Sunday morning started with Xu Zhe showing up unannounced.
This was not unusual. Xu Zhe treated boundaries the way some people treated speed limits—acknowledged in theory, ignored in practice.
The doorbell rang at 10:15 a.m.
Jiang Yue was still in bed, half asleep, one arm hanging off the mattress like a dead thing. His brain registered the sound and categorized it as "not my problem."
Then his mother's voice drifted through the door. "Yueyue, your friend is here!"
Jiang Yue groaned into his pillow.
He dragged himself up, pulled on a hoodie, and shuffled into the living room with the energy of someone who had been personally attacked by consciousness.
Xu Zhe stood in the entryway, grinning, holding a plastic bag of snacks like a peace offering.
"Morning, sunshine," Xu Zhe said brightly.
Jiang Yue stared at him. "It's Sunday."
Xu Zhe nodded. "I know. I'm here anyway."
Jiang Yue's mother smiled at Xu Zhe with genuine warmth, because Xu Zhe had a gift for making mothers like him despite overwhelming evidence that he was a terrible influence.
"Come in, come in," she said. "Have you eaten?"
Xu Zhe beamed. "Not yet, Auntie."
"I'll make something," she said, already heading to the kitchen.
Xu Zhe turned to Jiang Yue with the expression of someone who had just been handed a golden ticket. "Your mom is the best."
Jiang Yue rubbed his eyes. "Don't butter her up."
Xu Zhe walked past him into the living room and dropped onto the sofa like he owned it. His gaze swept the apartment casually, then stopped.
Wei's door was open.
Wei was sitting at his desk, visible through the doorway, reading. He wore a gray sweater, hair slightly less perfect than usual, like he'd been up for a while but hadn't bothered to style it.
Xu Zhe stared.
Then he turned to Jiang Yue slowly, eyebrows climbing.
"He's here," Xu Zhe whispered, as if this were breaking news.
Jiang Yue blinked. "He lives here."
Xu Zhe leaned closer. "Yeah, but he's right there. Door open. Relaxed. That's new."
Jiang Yue's face warmed slightly. "It's not new. It's Sunday."
Xu Zhe's eyes narrowed. "You're being weird."
Jiang Yue sat down beside him. "I'm always weird."
Xu Zhe studied him for a moment, then opened his snack bag and pulled out two packs of chips. He tossed one to Jiang Yue.
"So," Xu Zhe said, casual as a knife. "The library."
Jiang Yue's hand froze on the chip bag. "What about it."
Xu Zhe smiled. "You went again yesterday."
Jiang Yue stared at him. "How do you know."
Xu Zhe shrugged. "You posted a photo of the river on your private story. The angle is from that library window."
Jiang Yue cursed internally. He'd forgotten about that.
Xu Zhe tilted his head. "You went with him."
It wasn't a question.
Jiang Yue opened the chip bag too aggressively. Chips scattered. "We studied. That's it."
Xu Zhe picked up a fallen chip from the sofa and ate it, unbothered. "You study at home every night. Why go to the library."
Jiang Yue shoved a chip into his mouth. "Change of scenery."
Xu Zhe's gaze sharpened. "Change of scenery with Wei Nianzhan."
Jiang Yue chewed louder, as if volume could end the conversation.
Xu Zhe leaned back and crossed his arms, watching Jiang Yue with the patience of someone who had known him too long to be fooled.
"Okay," Xu Zhe said. "I'll stop pushing."
Jiang Yue glanced at him, suspicious. "Really."
Xu Zhe smiled. "No. But I'll pretend to stop, which is basically the same thing."
Jiang Yue groaned.
Their mother brought out plates of food—eggs, toast, leftover congee heated up—and set them on the coffee table. Xu Zhe thanked her three times, each time more dramatically, until she laughed and swatted his arm.
They ate in the living room, TV on low.
Wei emerged eventually, walking to the kitchen for water. He nodded at Xu Zhe. "Hello."
Xu Zhe grinned. "Hey. Nice sweater."
Wei looked down at his sweater as if checking what he was wearing, then said, "Thank you."
Xu Zhe's grin widened.
Wei filled his glass and walked back to his room.
The second Wei's door closed, Xu Zhe turned to Jiang Yue.
"Nice sweater," Xu Zhe repeated, incredulous. "I said 'nice sweater' to Wei Nianzhan and he said 'thank you' like a normal human."
Jiang Yue stared at the TV. "He is a normal human."
Xu Zhe shook his head slowly. "No. He's not. But he's trying to be. And that's interesting."
Jiang Yue didn't respond.
After eating, Xu Zhe suggested they go for a walk.
Which, in Xu Zhe language, meant: I want to talk to you alone.
They left the apartment and walked toward the old neighborhood, hands in pockets, breath visible in the cold air.
For a while, Xu Zhe talked about nothing—school gossip, a game he'd been playing, his cat's latest crime of knocking a plant off the shelf.
Normal things.
Easy things.
Then, at the corner near the convenience store where they always stopped for drinks, Xu Zhe slowed.
"I need to say something," Xu Zhe said.
Jiang Yue tensed. "Okay."
Xu Zhe stopped walking and turned to face him.
His expression was serious. Not joking-serious. Actually serious.
Jiang Yue's stomach tightened.
Xu Zhe spoke carefully. "I've known you since we were fourteen."
Jiang Yue nodded slowly.
Xu Zhe continued. "I've seen you angry. I've seen you sad. I've seen you start fights because you didn't know how to ask for help."
Jiang Yue's jaw tightened. "Where is this going."
Xu Zhe held his gaze. "I've never seen you like this."
Silence.
Jiang Yue's pulse kicked. "Like what."
Xu Zhe's voice was gentle. "Careful."
The word landed between them.
Jiang Yue blinked.
Xu Zhe continued. "You're careful around him. You measure your words. You study on Saturdays. You turned down Tang Ruo's party. You smile differently when you talk about the library."
Jiang Yue's face heated. "I don't smile differently."
Xu Zhe's eyes softened. "You do."
Jiang Yue looked away, staring at the convenience store sign like it was the most fascinating object in Yunbei.
Xu Zhe stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I told you on the roof that I don't care who you like."
Jiang Yue's throat tightened. "Don't."
Xu Zhe didn't stop. "I meant it. But I need you to hear something else."
Jiang Yue's hands clenched in his pockets. "What."
Xu Zhe's voice was steady, firm, kind. "Be careful with yourself."
Jiang Yue looked at him.
Xu Zhe's expression was open, no jokes, no armor. "Not because it's wrong. Not because I think you're making a mistake. But because this situation is... complicated. And you feel things hard. And if it goes bad, I don't want to watch you disappear."
Jiang Yue's eyes burned.
He blinked fast, jaw tight.
"I'm not disappearing," Jiang Yue said, voice rough.
Xu Zhe nodded. "Good."
Silence.
A car passed. A kid laughed somewhere.
Jiang Yue swallowed. "You know I can't... I can't explain it."
Xu Zhe's mouth curved slightly. "You don't have to."
Jiang Yue stared at him. "You're being really mature right now and it's freaking me out."
Xu Zhe laughed, the sound breaking the tension like a window opening. "Don't worry. I'll go back to being dumb in five minutes."
Jiang Yue's mouth twitched. "Promise?"
Xu Zhe held up his pinky. "Promise."
Jiang Yue stared at the pinky, then hooked his own around it briefly.
Xu Zhe grinned. "Okay. Emotional moment over. Let's buy chips."
They went into the convenience store and spent ten minutes arguing about chip flavors.
Xu Zhe wanted sour cream. Jiang Yue wanted spicy. They bought both and ate them on a bench outside, shoulders touching, watching people walk by.
It felt normal.
Blessedly, beautifully normal.
When they walked back to the apartment later, Xu Zhe stopped at the building entrance.
"I'm not coming up," he said.
Jiang Yue blinked. "Why."
Xu Zhe smiled. "Because I think you should spend the afternoon with your family."
Jiang Yue stared at him.
Family.
Xu Zhe had never used that word for the people in Jiang Yue's apartment before.
Xu Zhe shrugged. "Or whatever you call them. The point is, go home."
Jiang Yue swallowed. "You're being weird again."
Xu Zhe punched his arm lightly. "You love it."
Then he turned and walked away, waving over his shoulder without looking back.
Jiang Yue watched him go.
Then he went inside.
The elevator ride was quiet.
He opened the apartment door.
Inside, his mother was on the sofa, reading something on her phone. Wei Chengyu was in the kitchen, washing dishes.
Wei was at the dining table, textbook open, pen in hand.
Normal.
Jiang Yue took off his shoes.
Wei glanced up.
Their eyes met.
Jiang Yue's chest tightened with the familiar ache.
He walked to the dining table and sat down across from Wei.
"What are you working on," Jiang Yue asked.
Wei's gaze held his for a beat. "English."
Jiang Yue pulled out his own notebook. "I need help with the reading comprehension section."
Wei nodded. "Show me."
They worked together, quiet and steady.
Door open.
No touching.
But something had shifted again—not between them, but inside Jiang Yue.
Because Xu Zhe knew.
Not the details. Not the kissing. Not the hallway. Not the fever night.
But the shape of it. The weight.
And he'd carried it without judgment.
And that meant Jiang Yue wasn't alone with it anymore.
The secret hadn't gotten smaller.
But the person holding it had gotten stronger.
And that, for now, was enough.