Don’t Endure
That night, the two walked hand in hand to many places.
Lu Xingjia first sent a message to Professor Peng to let him know they were safe, then put away his phone and wandered aimlessly with Qin Mudong through the streets.
As night fell, orange streetlights lit up one by one, illuminating the entire city.
It was rush hour, and traffic packed the roads. Red taillights stretched in a long line.
They strolled the streets, listening to shopkeepers shouting, watching the crowds go by.
Passing by a residential area, voices echoed on the street—mothers calling their children in for dinner, neighbors arguing over trivial things.
Boring, repetitive, day after day. But this was ordinary life.
During this time, Pu Shulan called again. The shrill ringtone rang out, and Qin Mudong pressed the hang-up button without hesitation, then immediately added her number to the blacklist.
Lu Xingjia watched him complete the whole process, and when he saw his fingers trembling, he reached out and held his hand.
Their fingers interlocked—a silent show of mutual support.
Evening came, and He Xi called, urging Lu Xingjia to come home.
After everything that happened that afternoon, Lu Xingjia didn’t dare let Qin Mudong go home alone, so he tentatively asked, “Do you want to come to my place tonight? You can sleep over…”
The boy’s eyes sparkled, cautious and filled with sincerity.
Qin Mudong’s lips parted, almost ready to say yes. But when he looked up, he saw Lu Xingjia nervously press his lips together.
The pale pink tip of his tongue brushed against his dry lips, and his teeth nibbled on a bit of peeling skin. It was innocent and yet so alluring. Lu Xingjia had no idea—he just kept gazing at him with clear, bright eyes.
Qin Mudong’s eyes dimmed instantly. The blood in his veins, never truly quiet, began to boil and burn, roaring to life.
He needed a gentle harbor to heal—but he also knew too well that his dark desires had never really faded.
When he didn’t have them, he just wanted to accompany from afar. But once he had them, those suppressed desires sprang up, took root, grew stronger—and had nowhere to hide.
The night of the national competition, he had only slept a little, but he’d had a very long dream.
In the dream, he had locked Lu Xingjia away, then bit his prominent Adam’s apple, sucked on his exposed collarbone, teased him until he cried and gasped, leaving red marks all over his body, smothering him with his scent.
Again and again, he confirmed that this boy belonged to him.
When he woke up, he realized for the first time that he might have some… unusual preferences.
He wanted to see him smile—and also cry. He wanted to lock him away, make him his obedient bunny, push him to the point of tears, then have him dive into his arms with red eyes.
He was a twisted, obsessive young man.
Watching the delicate boy sleeping soundly beside him, completely unguarded, Qin Mudong had felt overwhelmed by guilt.
His unspoken desires only grew stronger under repression—and now they were at their peak.
He had lost everything else. Xingxing was all he had left.
If he went to Lu Xingjia’s house now—to a place filled with his scent, his life—and shared a bed with him, it would spiral out of control.
He might hurt him in a moment of losing control. And he hadn’t even confirmed yet…
Whether Lu Xingjia could accept all this.
Could his star really accept someone so obsessive and twisted? Did he truly understand what kind of demon lurked inside him?
Even now, Qin Mudong didn’t dare be sure.
Lu Xingjia was all he had left. He couldn’t lose him.
A moment later, Qin Mudong closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again. His deliberately lowered eyelids hid the overwhelming desire in his eyes.
In a hoarse voice, he said, “No need.”
“Why not?!” Lu Xingjia couldn’t help asking, trying hard to persuade him, “My bed is a double bed—it’s not cramped with two people. And you know my mom, she’s really gentle, and…”
“No need,” Qin Mudong spoke calmly, cutting him off. “It’s not convenient.”
“But…”
“It’s not convenient.”
“…”
“…”
Lu Xingjia tried every possible way to persuade him, but Qin Mudong remained immovable as a mountain. In the end, he could only compromise: “Then… when you get home, call me. Every hour—no, every half hour—send me a message. Or I’ll send you one. You must reply!”
His beautiful eyes were full of unease and worry, clearly revealing what he feared.
Qin Mudong suddenly softened, as if melting into a puddle. He gave his word: “Don’t worry, I won’t commit suicide.”
If he hadn’t met Lu Xingjia, if he were still the same as before—only caring about physics—after being deeply hurt by Pu Shulan, he might’ve had such thoughts. At least physics wouldn’t betray him.
But now, it was different. He couldn’t bear to be separated from his star even for a second, let alone forever.
Lu Xingjia was stunned. He had always treated that word as taboo, had never imagined Qin Mudong would bring it up himself.
Having that fear laid bare like this suddenly made it feel a little less dark and terrifying.
“You really… won’t commit suicide?” Lu Xingjia bit his lip, asking hesitantly.
“Mm,” Qin Mudong said softly. “I promise.”
In that moment, his eyes stung again with emotion.
Lu Xingjia blinked rapidly, holding back the tears, then threw his arms around Qin Mudong, pressing their bodies tightly together. “I believe you. Don’t ever leave me.”
Feeling the warmth against his chest, Qin Mudong wrapped Lu Xingjia in his arms in return. “Mm.”
A muffled voice came from his chest: “But you still have to send me texts. Don’t think it’s a hassle.”
“Alright.”
Qin Mudong chuckled softly, eyes half-closed, then pulled him even closer.
……
Worried that Qin Mudong might be emotionally unstable, Peng Huarong rescheduled his train ticket and stayed an extra day in Xingjiang.
It was Sunday the next day, and Lu Xingjia and Qin Mudong took him around the city.
Xingjiang was located in the north, but not as far north as the Northeast. It was a modest economic city without many tourist attractions.
Had it been two months later when it snowed, perhaps Peng Huarong, who had lived in the South all his life, might have seen something novel. But at this time of year, there really wasn’t much to do.
Thankfully, Peng Huarong hadn’t come for sightseeing, so he didn’t mind. They wandered a park casually, and when tired, found a random place to eat near a shopping street. The atmosphere was quite warm and relaxed.
Qin Mudong maintained a calm demeanor throughout, even occasionally laughing at Lu Xingjia’s antics. Peng Huarong frequently glanced at him, and only after confirming there was no pain or sadness in his eyes did he finally relax and join in their banter again.
During lunch, Lu Xingjia drank too much water, and near the end of the meal, clutched his stomach awkwardly. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
“Go ahead,” Peng Huarong said casually. “We’ll wait here.”
Lu Xingjia nodded gratefully and left in a hurry.
With the cheerful one gone, the lively atmosphere dimmed. Peng Huarong looked at Qin Mudong, his smile fading.
After a moment of thought, he spoke. “Yesterday…”
Afraid of touching on a painful topic, he asked gently, “Where did you two go?”
“Just wandered around,” Qin Mudong, being perceptive, easily picked up on the deeper meaning and answered lightly, “Too many interesting things, can’t remember clearly.”
The implication was obvious: his mood hadn’t been affected by Pu Shulan.
Peng Huarong watched him for a moment. Hearing his answer, he finally felt relieved and didn’t push the topic further.
Qin Mudong was stronger than he had imagined. Witnessing such a scene, being used by his biological mother—anyone would have found it unbearable.
Peng Huarong knew this resilience probably had a lot to do with Lu Xingjia’s help. That kid seemed to have a magical quality, making people want to draw close. Being around him made one naturally let their guard down.
“Jia Jia is a good kid,” Peng Huarong said with a chuckle. “Naive, likable. Boyfriend?”
Qin Mudong had been idly fiddling with the armrest, but when he heard Lu Xingjia mentioned, his hand froze.
After a brief pause, he frowned and bristled like a hedgehog: “Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Don’t be nervous,” Peng Huarong tried to soothe him. “Just reminded of someone.”
Qin Mudong still stared coldly at him, full of wariness, not saying a word.
Peng Huarong sighed softly and explained: “When we were young, we were like you—studying physics, in the same class. But we were young and immature, both stereotypical science guys, poor at communication. The friction built up until we sadly broke up.”
Qin Mudong frowned, voice still cool. “What are you trying to say?”
“Relax, really,” Peng Huarong smiled again, continuing, “Later on, we met again and got back together. Now, we’re doing great. Coming out went smoothly. Since we reconciled, we haven’t fought. Even if there’s conflict, it never lasts overnight. No children, but we have cats and dogs… Living like this, I’d say we’re lucky.”
“The only regret I have,” Peng Huarong said, “is that we were separated back then. When we met again, we already had our own careers and social circles. I wasn’t by his side during his most difficult times, and he wasn’t there to accompany me during my years of hard work.”
Footsteps echoed from afar—Lu Xingjia had rounded the corner and was walking toward them.
Peng Huarong glanced at Qin Mudong again and slowly said, “Since the first day I saw you two, I’ve been wanting to find the right moment to say this. If I’m not mistaken, you’re hiding something from him, aren’t you? I can tell just by the way you look at him—you’re holding something in.”
His voice was gentle. “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, but you should know that emotions you forcibly suppress won’t disappear. They’ll only continue to grow wildly in the dark, and when they finally erupt, they’ll be completely out of your control.”
“Try talking to him. Don’t suppress yourself.” Peng Huarong gave Qin Mudong one last earnest, sincere look.
Qin Mudong stared at him deeply but said nothing.
“Sorry! I took a wrong turn coming back—did you wait long?” Lu Xingjia arrived next to them, looking puzzled at their strange expressions. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Peng Huarong’s kind smile returned as he smoothly picked up the conversation from before Lu Xingjia left.
The three of them sat for a little while longer. Then Peng Huarong said, “I’m really happy with this trip to Xingjiang. Thank you both for taking the time to accompany me today, but I should be heading back now.”
“You’re leaving already?” Lu Xingjia was surprised. “You could stay a few more days and explore the city!”
Peng Huarong smiled but politely declined Lu Xingjia’s suggestion.
That afternoon, Lu Xingjia and Qin Mudong escorted him to the train station.
The station was bustling with people. Through the train carriage’s glass, Peng Huarong waved to them, “Go on back, no need to wait here!”
Lu Xingjia continued waving. Qin Mudong stood silently beside him, watching Lu Xingjia—his face radiant with joy, practically glowing. Qin Mudong’s gaze darkened.
Don’t suppress it?
Tell him?
Is that really okay?
The thought sprouted like bamboo after a rain, growing wildly until it reached towering heights.
But… who would love someone like him? A controlling, obsessive freak?
Qin Mudong snapped back to reality. He laughed at himself, eyes falling.
The bamboo that had just grown was cut in half by a sickle and crashed down.