After finishing taking photos, He Xiaoyuan turned around and saw Lu Chen leaning against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, watching him from across most of the living room.
When their eyes met, Lu Chen tilted his head slightly, relaxed and unhurried, as if he’d been waiting there all along.
He Xiaoyuan smiled shyly, feeling a bit embarrassed by how easily impressed he’d been.
He put his phone away and walked over to Lu Chen.
When he got closer, Lu Chen asked, “All done?”
“Yeah.” All done.
He Xiaoyuan nodded.
Lu Chen was still leaning against the doorframe, chatting casually. “I never noticed there was much of a view from those windows before.”
He Xiaoyuan: Huh?
Lu Chen’s lips curved slightly as he looked at him. “Is it nice?”
He Xiaoyuan nodded. “Yeah, it’s really nice.”
He couldn’t understand why Lu Chen would say he hadn’t noticed the view before. Had Brother Lu really never stood by the window to look outside?
He explained, “You can see all the buildings in front.”
Then he turned and gestured toward a direction outside the window. “You can even see the river over there, and the bridge across it really clearly.”
“Never paid attention,” Lu Chen said.
Huh?
He Xiaoyuan was surprised. “You’ve never looked before, Brother Lu?”
Lu Chen straightened up and explained, “After I moved in, I never really paid attention. I don’t spend much time in this place—most days I just come back to sleep.”
That made He Xiaoyuan even more surprised.
Even living in a dorm, he would step out onto the balcony to look at the view. With windows this huge, full floor-to-ceiling glass, Brother Lu was saying he’d never noticed—and that he only came back to sleep?
Was it because he was insanely busy with work?
He Xiaoyuan followed Lu Chen into the kitchen and said, “Brother Lu, are you just too busy?”
Lu Chen walked over to the counter and replied, “It’s just me in this place. If I deliberately stood there watching the lights of ten thousand homes outside, wouldn’t that only make me look even more alone?”
So that was it?
He Xiaoyuan kept chatting. “You live alone? Not with your family?”
As he spoke, he looked toward the counter where the ingredients were laid out, getting ready to help prep things for lunch.
“Yeah,” Lu Chen said. “Just me.”
…
They made lunch together.
He Xiaoyuan could cook, and so could Lu Chen. The two of them worked well as a team, turning out six or seven dishes in one go. As they cooked, they chatted casually and learned a bit about why each of them knew how to cook in the first place—
He Xiaoyuan didn’t have a father, and his mother had passed away early. Before graduating from college, he had lived with his aunt’s family, more or less as a guest in someone else’s home. Naturally, he learned whatever he needed to.
As for Lu Chen, during college he’d fallen out with his family for certain reasons and had stubbornly refused to use any of their money. He had to support himself, and cooking was cheaper than eating out, so he learned.
When Lu Chen talked about himself and that period of his past, his tone was especially light, almost casual. He Xiaoyuan asked why he hadn’t just eaten at the cafeteria.
Lu Chen said, “Chinese stomach. Couldn’t get used to it. Too awful.”
That made He Xiaoyuan laugh.
At that moment, Lu Chen deftly poured a small pot of hot oil over the king crab arranged in the center of a plate. With a sharp sizzle, the scent of crab and seasonings burst into the air, rich and mouthwatering.
Lu Chen set the pot back on the stove and turned off the heat. He Xiaoyuan, perfectly in sync, picked up the plate, finding it pleasing just to look at, and happily carried it out to the dining table. As Lu Chen lifted his eyes, he caught a glimpse of He Xiaoyuan’s back and smiled to himself.
When the dishes were done, Lu Chen walked out of the kitchen at an unhurried pace, just in time to see He Xiaoyuan holding up his phone, taking pictures of the spread on the table.
Lu Chen leaned against the kitchen doorframe again, silent and unhurried, neither interrupting nor urging him on. He simply waited and watched—watched the young man change positions and angles again and again, the shutter clicking nonstop, clearly having a great time.
As he watched, Lu Chen realized something: He Xiaoyuan had endured plenty of hardship growing up, yet he was still full of hope and love for life.
Lu Chen’s gaze deepened. Meanwhile, He Xiaoyuan stood by the table scrolling through the photos, picking a few to post to his Moments.
Lu Chen straightened from the doorframe. “Let’s eat.”
He Xiaoyuan looked up, relaxed and cheerful. “Coming.”
Then he added, “I’ll get the rice.”
While they were eating, because he’d just posted on Moments, He Xiaoyuan’s phone kept buzzing. He checked it a few times.
At one point, he couldn’t help laughing and held his phone up for Lu Chen to see.
It was a message from Qin Chengfei. After seeing the lavish lunch photos He Xiaoyuan had posted, Qin had quietly sent a photo of his own meal—a single bowl of instant noodles, braised beef flavor.
Seeing it, Lu Chen curved his lips slightly and glanced at the name. “Qin Chengfei—I remember him. Same batch of management trainees as you. After rotations, he went straight into the project team.”
Then he added, “His situation’s a bit different from yours. He’s more like management reserve talent the company specifically recruited.”
He Xiaoyuan nodded and started talking about Qin Chengfei. “He’s really impressive. I looked at his résumé—it feels like even though we both went to college, we were in completely different worlds.”
Lu Chen smiled. “Don’t say that in front of him. He’d feel pretty depressed hearing it.”
He Xiaoyuan looked up mid-bite. “Huh?”
Lu Chen said, “Different worlds of college, yet you ended up in the same company, the same trainee program, and before long you’ll even be in the same department.”
The implication was obvious: different starting points, but temporarily similar outcomes—who wouldn’t feel a bit bitter?
He Xiaoyuan nearly choked and hurried to defend Qin Chengfei. “It’s still different. It’s like both getting a score of 100—some people can score 100, others only get 100 because the test is out of 100.”
Lu Chen asked, “Which kind are you?”
He Xiaoyuan dodged the question and shot one back instead. “Which kind are you, Brother Lu?”
“My academic path wasn’t quite the same as yours,” Lu Chen said.
He Xiaoyuan: ?
Lu Chen added, “International schools don’t use a 100-point grading system.”
“Oh, right.”
He Xiaoyuan rephrased it. “Then would you say you could get a perfect score—or that the exam itself only goes up to full marks?”
Lu Chen lifted his eyes, calm and unruffled. “Whichever one is better—that’s the one.”
He Xiaoyuan: Wow!
Lu Chen, steady as ever, said, “Your turn.”
He Xiaoyuan shrugged. “I can’t get a hundred. I’m the type who works hard and can still only get a ninety—not bad, but not great. Just average.”
Lu Chen smiled faintly. “Don’t let Qin Chengfei hear that either.”
He Xiaoyuan: ?
Lu Chen said slowly, “In the rotation evaluations, this ‘average student’ of yours actually ranked first.”
Pfft…
He Xiaoyuan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Brother Lu, going by what you’re saying, Qin Chengfei really can’t work in the same department as me.”
He’d be getting mad at himself nonstop.
Lu Chen said half-seriously, half-jokingly, “Want me to transfer him out for you?”
That only made He Xiaoyuan laugh harder. He could tell Lu Chen was teasing him and hurriedly said, “Brother Lu, stop messing with me.”
Lu Chen smiled and used the serving chopsticks to put a crab leg into He Xiaoyuan’s bowl.
After the meal, the two of them cleaned up together—the table, the dishes, the kitchen.
While Lu Chen stood at the sink tidying up, He Xiaoyuan carried bowls and leftover plates back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room.
He Xiaoyuan happened to spot a dark green apron. He picked it up and shook it open, muttering that there actually was an apron here, then walked over to Lu Chen. “Brother Lu, turn around.”
Lu Chen’s hands were wet. Hearing that, he turned, arms lifted slightly. He Xiaoyuan brought the apron up to his waist, holding it in both hands. He bent down, lowered his head, slipped under Lu Chen’s raised arm, and moved behind him. Stretching his arms out, he half-wrapped them around Lu Chen’s waist, gathered the two ties of the apron, pulled them snug, and tied a knot.
Lu Chen didn’t show anything on his face, but when He Xiaoyuan ducked under his arm, he felt as if a kitten or puppy had nudged into his chest. Then he glanced down at the dark green apron around his waist and felt the tug of the strings tightening as the boy behind him tied the knot. He pressed his lips together and smiled quietly.
As for He Xiaoyuan, after finishing the knot, he muttered, “All set. This way your clothes won’t get dirty or wet.”
Lu Chen couldn’t help feeling like this resembled something. After a moment, he laughed to himself—it was like a married couple. Like a considerate wife looking after her husband.
Then another thought followed: I can’t keep thinking like this. If I do, I won’t be able to stop myself from crossing the line.
In the afternoon, they turned on the projector and played console games for a while.
This generation of controller games that could be projected onto a TV was something He Xiaoyuan had never played before, and the experience was very different from the PC games Yuan Miao and the others had shown him.
He found it both novel and engaging, and once he started, he couldn’t stop.
He also discovered that Lu Chen was even better at it than Yuan Miao and the others—and genuinely good.
He Xiaoyuan sat at the edge of the sofa, furiously mashing buttons while multitasking his chatter with Lu Chen. “Brother Lu, you’re this good—do you play a lot?”
The moment the question left his mouth, he realized it was kind of pointless. Lu Chen was so busy with work—how could he play often?
And when they’d just taken the console out, the box hadn’t even been opened yet.
Lu Chen, meanwhile, pressed the controller buttons quickly and steadily, his reply very much in his own style. “I’m not good because I play a lot. I’m good because I’m talented.”
He Xiaoyuan felt like he’d just been flexed on again. Still mashing buttons, he asked, “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
Lu Chen sat with his legs apart, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on his thighs, eyes on the game projected on the screen. “There is.”
He Xiaoyuan glanced over. “What?”
Lu Chen replied calmly, “Being single to this day.”
That made He Xiaoyuan laugh.
Picking up the topic, He Xiaoyuan said, “Brother Lu, you still haven’t sorted out your personal life—isn’t that just because you’re too busy with work and don’t have time?”
“It has nothing to do with work,” Lu Chen said.
He Xiaoyuan suddenly thought of something. “High standards?”
“Yeah.”
He Xiaoyuan laughed and kept hammering the buttons. “How high?”
Lu Chen didn’t answer.
He Xiaoyuan turned his head and looked over curiously.
Only then did Lu Chen speak, unhurried. “They have to be good-looking, with presence. Smart, capable, and with a good personality.”
He Xiaoyuan laughed at that and glanced at Lu Chen again.
This time, Lu Chen also turned to look at him.
He Xiaoyuan: ?
Lu Chen said nothing and looked away again.
After thinking it over, He Xiaoyuan said, “That doesn’t really sound like a question of high or low standards.”
Lu Chen: “Oh?”
“I think it’s more that it’s too vague,” He Xiaoyuan said. “Not specific enough.”
He gave an example. “Like, ‘good-looking’—how good-looking counts as good-looking?”
“And ‘smart’—how smart is smart?”
Lu Chen didn’t respond right away. A few seconds later, he said slowly, “Someone like you—that’s good-looking and smart.”
That made He Xiaoyuan laugh again.
He turned his head back and said in an easy, familiar tone, “Then I’ll take that as you complimenting me, Brother Lu.”
Lu Chen glanced at him. “You don’t think you’re good-looking and smart?”
He Xiaoyuan kept playing and answered honestly, “My looks are okay. But smart? Probably not.”
Then he added, “If someone like me counts as both good-looking and smart to you, then your standards really aren’t that high.”
At that moment, the game reached its final critical stage. He Xiaoyuan pulled his scattered attention back, stopped talking, and focused entirely on the controller.
Press, press, press, press—
Finally, they cleared the level.
“Yes!”
He Xiaoyuan was delighted. The last trace of restraint he’d felt in Lu Chen’s place disappeared. He raised his arms high, controller in hand, in excitement.
Lu Chen looked over. He Xiaoyuan realized he’d gotten carried away and quickly lowered his arms, then looked back at Lu Chen with a hint of shyness.
But Lu Chen said, “Good personality, too. Like yours.”
He Xiaoyuan realized they were still talking about the earlier topic.
He reacted quickly. “My personality’s pretty average too. So your standards really aren’t high at all, Brother Lu.”
Lu Chen looked straight into his eyes. The smile at the corner of his lips held an imperceptible depth. “Is that so?”
He Xiaoyuan started scrolling through games with his controller. “Yeah.”
Lu Chen turned his gaze back to the screen and said quietly, “Then do you think someone with all those qualities would actually be interested in me?”
Without a second’s hesitation, He Xiaoyuan replied, “Of course.”
Eyes fixed on the game, he added matter-of-factly, “Your own conditions are amazing, Brother Lu.”
The subtle depth at Lu Chen’s lips shifted into his eyes, his smile growing even more restrained.
That evening, they reheated the leftovers from lunch. After dinner, Lu Chen asked about He Xiaoyuan’s preferences and got ready to pick a movie.
He Xiaoyuan glanced out at the floor-to-ceiling windows, where night had fully fallen. “I’m fine with anything.”
Lu Chen chose Gone with the Wind, an older film.
When they watched it, all the lights were turned off. Only a few floor lamps around the sofa remained lit. The rest of the illumination came from the projected screen and the neon glow of the city filtering in through the windows.
The sofa was wide. He Xiaoyuan hugged a soft pillow, leaning back against the cushions, practically sinking into it as if he were lying on a bed.
Lu Chen watched from the other end of the sofa. After a while, he stood up and went upstairs. When he came back down, he’d changed into a short-sleeved lounge shirt and gray cotton-linen pants, slippers on his feet, descending the stairs step by step.
When he reached the sofa, Lu Chen had meant to ask what kind of fruit He Xiaoyuan wanted and go get some. But as he drew closer, he realized that in just the time it took him to go upstairs and change clothes, the young man had already fallen asleep—hugging a soft pillow, leaning against the back of the sofa, head tilted, breathing quietly.
Lu Chen chuckled softly, sat down beside him, and picked up the remote to pause the movie.
With the sound gone, the room fell completely silent. Only the faint hum of the fresh-air system and central air conditioning could be heard.
In the stillness, Lu Chen sat at the edge of the sofa, took a sip of water, then set the glass down and checked his phone. Eight o’clock.
Only eight. Lu Chen turned to look at He Xiaoyuan and thought it was still early—he could let him sleep a bit longer.
He understood the drowsiness well. It wasn’t just from getting up early and staying busy all day today. During the rotation period before, the kid had pushed himself so hard he was practically staying up late every night and working overtime week after week. Only this week had things eased up a little, and he’d finally gotten some real rest.
Go ahead and sleep.
Lu Chen didn’t mind at all. He checked the time, fully intending to let He Xiaoyuan rest at his place for a while.
If he couldn’t wake up later, that was fine too. He could just stay the night.
With that thought, Lu Chen set his phone on the coffee table, turned his body toward the young man, leaned against the sofa, bent one arm, and lightly rested it along the backrest.
In the dim light, the boy’s face looked slightly blurred, yet under Lu Chen’s close gaze it was unmistakably clear—closed eyes and brows calm and handsome, a straight nose, full lips, skin especially smooth. Bathed in the overlapping glow of floor lamps, neon lights from outside, and the paused screen, his face seemed softly illuminated, like the moon itself, quietly captivating.
No matter how he looked at him, he was beautiful. No matter how he looked, he couldn’t look away.
Lu Chen stared as if he wanted to carve the image of the beautiful young man into his heart, his gaze unblinking, carefully tracing every detail.
As time passed, he remained completely still, as though he could keep watching until the end of time.
He wasn’t thinking of anything in particular—just looking, purely and fully absorbed, like admiring a masterpiece.
The only time he got up was to go upstairs and fetch a blanket, which he gently draped over the sleeping boy.
After a long while, Lu Chen rested his head back against the sofa, still facing the person beside him, and slowly closed his eyes as well.
…
It was close to eleven when He Xiaoyuan suddenly woke up.
He jolted with the realization—how had he fallen asleep?! This wasn’t his dorm; this was Brother Lu’s place.
Had he been asleep a long time?
What time was it?!
He focused and saw that the movie on the screen had long been paused. The room was dark, almost pitch-black. Turning his head, he found Lu Chen right beside him, close enough to touch—lying on his side, arm draped over the backrest, head resting against his arm, fast asleep.
He Xiaoyuan cleared his head and realized he must have slept for quite a while. There was also a blanket over him.
Afraid of waking Lu Chen, he carefully shifted, slipped off the sofa, stood up, and took the blanket—still warm from his body—and gently placed it over Lu Chen instead. Then he turned, picked up his phone from the coffee table, and checked the time. It was already almost eleven.
After a moment’s thought, he decided it was probably time to leave. He glanced again at Lu Chen, wondering whether he should wake him up to say goodbye.
Then he reconsidered. Better not. Let Brother Lu keep sleeping. He’d just go downstairs himself and send a message later saying he’d gone back to the dorm.
With that decided, He Xiaoyuan took another look at Lu Chen, then moved lightly away from the sofa, silent as a shadow, heading toward the elevator.
He deliberately didn’t turn on the lights, using his phone’s flashlight instead. When he reached the elevator and was about to press the button, he suddenly realized that this walk-in elevator in the luxury apartment… had no buttons.
?
He shone the light around the elevator frame, searching. Nothing. He searched again—still nothing. Again and again, and still nothing.
???
Was it touch-screen?
Holding up his phone, He Xiaoyuan stood by the metal frame of the elevator like someone searching for a needle in a haystack—feeling around while looking, looking while feeling. No matter how he searched, there was nothing. There was simply no way to go downstairs.
He Xiaoyuan: “……”
Confirming that he truly couldn’t find any button and had no way down, He Xiaoyuan had no choice but to return to the sofa area.
He sat down, planning to wait until Brother Lu woke up, figuring it wouldn’t be long.
But after scrolling on his phone for less than two minutes, maybe because he’d just woken up—or maybe because the air conditioning was set too low—he started to feel cold. Not just a little cold, but the kind that seeped in, leaving his arms icy.
He rubbed his arms and realized he didn’t know how to adjust the temperature here either. Quietly, he stood up and sat back down beside Lu Chen, slowly leaning back again. Lifting one corner of the blanket, he pulled it over himself.
I’ll just wait for Brother Lu a bit longer.
He wrapped himself in the blanket as he thought that.