class is over I'll come get you. We're eating homemade noodles at home.'

Wen Fu raised his head and went to school.

Watching him go in, Fei Bolin pulled out his phone and went online to take orders.

Since he'd promised Wen Fu they'd head back together in the afternoon, today he needed to finish orders on time—after six, come straight to pick up Wen Fu for dinner.

To earn as much as possible, Fei Bolin decided to skip his lunch break. Earn more during the day, work fewer hours at night was fine, plus he had early class tomorrow, so he could rest then.

Didn't expect at 5:30 the whole city started pouring. Heavy rain that wouldn't stop, and seemed to be getting worse.

Once it rains, delivery demand spikes.

Fei Bolin, wearing the transparent raincoat he'd prepared, messaged Wen Fu between orders—told him to wait at school a bit, when the rain stopped or let up he'd come get him.

Wen Fu quickly replied: 'Okay.'

Getting the reply, Fei Bolin felt relieved, and used the heavy rain hours to grab as many orders as possible.

Wen Fu, after replying, stared at his phone screen a while longer, confirmed Fei Bolin had nothing else to say, then put his phone away and went back to writing music.

Music Academy has a bunch of specialized equipment rooms and professional classrooms. In these classrooms, desks and chairs are scattered around, not arranged in rigid rows like regular professional classrooms. Students can grab chairs or stools and pick wherever they want, move tables around, however's comfortable.

Class was already over, the teacher had left, but some people stayed because of the rain.

Wen Fu sat against the wall in a corner by the door, ready to bolt out the second Fei Bolin came to get him.

In his own college he kept his distance from most people, but here he got along fine.

One reason: Wen Fu was great at writing songs. When the teacher asked for in-class arrangements, he pulled them out effortlessly. His ability was outstanding, but he'd never been arrogant about it, never acted like his skill made him somebody. Basically he'd just silently write his own stuff—if the teacher wanted to collect it for review, he'd listen; if the teacher was busy, he didn't say anything. Second, nobody knew which bold one in the class first asked Wen Fu for help, but after a few more classes, everyone discovered that when it came to requests, Wen Fu basically never refused. As long as someone came up and asked—whether writing songs or arranging, no matter how hard the assignment—Wen Fu never turned them down.

Once someone next to him couldn't help asking why he was so willing to help others with homework. Wen Fu only answered two words: 'Practice.'

But most people still felt bad about it. Late September, during a class, they caught sight of Wen Fu's phone receiving the list of approved financial aid recipients from the class group chat—his name was first on it. After that, when they asked Wen Fu for homework help, they'd discuss paying him.

The price was fair—eighty yuan a pop.

With money involved, everyone felt more at ease asking him for help.

Unfortunately the business only lasted a few days. Wen Fu stopped accepting again, said he'd take money from at most three people a day, be responsible for three people's assignments.

His face didn't show much when he said it, but the class felt like Wen Fu seemed a little wronged.

But luckily, even though Wen Fu stopped taking money, when faced with requests he was still cold-faced but warm-hearted—would help anyone.

As for money, Wen Fu always took it if there was some, fine without it too. If someone wanted to give, he'd take whoever came—he had zero shame about face, any money he'd earn, amount didn't matter. Those without money who came for help, he'd still help casually.

Later they discovered Wen Fu really loved chocolate and milk. Every weekend when he came to audit class, he'd pull out a box of Jule Milk from his bag and finish it in two sips. So they kept feeding him snacks: matcha chocolate, cola-flavored QQ gummies, vanilla chocolate sandwich cookies—most often Jule Milk yogurt. These were all flavors Wen Fu liked that they'd figured out through persistent trial and error. Whatever they gave, Wen Fu never refused.

In less than a month, Wen Fu really had become an unofficial member of Music Academy. He'd even been pulled into the Popular Music department's student private group. The group occasionally posted lectures and public classes, and Wen Fu would go audit a few when he had nothing else going on.

Just now he'd finished replying to Fei Bolin's message, just put his phone away, when someone next to him leaned over: 'Do-Re-Mi, who are you texting?'

This nickname came from one time Xie Yining called Wen Fu in the high school five-person group's private chat and someone saw it. From then on, the Do-Re-Mi title spread around Music Academy too.

Wen Fu said: 'My brother.'

That person saw he didn't want to chat more, didn't press.

Wen Fu was quiet, didn't usually initiate conversation. Sometimes when they asked questions he didn't want to answer, Wen Fu would just respond with silence.

Sounds a bit rude, but after enough times, everyone understood his temperament and had a sense of boundaries.

Seeing the heavy rain outside not letting up, someone suggested just ordering delivery—get a small hotpot, everyone eat together.

The three or five people staying in the classroom were all close friends. Hearing hotpot, they didn't stand on ceremony, all agreed.

Someone asked: 'Do-Re-Mi, you in?'

Wen Fu said: 'I'm not eating.'

'Why?'

Wen Fu said: 'I'm going home to eat with my brother.'

'You can eat with your brother every day. With us, just this once.'

'Right...'

Wen Fu thought for a moment, asked: 'Is hotpot expensive?'

'Not expensive... well, depends on the place... you haven't had hotpot before?'

'I've had it,' Wen Fu said. 'At home.'

Fei Bolin's tastes were light, but Xie Yining and Su Haoran loved hotpot. In high school Wen Fu often heard them chatting about eating hotpot, got curious, so Fei Bolin made it at home a few times.

'Never had it outside?' the classmate asked.

Wen Fu shook his head.

'Then try this time!' they said. 'Really not expensive, regular hotpot is only fifty or sixty per person.'

Wen Fu did the math—fifty or sixty, that's what Fei Bolin earns delivering for two hours.

The classmate saw him thinking with lowered eyes, said: 'Still not eating?'

Wen Fu nodded, said honestly: 'My living expenses are all given by my brother.'

'What your brother gives you is for you to spend.'

Wen Fu explained: 'My brother earns money really hard.'

Everyone knew he was always straightforward, never exaggerated, never insinuating. Saying this wasn't to make anyone pity him, just calmly stating facts.

Since Wen Fu's attitude was clear, pushing him further was pointless.

'Your brother again.' At this point a boy across the classroom asked with a smile, 'Never heard you had a brother back at No.1 High School?'

The tone—implying he knew Wen Fu from before—made everyone around go quiet. Wen Fu also took a moment to register it: 'You know me?'

'Know' naturally meant asking if the other person knew him in high school.

'I was at No.1 High School too.' That person looked at him smiling. 'I was a Class 13 floating art student, you were Class 6, both of us General Department. But you had good grades, getting into Chuan Da University was normal. I got into Chuan Yin, purely luck, accidentally got in. My school's next to yours, we're neighbors.'

Wen Fu had only asked casually, didn't expect the other person to dump all that. He wasn't interested at all. After the person finished, he lowered his head and went back to writing music.

Wen Fu not responding made the atmosphere awkward. The person coughed lightly, then across half the classroom asked: 'Who's your brother? Never heard you had a brother at school before?'

Wen Fu felt this was another random person. No.1 High School had so many students each year—why should any random one know he had a brother? He and this person were strangers. If the other person hadn't from the start paid him to write assignments and always given him snacks, he still wouldn't have much impression of them.

This person didn't know he had a brother, he also didn't know if the other person had sisters. What was the big deal.

But when it came to introducing Fei Bolin, Wen Fu didn't hesitate. He raised his head and said seriously: 'My brother is Fei Bolin.'

That person's smile froze.

Then his expression turned strange, his tone not very friendly either. Still smiling, but with a strange sarcastic edge: 'Oh, Fei Bolin.'

Wen Fu felt it was normal for every classmate at No.1 High School to know Fei Bolin. Fei Bolin should be outstanding enough for everyone to have heard of him. So he nodded: 'That's Fei Bolin.'

'I know him.' That person said slowly, looking down at the desk, playing with his fingers meaningfully: 'Told everyone he could get first in the whole school, ended up barely passing with 500-something and going to Chuan Shi University. His post is still on the forum.'

Finished with a pointed laugh.

Didn't say anything extra, but everything that needed to be said was said.

'My brother was first in his grade every time except the college entrance exam in his third year of high school. No.1 High School has records—everyone knows, anyone can check.'

Wen Fu sat in his seat, didn't show anger at the other person's attitude, didn't yell. His voice was calm and clear, crossing the whole classroom to reach everyone's ears: 'He did everything he said. He didn't go to Hanyang Class, but he was always first. He missed the English exam. Going to Chuan Shi University was his accident, just like you exceeded expectations—getting in here was your accident.'

The other person's face completely stiffened.

Not only because Wen Fu rebutted him, but because he couldn't rebut what Wen Fu said—every word Wen Fu said was true. Fei Bolin had indeed maintained first in his grade for his entire third year of high school.

Fei Bolin couldn't deny the accident of failing the college entrance exam, just as everyone who knew couldn't deny the fact that Fei Bolin was first in his grade for his entire third year.

And the protagonist of their conversation—missing the English exam and going to Chuan Shi University—made everyone in the classroom fall silent.

Even wondering if the Chuan Shi University in Wen Fu's words was the Chuan Shi University they knew—the one that requires twenty points above this year's first-tier cutoff.

Just as the scene froze, a voice Wen Fu was extremely familiar with came from outside the back door of the classroom: 'Order 4603, please receive your delivery.'

Wen Fu suddenly looked toward the door on the other end of the classroom.

The yellow delivery uniform figure outside the door quickly left when the classmate took the delivery. Wen Fu instinctively rushed out of the classroom but couldn't catch up with Fei Bolin's steps.

The down elevator closed before he left the classroom. Wen Fu without hesitation turned to the fire escape.

The classmate at the door hadn't finished calling out: 'Do-Re-Mi, try some—'

Wen Fu drifted down the stairs like a tornado.

He ran from the sixth floor to the fourth, about to keep going down when someone called out: 'Wen Fu!'

Wen Fu turned around. Another boy.

He was in a hurry to find Fei Bolin, but the other person blocked him and wouldn't speak for a long time. He couldn't help being impatient, frowning: 'Something?'

The other person scratched the back of his head: 'Actually... I was at No.1 High School too.'

No.1 High School had tons of people. Wen Fu didn't need to know every one.

He decided if the other person didn't get to the point he'd leave immediately: 'And then?'

'Actually I've been watching you for a while.' The other person's ears were red, seemed embarrassed about what he was about to say. 'From the first time I saw you I was wondering if you were the person I was looking for, but didn't dare confirm, so I haven't dared bother you this whole time. Until just now, hearing what you said in the classroom, I confirmed it was you. Before, in high school, I saw you perform. I asked for your contact info on the confession wall and forum, but... oh right, I'm called Fu Tong...'

'What exactly do you want to say?' Wen Fu held the stair railing, face cold. He couldn't take in a single word of the long speech in front of him, just wanted to slide down the railing to the bottom in one breath, so he interrupted: 'Get to the point.'

Fu Tong gritted his teeth: 'Although the occasion and timing might not be appropriate, but—'

Wen Fu's patience was at its limit.

'I like you!'

Fu Tong took a deep breath, handed him a sky-blue envelope: 'Be my boyfriend.'

Wen Fu was stunned.

All his impatience was completely doused by this confession.

Probably all his emotions were doused without warning.

His mind went blank with a boom.

The words 'like' and 'boyfriend' hit him like something strange, catching him off guard.

Then he remembered this person.

It was that 20L idiot who followed the formation mocking Fei Bolin on the forum.

Fu Tong saw him stunned, no reaction for a while, tried to push the love letter toward Wen Fu again: 'Wen Fu—'

Wen Fu took off running.

Now it was Fu Tong's turn to be stunned.

Two seconds later, Fu Tong, clutching the love letter, took off running too: 'Wen Fu!'

Wen Fu heard him chasing behind, ran faster, ran hard, ran desperately.

Fu Tong's legs were about to spark: 'Wen Fu, wait!'

A man's dignity, the success or failure of love, all hung on this. So Fu Tong also risked his life, chasing madly.

One in front, one behind, separated by a long stretch, chasing each other. For a while, they couldn't pull apart.

Fortunately, after Wen Fu ran down and not long after, he saw someone ahead wearing a helmet about to get on an e-bike.

Wen Fu, like seeing a life-saving straw: 'Bo-ge!!!'

—Fei Bolin had received a Chuan Yin College of Popular Music delivery order when the rain stopped. Because it was close, the platform assigned him two more nearby orders. Fei Bolin knew Wen Fu was at Chuan Yin College of Popular Music, but since he still had two more orders, he could only rush to deliver them before coming back for Wen Fu. So when he delivered the hotpot just now, he just handed over the stuff and immediately took advantage of the elevator door not closing to fly down without touching ground. He didn't notice who was in that classroom at all.

Now he was about to ride to the next delivery point, vaguely heard Wen Fu calling him from behind.

Fei Bolin turned around, confused, saw Wen Fu running toward him with a ghost-seeing expression, teeth bared.

Behind Wen Fu, a person running so fast only a blur was visible, chasing like a ghost.