Meng Fanxing stopped talking halfway through her sentence.
In the past, when Song Lang was around during tutoring sessions, the two of them would joke around together, and Shen Zhifei would just let them interrupt.
With the straight man absent, and only facing Shen Zhifei's expressionless face, it was impossible to continue the stand-up comedy.
He could only swallow his words, laugh awkwardly, take out his notebook and straighten his attitude, saying, "No need for a buffer, I'm just a heartless learning machine, so feel free to whip me with learning."
"If you used your witty banter on your essay, you could get an extra 30 points."
Meng Fanxing felt that the sun must have risen in the west today, since Shen Zhifei actually dared to tease him.
Shen Zhifei stopped wasting time talking to him and started reviewing the key math topics for the next semester. Meng Fanxing was quite serious at first and could even apply what he learned to other situations occasionally, but after the first twenty minutes, he couldn't keep up.
He nodded his head like a chicken pecking at rice, only to be woken up by Shen Zhifei tapping the table. He then began to rest his chin on his hand, reminiscing about his youthful days and dreaming of a bright future with his goddess.
"I'll rest for ten minutes first, then I'll go to the restroom."
Shen Zhifei got up and walked out, bumping into Song Lang who was coming in amidst Meng Fanxing's cheers.
Song Lang patted his waist briefly, then quickly withdrew his hand, his gaze sweeping helplessly over the face that had kept him awake all night, hesitant to speak.
The two blocked the doorway, one wanting to go in and the other wanting to go out. As they passed each other side by side, Song Lang's fingers brushed against Shen Zhifei's clothes, his fingertips feeling both tingly and numb.
"Hey? Dalang, what brings you here again? Weren't you sleeping?" Meng Fanxing was overjoyed to see her partner and waved to him enthusiastically.
"Oh," Song Lang said listlessly, his eyes dark with brows, "I'll come find you as soon as I wake up."
He didn't bring his schoolbag today. He walked into the house and threw himself onto the bed, his eyelids starting to droop.
Meng Fanxing came over and kicked him, "What's wrong with you? You just came in and you're already asleep? You're such a pig."
"You're so annoying, can you shut up and let me sleep a little longer?" Song Lang pulled over a pillow and buried his face in it.
He had planned to catch up on his sleep while Shen Zhifei was away, but the quietness of the house made him uneasy, and the image of the gentle-looking boy under the sunset from yesterday kept flashing through his mind.
So he began to struggle with whether he was gay or not, and whether his feelings for Shen Zhifei had crossed the line.
Whatever the answer may be, Song Lang is certain of one thing: at this sensitive moment, he should stay as far away from Shen Zhifei as possible and nip any inappropriate thoughts in the bud.
But he still appeared at Meng Fanxing's house as if he were bewitched.
He tried every means to find a lame excuse for himself: he should interact with Shen Zhifei as usual, and if he ran away, it would mean that he had something to hide.
Just staying by his side for a quick look should... should be fine, right?
Lost in thought, Shen Zhifei returned. Upon hearing footsteps, Song Lang immediately closed his eyes even tighter, inwardly cursing himself for being a coward.
"He's sleepy; his eyes are a bit dark."
Meng Fanxing pointed to the person on the bed and whispered.
Shen Zhifei nodded, walked over and pulled a corner of the blanket over him. He saw that the person buried in the pillow had trembling eyelashes and perked-up ears. He smiled faintly and did not expose him.
With slender fingers, he gently brushed aside a stray strand of hair that was falling near the corner of the man's eye, then got up and left.
Even though there was no contact, the person pretending to be asleep felt their eyes burning, as if their eyelashes were about to catch fire.
Shen Zhifei sat back down at his desk and said softly, "Let's continue."
"Huh?" Meng Fanxing, who had hoped to escape this predicament, was struck dumb, her face filled with bitterness and resentment. "Dalang is already asleep, let's not disturb him, shall we?"
Shen Zhifei put down his pen, a half-smile on his face: "Okay, you can go to sleep too."
Feeling uneasy, Meng Fanxing forced herself to cheer up and gritted her teeth as if facing certain death, saying, "No, I want to study. Studying makes me happy."
Song Lang, curled up in a mocking smile while huddled under the covers, crossed his arms to find a more comfortable position, and then drifted off to sleep to Shen Zhifei's deep and pleasant hypnotic explanation.
When he woke up, it was almost noon. Shen Zhifei was sitting on the edge of the bed reading a book, while Meng Fanxing was biting her pen and deep in thought.
Song Lang was nestled in bed when his nose itched, and he sneezed loudly, startling Meng Fanxing so much that she almost got poked through by the pen in her mouth.
"Damn it—can you at least say hello? I'm about to solve this problem!"
Song Lang rubbed his nose, about to retort, when a cool hand covered his forehead.
He froze instantly.
Shen Zhifei looked down at him, turned her palm over and placed the back of her hand on his forehead again. After touching him for a while, she withdrew her hand and said, "Get up, you'll get sick if you sleep in the cold."
"Oh, okay." Song Lang got up, folded the blanket and put it back in its place. He awkwardly touched his forehead and asked, "When are we eating? I'm a little hungry."
Meng Fanxing raised her hand: "I'll order takeout, let's have maocai (a type of Sichuan hot pot). I really wanted to eat it yesterday, but Hao Wei doesn't like that stuff."
Song Lang was too lazy to think, so he asked Meng Fanxing to order him the exact same dish while he leaned against the headboard and played games.
“I’ll order separately, don’t worry about me,” Shen Zhifei said.
The two takeout orders arrived within five minutes of each other. The three of them sat in the living room watching the game and eating. Because Meng Fanxing loves spicy food, the moment the food was unpacked, Song Lang, who had come over to smell it, coughed from the spiciness.
Shen Zhifei pushed his large portion of light Yangzhou fried rice in front of Song Lang and handed him a tissue, saying, "You can have this."
"No, no need." Song Lang tried to push him back, but his hand was held down.
"You dislike me?" Shen Zhifei asked him with a smile, pressing his hand harder.
That burning, fiery feeling surged up again, and Song Lang felt as if his entire arm was on fire, burning all the way to his head, and his ears were about to bleed.
He stared at their clasped hands and said in a low voice, "I don't mind, I... I could never mind."