Unmatched Chapter 41
byChapter 41 Delusional Hope
Zhao Shuyi remembered every anecdote Xie Qi shared, but if memories were a movie, their scripts seemed different.
“I did pursue you,” Xie Qi surprisingly said. “I brought you coats, snacks, cold medicine, helped you write notes, accompanied you to competitions out of town… Do none of those count?”
Zhao Shuyi felt speechless. “If you didn’t say it directly, was I supposed to read your mind?”
If he had to be honest, he wasn’t completely oblivious to Xie Qi’s overtures.
But no fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy would interpret another boy’s friendly gestures as “he likes me.” At most, it meant “he wants to be my buddy.”
Moreover, Xie Qi was moody; one second he was being nice, the next he’d flip out. Zhao Shuyi didn’t want to deal with him and was too lazy to guess his intentions.
“Then what?” Zhao Shuyi asked. “You kept ‘pursuing’ me so indirectly. Didn’t you ever think about confessing outright?”
“I did,” Xie Qi leaned against the wardrobe, looking down. “But I couldn’t open my mouth.”
That year, when love first bloomed, Xie Qi’s feelings were no less intense than discovering a new universe.
He was secretly thrilled, excited, and overwhelmed, believing he was about to become the master of this universe. But when he stood before Zhao Shuyi, he realized he couldn’t knock on the door of love.
Dating required mutual affection, and Zhao Shuyi didn’t like him.
At that time, same-sex marriage wasn’t yet legal, and even heterosexual students dating secretly had to be careful. Was it even possible for two boys?
His confession would only lead to one outcome: being mocked, disliked, or even called disgusting by Zhao Shuyi.
Hearing this, Zhao Shuyi interjected, “I generally don’t curse people out, do I?”
He looked at Xie Qi and moved closer. He wondered: What should his reaction be to being secretly loved for over a decade? Should he be touched?
But he wasn’t particularly moved. Instead, he suddenly felt an urge, unable to resist gripping Xie Qi’s jaw and pinning him against the wardrobe.
His terrible mood tonight was cured, and the feeling of disgust vanished.
He no longer needed to pretend to be calm or forcibly suppress his emotions.
Zhao Shuyi chuckled softly, maintaining his dominant position as he continued the interrogation. “Keep going. What happened next?”
“…”
He truly looked like a winner, making no effort to hide it.
Would any heartfelt confession be able to move him? Was there even a need to continue?
Xie Qi paused.
“Even though I knew it was impossible, I still tried to confess.”
Xie Qi couldn’t forget the first day he planned to confess; it snowed in Fengjing City.
Zhao Shuyi wore a dark cyan trench coat, his scarf pulled up to his chin, his hair dark, his ears red from the cold, waiting by the school gate for his perpetually late driver.
Xie Qi secretly watched him for a few minutes, then mustered the courage to approach. “You haven’t left yet? Is your driver stuck in traffic?”
“Mm.” Zhao Shuyi glanced over.
It was just a casual look, without any particular meaning. But Zhao Shuyi’s gaze was sharp, as if he could see through everything. Xie Qi panicked before he even exposed himself, so he pretended to be calm and turned his face away, looking at the white snow falling from the sky. “The snowflakes are really beautiful today.”
Zhao Shuyi looked at him like he was an idiot. “Did you take the wrong medicine?”
Xie Qi choked up, using seriousness to mask his embarrassment. “Zhao Shuyi, I have something to tell you.”
“Go on.”
Xie Qi didn’t have much courage. “I… I… I…”
“Stuttering?” Zhao Shuyi mocked. “What kind of performance are you putting on?”
“…”
A circus act, a clown show. Xie Qi thought to himself.
The “stutter” was hard to cure; he couldn’t get the words out. Unfortunately, the Zhao Family driver, who was never on time, suddenly arrived right then.
Zhao Shuyi stepped into the car. When Xie Qi snapped back to reality, he was the only one left at the school gate.
—First confession attempt failed.
One failure led to continuous failures.
Zhao Shuyi was naturally aloof, and no admirer could win his heart. Xie Qi was both relieved that he didn’t like anyone else, and tormented that he didn’t like anyone at all.
If Xie Qi didn’t actively pick fights, he wouldn’t even get a sliver of Zhao Shuyi’s attention.
Because they “mutually” hated each other, Xie Qi became the most special person around Zhao Shuyi.
Everyone knew they were rivals. Mention “Zhao Shuyi” and someone would mention “Xie Qi.” Their names became a tightly linked pair, surpassing countless couples.
But the rival act was played too convincingly. The longer it went on, the harder it was to stop, and kind words became even more difficult to say.
Xie Qi caring for Zhao Shuyi was purely self-humiliation. For instance, one time Zhao Shuyi had a fever and attended class while sick. Xie Qi worried, “Are you okay?”
Zhao Shuyi said, “I won’t die.”
Seeing his pale face, Xie Qi insisted forcefully, “No, I’ll ask for leave for you. Go home and rest quickly.”
Zhao Shuyi sneered. “There’s an exam tomorrow. Are you that eager to surpass me?”
“…”
Like misaligned channels that couldn’t overlap, deeply buried feelings struggled to see the light of day.
Xie Qi harbored his secret love semester after semester.
“I felt those days were so hard to endure. Why wouldn’t I grow up? You must not like me because you’re too immature. When we become adults, we’ll have a chance to date.”
Xie Qi looked up under Zhao Shuyi’s restraint, scoffing, “But I didn’t expect you to turn out like that when you grew up.”
“Like what?”
“Sleeping with strangers, keeping lovers, being promiscuous and dissolute.”
“…”
Zhao Shuyi understood. In this situation, Xie Qi was even less likely to confess. “So you still like me? You haven’t given up?”
“Like you? I hate you to death.” Xie Qi gripped his wrist, forcing him down. “I know every lover you’ve kept. Sometimes the jealousy was unbearable, so I’d go cause trouble for them. But what’s the use of bullying them? I might as well just strangle you.”
The garden party downstairs was delayed because the main character hadn’t appeared.
Xie Qi’s phone buzzed incessantly. The endless urging worsened his already foul mood.
Like a trapped beast, he was powerless to resist, unable to break free, and didn’t know what to do about Zhao Shuyi. Tonight’s confession was his last card, sacrificing his remaining self-respect.
Unfortunately, besides slightly pleasing Zhao Shuyi, it seemed useless.
He used to hear people say that friends who are too close cannot become lovers, because if sparks were going to fly, they wouldn’t wait years later to fall in love.
At the time, Xie Qi didn’t believe it.
Now he did.
He had done everything he could: confessed, humbled himself, curbed his temper, and allowed himself to be completely tamed, becoming unlike his former self.
But why couldn’t he win even one sentence of “I love you too”?
—If he doesn’t love you, he just doesn’t love you.
Zhao Shuyi didn’t love him at fifteen, and he still didn’t love him at twenty-seven.
What should he do?
What else could he do?
Xie Qi was disheartened, looking at Zhao Shuyi with a sorrowful, desperate expression, tears streaming down his face.
Zhao Shuyi was stunned. “Are you crying?”
Xie Qi hadn’t realized it himself, but even when reminded, he couldn’t stop.
He wasn’t crying violently; it was a quiet, dying exhaustion, as if after this cry, everything would end, reaching the end of his life.
He suddenly said, “Back then, I didn’t give up because no matter how painful it was, there was still hope, even if it was just a fantasy. But now—”
He released Zhao Shuyi’s wrist, which dropped abruptly.
Like a slow-motion shot, in the dead silence, neither of them spoke.
Zhao Shuyi’s face darkened belatedly. “What do you mean?”
Xie Qi’s expression twisted slightly, and he didn’t answer.
He looked at Zhao Shuyi, deliberately pausing for a while, trying to find details of tension or panic on that perpetually composed face.
But he knew without looking—Zhao Shuyi wouldn’t panic.
He was still holding onto delusional hope.
“Gege…”
Xie Qi covered his face with both hands and crouched down miserably. “I think… I shouldn’t waste any more effort. I should finally give up on you.”