Wei reached his door sooner than he expected.
It wasn't a fancy hotel. Not even close.
This was a small rural guesthouse in the countryside—low wooden buildings, tiled roofs curling at the edges, narrow corridors lit by single bare bulbs.
Beautiful in its own plain way: simple, old, smelling faintly of cedar and rain-soaked earth.
The kind of place where time moved slower, where every creak of the floor remembered footsteps from decades ago.
The door slid open with a soft wooden rasp.
Wei stepped inside. Closed it behind him.
Took one step, then another, and sat on the edge of the lower bunk.
Head down.
Eyes on the floor.
Nothing there to look at—just worn tatami matting, a faint shadow from the window light—but looking down made everything easier to settle.
He took a deep breath.
Held it.
Let it out slowly through his nose.
Then the words came—quiet, barely louder than his own breathing.
"Why do I even think about him?"
His voice cracked on the last word. Small. Private.
"It's his choice. And I'll never be that choice. Yanyan is his girlfriend. So yes—they'll be like that. But why the hell do I think I would be in her place?"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
A voice came from outside—muffled, cheerful, slightly strained.
"Wei. Wei, please open the door. It's falling from my hands."
Wei exhaled—short, almost a laugh without sound. He already knew who it was.
He stood. Walked to the door. Slid it open.
Chen stood there, arms loaded with vending-machine snacks—bags of chips, chocolate bars, canned coffee, two packets of instant noodles balanced precariously on top. His grin was wide, triumphant.
"Thank god you opened it. See how I managed all this?"
Wei looked at the pile. One eyebrow lifted. "Why did you bring this much? Planning to start a business?"
He stepped aside. Chen entered, still balancing everything like it was a circus act.
"Wow," Chen said, setting the snacks on the small table with exaggerated care. "You're updated now. Speaking more than two words in a row."
Wei sat back on the bed. Eyebrow still raised. The small mole at the side of it caught the dim light.
Chen laughed—loud, easy—then flopped onto the opposite bunk. "Okay, okay. Just joking. Don't look at me like that. I'll die of heart attack."
Wei let the eyebrow drop. Exhaled.
Chen propped himself on one elbow, already opening a bag of chips. The crinkle filled the quiet room.
"What happened? You're looking so pissed off. Who's the lucky one that can make the only Cheng Wei pissed off other than me—the great Chen Luoyang?"
Wei grabbed a pillow. Threw it. Lightly.
"Shut up. Don't eat my brain."
Chen caught it mid-air. Grinned wider. "Better to finish what you bought," Wei added, nodding at the snacks.
Chen laughed again—lower this time. "So I'm not wrong. Your mood is really fucked right now."
Wei didn't answer.
Chen chewed a chip slowly. Watched him.
"Okay. So what happened with Jian?"
Wei's eyes flicked to him—sharp.
Chen kept chewing. Casual. But his eyes weren't casual anymore.
Wei looked away. Toward the window. The night outside was full dark now—no stars yet, just thick countryside black.
Chen waited. Didn't push. Just crunched another chip.
Finally Wei spoke. Quiet. Flat.
"I saw him. In his room. Arm around Yanyan. Laughing. Like nothing happened."
Chen stopped chewing.
Wei continued—voice low, almost to himself.
"He looked up.
Our eyes met.
For half a second.
Then I left."
Silence. Only the faint hum of insects outside.
Chen set the chip bag down. Sat up straighter.
His voice changed—serious now. No teasing. No grin.
"You know he's confused too, right?"
Wei didn't move. Didn't look at him.
Chen continued.
"Jian's not the type to figure shit out fast. He's loud about everything except what actually matters. He'll keep pretending everything's fine with Yanyan until it isn't. Until he can't pretend anymore."
Wei's fingers curled into the blanket.
Chen leaned forward slightly. "But you? You've been carrying this since you were kids. You don't have to keep pretending alone. You can… let it out. Even just to me. Or to him. When you're ready."
Wei stayed silent.
Chen exhaled. Soft.
"I'm not saying run after him tonight. I'm saying—don't keep punishing yourself for something that isn't your fault. He leaned on your shoulder today. He didn't move you away. That's not nothing."
Wei looked down again. At the floor. Same spot as before.
Chen watched him a moment longer. Then—gently—
"Just think about it. You don't have to decide everything right now."
Before Wei could answer, a sharp whistle cut through the corridor outside. Teacher's voice followed—muffled but clear.
"Everyone to the dining hall! Last roll call before lights out!"
Chen stood. Brushed chip crumbs off his shirt.
"Come on. We'll go together."
Wei nodded once. Slow.
He stood. Grabbed his jacket.
Chen paused at the door. Looked back.
"Hey."
Wei met his eyes.
Chen's voice was quiet. Almost soft.
"You're allowed to want things, Wei. Even if they're hard."
Wei didn't answer.
But he followed Chen out anyway.
The door slid shut behind them. The room went dark.
Outside, footsteps echoed down the corridor—other students moving, voices rising and falling.
Wei walked beside Chen. Shoulders almost touching. But not quite.
The night air waited beyond the hallway. Cool. Quiet.
And somewhere ahead, in the dining hall, Jian would be there too.