chapter 8

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Spring days were always tense. Ridden by the sickening throes of term ends and the bone crushing pressure of syllabus completion. Xiaochen often went hungry those days. There was a corner in the study room, a sweet secluded corner where an overgrown branch of the banyan tree outside invaded the desk through the window. Leaves brushed the hand of the student who sat there, and patterns of the sun danced on his face while he tried to focus on studying.  

It was Xiaochen's favourite spot. At the very end of the class, all alone, until Ji Donghan had found him there last winter. 

"You look different today." That was his first sentence when he plopped down his backpack on the seat directly in front of Xiaochen. The hair gel and twenty extra minutes paid off. 

"Different how?" Xiaochen stole a glance at the tall boy and focused quickly back on his notes. The gravitational pull increased at the poles by a total percentage of—

"Handsome." Donghan tapped his head. The touch burned and stung, leaving a hollow in Xiaochen's chest. His ribs collapsed like fragile sticks and pierced his heart, bleeding on the inside and turning his viscera into goo. 
"You're really looking handsome today." He gave a soft, anxious smile and flipped a page of his notebook. His hands came to rest on the edge of the cover. 

"So uh… Xiaochen." 

The boy in question snapped up. His unflinching, unwavering gaze held an expectant emotion, a demand for a hesitant validation. A few, fleeting gazes from Ji Donghan sent him into a mercuric frenzy. 

"You're going on a date, eh?" Donghan exhaled a chuckle. "That girl… What's her name? Su Jinghui, Jingyi… her, yeah?"

"No." Xiaochen blurted out faster than he wanted. "No! I'm not going on a date with her!" 

"Oh." Donghan nodded. "Then who?" 

"Not going on any dates." 

"Then why?" Donghan pointed his pen over all of his face. 

"Just because…" 

"Good." Donghan pulled out another book. "Let's get done with buoyant forces. Then we will go out, I'm fucking hungry man. How does a burger sound?" 

"Great." Xiaochen said, his stomach in twists and turns, appetite reducing to absolutely nothing. "I know a nice place nearby." 

"Not nearby, no. Someplace far, where no one can see us." 

Who was Xiaochen to disagree? 

//


On some mornings, the man in the mirror seems different. He has his life together, and his jaw doesn't tremble when he smiles. His hair is slicked back and a fresh glow on his face. Xius is different, Xius is a man spinning tales of passion and goodwill. 

Xius can be successful if Xiaochen tries just a little harder. 

"Nervous?" The PD asks. She is a grim woman with a straw like face, jutting cheekbones and pointy corners of her lips. She dresses in a blazer and pencil skirt, monochrome dull grey, and it reminds Xiaochen of Hanzhang. "Don't be," then She breaks into a sigh, "this is your big day!" 

Xius sniffles as the door opens and a cold gush of air hits him in the face. 

“Writer Xius!” A tall man with a head full of hair and spectacles stands up and spreads his arms. He has a big grin on his face and looks considerably younger than the image of a director Xiaochen had imagined. “My Gods above,” he says, shaking the writer’s hand with vigour. “You look…” he pauses, eyes raking up and down Xiaochen in a comfortable way. “Young. Very young. And you are a boy.”

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