Starlight

He had fed him the third spoonful when Cen Zeng finally took the soup spoon. "I'll do it myself."

The idle waiters, who had started stealing glances as soon as they sat down, now finally averted their gazes.

It wasn't until he was standing at the apartment door that Cen Zeng realized what he had agreed to.

There was no turning back. A choice made instinctively in the midst of pain was not one worth overthinking.

"Pardon the intrusion," he said.

"What are you saying..." Cheng Shuo said as he opened the door and turned on the light. "Come in, quickly."

He hadn't brought his melatonin. Cen Zeng thought for a moment, but it was too late. It wasn't a big deal to be unable to sleep for one night.

He looked at the living room. The light was warm, a gentle orange-yellow glow. There was a glass on the table.

"Did you change the lights?" Cen Zeng asked.

"Ah..." Cheng Shuo nodded, "The old ones were too bright, I didn't really like them."

Cen Zeng nodded and said they looked nice.

His face was still deathly pale. Standing under the hallway light, he exuded an almost biting coldness. Cheng Shuo couldn't look any longer.

He pulled the man into the soft light, only then letting out a slight sigh of relief, and said, "I'll go get you some clothes, wait here."

Cen Zeng sat down.

The living room was spacious. The balcony had large glass doors, and looking out, everything was pitch black.

He closed his eyes, still feeling unwell.

The few mouthfuls of congee he had eaten churned with some nameless emotion.

He couldn't throw it up, and it didn't hurt. It was just chaos.

"I found you a set of pajamas..." Cheng Shuo walked out. "They haven't been worn. I put them in the bathroom."

He thought for a moment more and said, "As for the bath towel, Zhang Yijie used one when he stayed over before, it should be clean. Toothbrush, there's one in that cabinet outside—"

He was about to continue when Cen Zeng grabbed him and pulled him onto the sofa.

He didn't hold back, and Cheng Shuo fell down unexpectedly, his upper body almost landing on the person opposite him.

Cen Zeng didn't dodge. He even adjusted his posture, so Cheng Shuo landed solidly on his lap.

Cen Zeng's hand cushioned his head. "Sorry," he said.

Was this really the time to be saying sorry?

They looked at each other in silence.

"Why did you suddenly pull me?" Looking at the man's handsome features, he found he had no anger left.

The person being looked at just curved his eyes and smiled, as if mocking his own vulnerability.

"You don't need to say any more," Cen Zeng replied. "I can take a shower and brush my teeth on my own, don't worry."

From this angle, Cheng Shuo's eyes looked extremely round, like a squirrel staring at a plump pinecone.

"So..." the squirrel spoke, "are we going to just keep sitting like this?"

"Or what?"

Or they should start kissing, and then consider the next step.

However, Cen Zeng just asked, "Or... is smoking allowed on the balcony in your complex?"

Cheng Shuo laughed out loud.

He wanted to say that he had never considered that after lying in someone's lap, there could be such an innocent development. Besides, when they had first truly met, there hadn't even been this kind of foreplay.

"You can," Cheng Shuo said. "There aren't many residents here, and the ventilation is decent. Just don't do it right in the draft."

Cen Zeng nodded, supported his back, and pulled him up. "Want to smoke together?"

"I haven't smoked in a long time," Cheng Shuo said. "I might choke."

Though he said that, he stood up as well. "I have a pack of Zhonghua at home, I swiped it from my dad."

Cen Zeng replied, "Let's smoke Nanjing."

He hadn't smoked this brand before. It was a new pack of cigarettes he'd bought at the store to meet the minimum spend for a discount on his melatonin.

Cen Zeng held the lighter and lit the cigarette for him, his movements practiced and nimble.

Cen Zeng lowered his head, cupping the lighter, and silently lit one for himself, taking a drag. The filter was very sweet, just as the store clerk—who worked the night shift with dark circles under his eyes, who coolly recommended them, and who claimed he only smoked Xuanhemen and would only love one person in his life—had said.

The night was deep, but the wind was still. Nicotine traveled into his lungs, and then he exhaled. He remembered the various cancerous and inflamed lungs from his course materials. When he looked up again, Cheng Shuo was opposite him, and amidst the curling smoke, he finally wore a hint of indifference that he rarely showed in front of him.

When this person didn't smile, his features were so sharp and intense they could almost cut someone.

After another drag, Cheng Shuo's expression softened again. "Why the sudden urge to smoke?"

"Too much has happened," Cen Zeng replied. "I'm not quite myself today, sorry."

"Stop apologizing to me, okay?" The warm red ember on the tip of the cigarette Cheng Shuo was holding flickered on and off, like the headlights of this sleepless city in the distance.

Cen Zeng nodded and said, "I'll try my best."

"Mm..." Cheng Shuo smiled. "If too much has happened, then just finish this cigarette and go to sleep."

Cen Zeng replied, "Okay."

In truth, it wasn't okay.

He tossed and turned four times in bed. The mattress was comfortable, the four-piece bedding set had the fresh scent of sunshine and detergent, and in between, he might have had four or five dreams. In one fragment, he returned to his third year of high school, writing in a gratitude journal.

A female doctor had taught him this trick. Before they parted, she gave him a notebook. She said writing things down would make him feel better. That was how she relieved stress when she was doing her PhD.

He didn't know what to write and stood there stunned.

The person opposite him asked, "Cen Zeng, has anything made you happy recently?"

He met the doctor's eyes and was silent for thirty seconds, unable to say a single word.

"Nothing at all?" the person opposite him asked, still gentle. "It can be anything. For example, the weather was nice today, the teacher didn't keep you after class, or P.E. wasn't taken over by another class?"

He came back to his senses under her gentle and worried gaze and said, "There is. Meeting you all was very nice."

"Besides us?" she continued to encourage him.

"My mom..." he said, "committed suicide during the second mock exam, not during the college entrance exam, and not after the third mock exam was over."

"Anything else?"

Dreams don't make sense, so he continued, "I met someone who is very good to me."

Then he realized it was all a dream and woke with a start in the unfamiliar, comfortable environment.

He opened his phone. 5:30 in the morning.

He had lost sleep. He no longer struggled, simply getting up and going to the balcony.

The sky was about to brighten. The sun and moon would soon shine together briefly. In the dimly lit expanse of the sky, there were a few stars that you could only see if you strained your eyes to find them.

He subconsciously reached for the cigarette pack, then turned back, taking his journal out of his backpack.

He hadn't written in a long time. The notebook the female doctor had given him, he had written in it halfway through, and after the college entrance exam, after seeing her one last time, he hadn't touched it again.

Later, when he started university, he bought a new notebook. He rarely wrote in it; carrying it was just a form of comfort.

Now, holding a blue-black pen he had picked up from somewhere yesterday, he thought for a moment and began to write.

October 13th, sunny.

My advisor is a mess, but the Senior Sister and Senior Brother around me are very strong. As strong as I imagined when I first enrolled.

Senior Brother Song said I have a lot of talent. I guess he meant it. Only if it were true would he have said it with such sadness.

I heard the first confession I didn't immediately reject. I'm still confused, but it doesn't feel bad.

I was forced to deal with some matters of being a substitute, but it's atypical, just a misunderstanding.

I'm having a bit of trouble eating, but if I force myself, my stomach doesn't protest. No need to worry too much.

Having written this far, he closed the notebook. The kraft paper cover had picked up a layer of ash from the railing. Cen Zeng looked down, and finally went back inside, found a disinfectant wipe, and cleaned off all the dust.

There were still a few hours left. He thought for a moment, then simply opened his laptop and started doing his homework.

When Cheng Shuo woke up yawning, he found Cen Zeng sitting not far away, with familiar toast and eggs laid out on the table.

The man lifted his head and said, "You're awake?"

[Author's Note]

These two are a really slow burn when it comes to their feelings...

Also, could everyone give me some sea stars? Thank you, thank you.