Singlehood Syndrome

A laid-back young man like Xiang Mo doesn’t need “best friends.”

At this stage in his life, Xiang Mo became more selective about his friendships. Rather than focusing on material aspects, he valued the spiritual connection more. If someone couldn’t enrich his inner world and he had to be the one constantly providing insights, he found it difficult to be interested in forming a friendship.

He didn’t enjoy shopping or watching movies with others; having drinking buddies meant nothing to him.

So when Ye Xing wanted to add Xiang Mo on WeChat before leaving, Xiang Mo couldn’t be bothered to accept the request. Instead, he let Du Chi give his business card to Ye Xing.

An hour passed, and still no friend request came from Ye Xing. Apparently, Du Chi hadn’t given him his WeChat.

He had to admit that this “understanding” made Xiang Mo feel quite comfortable.

Though Du Chi could be rude with his words sometimes, overall, he was someone who knew boundaries.

By letting Du Chi make the decision of whether to add Ye Xing on WeChat, Xiang Mo could immediately see that he was subtly rejecting the request. This at least indicated that Du Chi’s way of thinking aligned with his, which was rare among people they weren’t particularly close to.

On Sunday evenings, a sense of weariness would hang over the city as people braced themselves for the approaching new week.

Working professionals would start another five days of work, but for Xiang Mo, the weekdays at the art studio were more relaxed with fewer students compared to weekends. As a result, he thoroughly enjoyed Sunday evenings.

Carrying his art supplies, he arrived at the third-floor balcony just as the sun was setting, creating a perfect scenery.

Looking into the distance, below the horizon was a collection of lively residential balconies, while at the end of the view, skyscrapers stood tall, symbolizing the hustle and bustle of the city.

The modern city and the old neighborhoods, the vigor of development and the weight of history— the horizon seemed to divide the scene into two contrasting worlds.

A massive red sun hung behind the skyscrapers, and the orange dusk crossed the horizon, casting its warm glow over both worlds, uniting the entire view.

Xiang Mo picked up his paintbrush, dipped it into the watercolor palette, and made a stroke on the pure white paper.

After a while, the paper above the horizon was filled with orange hues. At that moment, the silence between them was broken by the sound of a lazy footstep.

“You’re still painting watercolors?”

Du Chi, in his flip-flops, came over to the easel and sat down on the nearby lounge chair, holding a can of beer.

He looked at the beautiful sunset scene in front of him and then at Xiang Mo, who was painting it. “Aren’t you doing sketches anymore?”

“I am,” Xiang Mo replied, lowering his head to clean the paintbrush in a water bucket. “This scene is better suited for watercolors.”

“Indeed,” Du Chi said as he brought the beer can to his lips.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, only accompanied by the brushstrokes of the paintbrush and the sound of Du Chi drinking his beer.

Appreciating the sunset with a light breeze didn’t require much verbal communication. But after a while, the couple next door suddenly started arguing over some trivial matters of daily life.

Perhaps not wanting to hear any more, Du Chi suddenly spoke up, “Teacher Xiang.”

“Yeah?” Xiang Mo was also hoping for a distraction from the nearby argument.

“Do you think lovers or friends are more important?”

Different from the conversation with Ye Xing about love, this time it wasn’t just Xiang Mo sharing his thoughts; Du Chi was also expressing his opinion. It made the conversation more engaging.

And coincidentally, they both shared the same viewpoint.

“Are you trying to say,” Xiang Mo put down the paintbrush and looked at Du Chi, “that you rejected Ye Xing because you’re afraid of losing a friend?”

After tumbling around in bed, the relationship between two people might change, but as long as they didn’t cross the line, their friendship could still be maintained.

Du Chi chuckled softly and raised his beer can to Xiang Mo. “You understand me.”

After saying that, he tilted his head back and downed the contents of the beer can, his Adam’s apple moving up and down with each gulp.

Moving his gaze away from Du Chi’s Adam’s apple, Xiang Mo changed the color and started sketching the outlines of the buildings. “It seems you don’t want to lose this friend.”

“I’m just trying to avoid trouble,” Du Chi placed the empty beer can on the coffee table, thinking that he could have a conversation with Xiang Mo, he continued, “I don’t get it. Why must people be in romantic relationships?”

That sentence hit a chord deep within Xiang Mo’s heart.

A rare encounter with a kindred spirit, Xiang Mo blurted out, “I don’t understand either. Isn’t it better to focus on ourselves?”

“Exactly! There are so many interesting things to do.”

“In the end, we’ll break up anyway, so why waste time and emotions.”

Casually chatting about their views on love, they felt like old friends who had known each other for years.

Xiang Mo had never discussed these topics with anyone before, not even with Meng Yun, despite their close relationship. Meng Yun didn’t know about Xiang Mo’s “single-ism.”

Perhaps it was because Du Chi shared the same belief as him, that freedom was more precious than love, that Xiang Mo unconsciously let Du Chi enter his inner world.

But the carelessness led to a consequence – Du Chi suddenly looked at him and asked inexplicably, “Isn’t it? You have a boyfriend, right?”

Just when they were enjoying their conversation, suddenly cold water was poured over them.

Only then did Xiang Mo remember that Du Chi had heard the “sounds” from that night, and knew he had a man. A normal person wouldn’t think it was just a bed partner; they’d instinctively assume it was his boyfriend.

He hadn’t thought of how to reply when Du Chi’s eyes suddenly filled with laughter as he teased, “Wait, Teacher Xiang, are you suppressing your true nature lately and not making any noises?”

What did he mean by “suppressing your true nature”?

Xiang Mo felt a little annoyed, but he heard Du Chi say with a smile, “I told you, I don’t mind.”

“Can you please not use the word ‘noises’?” Xiang Mo took a deep breath, suppressing his irritation. “I didn’t make any.”

“Really?” Du Chi’s tone suddenly turned soft, and the orange sunset reflected in his eyes turned them into a clear light brown, making it hard for Xiang Mo to read him.

“What should it be then?” Du Chi lazily stared at Xiang Mo, and the light in his eyes became ambiguous. “Breathing heavily? Or moaning?”

Xiang Mo’s heart skipped a beat; he suddenly understood why Du Chi had that extremely provocative expression – he was remembering the sounds he heard that night.

The sounds Xiang Mo made when he climaxed.

“You…” Before he could respond, Xiang Mo felt his throat dry, and in annoyance, he lowered his head to wash the paintbrush in the water bucket. The ripples in the water matched the waves in his heart at the moment. “My boyfriend is busy and we rarely see each other.”

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, he awkwardly changed the subject.

Saying it out loud, even Xiang Mo himself felt it was absurd. Why did he use Tan Song as an excuse?

However, even more absurd things happened. He actually heard Tan Song’s voice.

“Mo Mo.”

Surprised, Xiang Mo turned around and saw Tan Song standing at the balcony doorway.

Tan Song knew the code to the courtyard gate, so Xiang Mo wasn’t surprised that he could come in directly. He must have looked on the first and second floors but couldn’t find Xiang Mo, so he came to the third-floor balcony.

But that wasn’t the point.

Frowning, Xiang Mo asked, “Why are you here?”

On weekends, Tan Song didn’t dress in the usual suit and leather shoes like he did on weekdays; he was now casually dressed, looking quite handsome and casual.

He picked up a convenience store plastic bag in his hand and said, “Came to spend the weekend with you.”

There was a hint of “surprise” in his tone.

Honestly, Xiang Mo really hated surprises.

For example, in college, when someone set up a candlelit proposal for their loved one, the person being proposed to might find it romantic and touching, but Xiang Mo would just feel angry – why force me into this situation without my knowledge?

The same was true for Tan Song’s actions.

Today wasn’t the day they were supposed to meet. If they were in a ambiguous relationship, Xiang Mo might understand this attempt to surprise each other. But he had told Tan Song repeatedly that he didn’t want them to have any other interaction apart from being bed partners.

Time and time again, Tan Song had pushed the boundaries of Xiang Mo’s limits, and now he had crossed the line.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come over like this?” Xiang Mo completely ignored Du Chi at the side. After the words were spoken, he realized that this wasn’t the attitude he should have toward a “boyfriend.”

Du Chi, however, looked puzzled, and Xiang Mo didn’t want to deal with this issue here. He was about to take Tan Song downstairs when Tan Song said, somewhat indignantly, “Why are you reacting so strongly?”

When they didn’t think the same way, it was so hard to communicate.

This “lack of understanding” feeling really irritated Xiang Mo.

“Or is it that,” Tan Song looked at Xiang Mo with caution, “you don’t want me to come over at other times because you have other bed partners? Weren’t we supposed to be exclusive?”

Oh no.

Xiang Mo wouldn’t answer, so he quickly pushed Tan Song back inside. But before he could stand up, he heard Tan Song say in a displeased tone, “Mo Mo, do you consider me your boyfriend?”

“Mo Mo, I think we need to talk!” Tan Song suddenly became very agitated. “We should really talk!”

Xiang Mo felt a headache coming on; he looked back at Du Chi, who had an amused expression. It was as if he was saying: Teacher Xiang, how could you deceive me?