Xia Yiyang had a strange habit.
On summer nights, he liked to turn the air conditioning down to an extremely low temperature, wrap himself in an extremely thick quilt, and sleep an extremely deep sleep.
For this, his mother never tired of scolding him, saying he was a polar bear reincarnated who just loved to stay in a refrigerator. His father believed he had been reincarnated in the wrong place and should have gone to the Northeast, where the weather was cold, the clothes were thick, your body stayed warm, and your face turned a rosy red from the chill.
The young master had once felt that no one in this world could possibly understand him: sleeping soundly under a thick quilt in an air-conditioned room was just like eating popsicles in a heated room while wearing a vest—the joy was all in that contrast of hot and cold!
That was, until he learned about Xinjiang in geography class and discovered that the way Xinjiang fruit farmers cultivated their fruits was exactly the same as how he cultivated himself: the greater the temperature difference, the sweeter the fruit.
Xia Yiyang suddenly understood.
—Aha! So he was a sweet, crisp Aksu “rock sugar heart” apple!
But back to the matter at hand. Xia Yiyang had been “invited” into Sheng Lin’s bedroom, where they agreed on one chapter of rules (along with several additional unequal treaties): the air conditioning had to be set to eighteen degrees, and the quilt had to be the thickest one available.
Sheng Lin had only bought this house a few months ago and hadn’t experienced a winter in it yet. He rummaged through boxes and cabinets for a long time before finally digging out the only thick quilt in the house.
After taking a nice, comfortable bath, Xia Yiyang happily stepped into the air-conditioned room. The blast of cold air as he entered made him shiver, but he quickly dove into the thick quilt, wrapping himself up carefully until only his little head poked out.
The king-size bed was 1.8 meters wide. Wrapped in the quilt, he rolled left, rolled right, rolled back and forth, and finally settled on the left side.
“Brother Lin, you sleep on the right,” said the little head that was poking out, taking the liberty of assigning sides. “There’s a socket on the left. I want to play my Switch.”
Sheng Lin sat on the left edge of the bed and leaned down to look at him. “Xia Yiyi, this is my room. Aren’t you being a bit rude?”
So Xia Yiyang rephrased: “AUV, would you kindly lift your noble rear and sleep on the right, please!”
Sheng Lin: “…”
That somehow sounded even ruder.
Along with Xia Yiyang, his suitcase, backpack, and panda plushie had also moved into the bedroom. Xia Yiyang insisted that he hadn’t bought the panda plushie himself—a true manly man like him would never buy something so cute—it was a freebie from a hotpot restaurant.
Regardless of where the panda plushie came from, it had accompanied him to many places.
When he stayed at hostels, the panda plushie sat in his locker, locked up with his gaming console. When he moved into Sheng Lin’s place, the panda plushie also sat in his backpack, accompanying him up the old stairwell and then onto the sofa bed. Now that Xia Yiyang had officially crossed the threshold into the bedroom and moved into the eighteen-degree constant-temperature room, the panda plushie naturally slept beside his pillow.
Sheng Lin changed into his pajamas, buttoning them all the way to the top as usual. His slippers were neatly placed under the right side of the bed. Even when sleeping, the man lay perfectly straight and proper. When he turned his head, his gaze first had to pass over the panda plushie resting between their pillows before it could land on the figure bundled in the quilt, still locked in battle in his game.
“It’s late,” Sheng Lin said. “Time to sleep.”
Xia Yiyang lay on his stomach playing the game, propped up by his pillow. He mumbled dismissively, “Just twenty more minutes.”
Sheng Lin didn’t press him further.
But the teenager was actually playing half-heartedly. He looked focused, but his eyes kept darting to the side.
He had originally thought that sharing a bed was an utterly ordinary little thing. Yesterday, he and Sheng Lin had also slept in the same room on Mount Qingcheng. The two beds had been extremely close, with only a narrow aisle between them—close enough that they could reach out and touch each other. Today, it was just that the distance between the two beds had been swallowed up into one large bed, yet it felt completely different.
When the man got into bed from the right side, Xia Yiyang could clearly feel the mattress sink for a moment. When the man turned his head to look at him, his gaze was so gentle that it was far more tangible than the moonlight streaming through the window. And Sheng Lin’s breathing… it wasn’t loud, so why did it seem so close, as if it were brushing against his ear?
They were sleeping in one bed, yet it was more than just sleeping in one bed.
So this was what “sharing a pillow” meant.
For no reason at all, Xia Yiyang thought back to last night, glimpsing Sheng Lin’s silhouette through the bathroom glass while he showered.
So strong, so mature, so—
Xia Yiyang’s hand slipped, and his character in the game fell off a cliff, wasting a life.
He tossed the Switch onto the nightstand and burrowed completely under the covers, puffing with annoyance.
Sheng Lin asked him, “Why aren’t you playing anymore?”
“This game isn’t fun.”
Xia Yiyang was furious, but he didn’t know who to blame.
“I’m going to sleep.”
Sheng Lin didn’t know why he was angry again. He only saw the teenager clench his fist and punch the pillow a few times, loosening it up and then flattening it out, rattling the entire bed frame with the force.
Finally, with a “he-yah,” he flopped face-first into the pillow. It was rather adorable.
The bedside lamp had long been turned off, but the moonlight remained, tracing the teenager’s silhouette with a faint, shimmering silver edge. His hair was thick and had grown a bit long lately, lying smoothly against the nape of his neck, stirring an itch in one’s fingers.
Sheng Lin spoke to the back of his head: “Yiyi, your hair’s getting long, isn’t it? Want a haircut?”
“…”
“Really asleep?” Sheng Lin said. “Falls asleep in three seconds—turns out Xia Yiyi is a little piggy.”
“I’m growing my hair out on purpose. When it gets a bit longer, I’m going to find the best stylist in Rongcheng to trim it into the most popular Japanese-style long-bangs youthful look!” The back of his head finally spoke up, vehemently proving he was not a little pig. “Also, where do you get your hair cut? I need to avoid that place.”
Sheng Lin was taken aback. “Is it really that ugly?”
Xia Yiyang rolled over to look at him. In the moonlight, his eyes were clear and bright, black and white, like stars.
“It’s not ugly, it’s super ugly! This is the first time I’ve seen anyone shave their hair that short. When we first met, I honestly thought you’d just been released from prison.”
Sheng Lin let out a low chuckle. “Then I’m sorry for traumatizing your eyes.”
The young master graciously accepted his apology. “From now on, you have to ask me before you get a haircut. You can only cut it if I say so.”
“Alright.” Sheng Lin didn’t mention that he actually cut his own hair—he had clippers in his bathroom. A few quick passes, and it was all even, cool, and refreshing. He’d always been perfectly satisfied with his hairstyle; he never expected Xia Yiyang to have such strong feelings about it.
In the darkness, their eyes met, and silence fell again.
Xia Yiyang noticed that Sheng Lin was still using a thin summer blanket. The air conditioning was set so low, and the only thick quilt in the room was wrapped around him.
He felt a bit sheepish and asked, “Brother Lin, are you cold?”
“Not cold,” Sheng Lin replied.
Perhaps because he worked out regularly, he wasn’t very sensitive to temperature. When it was hot, he didn’t sweat much; when it was cold, he didn’t need extra layers.
“Really not cold?” Xia Yiyang thought for a moment. “How about we turn the AC up a bit?”
“No need. I’m really not cold.”
Seeing that the boy didn’t believe him, Sheng Lin simply reached out and gently pressed his palm against Xia Yiyang’s cheek. The boy instinctively closed his eyes, and Sheng Lin’s thumb brushed lightly across his eyelashes.
“Warm, isn’t it?”
His palm was burning hot, and so was his cheek.
A certain thought that Xia Yiyang had barely managed to calm down began to take root and sprout again in the darkness.
He curled up like a shrimp under the quilt, his legs pressed tightly together at a certain spot.
Frustrated, resentful, ashamed, and doubting himself.
—A youngster’s imagination always runs a step ahead.
What to do.
…
He had thought this night would be restless, but unexpectedly, Xia Yiyang actually slept until his alarm went off before getting up.
When he woke up, he found that he had rolled all the way to the right side of the king-size bed. Fortunately, Sheng Lin had gotten up early to go for his morning workout; otherwise, he would definitely have rolled right on top of him.
He didn’t have the habit of folding his quilt. Before, when he slept on the sofa bed, the thin blanket he used was always casually draped over the armrest. Now that he’d moved into Sheng Lin’s bedroom, he still had to (at least make a show of) folding the quilt.
So when Sheng Lin returned from his workout, he found a twisted, misshapen steamed bun roll sitting on his bed.
Sheng Lin looked at the giant bun roll on the bed, then at the young master eating breakfast in the living room.
…How on earth was this kid going to handle military training when school started?
After breakfast, the two went downstairs to open the shop. The aunties were coming in an hour later than usual today, so all the prep work was up to them.
The shop hadn’t opened for delivery for two days in a row, and many customers couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as the delivery machine was turned on, a flood of orders came pouring out. Xia Yiyang was cutting watermelon so fast his knife became a blur.
A regular customer who often dined in joked with Xia Yiyang: “I didn’t see you here for two days in a row—I thought you’d quit your job.”
“Of course not.” Xia Yiyang scooped out the chilled rice jelly while pledging his loyalty. “Our boss is handsome and kind-hearted. I’m going to keep working here forever.”
The customer let out a puzzled “Huh?” “You look so young—I figured you were a college student working a summer job. Turns out you’re a full-timer.”
Xia Yiyang: “…Uh, well…”
Ahh, if I just give her two extra scoops of ice cream, can we please drop this subject?
Just then, the two aunties came in for their shift, and the customer got distracted and forgot all about it. She forgot, but the matter of school starting kept lingering in Xia Yiyang’s mind—he couldn’t forget it at all.
It was already the end of July. Admission results from various provinces and cities had come out, and acceptance letters had been arriving one after another in students’ hands.
During the noon break, Auntie Li asked Sheng Lin for time off. Her granddaughter had just taken the college entrance exam this year and been admitted to a university in Shanghai. The whole family was overjoyed and making arrangements to hold a celebratory banquet for her—she’d need at least three days off.
Upon hearing this, Auntie Zhao rushed to share her experience with Auntie Li: “Banquets like that are exhausting—they’ll wear you out completely! Last year when my grandson took the exam, he insisted on holding the feast in the village. I was stuck washing dishes and wiping tables the whole time—my back couldn’t even straighten out afterward! And the most infuriating part? Some shameless people would bring a whole family of seven or eight to the banquet and only stuff a fifty-yuan red envelope in!”
Xia Yiyang listened as if hearing a story, thoroughly entertained. “Do you really invite that many people to a college entrance banquet?”
“Of course,” Auntie Zhao said. “Besides relatives, friends, and neighbors, you also have to invite teachers and classmates. Xia, didn’t you take the exam this year too? Didn’t your family hold one for you?”
Xia Yiyang shook his head. “We don’t really have that tradition in Beijing. At most, we just have a meal with close family.”
“That’s so much less trouble!”
Before the young master had come to Sichuan on his own, he’d already had a meal with his relatives. At that time, his admission results hadn’t been officially released yet, but his college application choices were very safe. With his scores and ranking, getting into Rongda was a sure thing—the only uncertainty was which school within the university he’d be assigned to.
He was only eighteen and had no clue what kind of job he wanted to do in the future. When filling out his application, he’d just listed his choices from highest to lowest based on his ranking, even ticking the “accept adjustment” box, letting fate decide where he’d end up.
He didn’t feel anxious about which major he’d get because he believed that life wasn’t determined by a single choice, but by every choice along the way.
A well-known children’s book author had mentioned in an interview that she’d majored in finance in college. A male idol who was active on variety shows turned out to have a doctorate in veterinary medicine. He’d also read a report about a college graduate who, after passing the civil service exam, got a job at a funeral home and became a mortuary makeup artist…
In short, Xia Yiyang didn’t want to limit himself—that way, he could enjoy the unpredictability of life.
As for Auntie Li’s leave request, Sheng Lin readily agreed and even took the initiative to put two hundred yuan in a red envelope for her granddaughter.
Auntie Li thanked him profusely and asked casually, “Boss, you’re not that old either. Did you have a college entrance banquet back in the day?”
Sheng Lin answered succinctly: “I didn’t take the college entrance exam, so I didn’t have one.”
In the first semester of his senior year of high school, he’d signed a direct admission agreement and been accepted to Rongda without ever taking the gaokao. His family had wanted to hold a thank-you banquet for his teachers, but the teachers had politely declined due to their busy schedules, so he’d only gone back to school to give them flowers after the admission results came out.
But this one sentence led to a major misunderstanding on Xia Yiyang’s part.
—Earlier, Brother Qin had said that he and the boss were classmates at a technical school. It seemed the boss really didn’t do well academically—he hadn’t even taken the college entrance exam.
Still, even if the boss didn’t have a high educational background, he’d built this shop with his own two hands. He could fix screws in the front of the house and sell ice jelly in the back—pretty impressive, really.
Just then, Xia Yiyang’s phone rang. He pulled it out and saw it was a message from his family group chat.
【Imperial Relatives Exchange Group】
@Xia Dad: Yiyi’s admission letter arrived today. @everyone
@Xia Dad: [Photo of the top of the admission letter box]
@Xia Dad: [Photo of the bottom of the admission letter box]
@Xia Dad: [Photo of the left side of the admission letter box]
@Xia Dad: [Photo of the right side of the admission letter box]
Xia Dad sent several photos in a row, capturing the front, back, left, and right of the admission letter box. On the red box was printed the iconic school gate and Mingde Building, with a golden phoenix soaring across it—proud and beautiful.
In the family group, all the relatives sent their congratulations, wishing Xia Yiyang well on getting into Rongda.
Seeing the admission letter in the photos—the symbol of twelve years of hard study—Xia Yiyang was so excited he couldn’t help but jump up and down, clutching his phone.
@Yiyi: Dad, Mom, open it up and take a look! What’s the point of just taking pictures of the box?
@Xia Mom: This is your admission letter, so of course you have to open it yourself.
@Xia Mom: Yiyi, send me your current address. I’ll mail it to you.
Xia Yiyang was about to leave the ice jelly shop’s address when he suddenly froze—wait, he’d never told his parents he was working at an ice jelly shop!
He’d been carefully maintaining the illusion that he was having a great time eating, drinking, and playing in Rongcheng (…well, it wasn’t entirely an illusion). If they found out he was living in an ice jelly shop, they’d definitely start grilling him, and then his secret about being scammed by telecom fraud would be exposed!
Sigh, one lie always leads to more lies.
The young master paced around anxiously, worrying about how to handle this, when his savior suddenly appeared.
@Cousin: Auntie, don’t mail something this important.
@Cousin: I happen to be going to Rongcheng on a business trip next week. I’ll bring it to Yiyi myself.
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