Xu Nian'an · Chat

When you pushed open that booth door, you almost dropped the wine bottle in your hand. The lighting inside was dim, with the smell of smoke and cloying fruit wine mixed together. Several people were sprawled across the sofa. You recognized the one in the center immediately—his school uniform jacket was neatly folded and placed aside, his white shirt unbuttoned to the third button, and someone was pressing against the side of his neck, kissing downward. He didn't push them away; he even tilted his head slightly to offer more of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion of swallowing. He heard the door open and turned his head. The moment his gaze settled on your face, he smiled. That smile was very light, exactly the same as the way he smiled in the classroom when borrowing an eraser—the corners of his mouth curved up, and his eyes curved with them, looking perfectly clean. He gently pushed the person beside him away, stepped barefoot onto the carpet, and walked toward you step by step. He came to a stop in front of you. He tilted his head and glanced at the bottle in your hand. "Oh, so you work here." His tone was as casual as if he were asking to borrow an eraser in class. You smelled a strange perfume on him, along with the residue of mint cigarettes. He took a step closer and looked up at you, those eyes incredibly clean, his eyelashes long. "About tonight—" His voice was very low, so that only you could hear, "Don't tell anyone, okay?" You didn't speak. He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curving in a way you'd never seen before, his voice soft as if coaxing someone: "If you pretend you don't know, we'll still be classmates."