Little Meteor Chapter 7
byChapter 7: “I want to be with you.”
Jiang Chengxuan had surgery scheduled for early tomorrow morning, and he originally planned to sleep early, but after showering and lying in bed, he couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.
He was extremely sensitive to caffeine; even a small amount would keep him awake, let alone the entire cup he’d consumed today.
Since he couldn’t sleep, he didn’t want to force it. He got up and went to the study to read literature, but as he read, his mind wandered, filled entirely with Shen Mu.
Jiang Chengxuan realized he was different from others in high school. When the boys in the dorm secretly watched videos, he would watch too, but his reaction wasn’t as intense as theirs. His deskmate was a girl who confessed to him more than once. When he rejected her, she wasn’t sad. She leaned close to his ear mysteriously, lowering her voice, “Jiang Chengxuan, I’ve never seen you stare at a girl. You don’t seem to have any of those adolescent stirrings. There are only two possibilities: the first is that you’re a late bloomer, and the second is that you like men.”
Jiang Chengxuan’s parents were both doctors, and their home was filled with medical literature. He had been immersed in it since childhood and understood a little, but he hadn’t considered this possibility. At the time, he just gave a faint “Mm,” neither admitting nor denying it. In that moment, his heart was actually quite calm, because finally, someone had articulated a vague truth for him.
Although he realized in high school that he wasn’t interested in girls, he never thought about what kind of relationship he would have in the future. After all, he was only sixteen or seventeen then, the age when self-esteem was strongest. Since he wasn’t interested in girls, he would inevitably have to endure many strange looks later on. He simply chose not to think about it at all. Furthermore, the College of Medicine kept him so busy every day that he didn’t have the time to dedicate energy to another person—until he met Shen Mu.
Jiang Chengxuan didn’t know Shen Mu at first. His real impression of him was during the confrontation in the cafeteria, but Jiang Chengxuan had never seen him in the College of Medicine. He later learned that Shen Mu was in Chinese Language and Literature.
Shen Mu always sat quietly alone in the same spot by the window, a book with slightly curled edges resting in front of him, eating his meal slowly and methodically. He always seemed to be a solitary figure, surrounded by a faint sense of detachment.
Initially, they had no interaction. Shen Mu was simply immersed in his own world, never even looking up to glance at the people around him.
One day, the cafeteria was particularly crowded, and almost all the seats were taken. Jiang Chengxuan carried his tray, scanned the room, and his gaze finally landed on Shen Mu.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Jiang Chengxuan asked out of politeness.
Shen Mu looked up at the sound. Perhaps annoyed by the interruption to his reading, he didn’t react for a moment. Only when Jiang Chengxuan asked again did he shake his head: “No.”
After Jiang Chengxuan sat down, there was no further communication between them, only the faint clinking of cutlery and the sound of turning book pages.
But he didn’t know when it started—whenever Jiang Chengxuan came to the cafeteria and saw the seat by the window empty, he would naturally sit across from Shen Mu. From the initial silence, it progressed to a simple nod as a greeting, and then, Jiang Chengxuan would proactively start a short conversation.
“What are you reading?” One day, Jiang Chengxuan couldn’t help but be curious as he watched the person across from him immersed in the text again.
Shen Mu seemed startled, and he briefly showed the book cover.
“Oh, Márquez,” Jiang Chengxuan nodded. “Not many people in the College of Medicine seem to read this.”
Shen Mu smiled but didn’t speak, though the smile was softer than before.
The conversation slowly opened up like this, from occasional small talk to chatting for ten minutes or more.
As the two gradually became more familiar, Jiang Chengxuan realized that Shen Mu wasn’t as aloof as he appeared on the surface. He was just a bit slow to warm up. Once they were familiar, he was actually thoughtful and occasionally revealed a dry sense of humor.
That period was when their relationship was at its best. Shen Mu often came to find him, most frequently at the corner by the window on the third floor of the library. Jiang Chengxuan would frown over piles of human anatomy atlases and pharmacology books, while Shen Mu quietly read beside him. Sometimes, when Jiang Chengxuan looked up, he would find that Shen Mu wasn’t reading at all, but sketching in a notebook—drawing the fat sparrows outside the window, the slanting sunlight, and occasionally, his own frowning profile. When caught, Shen Mu would immediately close the notebook, pretending nothing had happened.
Once, when he didn’t have class, Shen Mu insisted on following him to a large lecture on Neuroanatomy, saying he wanted to experience the solemn atmosphere of the medical sanctuary. As the professor displayed the intricate neural pathways on the podium, Shen Mu, who was sitting next to him, went from trying hard to stay awake and keep his eyes wide open, to nodding like a pecking chicken, and finally fell asleep resting his head on an open copy of Selections of Modern Chinese Literature. His soft hair brushed against the pages, his breathing was even, and his long eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes.
Jiang Chengxuan was about to wake him up, his pen tip almost touching Shen Mu’s arm, but he pulled it back. He quietly straightened the book in Shen Mu’s hand that was about to fall and instinctively shifted his body slightly, shielding him from a few glances coming from the front-left.
When the class bell rang, Shen Mu woke up groggily, a suspicious wet mark still at the corner of his mouth. He asked innocently, “Where did they get to? The thalamus, and then what?”
Jiang Chengxuan’s heart inexplicably softened. He simply handed over a tissue: “Wipe that. Don’t come suffer through this again.”
Shen Mu rubbed his eyes and smiled: “It’s not suffering. It’s quite interesting.”
At that time, Jiang Chengxuan’s mind was completely occupied by heavy coursework and future career planning. The emotional string in him seemed to be muted.
He recognized his own orientation early, but he was too late to truly understand his feelings. Back then, the understanding of sexual orientation wasn’t as tolerant, so no one around him pointed it out. It wasn’t until Shen Mu went abroad that he felt an emptiness in his heart.
After being called out by the professor three times in one week, his roommate, Zhou Ming, saw him looking listless all day and dragged him out to the night market for barbecue.
Zhou Ming knew that Jiang Chengxuan liked men. After all, the story of him rejecting the department beauty was widely circulated. At the time, people’s minds weren’t open, and Zhou Ming couldn’t understand it initially. But over time, he realized Jiang Chengxuan was no different from them. He felt it was a personal choice, and respect was all that was needed.
He watched Jiang Chengxuan down bottle after bottle of beer, observing his expression, and then suddenly lowered his voice: “You’ve been distracted lately. Did you break up with someone?”
Jiang Chengxuan paused: “What do you mean, break up?”
Zhou Ming almost rolled his eyes: “It means what you’re going through right now. You’re a smart guy, how can you be so dense about this? That Shen Mu who came looking for you every day—did you really think he was just a regular friend? And did you think he treated you like a regular friend?”
“What regular friend shows up on time every day to wait for you to finish class? Who stays with you in the library for four or five hours? Who skips class to buy you medicine when you’re sick? We have so many guys in the College of Medicine, have you seen him treat anyone else like that?”
Seeing him spaced out, Zhou Ming patted his shoulder: “While I don’t know what same-sex relationships are like, think about it carefully. If it wasn’t love, who would waste so much time on another person?”
It was then that Jiang Chengxuan felt as if he had just woken up from a long dream.
He knew Shen Mu was preparing for graduate school, but he didn’t know Shen Mu was going abroad. Shen Mu hadn’t told him, and during the final period before Shen Mu left, Jiang Chengxuan was also extremely busy and couldn’t spare any time for him. Then Shen Mu left, without leaving him a single word.
No one would wait in the same spot forever for someone else. Everyone had to look forward. Shen Mu didn’t have a partner, but that didn’t mean he would never have one.
He was an extremely calm and rational person; his heart rate wouldn’t even quicken on the operating table. Yet now, the image of Shen Mu and Liang Siyuan sitting together, Shen Mu’s eyes curved in a smile, played repeatedly in his mind. This image was like a sharp thorn, making him restless.
He wanted to go find Shen Mu right now, immediately.
He had surgery early tomorrow morning, requiring absolute clarity and stability. He tried to use reason to suppress this restlessness, telling himself that Shen Mu was probably asleep and going now would only disturb him.
But that thought was like a wildfire that couldn’t be extinguished.
His phone suddenly vibrated, and the screen lit up.
The background noise coming through the receiver was a bit loud, sounding like he was outdoors. Shen Mu’s voice was slightly more slurred than usual.
“Hello… Jiang Chengxuan?” He paused, seemingly trying hard to articulate clearly, “Are you asleep?”
Jiang Chengxuan’s throat bobbed, his voice a little low and hoarse: “Not yet. What is it?”
“Oh, good you’re awake. The crew had a dinner party. I just got back. You didn’t eat much tonight, did you? I brought you some taro sweet potato balls. Come down and grab them.”
“Where are you?”
“Right downstairs at your building entrance,” Shen Mu’s voice carried the softness of intoxication. “Hurry up, they’re still quite hot. If they’re covered too long, they won’t be crispy…”
Before Shen Mu could finish speaking, the call ended abruptly.
Jiang Chengxuan didn’t even change out of his loungewear, only grabbing his keys and phone in a rush.
The streetlights cast a soft halo around Shen Mu. He had been drinking, and his eyes were brighter and more hazy than usual. Seeing Jiang Chengxuan come out, he curved his eyes and smiled.
“You’re fast.” Shen Mu handed over the paper bag in his hand. “Here, eat them while they’re hot. I remember you like sweet things.”
Jiang Chengxuan took the bag, his fingertips brushing against Shen Mu’s slightly cool fingers. The warm scent of the food mixed with the faint smell of alcohol on Shen Mu drifted over.
He looked at the person in front of him. Because of the alcohol, Shen Mu’s eyes and cheeks were lightly flushed, making him look more vivid and unguarded than usual.
Jiang Chengxuan called out, “Shen Mu.”
“Hmm?” Shen Mu looked up, confused.
“Shen Mu,” he called again, looking into his eyes, “Will you try accepting me again? I want to be with you.”
Shen Mu froze, his eyes widening slightly. He looked at Jiang Chengxuan for a moment before speaking: “Are you only saying this suddenly because you saw me with Liang Siyuan?”
He didn’t wait for Jiang Chengxuan to answer and continued softly: “You see, it’s because you felt threatened, felt the possibility of loss, that you became desperate to hold onto something, isn’t it?”
He took half a step back. The night wind ruffled the stray hairs on his forehead, making him look clear-headed yet distant.
Shen Mu smiled, looking into Jiang Chengxuan’s eyes: “You might have forgotten what kind of person I am. I won’t give my true heart unless I feel absolute, certain favoritism. It was like that before, and it seems it’s still like that now.”
He paused, then continued: “I heard what you just said. But I’m sorry, I can’t accept it right now.”
Silence spread between the two of them. The expected disappointment and pain arrived, but Jiang Chengxuan’s heart, which had been chaotic and restless all night, slowly calmed down instead.
He knew Shen Mu couldn’t accept him now. Back then, Shen Mu offered his whole heart but received no response from him. Shen Mu’s pride and self-respect wouldn’t allow him to make the same mistake twice.
He didn’t show any sign of disappointment, only looking calmly at Shen Mu: “I know. I’m not asking you to respond to me right now, and I’m certainly not forcing you to make any decision. I also know that I missed the best timing long ago, but I still wanted to say it. Shen Mu, I like you. It’s the kind of liking where I want to be with you.”
Shen Mu’s lips moved, but no sound came out.
Jiang Chengxuan shook the still-warm paper bag in his hand, the corner of his mouth curving slightly: “Thank you for the taro sweet potato balls. It’s cold outside, go back and rest early.”
He didn’t wait for Shen Mu to respond again, simply giving his arm a light pat.