GDRG CH10

Chapter 10: The Green Tea Shemer Scores a Scarf

Shi Xueqing: …
What can I say. (In Eng)

He felt completely overwhelmed and could only use his free hand to take a sip of matcha, trying to hide his embarrassment. Xing Jun looked at him and kept silent for now.

There were two possibilities. First, Shi Xueqing had bought tickets for a film depicting same-sex love on purpose, inviting Xing Wei so he could come out to her and become her gay best friend.

Second, Shi Xueqing wasn’t just a green tea gold-digger, but also a stupid one. He wanted to watch an artsy romance movie with Xing Wei but didn’t even check the film’s background, cluelessly buying tickets to a gay film and happily sending out the invitation.

If the second possibility was true… then Shi Xueqing really was dumb enough for a museum exhibit.

Unlike Xing Jun, whose thoughts churned with a deep frown, Shi Xueqing quickly rose above analysis and simply lived in the moment.

Since there was no way to change the situation, he might as well keep watching the movie.

He tried hard to distract himself.

Then he realized the movie was actually quite good.

The two protagonists met during a summer in their youth and grew mutually infatuated over the course of a year. One was gloomy and introverted, the other serious and restrained, yet each would do things for the other that they’d never dare do alone. Both rebelled against the status quo, each wanting to bring the other happiness and break free from the bonds of family and self… but in the end, on the final day of the second summer, facing separation, neither dared admit they were gay.

Their young love was hidden in one playful “friendship game” after another. No matter how many times they said “I love you,” it was never the kind of “I love you” that lovers say.

Five years apart. One was taken to Vienna, forced to train for a musical career he didn’t enjoy, and ultimately fell into serious mental health struggles. The other stayed back, striving to succeed at home. He collected articles about his childhood “friend” and stuck them to the inside of his boarding school locker. But with his own ability alone, he couldn’t escape the small town, let alone the country.

It wasn’t until college that they finally had a chance to reunite. The music boy had changed his name, living incognito, studying back in the country. The serious boy heard at a joint school event that a “notorious” student had transferred to the neighboring school. Only after seeing through the other’s sunglasses did he realize it was the “friend” he’d missed for years.

Then—secretly, they entered into a relationship, finally taking the forbidden step. Still, they feared the sun, renting a little hideout near campus, papering the walls blue.

But rumors and obstacles eventually drove them apart again. They had each other, but only for two more summers. Their next reunion didn’t happen until five years after that.

Both were successful, but exhausted. One was called a “soulless capitalist,” the other a “fallen prodigy.” When they met in a café, staring at news about the music boy’s scandals, neither could speak.

When they left the café, it was no longer summer. Fine snow fell in the air, and deep winter descended on the Tropic of Cancer. At that moment, the serious one said, “…Do you dare?”

The melancholic one turned back in the snow. This time, he didn’t say “Of course.”

He softly replied, “What if… all those rumors you saw about me are true?”

For a long time, Xing Jun turned these two possibilities over in his mind, and didn’t watch the movie at all. He thought with Shi Xueqing’s vain and scheming nature, it couldn’t possibly be the first possibility.

If he just wanted to be Xing Wei’s gay best friend, why so much scheming? Shi Xueqing even sprayed perfume on the envelope.

But then, he heard some rustling.

He turned and saw that Shi Xueqing’s eyes were actually shining as he gazed at the screen.

Shi Xueqing was crying.

Xing Jun: …
Seriously? Shi Xueqing was really watching a gay movie? And crying over it?

He glanced at the screen. The two protagonists were back on the bridge. As a train passed by, one seemed ready to jump. The other chased and clung tightly to him just before the train arrived.

They kissed on the bridge—at the very moment the clock struck midnight in the real world.

This time, it wasn’t just Shi Xueqing who was crying; Xing Jun heard sobbing in the audience—both girls’ and even some boys’.

He looked forward: a pair of men sat holding hands, kissing along with the film’s couple.

He checked on Shi Xueqing again. Shi Xueqing didn’t even seem to notice Xing Jun’s gaze. Now it was more than just the corners of his eyes—the whole face was glowing. Two trails of tears ran down his cheeks; his entire face was soaked.

Watching Shi Xueqing, an absurd third possibility flashed in Xing Jun’s mind.

…Maybe Shi Xueqing never planned to give that ticket to Xing Wei. Otherwise, why did he only write “705” on the letter?

Maybe, the person Shi Xueqing truly wanted to test with the movie ticket was him.

Shi Xueqing wanted to see if he would fall for the trap and stay because of that ticket.

Xing Jun’s eyes flickered with shock and uncertainty.

It wasn’t impossible. Bisexuality is common these days. And maybe, for a gold-digger like Shi Xueqing, gender made no difference as long as there was money.

But…
Could Shi Xueqing be that smart? Was Xing Jun judging him wrong?

With a jolt, Xing Jun finally released his grip on Shi Xueqing’s arm. Only then did he realize he’d been clutching him so long that both his palm and Shi Xueqing’s arm were slick with sweat.

Consumed by his own thoughts, Xing Jun hadn’t noticed. As for Shi Xueqing…

Looking over again, Shi Xueqing was still crying as he watched the movie.

…No way, was Shi Xueqing really crying at the movie? Or was he pretending?

Actually, what straight guy cries watching a gay film… Xing Jun was conflicted. Didn’t this make Shi Xueqing seem even less straight?

Shi Xueqing paid no attention to Xing Jun’s movements. He kept watching until the film’s conclusion. The two characters come out publicly, then sit together on the same bridge.

“I want you… to kiss me,” one says. “Do you dare?”

The other smiles.

“Of course.”

The camera slowly panned upward and faded away. A gentle voiceover floated through the cinema:

“This vast world under the blue sky has finally become our blue room.
We kiss under the open sky.
The blue—has no end.”

When the credits rolled, Shi Xueqing stayed seated until the music ended and everyone else had left. It wasn’t to avoid being seen watching a gay film—he was just too immersed in the story.

Even Xing Jun silently stayed beside him. Shi Xueqing didn’t notice at all; he was still thinking about scenes from the film.

Finally, the two walked out of the cinema together. It was almost 2 a.m. now. Xing Jun glanced at Shi Xueqing and saw he still looked utterly absent-minded.

“What are you thinking about?” Xing Jun asked without realizing it.
What’s going on, this green tea actually seems sensitive.

He remembered when he’d watched movies with his little sister as a kid—she’d never cried like this.

Shi Xueqing: “The clothes in the movie were really beautiful. Especially after the reunion, there were more than ten outfits sponsored by Lan Yi. Not just the main characters’ clothes, but a few of the female supporting roles’ haute couture dresses—so luxurious, so ethereal, so sharp. And that pair of sunglasses in the college reunion scene—that’s Prada’s classic style.”

Xing Jun: …

Shi Xueqing: “Chi Lanyi is my favorite designer.”

…He was overthinking. Xing Jun was speechless. So all Shi Xueqing was recalling were the luxury garments.

He didn’t bother replying and headed for the parking lot. As Shi Xueqing talked, he sighed dejectedly: “Too bad they’re so expensive, I can’t afford them.”

…

Fine, life returned to normal. Xing Jun supposed Shi Xueqing was hinting for him to buy clothes.

He almost laughed—from amusement or exasperation.

Why would Shi Xueqing expect him to buy luxury clothes? What was the relationship between them? Just because he’d provided one movie ticket?

Xing Jun took a deep breath and turned around, seeing Shi Xueqing with his half-finished matcha, yawning still.

“The ice is totally melted. Why not throw it out?” he grumbled.

Shi Xueqing: “The drink was four bucks! I only had two sips—how can I throw it away?”

Xing Jun raised an eyebrow: “So why not take mine too?”

“You already drank from it, how could I?”

…That wasn’t what he meant.

Whatever.

Shi Xueqing was truly exhausted; his tone had lost its usual literary affectation (all an act), sounding rather more like he was pouting. Xing Jun simply told him to get in the car, figuring it was too late for him to call a cab. He’d just give him a ride home.

The drive was silent. When they got to Shi Xueqing’s apartment, Xing Jun turned: “Hey…”

…
Shi Xueqing had fallen asleep.

Xing Jun called twice without waking him—those late-night party-animal Indian neighbors really were formidable. If Shi Xueqing could sleep through their racket, what would a little conversation from Xing Jun matter?

He didn’t know Shi Xueqing’s apartment code, so there was no way to get him inside.

…

He had no choice but to scowl and bring Shi Xueqing back to his own hotel.

Xing Jun’s suite was on the top floor—one night’s price could cover over half a month’s rent for Shi Xueqing. He dumped Shi Xueqing on the couch and started to wonder if he was just pretending to sleep.

Was he angling to come back to the hotel? Another scheme?

His gaze drifted toward Shi Xueqing’s waist—when helping him into the elevator earlier, he’d touched it.
It was every bit as slim as it looked.

But through the clothes, he couldn’t tell if that skin was as soft and fair as on Shi Xueqing’s arms.

He patted Shi Xueqing’s face again, his tone unreadable: “Wake up.”

Shi Xueqing didn’t respond at all. He was sound asleep, face peaceful and completely unguarded.

Xing Jun: …

He crouched for a long time, staring at Shi Xueqing’s face (not his waist or legs).

A long time, his gaze dark and searching. If Shi Xueqing had been awake to notice, he’d have run for it in a heartbeat.

But asleep, he just let Xing Jun look as much as he wanted.

“Straight? Gay? Or bi?” After a moment, Xing Jun murmured the words.

He glanced again at Shi Xueqing’s waist, hidden under his T-shirt.

Of course, Shi Xueqing couldn’t answer. He just frowned in his sleep, annoyed by the disturbance, and grunted.

Xing Jun kept crouching, eventually feeling like he was just playing mind games with the air—fighting with himself. In the end, he stood, cast Shi Xueqing a look of contempt, and went to bed.

Before turning in, he tossed a blanket from the bed onto Shi Xueqing.

…Shi Xueqing, this person, could actually sleep so soundly in someone else’s place.
Was it real, or just an act?

Before falling asleep, Xing Jun frowned in disdain.

He didn’t expect that when he awoke, it was already 9:30 AM. With an 11:00 flight, he hurriedly packed and went downstairs. Before leaving, he told the front desk:

“There’s still someone in the room. If he hasn’t checked out by eleven, give him a wake-up call.”

If you don’t check out after noon, they start charging you for another night. Could Shi Xueqing afford these prices?

On the way to the airport, Xing Jun brooded darkly, thinking he just didn’t want to pay for another night out of his own pocket.

But it felt like the sensation of Shi Xueqing’s skin was still in his hand—
and there was a faint trace of fragrance.

He bent down to sniff while returning the car, suddenly frowning at the scent, sure he’d forgotten something.

Because of staying over that night, he’d unpacked his pajamas from his suitcase, and—alongside a brand-new scarf he’d picked up shopping with Xing Wei—tossed it aside.

That scarf was designed by Chi Lanyi.

At 10:30 AM, on the sofa, Shi Xueqing struggled awake.