OS - 15

After finishing his basketball game, Cheng Yuzhou returned home to change. However, he noticed that the white T-shirt he had worn the other day was missing.

Ever since they brought back a basket of tomatoes from Zhou Yu’s house, Grandma Qian had been cooking tomato scrambled eggs for breakfast and tomato egg drop soup for dinner. She kept her own meals simple in the evening but prepared more elaborate dishes whenever the kids visited.

Just as she was about to head to the kitchen, Cheng Yanqing burst in, announcing that he wanted Cheng Yuzhou to join him at Yan Ci’s place for a hot pot dinner.

Cheng Yuzhou came downstairs after his shower. “Grandma, did you wash the clothes I left on the chair?”

“Yes, I just washed them—they’re drying on the rooftop.”

He usually washed his own clothes, but the T-shirt had been sitting there for over a week. Seeing it, Grandma Qian had thrown it into the washing machine. “Dirty clothes can’t be left lying around—it gets smelly in this weather. Why? Was it not supposed to go in the machine?”

Cheng Yuzhou ran a hand through his hair. “It’s fine—it’s washable.”

Cheng Yanqing slung an arm around his neck and pushed him toward the door. “We’re having hot pot tonight—at Yan Ci’s place. Qing Hang will be there too. You and I are in charge of buying the ingredients.”

Between guys, things were casual—two meetings were enough to become familiar.

Cheng Yuzhou was reluctantly dragged out. “Why not eat outside? Cooking at home is such a hassle.”

“He won’t leave the house, so we have to go to him,” Cheng Yanqing explained while punching Cheng Yuzhou lightly on the shoulder. With a mischievous grin, he added, “And there’s something fun waiting for us after dinner.”

The two brothers exchanged a knowing glance. Cheng Yuzhou shrugged him off. “You look so sleazy when you smile like that.”

Cheng Yanqing caught up with a few quick strides, pulling a USB drive from his pocket. “This is Cheng Wanyue’s USB. She’s been hesitating near the computer, wanting to look but too scared to actually do it. My gut tells me there’s something interesting on here.”

Cheng Yuzhou kicked him again. “And you went through her stuff? That’s even sleazier.”

“Don’t talk nonsense—that’s called ‘a brother’s care and love,’” Cheng Yanqing shot back, snatching the USB and stuffing it back into his pocket. “Kids these days aren’t learning proper values. After we watch it, we’ll replace it with something else.”

They headed to the supermarket, grabbing almost entirely meat, with only a couple of mushrooms and some baby bok choy as token vegetables. Since Yan Ci couldn’t handle spicy food, they bought a yin-yang hot pot base—one side spicy, one side mild.

Qing Hang arrived first, cleaning the pots and bowls and starting the water.

It was Cheng Yuzhou’s first time at Yan Ci’s place. To his surprise, the house was spotlessly clean. The orange cat lounged on the sofa, yawning and lazily pawing at its face.

“Aren’t we calling Cheng Wanyue?”

“We’ll call her and Zhou Yu later to finish up,” Cheng Yanqing said to Yan Ci and Qing Hang. “You two who can’t handle spice sit on one side—the tomato broth is yours.”

Cheng Yanqing and Cheng Yuzhou sat together, dumping rolls of beef and lamb directly into the pot.

“Yan Ci, you have to return to school when the semester starts—I checked. We’ll all be in the same class.”

Yan Ci gave Cheng Yanqing a bemused look. “And how exactly did Qing Hang end up in your class?”

Cheng Yuzhou rolled his eyes. “With that face of his, what else could it be? Surely not because of his test scores—a mere 46 out of 150.”

“Hey!” Cheng Yanqing snapped, tilting his chin defiantly. “Watch your words, Yan Ci. I’m serious. If you don’t report to school, I’ll knock you out and drag you there myself.”

Yan Ci didn’t respond—he wasn’t eating much either.

Unnoticed by anyone, a light drizzle had begun outside. Cheng Yuzhou got up to open the window for some fresh air.

The table was a mess, splattered with oil from the bubbling hot pot. Cheng Yanqing, now full, finally picked up the phone to call Cheng Wanyue.

“Sis, we’re at Yan Ci’s place. Bring a watermelon.”

Cheng Wanyue’s voice came through loud and clear, laced with sarcasm. “Oh, dream on!”

“What’s wrong with bringing some warmth to your two loving brothers?” Cheng Yanqing leaned back in his chair, putting the call on speakerphone.

Her bright, teasing voice filled the room. “Who wants your leftovers? I’m going on a date with a handsome guy.”

The meatball Qing Hang had just picked up slipped back into the pot. Shadows from his short hair hid his expression.

Cheng Yanqing hung up. “She’s not coming. Let’s save the rest for later, after we digest.”

Qing Hang left early due to family matters. Cheng Yanqing pulled out Yan Ci’s laptop, ready to watch something to help digestion. Unfortunately, the files on Cheng Wanyue’s USB were corrupted and wouldn’t play. He decided to slip it back into her bag later that night and downloaded something new online.

“Seen this before?”

Neither of the other two responded.

“Then let’s watch this.”

The film was straightforward, catering to teenage hormones. With no one else around, they cranked the volume to the max. Mixed with the soft patter of rain outside, even the raw scenes took on a strange kind of beauty.

Cheng Yuzhou wasn’t unfamiliar with this kind of content. At their age, hormones were running high, and few boys hadn’t seen something like this.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Before Cheng Yanqing could react, a hand quickly reached over and shut off the laptop.

Cheng Yuzhou went to answer the door. His gaze immediately fell on Zhou Yu standing behind Cheng Wanyue. She hadn’t brought an umbrella, and her eyes glistened with moisture. Tiny droplets clung to her lashes. A fleeting image from the video flashed in his mind, and for a moment, his eyes darkened with intensity—but it was gone before she could notice.

“Why are you back?”

“To bring warmth to my dear brothers,” Cheng Wanyue said breezily, slipping off her shoes. “Yan Ci, you’ve gotten even more handsome today.”

Cheng Yuzhou took the watermelon from Zhou Yu and stepped aside to let her in.

Yan Ci, always quiet, remained silent. Cheng Yanqing, still tense, kept his face stern and said little.

Cheng Yuzhou handed clean chopsticks to Zhou Yu and Cheng Wanyue, then went to cut the watermelon.

Cheng Wanyue sensed something off after a few bites. She noticed Cheng Yanqing repeatedly glancing at the laptop.

“What’s on the computer?”

“Nothing! There’s absolutely nothing!”

“Let me see.”

Cheng Yanqing tossed the laptop to Yan Ci. Cheng Wanyue lunged to grab it, but Cheng Yanqing blocked her. Soon, they were wrestling.

Zhou Yu glanced at Cheng Yuzhou, who calmly said, “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, I’m done eating. Let’s clean up.”

Seizing the moment, Cheng Yanqing shouted, “Cheng Wanyue, go help Zhou Yu wash the dishes!”

“I barely ate anything!” She grabbed the only person likely to help—Cheng Yuzhou. “Rock-paper-scissors. Loser helps Ah Yu. I’m choosing rock.”

Cheng Yuzhou chose scissors.

The noise of their scuffle paused for two minutes before resuming. Zhou Yu filled the sink to start washing the chopsticks.

“I’ll do it,” Cheng Yuzhou said, picking up the sponge.

The old residential building wasn’t spacious, but two people could stand side by side at the balcony sink. Still, it felt cramped. When Zhou Yu turned off the faucet, her arm brushed against his. The humid air carried a sticky sensation, as if their skin might cling together.

The evening breeze stirred her hair, brushing it across his shoulder.

Zhou Yu took a step back, catching sight of a drop of oil on his pristine white T-shirt.

He clearly wasn’t used to doing chores.

“It’s better if I do it. Your shirt will be harder to wash if it gets dirty.”

Cheng Yuzhou’s hands were covered in suds. “Then help me tie the apron.”

“…Let me find it.”

Everything in Yan Ci’s house was still intact. Since Mr. Yan had been the main cook, the apron hung in the kitchen—a simple, unremarkable color.

Zhou Yu brought the apron to the balcony. Cheng Yuzhou leaned against the sink, waiting.

Being watched by him made her nervous. Such a simple task suddenly felt awkward. Uncertain whether to tiptoe or adjust her grip, she fumbled.

“Lower your head a bit.”

Cheng Yuzhou bent slightly. “Like this?”

“Yes.”

At the right height, Zhou Yu draped the apron over his neck, noticing he was still looking at her.

“…Turn around.”

There were two strings left to tie at his waist.

Facing the sink, Cheng Yuzhou began washing dishes. Zhou Yu tied the strings snugly at his lower back.

“Too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

“A bit small?”

“It’s fine. It works.”