He Gu’s legs were a bit soft, so Song Juhan carried him to the bathroom. As soon as the shower was turned on, Song Juhan pressed his back against the wall, his tall body towering over him, then started another round of conquest without any warning…
By the time Song Juhan was done tossing with him, it was already the middle of the night. He Gu, now cleaned up, lied on the bed, too tired to even move his fingers.
Song Juhan lay next to him, breathing evenly and already asleep.
He Gu carefully looked at Song Juhan’s profile under the moonlight, and the feeling in his heart was hard to describe. As he watched, Song Juhan’s face seemed to be regressing in age, gradually turning back into the face of a young man. He Gu’s memory also unconsciously returned to his senior year in high school.
At that time, he was the bookworm top student arming1备战 – to prepare for war himself for the college entrance exam, while Song Juhan was the most handsome boy in the school2校草 – the actual term used would literally translate to “school grass” since his first year of high school. Song Juhan was tall, played basketball, proficient in several instruments, and the heir of an entertainment and media company having a market value of several hundreds of millions. Even before he could speak, he was already like a big star showing in all kinds of media and had half his foot in the entertainment circle. Most importantly, he was extremely good-looking.
He Gu was gay, and he’d known it since he was in middle school. He liked to look at good-looking boys, but of course, he only dared to watch secretly.
The two of them would have never crossed paths, but they happened to be dragged together by their teacher to participate in a campus environmental protection publicity campaign. The campaign’s style was simple and crude: a series of foreign videos would be played in the school. Song Juhan’s role was to sing the theme song live both in Chinese and English, and He Gu’s role was to translate the lyrics of that song.
So, for one afternoon, he and Song Juhan sat in the teacher’s office, translating lyrics in a notebook. He had no musical talent at all, while Song Juhan had already written many songs and released his own album. Song Juhan was very demanding of the lyrics, not just translating them, but also conveying the mood and the rhymes.
After translating through the afternoon, He Gu found that Song Juhan’s English was much better than his. When he asked about it, it turned out Song Juhan had a foreign tutor when he was a child and had even gone to the best schools abroad for several summer breaks.
He Gu was embarrassed, feeling it was unnecessary for the teacher to let him come.
He still remembered that, after translating, Song Juhan had given him a smile. “Alright, I’m leaving.”
To say that his smile had the charm of blooming flowers wouldn’t be an exaggeration. He Gu felt then that his heart had been punched hard. It wasn’t painful, but tingling, as if something remarkable had been injected inside him. He remembered nervously saying, “Sorry, I wasn’t much help…”
“Well, you were still of help.” Song Juhan ejected the flash drive and picked up his bag. The young man’s skin shone upon by the sunset reflected a soft and touching luster. His bright eyes were like a river of stars crushed into tiny pieces. “It’s rare to meet someone who doesn’t talk much when they’re with me. It’s quiet and peaceful.”
He Gu couldn’t tell if Song Juhan was praising him or was being sarcastic. All he could remember was watching Song Juhan’s back until he disappeared.
Later, the charity event was a success. The students probably didn’t care so much for the content itself as they did for their obsession with Song Juhan’s performance. After the show, Song Juhan appropriately invited the teachers, promoters, and staff who planned the event onto the stage. Of course, this included He Gu. He stood right next to Song Juhan as the latter hugged his shoulders and said some words out of courtesy.
There were only three3Raws actually say two, which I assume is a typo since the author went on to mention three. thoughts in his mind at that time: First, Song Juhan was young yet mature, already able to speak so well; second, Song Juhan had called his name; and third, Song Juhan’s hands were so hot, it burned his entire body.
His face must have been very red at that time.
They didn’t cross paths again for a long time after that, yet He Gu would still look for Song Juhan’s figure around the large campus. Once found, he’d secretly watch him.
One day, when he returned to school after the college entrance exam, the two happened to run into each other in an empty men’s washroom.
He Gu plucked up the courage to say hello to Song Juhan. Song Juhan had just stared at him for a moment and said “oh,” as if he had just remembered who he was.
He was disappointed.
Song Juhan casually asked him, “You’re a senior, right? How was the test?”
Song Juhan whistled and zipped up his pants, but when he looked up, his eyes happened to meet He Gu’s eyes stealthily looking at him.
He could still remember the awkwardness and embarrassment of that moment. Like a thief being caught red-handed.
Song Juhan’s face changed slightly. He swept a glance at his zipper he couldn’t pull up in time and that carelessly exposed reaction. He then said something He Gu could still clearly remember the tone of: “You’re gay?” The ending tone was lilting, full of surprise and frivolity.
He Gu was struck dumb, and the shame of having his deepest hidden secrets shaken out so easily was beyond description.
At that time, homosexuality was not as widely accepted as it was now, and most people were still secretive about it, as if they were thieves. However, Song Juhan had been exposed to the entertainment industry since he was a child and was much more mature than his peers in this area.
Song Juhan laughed lightly, a laugh filled with sarcasm, and then left.
He Gu could still remember that on that afternoon, he hid in the toilet for a long time and dared not go out. On that afternoon when he was supposed to be relaxing for the college entrance exam was over, he was clutching at his heart and scratching his lungs4抓心挠肝 – metaphor for feeling uncomfortable, feeling unwell.