The new rule went into effect immediately.
It wasn't written on any noticeboard, but it lived in Teacher Gao's eyes and in the way the hallway went quiet when Wei and Jiang Yue passed.
After the parent-teacher meeting, nobody had to ask what "supervised" meant. They'd seen Wei Chengyu's expression in the office. They'd seen the printout with red circles. They'd heard Teacher Gao say discipline matter.
So now the school watched.
And when a school watched, it didn't matter how innocent you were. It mattered how you looked.
After class, Wei packed his bag and stood up without turning around. "Library."
Jiang Yue followed.
The school library was bright and crowded, nothing like the public one by the river. Students filled the long tables. Teachers passed through with papers in hand. A security camera blinked in the corner like a reminder that even silence could be recorded.
They took a table near the back, half-shadowed by shelves.
Wei laid out the tutoring plan and Jiang Yue opened his workbook.
They worked.
Quietly. Efficiently. Boring on purpose.
But boredom didn't erase the fact that every time Jiang Yue leaned forward to ask something, he could feel eyes flick toward them. Every time Wei's pen hovered to point at a line, the movement looked too intimate to people who wanted a story.
Jiang Yue kept his shoulders stiff. Kept his tone flat. Kept his gaze on the page.
He hated how much effort it took to look like nothing.
Wei corrected a step in Jiang Yue's solution, voice low. "You skipped the conversion again."
Jiang Yue muttered, "It's not skipping. It's trusting the universe."
Wei didn't smile. But his eyes did that tiny crinkle thing, so fast it was almost imagined. "Redo it."
Jiang Yue redid it.
When he finished, Wei nodded once. "Better."
Jiang Yue's chest loosened, then tightened again immediately because that word better sounded like care in Wei's mouth, even when it was just math.
A librarian passed and paused. "No talking."
Wei nodded politely. "Understood."
Jiang Yue stared at her retreating back. They weren't talking loudly. They weren't even talking much. They were just… too close in a way that couldn't be measured by decibels.
When they packed up, they stood at the same time. The aisle between the shelves was narrow. Their shoulders almost touched.
Wei didn't move away.
Jiang Yue didn't either.
It lasted one heartbeat.
Then a student walked by and they separated automatically, like they'd been trained.
Outside the library, Wei spoke without looking at him. "Tonight. After dinner. My room."
Jiang Yue stopped walking. "What."
Wei's gaze flicked to him, sharp. "To study."
Jiang Yue forced a smirk that didn't land. "That's not allowed."
Wei's voice dropped. "My father isn't home tonight."
Jiang Yue's pulse jumped at how that sounded like a plan and also like an excuse.
Wei walked away before Jiang Yue could answer.
That night, Wei Chengyu wasn't home.
Their mother cooked, humming softly, relieved by the temporary peace. She didn't notice Wei checking the clock. She didn't notice Jiang Yue barely tasting his food.
After dinner, Wei washed dishes. Jiang Yue dried.
Normal.
Careful.
When their mother finally went to her room to call a friend, Wei spoke over the running water, voice low. "Nine."
Jiang Yue's throat felt too tight. "Okay."
At 8:59, Jiang Yue stood in the hallway staring at Wei's door.
He wasn't nervous the way he'd been before a fight. This was different.
This was the kind of nervous that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing you'd been walking toward it on purpose.
At 9:00, the door opened.
Wei stood there in a plain T-shirt, hair still damp, expression controlled.
His eyes weren't.
They were dark and steady and too honest.
Jiang Yue stepped inside.
Wei didn't close the door fully. He left it slightly ajar, as if a cracked door could keep them from doing something that couldn't be undone.
Wei's room smelled faintly of soap and paper.
The desk was tidy. The bed made. The window shut tight against the cold.
Jiang Yue sat at the desk chair. Wei pulled another chair close, too close to be necessary and too far to be brave.
Textbooks opened.
Pens moved.
They lasted maybe ten minutes.
Then Jiang Yue looked up and found Wei staring at him instead of the page.
Jiang Yue's voice came out rough. "What."
Wei didn't look away. "I don't like being supervised."
Jiang Yue let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "No one does."
Wei's jaw tightened slightly. "I don't like it because it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong."
Jiang Yue's chest burned.
He stared at the math problem and didn't see it. "Are we."
Wei's voice went quieter. "At school, it looks wrong."
Jiang Yue swallowed. "And here."
Wei's gaze held his for a long beat.
"Here," Wei said, low, "it's just us."
The words made Jiang Yue's whole body go hot.
He tried to joke. "So you invited me to your room to study."
Wei's mouth moved like it wanted to smile and decided against it. "Yes."
Jiang Yue's throat tightened. "And to prove we can still be honest."
Wei nodded once. "Yes."
Silence stretched.
Jiang Yue could hear the distant TV in the living room, their mother laughing softly at something on her phone. He could hear his own breathing, too loud.
Jiang Yue whispered, "This is torture."
Wei's eyes didn't move. "I know."
Jiang Yue laughed, small and broken. "Then why."
Wei's gaze dropped to the desk between them, like looking at Jiang Yue's face would make him lose control.
"Because I'd rather suffer with you than pretend I don't want you," Wei said.
The sentence hit Jiang Yue so hard he forgot to breathe.
His pen rolled off the desk.
Wei caught it automatically, fingers moving fast, and when he put it back down his fingertips brushed Jiang Yue's.
One second.
Two.
This time neither of them pulled away immediately.
Wei's fingers were warm.
Jiang Yue's hand was trembling.
Jiang Yue looked at Wei's hand like it was a live wire.
Then he looked up.
Wei was staring at him like he'd been starving quietly and someone had put food in front of him.
Jiang Yue's voice was barely there. "Wei."
Wei's throat moved. "What."
Jiang Yue didn't know what he meant to do until he was already doing it.
He leaned in.
Slow, careful, like giving Wei time to stop him.
Wei didn't stop him.
Wei met him halfway, the last inch disappearing like it had been inevitable.
Their mouths touched.
It wasn't the messy, accidental violence of the party.
It was quiet.
Controlled for exactly half a second, and then not controlled at all.
Wei's hand came up, not grabbing, just holding the side of Jiang Yue's jaw as if he was afraid Jiang Yue would vanish if he didn't anchor him there.
Jiang Yue's fingers fisted in Wei's shirt, not pulling him closer but needing to feel that he was real.
The kiss deepened, slow and breathless.
Not desperate, not sloppy.
Intentional.
Like both of them had been practicing restraint for weeks and now had permission to stop.
A sound from the living room made them break apart instantly.
Their mother's laugh. A cupboard door. Ordinary life.
Wei pulled back, breathing hard, eyes wide for the first time Jiang Yue had ever seen.
Jiang Yue's lips tingled. His heart felt like it had been punched open.
They stared at each other.
Neither spoke.
Because any word would've been louder than the kiss.
Wei's voice finally came, low and rough. "We can't—"
Jiang Yue cut him off quietly. "I know."
Wei's eyes searched his face like he was trying to memorize the answer. "Do you."
Jiang Yue swallowed. "Yes."
The lie would've been saying he regretted it.
He didn't.
Wei exhaled slowly, forcing control back into his body like it hurt.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes dropping to the open textbook as if it could save them.
"Study," Wei said.
Jiang Yue stared at the page.
His hand shook as he picked up his pen.
"Yeah," Jiang Yue whispered.
They studied until ten thirty.
They didn't touch again.
But the space between them was different now. Charged. Dangerous. Real.
When Jiang Yue stood to leave, Wei stood too.
They faced each other in the narrow gap between desk and bed.
Wei didn't move closer.
Jiang Yue didn't either.
But Wei spoke, voice very quiet. "That was a mistake."
Jiang Yue's chest tightened.
Then Wei added, even quieter, "And I would do it again."
Jiang Yue's throat burned.
He forced a crooked smile. "You're insane."
Wei's mouth twitched. "Go."
Jiang Yue stepped out into the hallway.
Wei left the door cracked behind him again, as if closing it fully would admit what had just happened.
Jiang Yue walked to his room with his lips still warm and his heart still racing.
Supervised at school.
Honest at home.
And now, one kiss sitting between them like a secret that wasn't written down anywhere, but had changed the rules anyway.