Chapters 16 That is... a deep closet?

Huai Xu stopped in his tracks.  

The people discussing the topic were just as curious as he was.  

"He has a partner? Then that girl must be drop-dead gorgeous, right?"

"Ahem, not a girl."

"Not… a girl?!"

"It’s a guy—a super handsome one. Rumor has it they’ve been childhood friends, but they always claim they’re just friends in public."

"So… he’s in the closet?" 

"Some gay guys are like that, hiding it deep."  

"..."

Huai Xu: "..."  

He hated his feet for not just keeping on walking.  

What kind of nonsense was this? And with such vivid details, too.  

Just as he was internally speechless, the gossip continued:  

"Where’d you hear this?" 

"My best friend goes to Jindai University. There’s a fandom group that ships them. Oh, and don’t spread this around—it’s top secret."  

"Got it. Won’t tell a soul."  

Huai Xu:  " =o= "  

There’s a shipping group at Jindai University?!  

Wait a minute—hey, you! Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t tell anyone? Then why are you texting about it right now?!  

With just a slight tilt of his head, he could see the sensationalist headline on the phone screen, plain as day.  

Finding himself the subject of the gossip, Huai Xu had no desire to keep listening.  

There was also no need to interrupt like last time—these people didn’t even know him. He had no reason to step forward and claim the gossip as his own.  

After some thought, the best strategy was clearly to just walk away.  

So Huai Xu slipped off. He considered circling around to the other side but quickly dismissed the idea.  

If any Jindai students recognized him, the surprise he’d planned would lose its impact.  

Instead, he retreated to a more secluded spot—somewhere he couldn’t hear the scattered whispers of gossip, yet still had a clear view of Jing Zhengxuan’s dazzling performance on the court, all while avoiding notice from the Jindai crowd.  

Perfect.  

The score between the two teams was tight, with each side trading blows—a three-pointer here, two slam dunks there—the game so intense it made Huai Xu’s heart race, his palms sweating for Jing Zhengxuan’s sake.  

After watching for a while, Huai Xu began to see the pattern.  

Jindai University and the Film Academy’s teams were evenly matched. If there was going to be a winner, it would come down to sheer luck.  

And as it turned out, his analysis was spot-on.  

When the final buzzer sounded, the Film Academy’s last shot had just left their hands—too late to count. They lost by a single point.  

For a split second, the entire stadium seemed to fall into a vacuum, utterly silent—before erupting into a tidal wave of cheers, laughter, and applause. The crowd jumped, shouted, and celebrated the thrilling match.  

On the court, the players from both sides exchanged handshakes in a show of sportsmanship.  

The winning team didn’t gloat—instead, they looked almost regretful.  

The losing team wasn’t discouraged—they were exhilarated, already talking about a rematch.  

There was a mutual respect between them, a sense of camaraderie.  

Huai Xu suddenly remembered he was supposed to take pictures of Jing Zhengxuan, but the game had been too gripping to look away.  

Now, while the organizers prepared for the awards ceremony, Huai Xu pulled out his phone and snapped a rapid-fire series of shots of Jing Zhengxuan, the shutter sound clicking nonstop.  

The awards ceremony began promptly. The host announced the bronze, silver, and gold medal teams one by one, each taking the podium as faculty members presented the trophies.  

Huai Xu resumed his photo spree—how could he resist? Jing Zhengxuan, surrounded by his teammates, holding the championship cup, looked radiant. He had to capture this moment to send to Auntie Qing.  

After a speech from the dean, the ceremony concluded, marking the official end of the intercollegiate basketball tournament. The players began to disperse.  

Huai Xu put away his phone and pulled a limited-edition action figure of Jing Zhengxuan’s favorite basketball star from his backpack.  

Jing Zhengxuan had always admired this player. Huai Xu didn’t know much about sports, but he remembered his best friend’s words.  

The stadium was packed, so Huai Xu could only inch forward with the crowd, his eyes locked on Jing Zhengxuan until he disappeared through the exit.  

By the time Huai Xu finally made it out, Jing Zhengxuan was nowhere in sight.  

He pulled out his phone, about to call—then remembered he was supposed to be the one delivering the surprise, not summoning Jing Zhengxuan to him. So he stuffed the phone back into his pocket.  

Whatever. Jing Zhengxuan would definitely head home after the game. If I go toward the main gate, I’ll find him.

Following the signs, Huai Xu started walking toward the university entrance.  

Halfway there, his phone buzzed twice—the special notification tone Jing Zhengxuan had set for himself.  

Huai Xu opened the chat.  

[Jing Zhengxuan]: Ah Xuan 

[Jing Zhengxuan]: I got hurt again by accident…

Huai Xu frowned.  

Jing Zhengxuan had been perfectly fine just moments ago—how had he gotten injured in such a short time?  

He glanced around—and there, as if by fate, he spotted a familiar figure.  

Huai Xu opened his mouth—"Jing—?!"

But the name died in his throat as he froze in place.  

Jing Zhengxuan stood facing a wall like some penitent monk, still in his basketball jersey. The loose fabric did nothing to soften his sharp presence. 

It should have been a picturesque scene—until Huai Xu saw Jing Zhengxuan suddenly lift his left leg and *slam* his knee into the wall.  

Huai Xu’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.  

If his usual gaze was soft and deer-like, now it was pure, unadulterated shock.  

What the hell was Jing Zhengxuan doing?! 

He stared at his best friend, then down at his phone, where a new message had arrived—a photo of a swollen, scraped knee.  

In that instant, every assumption Huai Xu had ever made about Jing Zhengxuan shattered.  

This couldn’t be the same person he knew.  

What kind of sane human being would deliberately injure themselves like that?  

How much must it hurt?  

Just looking at it made Huai Xu wince—let alone actually feeling it.  

Silence.  

Huai Xu watched as Jing Zhengxuan stood there, facing the wall, 

and then—with solemn, measured steps—he walked over.  

Hearing footsteps, Jing Zhengxuan turned.  

The moment he saw Huai Xu, his razor-sharp gaze flickered with surprise—but only for a fraction of a second before settling back into calm.  

His tone was casual. "Ah Xu, what are you doing here?"  

Huai Xu’s expression darkened. His emotions were a tangled mess—more heartache than anger, more worry than frustration.  

He was torn between concern for Jing Zhengxuan’s well-being and fury at his self-destructive behavior.  

Having grown up with a weak constitution, Huai Xu cherished his health deeply. He envied those with strong, resilient bodies.  

Jing Zhengxuan might have been accident-prone, but his body was fundamentally healthy—his recovery speed was incredible, something Huai Xu had always admired.  

He couldn’t fathom why Jing Zhengxuan would do this. The wound on his knee was swollen, bloody—a gruesome sight that made Huai Xu’s stomach churn.  

His eyes burned, his fists clenched. He forced himself not to ask about the injury. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh.  

"Good thing I showed up. Otherwise, I’d have missed this little performance. Hurting yourself on purpose—Jing Zhengxuan, you’re really something." 

Jing Zhengxuan lowered his head slightly, studying Huai Xu’s face.  

He reached out, as if to brush away the redness around Huai Xu’s eyes—but Huai Xu dodged.  

Jing Zhengxuan’s fingers twitched. He offered a weak excuse: 

"There was a bug on the wall…"  

Huai Xu’s anger flared hotter. 

"What were you even doing by a wall in the first place? Meditating? Or did you come here specifically to knee a bug to death?! Do you even believe your own lies?" 

Jing Zhengxuan’s jaw tensed. He pressed his lips together.  

"Here."

Huai Xu shoved the action figure into Jing Zhengxuan’s hands, his voice icy. 

"Your favorite player’s collectible. A surprise—yeah, a real surprise. Turns out the surprise was for me all along."  

He turned to leave.  

Jing Zhengxuan grabbed his wrist. 

"Don’t go."  

Huai Xu looked back, eyebrow arched. "Oh? Finally ready to tell me the truth?"  

A pause. Then, carefully gauging Huai Xu’s reaction, Jing Zhengxuan spoke in a low, serious tone:  

"I got hurt on the way here. I just came to this spot because it’s quiet."  

Huai Xu: "..."

He rolled his eyes skyward, laughing in disbelief. 

"Jing Zhengxuan, do you think I’m blind or just stupid? One last chance." 

Another silence. Jing Zhengxuan’s throat moved as he swallowed. Finally, after a long moment, he muttered:  

"I just… wanted you to take care of me."  

Huai Xu’s eyes widened further. 

"That’s your excuse for hurting yourself?!"  

He shook his head, guilt creeping in. 

"This is my fault. I’m always sick, so you’re always looking after me. It makes sense you’d resent it. But that doesn’t mean you should hurt yourself over it! If you’re unhappy, just say so! You could’ve just ignored me—why go this far?"  

Jing Zhengxuan hunched slightly, hands gripping Huai Xu’s shoulders. His amber-brown eyes locked onto Huai Xu’s, intense and unreadable.  

"It’s not like that."  

Huai Xu searched his face. "Then what is it?"  

Jing Zhengxuan looked away, hesitating. 

"...Being taken care of by you feels… nice." 

Huai Xu: "..."  

What kind of reason was that?!  

Even if being pampered by him did feel nice, that didn’t justify self-harm.  

Huai Xu hated people who didn’t value their own health. The more he envied others’ robust bodies, the more he despised those who treated theirs carelessly.  

And Jing Zhengxuan knew that—yet he’d done it anyway.  

This so-called "accident-prone" trait? 

Fake. 

All of it.  

What if he’d seriously injured himself?  

Huai Xu’s mind raced with worst-case scenarios—small injuries could lead to bigger health issues.  

He let out a bitter laugh, his gaze flickering back to Jing Zhengxuan’s knee. The swollen, bloody scrape made his eyes sting, his vision blurring with unshed tears.  

He exhaled sharply, forcing his voice steady. 

"I’m leaving. Get Dr. Duan to treat your… injury." 

Jing Zhengxuan took a step—then hissed in pain as his injured leg buckled.  

Huai Xu spun back. "Are you an idiot?"  

His resolve crumbled. No matter how angry or confused he was, he couldn’t just abandon Jing Zhengxuan—not when he was hurt.  

Whether accidental or deliberate, the wound was real. Huai Xu couldn’t ignore it.  

Sometimes, he wondered if he was too soft-hearted.  

He’d been scammed countless times by people pretending to be injured on the street—yet he still couldn’t bring himself to walk past someone in pain.  

*hat if they’re really hurt? he’d think. 

How could I just leave them?  

Luckily, Jing Zhengxuan was usually there to shoo away the frauds.  

But most of the time, Huai Xu accepted it—maybe being overly compassionate wasn’t so bad. He was studying medicine, after all. How could he save lives without empathy?  

Still, empathy didn’t erase his anger.  

Huai Xu did care about Jing Zhengxuan—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t furious.  

His face was tense, his eyes red-rimmed, tears clinging to his lashes like stubborn dewdrops. There was something heartbreakingly fragile yet unyielding in his expression.  

He hooked an arm under Jing Zhengxuan’s shoulder, his tone sharp. 

"Are you stupid? You just bashed your knee and now you’re walking on it?"

Jing Zhengxuan tilted his head, studying Huai Xu’s face. Gently, he brushed away a tear with his thumb.  

"I didn’t want to make you cry."  

Huai Xu glared. "Then stop hurting yourself!" 

Jing Zhengxuan pressed his lips together. "...Sorry."  

Huai Xu wasn’t having it. 

"You’re not apologizing to me."

His voice softened, but his words were firm. 

"You’re apologizing to yourself."  

His tone was so stern, so parental, that for a second, Jing Zhengxuan was transported back to their childhood.  

Little Jing Zhengxuan had been a troublemaker—mature for his age but quick to throw punches, earning him a wide berth from other kids.  

Then he met Huai Xu.  

Every time he got into a fight, Huai Xu would scold him like a tiny, disapproving adult: 

[Fighting is wrong. I don’t like kids who fight.]

Young Jing Zhengxuan would panic and promise to change—just so Huai Xu would stay his best friend.  

Now, facing 19-year-old Huai Xu, Jing Zhengxuan let out a quiet 

"Mmn." 

Then, almost absently, he added:  

"Habit." 

---

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