The next morning, a ray of sunlight filtered through the window into the room, accompanied by a gentle breeze carrying a hint of coolness. It slowly lifted the curtains, setting them swaying in the air.
Several pots of ornamental flowers sat by the window, basking in the sun’s nourishment as the breeze lightly caressed them.
Yang Haoran was sleeping soundly. Yang Mengyao, at their mother’s bidding, had come to rouse her brother for breakfast.
She shook him this way and that for ages before he finally stirred, half-asleep and half-awake. Under her relentless prodding, and with no other choice, Yang Haoran dragged himself out of bed, fighting off his drowsiness.
While washing up, he noticed his underwear felt sticky. He dashed to the bathroom, pulled it off for a look—sure enough, it was a wet dream, just as expected.
The steamy scenes from last night’s dream flickered hazily through his mind. He licked his parched lips, still relishing the aftertaste.
He swore to himself that he would turn that dream into reality.
After changing his underwear, he headed downstairs. The family finished breakfast together, and Yang Haoran set off for school with his sister, yawning the whole way.
The two boarded bus route 103, riding past seven or eight stops before getting off.
A few minutes after his sister walked away, Yang Haoran ambled toward the school at his own pace.
Not long after entering the campus, he spotted Zhou Shiwen sitting alone at one of the green tables and chairs set out by the school canteen. Shiwen was sipping soy milk and methodically munching on a fried dough stick, glancing around as if waiting for someone.
A number of other students sat outside the canteen too, gathered in little groups of three or five as they ate breakfast and chatted idly.
Zhou Shiwen noticed Yang Haoran shortly after and waved him over.
“Aunt Shen didn’t make you breakfast this morning?” Yang Haoran plopped down across from Shiwen without ceremony and snatched a fried dough stick from the transparent bag on the table, taking a bite.
It was surprisingly good. Back when he first got up, he’d been too groggy for any appetite and had only nibbled at his food to placate his mom.
But now, after walking a fair distance and shaking off some of his sleepiness, his stomach was starting to rumble.
“Nah, Mom had something to do this morning and told me to grab something at school.” Zhou Shiwen took a nervous sip of soy milk to steady himself upon seeing Yang Haoran arrive. As he spoke, he studied his friend’s face.
Truth be told, he wasn’t being entirely honest. Shen Qing had made breakfast, but he hadn’t touched it. He’d bolted to school bright and early just to head Yang Haoran off.
“Mm.” Yang Haoran tore off a big chunk of fried dough stick and chewed it as he asked, “Looked like you were waiting for someone earlier. Who?”
Zhou Shiwen’s hand froze mid-bite at the question. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his head. He wavered, wondering if he should just come clean—but when push came to shove, he couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject.
He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, his mind churning with ways to stop Yang Haoran. But mindful of their friendship that stretched back to childhood, he didn’t want to let something that hadn’t even happened yet drive a wedge between them. In the end, he’d settled on a plan: convince Yang Haoran not to read Mom’s erotic novels and smother the problem at its root.
His thoughts settled, Zhou Shiwen made up his mind and feigned a stammer. “N-no… I was just… just…”
Yang Haoran eyed his hesitant best friend in surprise. “Don’t tell me you were waiting for me!”
The words had barely left his mouth when realization dawned on Yang Haoran. It had to be about yesterday.
Sure enough, hearing it put so bluntly eased something in Zhou Shiwen. “Haoran, you didn’t read my mom’s novel yesterday, did you?”
He fixed Yang Haoran with an intent stare, watching closely for any flicker of expression.
Yang Haoran had seen that question coming and kept his face perfectly neutral. “Nah, haven’t gotten around to it. Soon as I have time…”
“Don’t!” Zhou Shiwen cut him off, his expression grave. “Promise me, Haoran. Promise you won’t read those novels.”
“Why not?” Yang Haoran played dumb. “They’re just some novels. Doesn’t matter if they’re by Aunt Shen, right?”
Classmates wandered by now and then, so he couldn’t very well say “erotic” aloud.
Zhou Shiwen drew a deep breath. His face turned deadly serious, his gaze locked on Yang Haoran’s, his voice steady and resolute. “Haoran, no matter the reason—promise me. I’m begging you. Never read those novels. Ever. Or we can’t be brothers anymore.”
Zhou Shiwen’s intensity left Yang Haoran baffled, but confronted with his friend’s solemn plea, he relented. “Fine, I promise. I’ll never read those novels.”
Relief washed over Zhou Shiwen at the words, though he couldn’t resist one last reminder. “Remember—you promised. Never read them.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Never.” Yang Haoran threw up his hands in exasperation. “Shiwen, what’s gotten into you? So hush-hush about it? Making me swear and all?”
He genuinely couldn’t fathom his friend’s behavior. Swearing? It was like something out of a playground taunt. Even if he hadn’t read the novels yet, this stunt would’ve sparked his curiosity enough to go digging.
Besides, his promise only covered the future—what he’d already seen didn’t count.
“Don’t ask. We drop it here. Act like it never happened.” Zhou Shiwen brushed off the probing with vague deflection.
Had it not occurred to him that, even if Yang Haoran hadn’t read them, this whole mysterious act might just stoke his curiosity enough to check them out? Was it an oversight, or was some deeper psychology at play, willfully ignoring that possibility?
Yang Haoran didn’t puzzle it out just then. It would be much later, when enlightenment struck, that he’d realize with astonishment his lifelong buddy harbored such a peculiar fixation.
With his nagging worry laid to rest, Zhou Shiwen visibly relaxed. The two finished eating and fell into easy chatter.
Thirsty midway through his fried dough stick, Yang Haoran even popped into the canteen for a bottle of soda.
Afterward, they headed back to the classroom.
Morning reading came and went as usual, followed by two dull classes that Yang Haoran endured in a haze. He’d meant to buckle down and pay attention for his mom’s sake, but the teacher’s words sailed right over his head. Add yesterday’s sleep deficit to the mix, and drowsiness soon overtook him. He ended up slumped over his desk, fast asleep.
When the bell rang, Yang Mengyao sneaked a glance backward, making sure no one was watching. Her brother was still out cold. She felt a mix of exasperation and disappointment—part of her itched to wake him, but she held back, wary of drawing classmates’ eyes or earning a scolding at home. Caught in two minds, she dithered until the next bell sounded, forced to let it go.
“Don’t sleep, Rat—this is Teacher Gu’s class.” Fortunately, Wei Ming from the seat behind soon gave him a nudge.
“Uh… right.” Yang Haoran rubbed his eyes and straightened up.
Gu Qingying’s class was one he couldn’t afford to doze through. She might turn a blind eye to others, but if she caught him sleeping, she’d have no qualms about calling his mom.
Moments later, Gu Qingying strode into the classroom in her black high heels. She cut a striking figure in her black-and-white ensemble—sexy and alluring, yet radiating the full authority of her profession.
