WBAI Chapter 46

Backing out now would be too obvious—Xie An’yu stood frozen in place, his ears turning crimson in an instant.

Yu Feng had only shaved half the foam off his face, razor in hand, his gaze shifting from Xie An’yu’s face to what he was holding. It was unmistakably his own sleep pants, and combined with Xie An’yu’s bright red ears, Yu Feng could easily piece together what had happened.

If it had just been taking care of his own needs, it wouldn’t have ended up on the pants—and who does that kind of thing first thing in the morning anyway? The only possibility…

Youth really is full of vigor.

Xie An’yu remained rooted in place as if his system had crashed, probably too overwhelmed by embarrassment to react. Yu Feng broke the silence: “Got it on your pants?”

His voice was low and rough from just waking up, carrying a magnetic tone. The bluntness of the question left Xie An’yu even more flustered, his expression practically petrified.

Yu Feng calmly shaved off the remaining foam, giving Xie An’yu some time to collect himself.

Truthfully, Xie An’yu had also gotten some on the duvet cover, though he hadn’t checked the inner quilt yet—he didn’t know if the filling had been stained. The thought alone made him feel a little disgusted with himself, let alone how Yu Feng would feel. Who could accept having someone else’s bodily fluids on their bedding?

“I’m sorry, Brother…”

Yu Feng rinsed his face and glanced back at him.

“I’ll buy you a new quilt later.”

Yu Feng chuckled. “Got it on the quilt too?”

His laughter made Xie An’yu’s ears burn even redder, and a deep flush spread across his neck.
“I didn’t mean to…” Xie An’yu looked utterly mortified.

Yu Feng wiped the water off his face with a dry towel and let out a low laugh. “How could that be intentional? It happened. With your hands like that, you still planning to wash the pants? Just toss them in the washing machine.”

Yu Feng turned around and asked casually, “Watch something last night?”

Xie An’yu was past puberty at his age—aside from normal physiological factors, a sudden incident like this was probably triggered by some indescribable stimulus.

“…No.”

He hadn’t watched anything, but he had looked at some explicit images, so Yu Feng wasn’t entirely wrong. When Yu Feng stepped closer, Xie An’yu instinctively lowered his head. Though last night’s wet dream had been vague—the person in it didn’t even have a face—the wounds on those hands were unmistakable, and Xie An’yu couldn’t lie to himself.

The person who’d inspired his wet dream was the one standing right in front of him.

If he hadn’t been watching anything, then it must’ve been from holding back for too long. Yu Feng glanced at Xie An’yu. To be honest, he couldn’t really picture Xie An’yu doing that kind of thing—he was so proper, so upright, it almost felt like he’d never engage in anything indecent.

Yu Feng cut off his train of thought. If he kept imagining it, he’d probably end up following in Xie An’yu’s footsteps tonight.

“I’ll make breakfast. What do you want?” Yu Feng asked.

“Anything is fine.”

“Then I’ll make scallion oil noodles[mfn]蔥油拌面 (cōng yóu bàn miàn): Oil noodles or cooked noodles is a type of Chinese noodle. It is sometimes used in Cantonese cuisine.
[/mfn].”

“Okay.”

Xie An’yu actually wanted to take a shower—he felt a little uncomfortable being all sweaty—but with his hands still wrapped in gauze, it wasn’t very convenient, so he gave up on the idea. He went back to his room and changed the duvet cover, relieved to find that the inner quilt was not stained. Maybe it was because he had been away for a while, the moment he stepped into the room, he caught a distinct scent lingering in the air.

At that moment, he really wanted to grab a pillow and suffocate himself.

Yu Feng knocked on the door, and Xie An’yu slowly opened it to find him standing outside holding a clean set of duvet cover.

The window was shut, and the room was stuffy. The scent was indeed quite noticeable—even Yu Feng could detect it. He cleared his throat. “Brought you a new new duvet cover.”

Xie An’yu took the cover, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ll buy you a new one later to make up for it.”

“It’s not torn. Just wash it, and it’ll be fine.”

“But it’s really dirty…”

“If I don’t mind, why should you?” Yu Feng turned around. “The noodles are ready. Come eat first before they get soggy. Leave the duvet cover for now—I’ll help you change them later.”

Xie An’yu followed Yu Feng’s instructions, tossing the dirty duvet cover and pants into the washing machine before heading to the dining table for breakfast.

“We’re having hot pot[mfn]火鍋 (huǒguō): Hot pot (traditional Chinese: 火鍋; simplified Chinese: 火锅; pinyin: huǒguō; lit. ‘fire pot’) or hotpot, also known as steamboat, is a dish of soup/stock kept simmering in a pot by a heat source on the table, accompanied by an array of raw meats, vegetables and soy-based foods which diners quickly cook by dipping in broth.
[/mfn] at Yue Lai’s place tonight,” Yu Feng said as he sat down. “You free to go?”

“Yeah. Did you already arrange it with Yue Lai?”

“Zhou Yi did. When’s your woodcarving class?”

“In the morning.”

“And in the afternoon? Still working?”

“I’m going to the library.” Xie An’yu licked the corner of his lips. “I’ve got enough money now, so I’m not working anymore.”

Yu Feng chuckled. “Oh, so you’ve struck it rich, huh?”

Xie An’yu smiled. “Not really. I just feel like I have enough money to get by for now, and I want to do something I’ve been wanting to do for myself.”

“Like what?”

“I want to go back to school.”

Yu Feng was taken aback.

Xie An’yu stared at the noodles in his bowl. “Before, I thought it didn’t really matter whether I went to school or not—that it wasn’t all that necessary…”

But after spending so much time with Yu Feng, his perspective had shifted.

Xie An’yu had always had a clear plan for his future: pay off his debts, save money, continue learning woodcarving, apprentice at a studio, and eventually save enough to open his own woodcarving workshop.

His life goals were pragmatic. All he needed was to show his parents and grandmother in the other world that he was living earnestly.

Returning to school had never been part of Xie An’yu’s plan—until Yu Feng’s influence seeped in. He loved that book, 《China Yesterday》, and through that book, he felt like he could almost glimpse of Yu Feng’s student life, seeing him sitting in a school library flipping through the pages of that photography collection.

“No matter what, it’s always better to study more,” Xie An’yu said. “I’m still young. I shouldn’t waste my youth.”

Yu Feng felt a quiet sense of relief. He hummed in agreement. “I was actually planning to convince you to continue your studies, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. It’s best that you figured it out on your own.”

Xie An’yu was truly a decisive person—clear in his goals and strong in his actions. If his family circumstances had been better, his future would have been very bright; he would have undoubtedly become one of society’s elite.

“So you were going to the library to study?” Yu Feng asked.

“Mm. I’ve got free time anyway. I want to start reading up slowly.”

“Are you planning to take the self-study exams[mfn]自考 (zì kǎo): (Mainland China) short for 高等教育自學考試 (gāoděng jiàoyù zìxué kǎoshì, “Self-Taught Higher Education Examinations”). Self-Taught Higher Education Examinations (STHEE) is a test for graduation of higher education and bachelor’s degree in China. STHEE allows students to finish studies through self-study without going to school. It is practiced by National Education Examinations Authority (NEEA) of China. NEEA is an agency of the Chinese Ministry of Education.[/mfn]?”

The self-study route was more flexible, with no restrictions on academic background or residency, but it only allowed enrollment in programs below the undergraduate level. To sign up for adult college entrance exams[mfn]成人高考 (chéng rén gāo kǎo): The Nationwide Unified Examination for Admissions to General Universities and Colleges (普通高等学校招生全国统一考试), commonly abbreviated as the Gaokao (高考; ‘Higher Exam’), is the annual nationally coordinated undergraduate admission exam in mainland China, held in early June. Despite the name, the exam is conducted at the provincial level, with variations determined by provincial governments, under the central coordination of the Ministry of Education of China. Gaokao is required for undergraduate admissions to all higher education institutions in the country. It is taken by high school students at the end of their final year.[/mfn] or the open university[mfn]開放大學 (kāi fàng dà xué): The Open University of China (国家开放大学) is a national public university headquartered in Beijing, China. Established in 1978 by an executive order of Deng Xiaoping, the university is directly affiliated with and sponsored by the Ministry of Education of China. The Open University of China features higher education opportunities to adult citizens nationwide through distance learning and face-to-face sessions.[/mfn] programs, a high school or vocational school diploma was required—something Xie An’yu didn’t have.

Xie An’yu nodded.

“That’s good,” Yu Feng said.

Xie An’yu looked at Yu Feng and asked, “Brother, were you a good student when you were in school?”

Yu Feng scoffed. “What gave you that idea?”

“I feel like you have the aura of a straight-A student.”

“Then you’re mistaken.” Yu Feng picked up the glass of water beside him and took a sip. “My grades were pretty average back then. I was always running around with a camera, more interested in taking photos than studying. I barely crammed for the college entrance exams and got lucky enough to get into a decent university.”

Yu Feng paused before continuing, “Besides, at that time, I had to take care of Cheng Sheng.”

Xie An’yu’s hand holding the chopsticks stilled—this was the first time Yu Feng had voluntarily brought up Cheng Sheng.

“He had hearing problems and couldn’t attend regular schools, so he dropped out in his first year of middle school. Our family was struggling financially back then, so after school, I was busy taking photos for others to earn extra money. I skipped homework more often than not.” Yu Feng smirked. “And you called me a top student? To my teachers, I was just a rebellious troublemaker.”

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Been a bit busy lately, so updates might be fewer. Sorry about that~

[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 46″]
不知所措 (bù zhī suǒ cuò): not knowing what to do (idiom); at one’s wits’ end; embarrassed and at a complete loss; to be at a loss for what to do; to lose one’s bearings; be in a state of confusion.

潛移默化 (qián yí mò huà): to influence secretly, subtly; to change due to unnoticeable influence; imperceptible influence; influence subtly; exert a subtle influence; transform imperceptibly; change gradually and silently; subtly shape; refers to the unconscious change of a person’s thoughts or character due to the influence of the environment or others.

臨時抱佛腳 (lín shí bào fó jiǎo): lit. to grab the Buddha’s feet at the last minute; to clasp the Buddha’s feet when danger arises (idiom); to do something hurriedly only at the last minute; to make a last-minute effort, especially studying for examinations; to profess devotion only when in trouble; doing things at the last minute; making a hasty last-minute effort; hug Buddha’s feet to beg for mercy/bless/help only in time of need―seek help at the last moment; make a frantic effort in the last minute; make a last-minute attempt. The original meaning of this idiom is that the elderly believe in Buddha and seek blessings, which is like digging a well when thirsty. Later, it was used to describe the hasty preparation when there is no preparation in normal times.
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