After hanging up, Shang Jue bought a pack of cigarettes from a shop beneath the hospital. He wandered outside for half an hour, ensuring he smelled like smoke before returning to the ward.
Besides Ge Zhicheng and Lin Xuying, Lu Yunsheng was also back in the room. The small space felt cramped, and Shang Jue felt somewhat out of place. Everyone else was a close friend or relative of Lu Yuxing, and he, as the perpetrator, felt awkward standing there.
Lu Yuxing lowered his eyelashes, knowing that a tall figure stood across from him, but he controlled himself not to look over.
Shang Jue's phone chimed, and he glanced down to see a message that irritated him.
【Dad】: Come home for dinner tomorrow.
【Shang Jue】: I have something on Saturday.
【Dad】: Let’s change it to the day after.
“Tsk.” His annoyed sound drew the attention of everyone in the room, including Lu Yuxing.
Lu Yunsheng asked, “Is it something at school?”
Shang Jue forced a smile, “No, it's a family matter.”
“Just handle your things, no need to worry about here. I can keep him company. The doctor mentioned that if the tests go well, he should be able to leave the hospital soon.”
“...Okay.”
So Shang Jue returned to the Shang family on Sunday. Having just broken up—or more accurately, never really having been together—he felt down in the dumps. Returning home to see a few hypocritical faces only amplified his irritation.
He deliberately took his time on the way, arriving just in time for dinner, but still couldn’t escape the obligatory small talk.
Min Hong, appearing concerned, asked a few questions about Shang Jue's recent school situation, to which he responded with a bright smile, “Everything is great.”
He patiently sat through dinner. At the table, Shang Xinrong commented, “You should come home more often. It seems you only care when I call you.”
Shang Jue replied with a smile, “I’m too busy with school.”
Usually indifferent, Shang Yu chimed in this time, “Exactly, he’s at a good school. If he doesn’t put in the effort, he won’t even be able to get into a graduate program. He only comes home once a month, which is often enough. My dorm mate goes home once a semester, and his parents don’t say anything.”
What a joke. If Shang Jue came back once a month, it would make Shang Yu and Min Hong restless. Just the thought of coming back every few days was too much to bear.
Shang Xinrong shot him a disdainful look, “You think A University is the same as your school? It has nearly a fifty percent graduate school admission rate. No matter what, your brother won’t end up without a school to go to.”
Shang Yu had nothing to say and chose to remain silent.
“By the way,” Shang Xinrong set down his chopsticks and looked at Shang Jue, “Your Uncle Pei’s daughter is having a birthday party next week. You should come back and let your mom take you.”
Shang Jue asked casually, “When?”
“Friday night.”
Shang Jue poked at his bowl of rice, pretending to think for a couple of seconds and then said, “I have class that night. I can’t go.”
Shang Xinrong laughed derisively, “What’s the big deal about skipping a class?”
Shang Jue replied, “It’s someone else’s birthday party. How could it be more important than my class? I’m not going.”
“Make some friends; it’ll help you in the future. Plus, your Uncle Pei has always appreciated you. His daughter is around your age... This is a chance to get to know each other.”
Min Hong’s expression darkened.
Making friends just because her son wasn’t interested in girls? This type of connection would never reach Shang Yu.
As if to avoid being too obvious, Shang Xinrong added, “It’s just getting to know each other. It’s good for young people to expand their social circle.”
Shang Jue responded with just two words: “I’m not going.”
Shang Xinrong’s previously pleasant demeanor quickly darkened with that firm refusal.
In recent years, he had rarely been opposed, whether in the company or at home. Even when someone disagreed, they would usually be careful with their wording. At his age and position, it had been a long time since he experienced someone refusing him so decisively.
“Shang Jue,” he said in a low voice.
Min Hong sensed the situation was escalating and quickly interjected, “Hey, we’re eating. Don’t get angry. Kids these days don’t like social events. If Shang Jue doesn’t want to go, let Shang Yu go instead...”
Shang Xinrong suddenly slammed his chopsticks down, “He goes?! What good would that do?!”
Shang Yu: “...”
Why the hell am I getting dragged into this again?
Shang Jue felt a headache coming on, swallowed a mouthful of tasteless rice, and said blandly, “I’m in a relationship.”
The dining room fell silent immediately, and Shang Jue felt an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
But he knew it wouldn’t take long for the noise to return, filled with questions about his partner’s school and family background, followed by careless judgments as if the Shang family were unworthy of being in such high regard.
So he added nonchalantly, “It’s a guy.”
The silence at the table stretched for a full minute.
Shang Jue chuckled, “I’m not going; my boyfriend will be jealous.”
“...”
Shang Yu nearly dropped his jaw, but with a half-eaten chicken wing in his mouth, he managed to close it, stunned by Shang Jue’s sudden revelation.
Min Hong’s expression wasn’t much better than her son’s.
In that brief minute, Shang Xinrong’s expression changed from shock to utter disbelief and then to furious rage.
“What did you say?!”
Shang Jue replied, “Which part?”
Shang Xinrong didn’t answer him, so he repeated, “I’m in a relationship, it’s a guy. I’m not going because my boyfriend will be jealous.”
Shang Yu gulped, scared to make a sound.
Meanwhile, Shang Xinrong’s face turned red with anger. He pointed at Shang Jue’s nose, “You’re coming upstairs with me!”
Calmly, Shang Jue stood up and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs.
Downstairs, Min Hong and Shang Yu stared at each other in shock for several minutes, while the distant sounds of arguing reached them from upstairs.
It wasn’t quite an argument; Shang Jue had not replied at all. Instead, Shang Xinrong was loudly questioning him, his voice loud enough to echo down to the dining room.
Even the maid in the kitchen peeked out, anxiously looking up the stairs.
Min Hong sat for a moment but decided to check upstairs. Shang Yu followed closely behind her.
Shang Xinrong took Shang Jue to the master bedroom, while Min Hong hesitated to enter, staying outside the door to listen.
Shang Xinrong’s voice was raised, piercing through the thick door: “You’re staying home tonight. If you dare to step out that door, I’ll break your legs!”
In contrast, Shang Jue’s voice was much calmer, indifferent: “This is my home. What’s wrong with me staying here? Do you really think that keeping me at home for a few days will make me start liking women?”
Shang Xinrong’s furious curses continued for a while, eventually turning into pain and despair: “Why is it that you too... I have two sons; why is there no one normal ?”
Min Hong heard a low chuckle; it was Shang Jue speaking: “Who knows… maybe this is karma?”
Outside the door, Min Hong’s heart sank. She understood that for someone as concerned about face as Shang Xinrong, these words were undoubtedly stepping on a landmine.
Inside the bedroom, there was a moment of silence, no one spoke.
Two seconds later, a sharp explosion-like sound "bang" shattered the quiet—
Inside the room, a porcelain vase from who-knows-what era crashed right beside Shang Jue’s ear, thrown with full force by Shang Xinrong.
The porcelain shattered against the wall, still retaining its force. Several broken pieces pierced through the air, grazing Shang Jue’s forehead and the skin above his right eyelid, leaving two shallow cuts.
He closed his eyes briefly; when he opened them again, he saw red in his right eye.
The two at the door heard the noise and dared not stand by any longer. They pushed open the door and walked in, seeing the chaos in the bedroom.
Min Hong trembled as she approached to mediate.
When Shang Xinrong saw the blood seeping from Shang Jue’s forehead, his fury dissipated significantly, replaced by shock.
Shang Jue lowered his head and kicked away a large shard of porcelain blocking his feet, realizing this little drama was over. He stepped through the debris and returned to his room.
He simply wiped away the blood, checked himself in the mirror to ensure no fragments were left in the wound, then pressed a tissue against it to stop the bleeding.
After a while, someone knocked on the door.
He covered his eyes and opened the door.
At the door, Shang Yu held a medicine box, carefully looking at him with eyes full of admiration: “Damn, you’re really impressive…”
Shang Jue replied, “Get lost, idiot.”
“...Damn, I’m just here to bring you medicine.” Shang Yu’s admiration vanished instantly.
“I don’t need it, get lost.”
Shang Yu: “…”
So now you’re not even pretending, huh?
But seeing the blood-stained tissue in Shang Jue’s palm, he swallowed his frustration and came in anyway.
He opened the medicine box and placed it on the nearby desk, then moved back a little.
Only then did Shang Jue go over to grab a bottle of iodine for disinfection and, using his horrendous technique, applied a cotton pad to his forehead and eyelid.
Shang Yu was delighted, reveling in the new reality of having a gay friend at home. In the future, when Shang Xinrong and Min Hong scolded him, he could drag someone along to bear the blame.
Thinking of this, he spoke to Shang Jue more politely: “Aren’t you going to the hospital?”
Shang Jue ignored him.
However, the cuts on his face weren’t deep, so he could handle them himself.
Closing the medicine box, he turned to look at Shang Yu and said, “Let me see your phone.”
Who the hell are you for me to show you my phone?
Under Shang Jue’s cold stare, Shang Yu reluctantly took out his phone and tossed it to him: “What do you want to see? Do you have problems in that area and want advice from me?”
Shang Jue opened his WeChat, glanced at it, then turned the screen towards Shang Yu: “Which one is your boyfriend?”
“What’s wrong with you, looking at other people’s chat records?” Shang Yu rolled his eyes, “The pinned chats are all there.”
Shang Jue: …
Shang Jue flipped through the chat records of two of the people, becoming increasingly frowning as he grew nauseated by the greasy conversations and exited out of the chats.
No reference value whatsoever.
He returned the phone to Shang Yu and commented casually, “Thanks, that’s pretty disgusting.”
“…”
Shang Yu finally couldn’t hold it anymore. He snatched the phone back, turned, and slammed the door shut behind him.
---
On Tuesday evening, Lu Yuxing was discharged from the hospital and returned to the dormitory. The bandage on his head would take over a week to be removed. He was supposed to rest at home for a few days, but he had taken too many leave days this semester, so he couldn't get any more approved.
When he arrived at Room 323, he learned that he wasn't the only one who had been absent these past few days; Shang Jue was missing as well.
Ge Zhicheng informed him, and seeing Lu Yuxing's surprise, he asked, “Shang Jue hasn’t been with you these past few days? I thought he was at the hospital keeping you company.”
“...What kind of relationship do you think we have? He wouldn’t stay at the hospital with me for that long.”
Ge Zhicheng was a bit taken aback by the question: “Uh…?”
Lu Yuxing clarified, “No, he hasn’t come since Saturday.”
“Where could Shang Jue have gone? Out to have fun?” Ge Zhicheng scratched his face. “You two usually sit in the front row; the teachers know you by face. With both of you absent for these past few days, several teachers have just turned a blind eye and didn’t call the roll. But missing class for too long can’t be good…”
Lu Yuxing asked, “Did he take any leave?”
“No.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Uh… no. I thought he was still in the hospital.” Ge Zhicheng quickly messaged Shang Jue on WeChat.
Shang Jue replied, but he only vaguely mentioned having something going on. Ge Zhicheng didn't know how to press further.
Lu Yuxing frowned.
Sick? That didn’t make sense; it had been several days.
“Lu Ge, you and Shang Jue are close. Why don’t you ask him?”
“……”
Lu Yuxing held his phone, sat in silence for a moment, then opened the chat with the contact labeled “boyfriend.”
Before sending a message, he clicked on Shang Jue’s profile picture, changed “boyfriend” to “ex-boyfriend,” then a few seconds later switched it back to “Shang Jue.” He stared at the name for a while.
In the end, he exited the chat without sending anything.
But no matter what he did, he couldn’t bring himself to type a single word in the chat screen labeled “Shang Jue” The chat history was too intimate; whatever he sent would feel out of place.
He turned off the screen and laid the phone face down on the table, then sat at his desk in silence for a while. But he couldn’t sit still.
After some time, he got up, mentally concocting a reasonably plausible excuse, and stepped out.
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