Chapter 26 - Deeply In Love With You [Quick Transmigration]

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Chapter 26: True Feelings (3)

 

 

After the meal, the old lady went to take a nap, and the two boys entered Zong Que's room.

 

The bed was large and neatly made, though it made the small bedroom feel even smaller.

 

Zong Que sat on the bed, while Lin Heng pulled out a chair and sat at the desk, where books were piled high. The open space on the desk was scattered with carved marks, clearly etched long ago.

 

"Want to play a game?" Zong Que asked.

 

Lin Heng shook his head. "Not really. Back when studying was at its toughest, I used to think I'd go all out gaming once I graduated. But now that I finally have free time… I just don't feel like it."

 

"Then rest a bit. There's a square nearby with a basketball hoop—once the sun dips a bit, we can go play." Zong Que leaned back into a soft pillow he'd propped up behind him, not wanting to sleep right after a meal, just close his eyes for a while.

 

Lin Heng looked at the other pillow across from him, exhaled softly, and walked over to lie on it as well, mirroring him. "Alright. Once your competition results are out, let's go fishing."

 

"Mm." Zong Que responded with his eyes closed.

 

"How did you fish when you were a kid?" Lin Heng turned his head toward Zong Que's profile, his voice and breath light.

 

"I'd heat a needle, bend it into a hook. Wanna try it?" Zong Que asked, shifting slightly.

 

He might not always carry a hook outdoors, but he would always have a needle and thread. Those two things alone could solve a lot of problems.

 

"I do," Lin Heng said.

 

The room returned to quiet. Their breaths slowed.

 

Lying sideways on the cushion, Lin Heng moved gently, holding his breath as he reached to support the back of Zong Que's neck and carefully lowered the pillow. Just as he was about to pull his hand away, his wrist was caught.

 

Lin Heng's heart gave a small jolt. When he looked down, he met Zong Que's slightly lifted eyelids.

 

"What are you doing?" Zong Que asked.

 

"It's more comfortable lying flat," Lin Heng murmured. As Zong Que's eyes closed again, he gently pulled his hand free—though his gaze lingered, unwilling to move.

 

Even with his eyes closed, Zong Que's features were striking—unexpectedly long lashes that made his eyes seem even deeper when open, a nose that was perfectly straight and defined, and a sculpted face that seemed made to draw others' attention.

 

Lin Heng's gaze dropped, settling on his lips. His heart beat a little faster.

 

He shifted his line of sight and rolled over to face the other side, but his attention drifted again. He stared at the pattern on the desk for a moment, then quietly turned back and let his eyes rest on Zong Que's face, framed by the fading light through the window.

 

Pleasing to the eye.

 

Lin Heng didn't know how long he stared. Nor did he know when his eyelids began to grow heavy and his thoughts sank deep.

 

The alarm went off, pulling him out of an indistinct dream. Lin Heng sat up, and found the spot beside him empty. He pushed aside the thin blanket and got up. Just as he checked the time, the door opened.

 

Zong Que stepped in holding a basketball. "You're up? Let's go play."

 

"Mm." Lin Heng stood and folded the blanket. "I'll wash my face first."

 

Though it was the weekend, maybe because few young people lived around here, no one had taken over the court.

 

The two of them played, but their one-on-one was even more intense than a full game.

 

It was April—not hot—but by the end of the game they were both drenched in sweat.

 

"Water," Zong Que said, handing him a bottle.

 

"Thanks." Lin Heng took it, loosened his collar to let out the heat, then twisted the cap open and drank deeply. "I need a shower."

 

The idea of boarding the subway drenched in sweat was unbearable.

 

"There's a water heater at home. I'll lend you some clothes," Zong Que said as he sat beside him, tilting his head back to drink.

 

That bottle of water emptied fast, but Zong Que still held it, not tossing it away.

 

As they left together, the sun had already dipped low—the start of dusk.

 

There was a water heater at Zong Que's place, newly installed. The shower was ready, but the bathroom sink hadn't been set up yet.

 

By the time they'd both showered and come back out, the sky outside was completely dark.

 

"It's pitch black now, and the roads here are rough. Why don't you stay the night, Little Class Rep? Head back tomorrow morning," the elderly woman said as she brought out dinner. "Just in time, too—it's about dinnertime again."

 

Lin Heng, who was toweling off his hair, stiffened. "That's alright, no need."

 

There were only two rooms here—one for Zong Que and one for the old lady. If he stayed the night, he'd have to share a bed.

 

A nap was one thing. An overnight stay felt like a whole different matter.

 

"I'll walk him home after we eat," Zong Que said as he took the food from the tray and set it on the table.

 

This time, Lin Heng swallowed his protest. Even though he had people stalking him, it was better not to worry the old woman.

 

Dinner ended. The sky was completely black, not a single star visible. The wind carried the faint coolness of night.

 

When they stepped out, Zong Que took an umbrella, and they walked side by side through the dim alley.

 

"Once we're out of the alley it's all main road and streetlights. I can get home on my own," Lin Heng said, watching the side of Zong Que's face lit by the glow ahead.

 

"This area doesn't have the best security. I'll walk you to the station," Zong Que said.

 

"Actually, I told my dad about what happened before. He sent a bodyguard," Lin Heng said with a smile. "Professional. You don't have to worry about me—and if you go home too late, your grandma might worry about you."

 

Zong Que turned to look at him. "I've dealt with the people in this area before. Nothing's going to happen. Don't worry."

 

"Dealt with?" Lin Heng matched his stride, curious.

 

"Gotten into fights."

 

"That sounds kind of brutal," Lin Heng chuckled, walking beside him. "Honestly, when we first met, I really did think you might beat me up."

 

But as time passed and they got closer, he realized how wrong that first impression had been. Step by step, he'd gotten to know him—really know him—and fallen deeper without even noticing.

 

He didn't know exactly when it started—only that he kept finding his eyes drawn to him. Just seeing him made him happy. Every moment spent together felt like a quiet joy.

 

Darkness had a way of giving courage to things buried deep in the heart. Every moment of care, every brush of closeness—he had prepared himself for this moment. There was nothing left to hesitate about.

 

"I wouldn't," Zong Que said quietly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.

 

"Zong Que." Lin Heng reached out to take his hand but ended up grasping the umbrella he was holding instead.

 

Feeling the shift, Zong Que turned back. "What is it?"

 

The alley's end was only a few steps away. Lin Heng's eyes shimmered like water, soft and filled with something tender. It made Zong Que think of a gaze he didn't want to remember. His brows furrowed slightly, and then he heard the words he least wanted to hear.

 

"I love you."

 

When a friendship transforms into something else, it marks the end of that friendship.

 

Lin Heng's gaze brimmed with hope, glistening beneath the distant glow of a streetlamp. But Zong Que knew—knew that soon, sorrow would cloud those eyes.

 

"Lin Heng, I don't need love."

 

Friends drift apart. One day, when he's not around, Lin Heng will find someone else, build a family of his own. They'll still be friends—perhaps even close friends who share values and ideas. Friendship is about sharing; love, however, demands exclusivity. To have a partner in life is to take on responsibility—along with all the complications that don't exist when you're alone.

 

And most of all—that so-called thrill of the heart everyone spoke of... he had never felt it. Still, it didn't stop the ache of losing someone so like-minded.

 

Lin Heng's gaze stiffened. He let go of the umbrella, fingers curling tightly, the smile on his lips wavering—then forced itself back up, fragile and confused.

 

He'd been rejected. And it hurt so much more than he imagined. There was a weight on his chest, heavy and breathless, like he couldn't quite get enough air.

 

Zong Que didn't feel the same. So all that affection he thought he sensed—was it just his wishful thinking?

 

"I was just joking," Lin Heng said with a laugh as he looked up. "Just messing around. No need to take it so seriously."

 

Zong Que stared at the expression on his face—one that looked even worse than crying—and said quietly, "Lin Heng, you're not the kind of person who makes that kind of joke."

 

The smile on Lin Heng's face stiffened and fell away. He stared at Zong Que, his voice low and uncertain. "Will we still be friends?"

 

He already knew the answer—probably not. But still, he couldn't stop himself from asking.

 

"Lin Heng, staying friends... would only bring you pain," Zong Que said quietly.

 

He couldn't respond to those feelings. There was no point in giving him hope, only to let that hope drain him dry.

 

Lin Heng took a deep breath, but even his breath was trembling. He bit his lip through a shaky smile. "Zong Que, if you don't like someone... don't be so good to them."

 

Not so good that it felt like love. Not so good that it made him believe they'd both been waiting for this moment.

 

But in the end, it was nothing more than his own delusion—a mirage in the water, a flower in a dream.

 

The distance between heaven and hell was only a single thought away.

 

"I'll remember that," Zong Que said.

 

As expected, he wasn't suited to having friends. It was best he never let anyone too close.

 

Lin Heng's fists clenched tighter. With difficulty, he said, "Goodbye."

 

His eyes burned. It was hard to hold it in. Unspoken, unrequited love—his first love—had become a cruel joke. And yet, he still felt so deeply, achingly sad. So sad he couldn't even see the path in front of him clearly.

 

But he couldn't blame Zong Que. He had done so many things for him, had been kind in countless ways—just not in that way. And that wasn't a crime.

 

Just as Lin Heng turned to leave, a droplet fell on the back of Zong Que's hand. Cold as rainwater splashing into a puddle—it rippled and disappeared just as quickly.

 

More droplets followed. Zong Que looked up, opened the umbrella in his hand, and held it above Lin Heng's head. "It's raining. I'll walk you there."

 

Staring into the falling curtain of rain, hearing his voice behind him, Lin Heng wanted to refuse. He wanted to walk away. He wanted to get soaked and catch a cold. He wanted to cry out the ache in his chest. He wanted to demand comfort. He wanted to beg him not to care—not if he didn't love him.

 

But in front of someone who didn't love you, none of that meant anything.

 

His care was that of a friend—not a lover.

 

"Mm. Thank you." Lin Heng walked ahead, letting Zong Que follow a step behind. Raindrops brushed across his cheeks, but the umbrella above shifted forward a little to shield him.

 

Lin Heng came to a stop. The umbrella stopped too. He said quietly, "Zong Que, if you don't like someone, don't be so gentle with them. Don't take such good care of them."

 

Being so gentle… it always sparks hope. And that hope only deepens the pain.

 

"You already said that. I'll keep it in mind," Zong Que replied, passing him the umbrella. "I'll call a car to take you home. Roads are dangerous in the rain."

 

As Lin Heng turned to take the umbrella, Zong Que caught sight of his reddened, glistening eyes. But before he could fully process that shimmer of moisture on the back of his hand, headlights pierced the dark—and the screech of tires shattered the silence of night.

 

Several unmarked, unlicensed cars skidded to a halt. Zong Que yanked Lin Heng behind him just as men with clubs poured out of the vehicles—leading them was Brother Hai.

 

He looked nothing like the man Zong Que had first met. He was now a complete madman, with nothing left to lose.

 

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