First they were newlyweds, then on their honeymoon; they didn’t return to their home country together until the end of March.
Ren and Chi had already gone abroad to study, Mei Shengyao was busy making a solo album, and Xie Lianyun had joined a group of esports players, often only popping up in the chat group at four in the morning.
Bo Jue returned to teach at the music academy, and it took him a long time to adjust.
He needed to accept and get used to many new things.
The brothers being scattered was one thing, setting up the new home was another.
Having a brand new husband shortly after getting married was yet another thing.
Strictly speaking, Bo Jue was more accustomed to his teammate in the boy band, the long-time companion during the SPF period, Long Jia.
But with the honeymoon over, Long Jia returned to the business world. Although he came home on time every day, it still felt somewhat unfamiliar.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it.
According to logic, the current Long Jia should suit his original taste even more.
If the current Bo Jue were to meet the seventeen-year-old Long Jia he first knew, he might even secretly disdain him for a few seconds.
Long Jia, as a youth, was very spirited, his laughter bright and lively, like the summer sun.
Seeing him would remind one of fresh orange juice, large lions, and the handsome, popular senior from high school days.
Bo Jue had visited his company several times, where the conference room had all-glass transparent walls that clearly showcased the man speaking eloquently.
Mature, calm, decisive without doubt, his gaze exuded tenacity.
It was hard to believe that this executive, who now properly managed the company’s development, had once been a teenage idol.
Of course, after returning home from work and shedding his suit and tie, he would snuggle up happily and act coquettishly.
Professor Bo knew he was being unreasonable, but he was good at rationalizing his quirks, which reduced his psychological burden a lot.
Although they had openly spoken everything on their wedding day, the objective fact was that they had once broken up for nearly two years and afterward chosen very distant paths in life.
One watched financial reports and stock market analysis in the morning; the other only liked the simple daily urban news.
One was constantly in touch with a complex web of contacts; the other stayed in the pure simplicity of the university campus, becoming much more low-key over time.
Sometimes, while eating an egg pancake, Bo Jue would look up at the back of the newspaper spread out across the table.
He didn’t recognize any of the people in the English financial terms.
Feeling momentarily uneasy, he looked down at his wedding ring.
Seeing the ring always settled his heart a lot.
He believed, no matter what, that it was simple to follow one path to the end.
Long Jia, sensing his gaze, moved the newspaper aside and winked at him.
“Eat quickly,” Bo Jue diverted his gaze and said, “Today, since it’s on the way, give me a ride.”
Now, Long Jia was an impeccable perfect husband.
He remembered every special day, brought different bouquets home every weekend, and occasionally wrote little cards, his handwriting strong and forceful, yet his love words embarrassingly mushy every day.
Previously, they were not allowed to openly date in Corona, but now he could make up for it doubly, as romantically as possible.
Though he had many little faults, such as occasionally snoring loudly at night, often working late into the night, and drinking coffee like water, Bo Jue automatically ignored these, not taking them to heart.
He only remembered the good in the other person, something he had quietly learned to do by his side.
Every day was warm and peaceful.
They would leave the house together in the morning, review theses and approve documents in the evening, watch a movie before rolling back into bed if they felt energetic, or take a bath and sleep in each other’s arms if tired.
Sometimes Bo Jue still felt that unease, but he didn’t know how to talk about it with him.
It was as if words and language were hard to articulate, and any mistake could lead to hurtful misunderstandings.
The unexpected happened one morning at 7:30.
Long Jia was about to head downstairs with his keys when suddenly he doubled over in pain, clutching a chair, his face turning pale.
Bo Jue hurriedly drove him to a private hospital, where the diagnosis was acute gastroenteritis caused by a long-term irregular diet.
The reason was easy to guess; the previous day, Long Jia had spent the afternoon drinking with clients and had coffee late at night to rush through a project.
“You really must be careful with irritating foods,” the doctor said gently. “Actually, it’s not a big problem. These symptoms are also related to over-fatigue. I recommend resting for a few more days.”
Long Jia had just taken his medicine and wasn’t feeling well, but he remembered to protect Bo Jue.
“My spouse always cooks nutritious meals; it’s my social engagements and sometimes reckless drinking.”
Bo Jue reached out and touched his face.
They both took leave from work, even though Long Jia insisted Bo Jue shouldn’t worry about him.
As a university professor with a not-so-heavy teaching load, and the college administration being quite accommodating, he got three days off right away.
It didn’t seem like a serious illness, but by noon Long Jia started to develop a fever and curled up motionless under a blanket.
Bo Jue cooked porridge and fed him half a bowl, then made sure he took his medicine and quietly stayed by his side.
Outside, the wind howled as if the temperature was about to drop.
The TV silently displayed typhoon warnings; the streets were already devoid of pedestrians.
The man broke out in sweat and dozed off for several minutes.
When he woke up, he saw him sitting beside him reading a book, and softly called out.
“Xiao Jue.”
“Feeling better?” Bo Jue reached out to check his temperature. “Eat something more.”
Long Jia nodded, then shook his head.
After a moment of embarrassment, he murmured, “My stomach hurts.”
Bo Jue got up to look for medicine, but he was stopped.
“You… give me a massage.” The man’s eyes were clear, seeming much better. “Just for a little while.”
Bo Jue nodded in agreement, and Long Jia moved further back into the couch with a smile.
“Come here, into my blanket.”
Professor Bo pondered for a moment, then, like a child pretending to camp, crawled under the blanket, enveloped in a warm embrace.
Long Jia kissed his forehead, took his hand, and placed it on his stomach, lamenting, “Right here, it’s been uncomfortable.”
The space under the blanket was so cramped that Bo Jue was practically nestled in his arms, the two of them very close.
Close enough to hear each other’s shallow breathing.
Bo Jue remembered to warm his palm first, then gently rubbed circles on his stomach.
Long Jia sighed deeply, then seemed to remember something and sighed in annoyance.
Bo Jue, lying sideways in his arm, looked up, “Are you not happy?”
“It’s not about you,” the man gently stroked his hair, kissing a strand. “I just feel like I… haven’t been doing many things well.”
Bo Jue didn’t follow his train of thought, wondering if he was massaging the right spot, casually helping him absolve responsibility, “You can’t blame yourself for gastroenteritis; everyone gets sick.”
“But, mainly, it’s just that,” Long Jia seemed to want to push some words back down, yet seemed unable to hold them in, burying his face in his shoulder, his voice muffled, “I don’t want to be like this in front of you.”
“What way?”
“Um, I want to appear more reliable, a bit taller.” Long Jia covered his hand on the back, sighing lightly as the pain eased, continuing to be honest with himself, “After all, we’re married now, and I need to change the reckless parts of my past.”
He treasured him greatly, as well as this uniquely intimate relationship in his life, striving like a good student on a test, aiming to score full marks on every question.
Bo Jue’s movements paused, and he suddenly became a bit distracted.
Long Jia realized something was off, stretched out his hand to hold him tight, and asked nervously, “Do you… not like that about me?”
Bo Jue was still distracted.
Long Jia grew more anxious, his speech speeding up a bit, “We’ve only been married a short while, and I’m still in the exploration phase, after all, we haven’t lived together for a long time.”
“If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, you must tell me, we can talk about anything.”
The young man with long hair was somewhat bewildered and took a while before he spoke.
“I think I feel the same way.”
“Huh?”
“It’s not that I think we need to be more mature after getting married, or step into some new role,” Bo Jue continued massaging his stomach, leaning against his arm and meeting his gaze, “it’s just a bit of resistance, feeling like I’m clearly not ready for this step yet.”
“It’s not that I regret getting married, but it feels like getting married means I have to integrate more into society, to accept a more… marital kind of life.”
Bo Jue leaned slightly, shifting most of his weight onto him, and couldn’t help but laugh, “We are so silly, like playing house as kids.”
He buried his face in his chest, and finally stopped the massaging, his voice a bit muffled, “Even though the brothers are gone and we’re married, I still seem to… always want to relive those days when we were just past twenty.”
As if unwilling to accept being thirty, to accept a mature life, or to grow old.
“I always tell myself that I’ve reached this point, I need to move forward, staying stuck there would be very childish.”
“Seeing you’ve gone so far, obviously very comfortable with it, I feel like I can’t catch up to you, and that makes me feel distant from you.”
“But sometimes, I think I’m just very childish.”
Even when filling out forms at school, he would subconsciously write twenty-one for his age, then change it to twenty-three, but it’s still wrong.
Long Jia listened to him complain about these small issues, and after a moment said, “So you’ve been thinking this way too?”
“Yeah.” Bo Jue couldn’t help but laugh and cry, “Who else is like me?”
“What if I am too?”
“You too?”
“Like every morning when I eat, wanting heart-shaped fried eggs,” Long Jia rubbed his forehead, “and talking nonsense while you cook, it’s really absurd.”
“It makes perfect sense.” Bo Jue became firm, “I like listening to your nonsense.”
Even if it was like before, sometimes like a strange breed of dog, suddenly hugging him and making a long string of nonsensical sounds, it still made perfect sense.
“And about ties and suits,” Long Jia’s voice lowered, “I don’t like wearing ties all day, even if it’s loose.”
“I don’t like writing work reports,” Bo Jue quickly said, “I hate preparing lessons.”
“During work, I have to keep a stern face to command respect,” Long Jia showed a helpless expression, “otherwise I can’t command authority, but actually I’m just working for the family for a couple of years, and after this busy period, I’ll leave.”
They exchanged looks unintentionally, then buried their faces into the pillow and laughed together.
Long Jia pulled the blanket tighter around them, like two people hiding in a tent whispering secrets.
“Rub my stomach again.”
“Does it still hurt?” Bo Jue lay in his arms, like a treasured possession guarded by a dragon, “I’ll prepare another packet of medicine later.”
“It didn’t hurt when I woke up,” Long Jia lifted his head with a smile, rubbing his cheek, “I just like it when you rub my stomach.”
They had originally planned to rest for a day or two and then go back to work, but the typhoon came suddenly and was fierce.
Although the windows were properly bulletproof and double-glazed, by four o’clock that afternoon, the wind outside started howling nonstop.
Soon after, intense rain burst out like bullets, as if hundreds of machine guns were firing from the sky, making the windows bang loudly.
The TV reported that it was a rare spring typhoon, and the cloud mass would take at least another two or three days to move away, advising residents to stay safe and preferably not to go outside.
With plenty of food in the fridge, the two had nothing much to do.
So they playfully rolled in the sheets a couple of times, then took a bath together, especially since someone was feeling very spirited after the fever had subsided.
It was only 8:30 PM, too early for bed.
Bo Jue realized that they indeed needed to adapt to many things.
Truly living together as a couple, the endlessly extended periods of solitude, and the increasingly visible other sides of each other that surfaced unintentionally.
Back when they lived on the seventeenth floor with four other teammates, even though they had been a couple for a while, there were still many others in their lives to pay attention to.
After getting married and each becoming busy with their careers, they only spent two to three hours a day together, doing very few things together.
“How about… you help me with the housework?”
Long Jia nodded happily.
They played old CDs from Corona on the indoor speakers and then went together to tidy up the house.
The young singers radiated energy in their songs, while the two adults leaned together folding clothes.
Bo Jue folded for a while and suddenly realized that Long Jia didn’t really know how to do these things.
“T-shirts should be folded like this,” he demonstrated by finding the seams, “pinpoint here, then flip it like thisโfolded neatly.”
The man exclaimed with a long “Oh!” “It turned into a square!”
“Suits should be hung on wooden hangers, you need to follow the seamsโno, release that sleeve first.”
Just dealing with a basket of freshly washed clothes took over an hour, and they almost had an accident with the iron.
Then they began sweeping and mopping the floor, using a roller to clean the carpet.
Bo Jue felt like he was performing some sort of instructional show, teaching him step-by-step how to change the core of the roller.
Long Jia learned quickly and didn’t forget to give a smiling compliment, “You know so many things.”
Bo Jue poked his forehead, “Learn more! From now on, you’re doing it!”
The second day of the typhoon.
Breakfast was eggs with instant noodles.
Not because they were too lazy to cook, but because they liked junk food.
Lunch was pan-fried steak.
Long Jia almost burned it, but he did a beautiful job with the sauce.
He even made a heart with an arrow through it; Bo Jue thought he was scoring himself a hundred points at first glance.
Dinner was tomato soup with sandwiches, and they also baked two sweet potatoes, eating very healthily.
While eating dinner, international brothers took turns calling, surprised to see Bo Jue wrapped in a blanket on the couch, sipping soup.
“Bro, are you sickโyou never used to eat in the living roomโ”
“Are you okay, should I come back to stay with you??”
“He’s fine,” Long Jia’s half head popped up, facing Mei Shengyao, “Don’t you think he looks like a black swan wrapped in a blanket? So lazy and beautiful.”
“I get it,” Mei Shengyao said seriously, “You guys are showing off.”
“Not at all.” Long Jia waved his hand, “Just regular stuff.”
By the third day, the typhoon hadn’t ended, but the gastroenteritis had. Professor Bo continued to make sure CEO Long took his medicine.
“I don’t want to take it.” The man moved closer again, “I’m completely better now, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
Bo Jue squinted his eyes as he stared at him.
Long Jia resisted for a while, but eventually, he tilted his head back and swallowed it all.
They organized the bookshelves together, discussed whether to get a dog afterward, and debated what the deal was with the rice cooker and how two men could possibly conceive a child.
Their home was spacious and beautiful, spread over several floors, with two grand pianos set up side by side, and large vases filled with light purple bellflowers beside them.
Bo Jue washed and dried his hands, then sat back on the piano bench to play Chopin for him.
“The Brilliant Waltz in E-flat Major.”
Outside, the wind swept and tumbled furiously, causing the billboards to clatter loudly.
The torrential rain continued to batter the world, as if it could never find the pause button.
Bo Jue sat unmoved, playing Chopin as if the world could shatter tonight and his chords would not miss a single note.
Long Jia stood by his side, gently gathering his long hair, and leaned in to give him a kiss.
“It sounds like Tom and Jerry.”
“…”
“Fine, Tom and Jerry.”
Author’s Note:
Today’s update timed at 00:05:20!!!
Please visit my Weibo (@่ฐไธบไธๅๆ้ๅพ) to see the wedding photos of Long and Jue. I’m online crying, wuwuwu
**[Dear reviewers at Jinjiang, please don’t lock my post for mentioning Weibo, I’m bowing to you all for the new year!!]**
Their married life is so sweet ๐ฅน Sometimes I feel like I see more of their romance in this story than the main CP-
That song is in Tom and Jerry for real! I looked it up!
I know Long/Bo love each other and they were meant to be from the beginning. But they also had to skip a big portion of their relationship and lives when Corona disbanded. They became trainees and then famous when they were young (so they lost part of their youth) and then they had to violently mature because of Chi Ji’s death. They never experienced a normal young adult life where they could be carefree and indulgent. So it’s completely expected that getting married, the (second) biggest rite of passage of adult maturity, has caused them to feel insecure. I feel like they should take time off from everything and just spend a year or two doing whatever they want without worrying about the future or setting timelines.
lianyun really becomes a pro player… ah i want his side story too