Chapter 10: A Meteor for Someone Else

After the video call ended, the two looked at each other.

 

Thinking about the conversation they just had, Lin Chuji fell into deep worry: “You really did overact.

You made up so many things.

What if my mom goes to Jing University to find you?”

 

He knew Zhan Wanqiu too well—she would definitely dig to the bottom of it.

“Simple.

I’ll just say I had health issues, dropped out, and am repeating my senior year,” Xie Yan said, staring at him with inquisitive eyes.

“But how do you have the nerve?

Not that I look down on tech schools, but isn’t the score difference pretty big?

And your mother didn’t find that strange?”

 

Lin Chuji was speechless.

He had forgotten about that.

Sure enough, one lie required a thousand more to sustain it.

“Actually, I…”

He started, then thought that if Xie Yan found out he had been deceived, he would definitely be upset.

Since they probably wouldn’t see each other again anyway, it was at least a white lie.

He changed direction and said vaguely, “My parents… they don’t really care much about my academics.

They’ve always thought I was the type who could get into Jingbei.

I’ll figure it out when the time comes.

There’s always a way.”

 

Xie Yan was noncommittal: “Judging by your mother, she doesn’t seem like the type who doesn’t care about academics.

I’d say your ability to deceive is pretty impressive.”

 

Lin Chuji couldn’t respond again.

Xie Yan was too smart.

A few more exchanges and he would definitely be exposed.

 

He had no choice but to throw the topic back, putting on a serious face: “Speaking of which, be honest with me.

What was your actual college entrance exam score?”

 

Xie Yan spoke uncertainly: “…275?”

He still felt that 400-something would be too high.

“With that score, I think even a sports academy might require some effort.

If worst comes to worst, you’ll have to repeat,” Lin Chuji said carefully.

 

Xie Yan held back a laugh and went along: “From the sound of it, you scored higher than me.

So what’s your real score?”

 

Now it was Lin Chuji’s turn to fall silent.

He thought for a few seconds, and to make it more realistic, added some details: “288.

My math was pretty bad—only 23 points.”

 

Only one phrase floated through Xie Yan’s mind: two noobs trading blows.

Even though he was a fake noob and Lin Chuji was a real underachiever, surely even stepping on an answer sheet would get more than 23 points.

 

If Lin Chuji were willing to repeat a year, Xie Yan kind of wanted to tutor him and show off his ability to single-handedly drag a poor student to success.

After all, during the three years of high school, he had tutored about a dozen classmates—a bunch of bottom-dwellers who eventually made it to second-tier universities.

That was pretty impressive progress.

 

Thinking of this, Xie Yan let out a long sigh.

What a shame.

No fate.

 

Seeing that Xie Yan remained silent, Lin Chuji had no idea what he was thinking, and his heart pounded with anxiety. “So, I’m just not cut out for academics.

Learning a trade is better.”

He quickly changed the subject.

“Weren’t you about to continue chatting with your sister?

Sorry for interrupting.

Go ahead.”

“You’re being so polite today, it’s like you’re acting,” Xie Yan glanced at him, then redialed the video call.

 

As soon as it connected, Xie Yan turned the screen toward Lin Chuji and, without warning, introduced him point-blank: “Wanwan, look.

Your favorite type of handsome guy.

Will this make you feel a little better?”

 

Can we discuss this before the introduction?!

It’s so awkward and helpless to suddenly meet a stranger like this.

 

Lin Chuji squeezed out a very template smile toward the camera.

 

The girl in the frame looked about thirteen or fourteen—pretty young—but she spoke with an arrogant queen-bee attitude: “Don’t think you can make me forgive you just by showing me a handsome guy, Xie Yan.

I don’t want to talk to you.”

 

Lin Chuji’s smile froze instantly.

They’re only a few years apart, but she won’t even call him ‘brother.’

They’re probably in the middle of a sibling fight.

I shouldn’t be here.

 

He quietly moved a little to the side, listening as Xie Yan chatted with her in a desultory fashion, and opened his social phobia guide again.

 

Today, Xie Yan had helped him a lot—finding evidence, going to the police station, rescuing him during the photo, and acting together to fool Zhan Wanqiu.

He remembered each thing, but didn’t know how to repay such a huge favor.

 

Lin Chuji looked at Tip #9 in the guide: When you, a social phobic, need to express gratitude to someone, you can choose one of the following ways to get closer—showing your appreciation while also letting the other person see your strengths.

Two birds, one stone.

 

He read it word by word, thought for a moment, and selected one of the suggestions.

 

Hearing that Xie Yan had stopped talking, he assumed the video call had ended, so he lowered his head and said, “In a little while, I’ll go buy some seafood, as well as some candles and balloons to decorate our little sitting area.

I’ll cook dinner for you tonight, okay?”

 

Afraid of being rejected, Lin Chuji added an explanation: “Since we’ve been out at sea, I can’t think of anything else to do for now.

It might have to be a bit simple.”

 

Xie Yan asked uncertainly, “Candles… dinner… just the two of us?”

 

Lin Chuji’s tone was serious.

“Yes.

Just the two of us.”

 

Xie Yan raised an eyebrow slightly.

Two guys.

Is it appropriate to make it this fancy?

“Country bumpkin.

It’s called a candlelit dinner,” Xie Wan finally spoke from the video, the corners of her mouth lifting uncontrollably.

“There’s a meteor shower tonight.

You two should watch it.”

 

Xie Yan turned his head and teased, “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.

How come you still know whether there’s a meteor shower where I am?”

 

Xie Wan was extremely cold and aloof: “None of your business.

Since someone else is treating you to dinner, you’d better dress nicely tonight.

Don’t embarrass me.”

“Got it,” Xie Yan agreed.

It’s just a casual meal with a roommate.

How formal does it need to be?

 

Lin Chuji breathed a sigh of relief and sincerely praised, “Your sister is really cute.”

“She’s not cute at all.

I’m hanging up.”

With that, the other side hurriedly ended the call, and the phone screen went black.

 

Lin Chuji, who had been sitting relaxed, suddenly grew tense: “Did I say something wrong?

Call her back.

Let me apologize.”

 

Xie Yan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t you tell she’s embarrassed?”

 

Lin Chuji shook his head.

“No.

I thought she was angry.”

 

Sincerity is the only ultimate weapon.

This statement even rendered Xie Yan momentarily speechless.

After a few seconds, he reassured him, “No.

Don’t overthink it.

No one gets angry over an offhand word or two.

Don’t be so sensitive.”

 

Lin Chuji relaxed and smiled.

“That’s good, then.”

 

***

 

The group played on the beach until the cruise ship set sail again.

 

Lin Chuji said he needed to prepare and wouldn’t let anyone back into the room that afternoon, claiming he was arranging a surprise.

 

With nowhere to go, Xie Yan felt like a husband kicked out of his own home.

He changed clothes in the Shen brothers’ room, then paced restlessly—standing, sitting, sitting, standing.

“Stop pacing.

You’re making me dizzy,” Shen Yinan said, pulling him back onto the couch.

“Why is he being so careful about treating me to dinner?

I can’t figure it out.

I really can’t,” Xie Yan lay back, utterly baffled.

 

Hadn’t they been at odds for the past two days?

Or more precisely, they were always at odds during the day.

Could it be that that hug last night had wiped away all grievances?

 

After hearing the whole story, Shen Yinan—single since birth but a theoretical expert—analyzed seriously: “Why else?

A candlelit dinner for two.

He probably wants to take things further with you.

It’s just that he’s shy and doesn’t want to spell it out too obviously.”

 

Xie Yan listened for a while, but still resisted: “No.

Then I need to make it clear to him.

I don’t like guys at all.”

 

It’s already extremely generous of me to reluctantly act as a substitute for a few days to make him happy.

I can’t let it get real.

If I keep sending him ambiguous signals, I’ll become one of those despicable players.

 

Shen Yibei narrowed his eyes and scrutinized him: “Really?

I don’t believe you at all.

Your actions these past few days have given me a crisis of trust.”

 

Xie Yan wished he had eight hundred mouths to defend himself: “Why would I lie to you?

I’m really not interested in him.

I’m just a nice person helping someone fulfill a wish.

That’s all.”

“Fine, fine.

You’re a nice person.

Then why are you dressing up like this for a completely ordinary, purposeless meal?

You did your hair.

You ironed your clothes.

Anyone would think you’re going to a singles’ mixer at People’s Park,” Shen Yinan said, sharply hitting the nail on the head.

“My sister asked me to.

Can I disobey?”

Xie Yan showed no sign of guilt, speaking with righteous solemnity.

“In any case, if Lin Chuji has other intentions with this meal, I will definitely explain things clearly to him.”

 

Shen Yinan couldn’t be bothered with him.

“Of all your body parts, your mouth is the hardest.”

 

Xie Yan shot back lazily: “No matter what I say, you won’t listen.”

 

He had barely finished speaking when the twins’ phones both buzzed simultaneously.

They picked them up, checked them, exchanged glances, then said in unison, “Gotta go.

We’re stepping out.”

 

Watching them rush off like that, Xie Yan couldn’t understand this behavior of being completely unreliable even at seventeen or eighteen.

He mocked, “Are you two acting out Pacific Rim fighting monsters?”

 

But thinking about what was coming next, the dinner would surely be great—candles, seafood, and a meteor shower tonight, Xie Yan thought.

He looked down and adjusted the camera settings, thinking he could take some good photos, if Lin Chuji was willing.

 

Around the agreed-upon time, Xie Yan stood up, straightened his clothes, and prepared to go next door.

Just as he swiped his keycard to enter, the door opened from the inside, revealing Lin Chuji’s face.

 

He must have been running around for a while—his cheeks were slightly red, with a thin layer of sweat on the tip of his nose.

“Right on time.

I’m ready too.

Come in,” Lin Chuji said, a bit nervous.

He smiled at Xie Yan for a second, then looked away.

But because the other was dressed more formally than usual, his curiosity got the better of him, and his gaze slowly drifted back.

 

Xie Yan watched the subtle changes in his expression.

Not good.

This trajectory is a bit ambiguous.

 

Lin Chuji’s palms were sweaty.

It was his first time hosting someone, and he was extremely anxious.

He added, “I hope you like it.”

 

Seeing how pleased Lin Chuji looked, Xie Yan suddenly recalled the Shen brothers’ warning.

He hesitated for nearly half a minute, then decided to just say it all at once: “Actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you these past few days.

I haven’t been rejecting you at all.

It’s just that I couldn’t bear to disappoint you.

If you shift your attention to me, I can’t reciproc—”

“Boss Xie, why are you so late?”

“Ooh, you even did your hair.

How are we supposed to live when you’re this handsome?”

“If you didn’t come any sooner, I would’ve eaten all this.”

“Penalty for being late: three drinks.

Come on, come on, drink up before we start the meal.”

……

A crowd of people burst in noisily.

Xie Yan had only gotten half his sentence out; the rest was swallowed back.

Where’s the dinner for two?

What’s going on?

Has this turned into a buffet for over a dozen people?

 

Lin Chuji turned his head, and because of the noise, didn’t quite hear: “What did you just say about disappointment?

What can’t you do?”

 

Xie Yan frowned.

“Why are they all here?”

This situation was becoming harder and harder to understand.

 

Lin Chuji glanced at the crowd in the room and said quietly, “I originally wanted to invite just you, mainly to thank you for helping me today…”

 

He paused, thinking about how they hadn’t exposed each other at the police station, and omitted that part.

“…for helping me cover with my mom.

But I felt that wasn’t grand enough.

And since you like lively atmospheres, I asked Shen Yinan and the others to invite everyone.”

 

For a socially anxious person like him, he felt this was already extremely sincere.

After speaking, he took a nervous breath.

“I rarely deal with this many people at once.

I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

 

Xie Yan: “……”

 

Expressing gratitude for help—completely reasonable, perfectly in line with the Chinese tradition of social exchange.

So what the hell had he been rambling about just now?

 

It’s all those two idiots Shen Yinan and Shen Yibei’s fault for making things up, causing me to think completely in the wrong direction.

He didn’t mean it that way at all.

He looked up and saw the two brothers already sneakily stuffing a shrimp into their mouths like they’d never seen food before, and he wanted to tie them up and throw them into the sea together.

 

Lin Chuji was still staring at him.

“What’s wrong?

Is something not to your liking?”

 

Xie Yan said flatly, “No.

It’s very much to my liking.

Extremely satisfactory.

It was just a small favor.

You’re too polite.”

“Good.

Then let’s eat.”

Lin Chuji gave him the center seat.

 

To be fair, Lin Chuji’s cooking was really excellent.

He hadn’t lied when they first met.

The dishes were elaborate, fragrant, and visually appealing.

He preserved the fresh tenderness of the seafood while making several different flavors to accommodate everyone’s preferences.

 

Everything was fine.

 

Xie Yan slowly ate a scallop, unusually quiet.

He just looked at the candles that had been moved aside because there were too many dishes, and the table that couldn’t fit even one more person, and listened to the non-stop chatter around him—he only found it noisy.

 

Shen Yinan, full of food and drink, launched into a frenzy of praise: “Lin, your cooking is incredible.

You’re way better than that fat chef from the other day.

I think you should forget about that Tieling Tech School and switch to New Oriental Culinary School.

You’d definitely make money.”

“Why did you blurt out that he’s going to a tech school?”

Shen Yibei nudged him with his elbow, stopping him from continuing.

 

Sitting among a group of Jing University students, Lin Chuji felt both awkward and guilty, but still smiled and said, “It’s okay.”

 

Shen Yinan said lazily, “Right.

So what if it’s a tech school?

It’s not embarrassing.

Our Lin is good-looking, has a great personality, and can cook really well.

When he finishes his training, he’ll be able to vroom-vroom drive an excavator.

How cool is that?”

 

Lin Chuji: “……”

Thank you very much.

I hear Jing University has the largest campus in the country.

I hope we won’t run into each other when school starts.

 

Noticing his discomfort, Xie Yan assumed it was because of his score.

He cut off the topic about schools: “You’ve been eating for two hours.

Aren’t you done yet?”

 

Shen Yibei stood up, swaying his head, and signaled everyone to move to the terrace: “Just because we’re done eating doesn’t mean we can’t stay and hang out?

There’s a meteor shower tonight.

We’ll all watch it together.

How romantic is that?”

“Right, right, right.

Everyone think about what you’re going to wish for.

The meteor shower comes and goes in a flash.

It would be a waste to get stuck at the moment,” Shen Yinan said, quite enthusiastically starting to move chairs and stools.

“A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I can’t believe we actually caught it.”

 

Lin Chuji slowly followed behind the group, lost in thought.

 

Xie Yan turned to look at him.

“Do you have a wish?”

“Yes, many,” Lin Chuji said.

The wind was strong at night, making him squint as he looked toward the sky.

 

Tonight, the sky was full of stars, the sea in the distance, the waves close by—very beautiful.

For the first time, he was glad he had been brave enough to secretly buy a ticket and embark on the first solo journey of his life, brushing past these lively, strange people for just a few days.

He would probably remember it fondly for a long time.

“You have to think of your strongest wish for it to possibly come true,” Xie Yan said.

“I know that, of course,” Lin Chuji said.

He thought seriously for a moment, then asked him, “What about you?

Have you thought of yours?”

 

Xie Yan looked into the distance expressionlessly.

“No.

My wish could never come true, so I don’t have one.”

 

Lin Chuji blinked slowly, looking at the sky very devoutly.

“As long as there’s hope, there’s always a chance it might come true someday, right?”

For example, his wishes for independence, for freedom, to go farther away—when he grew up a little more, he was sure they would.

 

Xie Yan turned his head and smiled at him.

“You’re really quite naive.”

 

This time, Lin Chuji clearly understood the teasing in his words—he was laughing at him for being too naive, wasn’t he?

His naturally fair cheeks instantly flushed red, even his ears burning.

 

Damn this night.

Why did I suddenly start such a heartfelt conversation with Xie Yan?

He’s just a passerby I met a few days ago.

Who cares what his wish is, whether it can come true or not.

 

Anyway, I’ve repaid the favor.

Now we owe each other nothing.

Lin Chuji held back for a moment, but still frowned and said, “Sometimes, the way you talk really makes people unhappy.”

 

This time, Xie Yan laughed fully.

His eyes curved, softening his strong features.

“I called you naive, and you don’t believe me.

Who else would say something like that out loud for others to hear?”

 

Lin Chuji: “……”

Can’t win against him.

Still can’t win.

It’s fine.

Two more days, and I will completely cut off contact with this person!

 

Lin Chuji ground his teeth.

“I’m sorry.

That was intrusive.”

 

Xie Yan laughed again.

 

Lin Chuji didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

 

The group waited until midnight, but in the end, the meteor shower never came.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to report the weather bureau!

What a crappy forecast!

Wasted three hours of our time!”

Shen Yinan fumed.

“Whatever, whatever.

I’m tired.

Let’s call it a night, everyone,” Shen Yibei said, shepherding the group back to their respective rooms.

 

Lin Chuji was also about to pass out.

Before bed, he took out the social phobia guides he had bought and tried to cram some more.

He read until he got sleepy, and at some point, he drifted off.

 

Xie Yan remained standing on the terrace, facing the sea breeze.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for.

He just waited.

 

At three in the morning.

 

A single star suddenly fell at an angle, dragging a long tail, disappearing quickly—like an omen of something beginning.

 

Xie Yan’s throat bobbed.

He aimed his camera at the sky, hesitated for two seconds, then raised his voice toward the room: “Lin Chuji, the meteor is here.

Wake up.”

 

No answer.

No movement.

Only the hollow wind responded.

 

His finger kept pressing the shutter.

He turned his head—Lin Chuji was still asleep in bed, breathing lightly.

“Weren’t you going to make a wish?

It would be a shame to miss it.”

Xie Yan put down the camera, strode to his bedside, grabbed his own jacket, wrapped it around Lin Chuji, picked him up, and placed him on the small table on the terrace.

 

Lin Chuji leaned crookedly against the wall, as if sensing something.

For the first time, he obediently stayed still, letting himself be arranged.

“Don’t move.

It’ll be quick.

Just a moment,” Xie Yan said softly.

 

Then he framed Lin Chuji in his lens and waited quietly.

 

A few seconds later, in the frame, behind him—five, ten, countless stars fell in a magnificent cascade.

 

Xie Yan captured that moment.

 

He truly had no wish of his own.

 

So he gave it to Lin Chuji instead.

May his wish come true.

 

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