I like you?
After school, the library seminar room was so quiet that only the scratching sound of pens slicing across paper could be heard.
The moment Fang Chi pushed open the door, he paused almost imperceptibly—Xing Jiayan was already there. He sat in his usual spot by the window, a physics competition problem set spread out in front of him, pen in his right hand, while his left hand remained habitually resting on his right ribcage. The afternoon sun bathed him in its light, making his profile appear somewhat blurred.
Hearing the door open, Xing Jiayan looked up. Their eyes met briefly in the air before Fang Chi looked away first, silently walked to sit opposite him, and took out his book.
There were no greetings, no small talk, as if nothing had happened yesterday.
But some things are ultimately different.
Fang Chi could clearly feel his heartbeat becoming erratic, especially when Xing Jiayan occasionally glanced at him. He didn't even dare to meet that gaze for long, and could only force himself to focus all his attention on the problem at hand.
However, my thoughts were like a tangled ball of yarn.
“Here,” Xing Jiayan’s voice suddenly broke the silence. He pushed the problem set over and pointed his finger at a complicated problem about electromagnetic induction. “You used the infinitesimal method to calculate the induced electromotive force. The idea is correct, but the upper and lower limits of integration are set incorrectly.”
His tone was calm and normal, revealing no emotion, as if he were simply stating an objective fact.
Fang Chi looked down and immediately realized his mistake. A very basic error.
He pursed his lips, said nothing, and silently picked up his pen to make corrections.
Xing Jiayan looked at his tightly pursed lips and slightly reddened ear tips, a barely perceptible smile flashing in her eyes, but she quickly concealed it and buried herself back in her book.
The seminar room fell silent again, broken only by the turning of pages and the movement of pens. The sunlight moved slowly, lengthening their shadows, which quietly overlapped on the table covered with formulas.
After a while, Xing Jiayan seemed to have been sitting for too long. His body stiffened imperceptibly, his brows furrowed slightly, and he subconsciously adjusted his posture, trying to relieve the discomfort in his ribs.
Fang Chi stopped turning the pages. He kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the dense formulas, but it was as if he had eyes on the sides of his head as well.
A few seconds later, he stood up and walked naturally to the window, pushing it open more than halfway, even though it was only slightly ajar.
"It's a bit stuffy." He had his back to Xing Jiayan, his voice flat.
A cool breeze from the early summer evening swept in, rustling the pages of the book and bringing fresh air. The breeze brushed just right past where Xing Jiayan was standing, dispelling the faint stagnation in the air.
Xing Jiayan was slightly taken aback and looked up at Fang Chi's back as he stood by the window. The young man was slender and tall, and the setting sun outlined a golden halo around him.
He didn't speak, but the emotions in his eyes deepened. As he lowered his head to continue calculating, his tightly furrowed brows unconsciously relaxed.
The two continued to have little interaction for the rest of the time.
But when Xing Jiayan reached for the water glass on the corner of the table, Fang Chi would seemingly unintentionally push the glass a few centimeters closer to him.
When Xing Jiayan remained in one position for a long time due to focused thinking, Fang Chi would suddenly get up and go to the bookshelf to find an unimportant reference book. The breeze and noise caused by the movement would always break the prolonged stillness, allowing Xing Jiayan to move his stiff body.
As the sun sets and the indoor light dims, Fang Chi is always the first to stand up, silently walk to the wall, and turn on the overhead light.
Everything was done quietly and naturally, as if it were just a coincidence.
Xing Jiayan never brought it up. He went along with this silent thoughtfulness, saying "thank you" very softly when Fang Chi got up to turn on the light, and naturally picking up the glass of water and taking a sip when Fang Chi pushed it closer.
There was a strange tacit understanding between them; they could perceive each other's most subtle needs without words or even eye contact.
The silence was broken by a knock on the seminar room door: "Jiayan! Fang Chi! You're still here? The cafeteria is almost out of food!"
Fang Chi closed the book and began packing his things.
Xing Jiayan slowly stood up, his movements still showing the caution typical of an injured person.
The two walked out of the seminar room one after the other. He Chen squeezed in the middle, talking incessantly about the preparations for the basketball finals and complaining about the pressure brought by Xing Jiayan's absence.
Fang Chi listened in silence, his gaze occasionally sweeping over Xing Jiayan's slow steps.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Xing Jiayan paused, looking at the steps.
He Chen was still talking enthusiastically and didn't notice his hesitation.
Fang Chi stopped and said to He Chen, "You go first, I forgot my things in the seminar room."
He Chen, unsuspecting, waved his hand and said, "Okay, then hurry up!" He then ran downstairs.
Fang Chi stood there until He Chen's figure disappeared around the corner of the stairs before turning around and looking at Xing Jiayan.
Xing Jiayan was holding onto the railing with one hand, preparing to slowly walk down.
"Let's go this way," Fang Chi suddenly said, pointing to a rarely used ramp leading to the back door of the library. "It's closer."
Xing Jiayan looked in the direction he pointed, then at Fang Chi's expressionless face, and readily changed direction: "Okay."
The gentle slope was long, and the two walked side by side at a slow pace. The afterglow of the setting sun cast their shadows long on the mottled wall.
"Fang Chi," Xing Jiayan suddenly spoke.
"Um?"
"Thanks."
Fang Chi didn't stop walking, his eyes fixed ahead, his tone flat: "What are you thanking me for?"
Xing Jiayan turned to look at him, the setting sun casting a warm glow in his eyes: "Thank you for 'going by the way,' thank you for the milk, thank you for the coat, thank you..." He paused, his voice lowering slightly, "...your silence."
Fang Chi's heart skipped a beat. He felt his cheeks burning, but fortunately, the deepening dusk was enough to conceal it.
"I don't understand what you're saying." He quickened his pace and walked ahead.
Xing Jiayan watched his slightly hurried back and smiled softly, without chasing after him.
Some acts of protection need no explanation.
Some feelings are hidden in the wind, in the changing light and shadow, and in every seemingly unintentional action.
They all knew it but kept it to themselves.
Just like those two IDs that appreciate each other online, they are also quietly getting closer in real life in a clumsy but sincere way.
At night, Fang Chi sat at his desk, his computer screen displaying his chat with "Yan." His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating about how to start a conversation.
In the end, he only typed one line:
Chaos: Today's physics questions were a bit difficult.
Almost instantly after the message was successfully sent, the status bar displayed "The other party is typing...".
Yan: Oh?
He tried to organize his thoughts to describe that uncontrollable urge to pay attention to, to get closer to, to… protect another person. This was so unlike him. He had always been a loner, used to solving all problems on his own. But now, his gaze would uncontrollably follow another person, and he would become restless at the slightest expression on their face.
This feels awful.
His fingers flew across the keyboard, a hint of self-abandonment in his expression, as he tried to pour out his chaotic thoughts, thoughts he himself hadn't yet sorted out. He wanted to tell Yan that something seemed off about him; he seemed... a little too concerned about his deskmate, the one who was causing him headaches in real life.
What he wanted to say was: "Something seems off about me, I think..."
However, the confusion in his thoughts and the haste of his fingers led to a terrible mistake.
After typing "I think," the first suggested word from the input method, almost inexplicably, prompted him to press Enter. Then, due to his distraction, his finger slid across the touchpad.
Chaos: I like you
These four words appeared abruptly in the chat box, all alone and without any context, and were sent out directly due to an accidental touch before he could even react.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
Fang Chi's blood rushed to his head with a "boom," and his mind went blank. He stared intently at the message that had just been sent on the screen, his eyes wide open, as if he were watching a scene from a horror movie.
I like...you?
Conversation?
A netizen whose gender is unknown?
No! That's not what he meant! It was a typo! It's the input method's fault! It was a slip of the hand!
A wave of panic and shame engulfed him instantly. Almost reflexively, with his trembling fingers, he frantically typed on the keyboard, trying to salvage this disastrous misunderstanding.
Chaos: Typo!!!
Chaos: I am not gay!!!
Chaos: I mean, I feel like something's off about the physics problem!!!
Chaos: Input method!!! It's the input method's predictive text!!!
Chaos: Please don't misunderstand!!!
He rattled off a long, incoherent explanation, every word radiating the despair and panic of someone on the verge of social death. He could even feel his cheeks and ears burning, his heart pounding as if it would leap out of his throat.
It's over.
It's all over.
What would Yan think of him? A lunatic who confesses his feelings to strangers online? Or an idiot who doesn't even know his own sexuality?
How could he possibly have the face to discuss issues with Yan again? He lost, he may have completely lost, the only confidant with whom he could resonate intellectually.
And all of this stems from that damned Xing Jiayan who threw him into a panic!
On the other end of the network.
Xing Jiayan leaned against the headboard, the light from his laptop screen illuminating his slightly tired but still handsome face. He stared at the shocking message "I like you" on the screen, completely stunned.
In that instant, my heart felt as if it had been clenched tightly by something, then suddenly released, bringing a strong, almost weightless, throbbing sensation.
Do you like... him?
Chaos...Fang Chi?
However, before this excitement could develop into more complex emotions, Fang Chi's incoherent and vehemently denying messages began to appear on the screen one after another.
Looking at the string of "wrong number", "I'm not the same", and "input method suggestions", the spark that had just ignited in Xing Jiayan's eyes slowly died out, replaced by a complex emotion that mixed helplessness, amusement and a faint sense of loss.
That idiot.
Is he so flustered because he's afraid of being disliked by this "online friend"? Or... is he afraid of facing a possibility that even he himself dares not delve into?
Xing Jiayan's fingertips slid lightly across the touchpad, repeatedly looking at the messages. He could imagine how Fang Chi was blushing, how flustered he was, and how much he wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it on the other side of the screen.
He suddenly chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room, carrying a hint of self-mockery.
So, she awkwardly showed concern for him in real life, "accidentally" confessed her feelings to him online, and then frantically denied it.
Fang Chi, Fang Chi, just how slow-witted and how... adorable are you?
His long, slender fingers landed on the keyboard, but he didn't reply immediately. He was pondering how to respond to this beautiful "mistake."
Should we seize the opportunity to expose the deception, or continue to maintain the facade of this network?
Finally, he slowly typed out his reply, his tone perfectly balanced—a hint of helplessness after being teased by netizens, and a subtle, almost imperceptible, guidance.
Yan: (Pauses for a long enough time that Fang Chi almost suffocates) ...I see. The input method is to blame.
Yan: So, who is the "person" who annoys you so much that you have to mistype?
Fang Chi stared intently at Yan's reply. Seeing that the other party seemed to accept the explanation of "typo" and did not delve into it or show any disgust, he almost collapsed onto the back of the chair, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.
Survived a disaster.
He was panting heavily, feeling as if he had just walked on the edge of a cliff.
However, Yan's next question made him anxious again.
Who else could be the "person" who annoyed him to the point of mistyping?
He stared at the question, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, but he couldn't type a single word.
What could he say? Could he tell Yan that he seemed to be paying too much attention to his real-life rival and classmate, that he would become restless when the other was injured, and that he would subconsciously do things that even he himself couldn't understand?
This is absurd.
Moreover, after that blunder, he could no longer bear any words that might cause misunderstanding.
Chaos: ...a very troublesome person.
He ultimately gave an extremely vague answer, almost as if he were fleeing in panic:
Chaos: It's late, I'm going to sleep. Good evening.
Without waiting for Yan's reply, he quickly closed the chat window and even logged out of the forum.
The room fell completely silent, with only his heavy breathing and pounding heartbeat remaining.
He lay on the table, burying his burning cheeks in his icy arms, trying to cool the almost burning heat.
"I am not gay..."
He stressed this to himself again, as if this would convince the part of himself that had stirred up such a storm because of a mistakenly sent message.
But why, at the moment of denial, is there a faint, even unacknowledged, feeling of guilt deep in his heart?
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Xing Jiayan looked at Fang Chi's profile picture, which had almost instantly turned gray, and the hasty "Goodnight," and shook his head helplessly.
He picked up his phone from the bedside table. The screen lit up; the screen saver was a photo he'd secretly taken one afternoon in a seminar room, showing Fang Chi's profile as he napped on the table. Sunlight outlined the boy's soft hair and peaceful sleeping face.
His fingertips lightly brushed across the face on the screen, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
"Fool."
He murmured softly, this time with a clear tenderness and determination that even he himself did not fully understand.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com