"Get lost."
-
"Dad, I'm in the car." Zhou Xingqi held the phone, looking at the light drizzle outside, waiting for a response from the other end.
"Are you on the plane?" A deep, middle-aged man's voice came from the other end, accompanied by the sparse sound of pages turning.
"Mmm," Zhou Xingqi responded subconsciously, closing his eyes as the airplane announcement began.
I think about what happened recently, and my mind is in turmoil.
Just as he was trying to calm himself down, the middle-aged man's voice rang out again: "Your brother doesn't know about your affairs, does he?"
Zhou Xingqi understood exactly what he meant. "Don't worry, I don't know."
"Okay, be careful on the road." The man's voice was somewhat languid.
"Dad," Zhou Xingqi lowered his voice, "how long are you planning to keep this from my brother?"
This question seemed to freeze time. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, then the voice became more serious, unlike a normal father's attitude towards his son: "Just do your job well, you don't need to know."
The phone's standby tone felt like a cold rope snapping Zhou Xingqi's throat, making it difficult for him to breathe.
He pulled his baseball cap down, covering his bright but lifeless starry eyes.
The black screen of his phone reflected the perfect lower half of his face. He examined himself, but then thought of someone else.
They really look alike. With the upper half of his face covered, he really does look like Shen Moyu.
It's ridiculous enough that he fell in love with his own brother, but what's even more ridiculous is that he had ulterior motives in getting close to this brother. He could see his own brother right in front of him, but he couldn't acknowledge him.
Zhou Xingqi, what is the point of your birth?
He would never forget the time when his mother died of illness, when he cried his heart out at her funeral, while his father, Shen Donghai, stood there as usual, as if attending the funeral of a stranger.
He was young then and wanted to ask his father why he wasn't crying, but the answer was obvious.
He didn't love his mother, and even his own birth was just one step in Shen Donghai's acquisition of the Zhou family's business.
Shen Moyu's appearance was like a spark in his cold life; those seemingly ordinary greetings and gentle cares were his comfort.
What was his reason for falling in love with his brother?
Perhaps it's because Shen Moyu is good-looking, and he's the first person in the world to show concern and care for him.
"What are you thinking about?" Jerhe put down his game console and leaned closer. His voice was gentle, and he asked seriously.
"Jiehe." Zhou Xingqi looked up, and Jiehe's face was vaguely visible under the baseball cap. "Am I superfluous?"
Was my birth a mistake?
Without even thinking, Jeremiah shouted angrily, "What kind of fart is that?"
Most of the passengers in the cabin looked over. Zhou Xingqi rolled his eyes and immediately pulled his baseball cap down lower.
He's too talkative.
“I’m telling you!” Jeremiah leaned over and put his arm around his shoulder: “No emo! No emo!”
"Get lost." Zhou Xingqi seemed genuinely annoyed; this time his tone was harsh. He wasn't joking.
As he wished, Jeremiah never said another word.
Jiehe knew everything about Zhou Xingqi. And every time he came back with him, it wasn't because he wanted to come back to play, as Jiehe claimed, but because he was worried about Zhou Xingqi, who was only sixteen years old.
He didn't say it, but Jiehe understood his feelings for Shen Moyu. He never speculated too much or brought up the topic too often.
But he always knew in his heart that Zhou Xingqi was living a very stifled life, whether with his brother or his father.
Zhou Xingqi lowered his head, seemingly realizing that Jiehe was really not moving, and then realized that he might have been a bit emotional and hurt him.
He looked up, his eyes reddening slightly: "I didn't just now..."
Before he could finish speaking, Jeremiah shoved the Bluetooth earphone into his ear and gave him a hearty smile.
That was Stephen Chow's favorite song.
Looking at Jeh’s face, he suddenly felt a lump in his throat, and before he could hide it, tears streamed down his face.
But Jeh was so engrossed in his own little world that he didn't see anything.
He smiled, feeling both helpless and relieved. Perhaps, apart from his brother, only this person who cursed him in eight languages every day could treat him so well.
He gently rested his head on Jiehe's shoulder, watching the tears from his left eye soak Jiehe's shirt, as if he wanted to vent all his troubles and grievances along with the tears.
Jiehe tilted his head slightly, his hair brushing against Zhou Xingqi's face gently, with a hypnotic effect.
"Go to sleep," Jeremiah simply said. "I know you're tired."
I know you're tired.
Author's Note:
Alright, starting today, I'll update every two days. Don't worry about me.
Chapter 83 Youth Like the Wind
Shanghai's winters are damp and cold, unlike those in the north. They are often accompanied by rain, and the temperature difference between day and night is significant. In the morning, even wearing a cotton-padded coat feels cold, while at noon you need to wear a shirt. The wind is always biting and carries a damp feel.
When Su Jinning arrived at school, almost all the students had arrived. It was Monday, and Shen Moyu was on duty, so he habitually brought an extra breakfast.
"Eat it while it's hot." Su Jinning placed the soy milk and red bean paste pastry on Shen Moyu's left.
Shen Moyu was completely absorbed in her physics workbook, her brain working out problems while her right hand wrote them down. With her left hand, she grabbed a red bean paste pie and popped it into her mouth, even managing to say "Thanks" to Su Jinning.