The short knife looked really nice. Both the handle and the blade had engraved patterns. If you put it on a tea cake stand and set it on a table, it would look absolutely badass.

For someone like Liu Wenrui, he might even take this knife and shoot a full nine-grid selfie set, posing cool with it up close.

So thoughtful.

Fan Jun was seriously so thoughtful!

Even though, in terms of craftsmanship… it probably wasn’t as intricate as the mask. After all, the mask had tons of lines and patterns, raised and recessed details, and even required drilling holes to attach a chain…

But that wasn’t the point!

The point was that Fan Jun had secretly made a knife and given it to Liu Wenrui!

He hadn’t even discussed it with Zou Yang beforehand!

He just went ahead and gave Liu Wenrui a handmade birthday gift that shocked the entire dorm!

Sure, Liu Wenrui was his bro—his ride-or-die. They’d been tight for over a decade.

But being bros didn’t mean Zou Yang wouldn’t feel a surge of irritation when he saw his boyfriend secretly give that bro a handmade gift.

“Zou Yang,” Fan Jun looked at him, “I wasn’t finished talking…”

“Then finish. Who’s stopping you?” Zou Yang looked right back at him.

Standing nearby with the knife, Liu Wenrui chimed in, “Zou Yang, this knife isn’t—”

“Hold your knife properly. Why are you jumping in?” Zou Yang didn’t even look at him.

Fan Jun smiled. “What I was about to say was… but…”

“Forget the ‘but.’” Zou Yang plopped down on the sofa.

The moment he sat down, something clicked in his head.

“…But what?” he asked.

“But I didn’t make it,” Fan Jun said. “I ordered it from Xiao Long and asked her to forge it.”

“Oh.” Zou Yang responded.

Two seconds later, he leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

Alright then.

If he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t awkward anymore.

“I’ve realized something,” Liu Wenrui sat beside him, holding the box, lowering his voice. “You’re usually so smart, but ever since you started dating…”

“What about it? When you’re in love, you’re devoted,” Zou Yang said. “Of course it’s different from you lifelong single types.”

“Fine,” Liu Wenrui paused, then touched the goggles hanging around his neck—Zou Yang had given those to him separately, something he had specifically asked for, and they weren’t cheap. “You’re right about everything.”

Zou Yang chuckled.

“When’s the food getting here?” Fan Jun asked Li Zhiyue, then sat down next to Zou Yang. “What do you guys want to drink? I’ll make it.”

“Should be soon. I called earlier—they said twenty minutes,” Li Zhiyue said. “Brother Lu already got us some drinks, so no rush.”

“I want to order,” Zou Yang said.

“Alright.” Fan Jun looked at him. “What do you want?”

“The one you made for me before,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun didn’t respond. He simply stood up and walked toward the bar.

Zou Yang glanced back at the others—they were all gathered around the knife, studying the thing that had just embarrassed him.

Tsk.

He stood up and followed Fan Jun to the bar, sitting on one of the stools.

“Let’s skip the Spumoni,” Fan Jun said after washing his hands. “Can I make you something else?”

“What?” Zou Yang leaned forward on the counter.

“Tequila Sunrise,” Fan Jun said.

“What’s the English name?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun hesitated for a moment. “Tequila Sunrise.”

“Oh?” Zou Yang grinned. “Looks like No. 21 High’s English teaching isn’t too bad.”

Fan Jun just smiled without saying anything.

“Why this one?” Zou Yang tilted his head, resting it on his arm.

“Because this one is a sunrise,” Fan Jun said.

“…Alright.” Zou Yang nodded.

Fan Jun took out a tall, slender champagne glass and placed it on the counter.

Then he started filling it slowly with ice, stacking it almost to the rim before stopping.

“Why’d you think of getting Liu Wenrui a knife?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun had just picked up a jigger to pour the alcohol. He paused and looked at Zou Yang. “I feel like he and Zhang Chuanlong would both like this kind of thing. Something cool… like weapons…”

“Like what?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun leaned slightly closer and lowered his voice. “Like kids. Hou’er and the others all like this kind of stuff.”

Zou Yang stared at him for two seconds, then laughed. “If Liu Wenrui hears you lumping him together with Longlong, he’s gonna curse you out.”

“But it’s true.” Fan Jun poured the liquor into the jigger.

“What’s that?” Zou Yang leaned closer to look at the glass.

“Tequila.” Fan Jun poured it into the glass, then opened a bottle of orange juice. “This is orange juice.”

“I can read,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun smiled, took a bar spoon, and gently stirred the drink.

“No shaking?” Zou Yang asked.

“This one doesn’t need it. It would ruin the layering,” Fan Jun said.

“You’re making this because it’s easier than Spumoni, aren’t you?” Zou Yang pouted.

“It’s because it’s a sunrise,” Fan Jun said. Then he glanced toward the table and added softly, “Sometimes I feel like you’re like a sunrise.”

Zou Yang looked at him without speaking. After a moment, he clicked his tongue and smiled.

“I’ll forge you a sword next time,” Fan Jun took out a bottle of syrup. “A small one, like the one in your avatar. ‘Drawing it shocks the Western White Emperor, ghosts wail in the autumn fields…’ It can match the mask as a set.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” Zou Yang propped himself up.

“It’s a bit troublesome when my hand isn’t in good shape. But now it’s fine. My strength hasn’t fully recovered, but I can handle delicate work. My hands don’t shake anymore,” Fan Jun said.

“Alright, make me a sword,” Zou Yang immediately agreed.

“Okay.” Fan Jun nodded.

He placed the bar spoon against the inside of the glass and slowly poured in the syrup.

The reddish-orange syrup sank gradually to the bottom, pooling there.

As he lifted the spoon, he lightly guided it, and the once-clear boundary between the syrup and orange juice began to blend, forming a gradient.

Then he sliced an orange, placed it on the rim, and inserted a straw.

Finally, he pushed the glass slowly toward Zou Yang.

Zou Yang stared at it the whole time.

Under the light, it really did look like a sunrise—a vivid, radiant sunrise in a glass.

Just as Fan Jun was about to pull his hand away, Zou Yang suddenly reached out and grabbed both the glass and his hand.

Fan Jun’s hand trembled slightly.

“Fan Jun,” Zou Yang looked up at him, “that day… I wanted to say…”

“Yeah,” Fan Jun responded.

“I like you quite a lot. I don’t know if you could tell,” Zou Yang said. “Did you… like me, even a little?”

“I did,” Fan Jun looked at him. “More than a little.”

Zou Yang smiled, let go, and took the glass from him, sipping through the straw.

The alcohol wasn’t strong—just a slight bitterness, mostly sweetness from the orange juice and grenadine.

“Tastes good,” Zou Yang said.

“What should I make for the other three?” Fan Jun asked.

“Just grab some drinks,” Zou Yang said. “We don’t know Liu Wenrui’s birthday budget. Don’t make him overspend.”

“I’m paying,” Fan Jun said.

“Oh?” Zou Yang rested his chin on his hand. “Brother Fan treating the whole bar.”

“Idiot.” Fan Jun smiled.

“Then make whatever you want,” Zou Yang said. “Simple ones. Just three different drinks.”

“Alright.” Fan Jun nodded.

Zou Yang glanced back at the others just as Liu Wenrui looked over.

“Damn, you two finally finished that one drink?!” Liu Wenrui shouted. Clearly, he’d been watching them for a while. “We want drinks too! We want to watch!”

“Come over,” Fan Jun said.

They immediately rushed over and lined up at the bar.

Zou Yang took out his phone and started recording—first a wide shot of the bar, then zooming in for a close-up of Liu Wenrui, then slowly pulling back. When Fan Jun came into frame, he controlled himself and didn’t zoom in on his face.

This was Liu Wenrui’s birthday. He was the main character.

Remember that, Zou Yang.

Meanwhile, Liu Wenrui and the others had all pulled out their phones, filming Fan Jun.

Fan Jun wasn’t a professional bartender, but he looked the part—steady movements, relaxed and confident.

He was wearing a simple black T-shirt today, with a minimal silver chain that made him look effortlessly cool.

Only now did Zou Yang notice the small pendant on the chain—it was a sword.

“You…” he started to ask, but everyone at the bar turned to look at him at the same time, so he swallowed the question and instead raised his phone. “First drink goes to Wenrui.”

“Yeah.” Fan Jun nodded.

After what felt like forever, all three drinks were finally done. The others lingered, filming and joking around, until the food arrived. Only then did they leave the bar and head back to the table.

“What’s wrong?” Fan Jun walked over.

“This necklace—where’d you get it?” Zou Yang asked.

“From He Lu’s shop,” Fan Jun said. “I modeled for a photo for her, and she gave me this.”

“Oh…” Zou Yang responded.

“No face shown,” Fan Jun added.

Zou Yang laughed. “I’m not that jealous. I just think it looks nice. It’s a sword.”

“I’ll go get you one too,” Fan Jun said immediately.

“Do they have one with a Yazi design?” Zou Yang asked.

“…No,” Fan Jun laughed. “That’s pretty rare. They do have one with a ram’s head.”

“No thanks,” Zou Yang thought for a moment. “Then I’ll just get the same one as you.”

“Okay.” Fan Jun nodded.

“Are you coming to eat or not?!” Liu Wenrui shouted from the table.

“Coming!” Zou Yang hurried over. “Where’s the cake?”

“Eat first, then cake,” Liu Wenrui said. “Had some drinks, I’m starving.”

The meal had been ordered from a high-end restaurant far away and delivered. Even the packaging was upscale, complete with proper plates and utensils—not disposable.

“You really went all out for your birthday,” Zhang Chuanlong commented as he plated the food.

“The birthday isn’t the point—the point is that we can all hang out together and have fun,” Liu Wenrui said. “Anyway, my mom paid for it. Once we graduate, I won’t get this treatment anymore. Who knows if I’ll even earn as much as my current allowance…”

“That’s a bit pessimistic,” Li Zhiyue laughed.

“Exactly,” Zhang Chuanlong raised his glass. “With two bosses here backing us up, are you really worried about jobs?”

“Longlong really knows how to focus on the key point sometimes,” Liu Wenrui raised his glass.

“Happy birthday!” they all shouted together.

As they lowered their glasses, Zou Yang lightly clinked his against Fan Jun’s.

“What?” Fan Jun asked.

“Nothing,” Zou Yang smiled. “Just felt like clinking with you.”

Fan Jun took a sip of his drink, then reached around and gently rubbed Zou Yang’s back.

The food was good, but whether it was the portions or just how hungry they were, everything on the table was gone in under half an hour.

“Nice,” Zhang Chuanlong leaned back on the sofa, patting his stomach. “Bring out the cake. I need something sweet now.”

“I’ll get it,” Fan Jun stood up.

“I’ll help,” Zhang Chuanlong followed him.

“How much did this meal cost you?” Zou Yang asked Liu Wenrui.

“I’m happy, money doesn’t matter,” Liu Wenrui waved it off. “How many chances will we have to waste time like this together? Once we start working, we’ll all wither.”

“You and Longlong’s birthdays will be during internship this year,” Li Zhiyue said. “Will we still be able to celebrate together?”

“We have to,” Liu Wenrui said. “Zou Yang’s fine—Fan Jun will definitely celebrate with him. But Longlong can’t spend his birthday alone.”

“Hey,” Zou Yang shot him a look. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Hard to say,” Li Zhiyue said. “When you get jealous, you lose your mind a bit.”

“Get lost,” Zou Yang said, then laughed.

The cake had been ordered by the four of them together without Liu Wenrui’s input.

It was simple—a chocolate cake chosen by Li Zhiyue, with a single word written on top in stylized lettering:

Respect!

As Fan Jun and Zhang Chuanlong wheeled the cake over, everyone clapped and sang.

Zou Yang recorded the whole thing while singing along.

When Liu Wenrui saw the word on the cake, he burst out laughing. “Holy shit!”

As the camera swept past Fan Jun, Zou Yang noticed he was smiling just as happily.

After the cake was cut and handed out, Fan Jun leaned against Zou Yang, their arms touching, and said quietly, “I’ve never celebrated a friend’s birthday like this before.”

“Is it fun?” Zou Yang asked.

“Yeah. It feels different from celebrating my own birthday,” Fan Jun said, looking at him.

“You can try celebrating your boyfriend’s birthday next time,” Zou Yang smiled.

“Mm.” Fan Jun leaned closer, glancing briefly at the others.

The lighting was dim, and he couldn’t tell if anyone was watching. In the end, he didn’t care—he tilted his head and kissed Zou Yang lightly on the side of his neck.

The birthday plan had been arranged by Liu Wenrui. It was clearly meant to recreate a bit of that night for Zou Yang and Fan Jun. He had said just celebrating normally was boring—it needed some meaning.

So after cake, they moved on to billiards.

“How’s your pool, Brother Fan?” Zhang Chuanlong asked.

“…Average.” Fan Jun glanced at Zou Yang.

“Average?” Liu Wenrui said. “Then let’s play a round—if you’re too good, I…”

“About the same as me,” Zou Yang cut in.

“Actually, you two should play. The three of us will just watch,” Liu Wenrui immediately changed his tone.

They opened two tables.

“Anyone want to try against Fan Jun?” Zou Yang asked.

The three at the other table shook their heads in unison.

“I’ll observe first,” Zhang Chuanlong added quickly.

“Alright,” Zou Yang turned to Fan Jun. “I’ll break?”

“Yeah.” Fan Jun nodded.

Zou Yang leaned down, setting up his stance. As he raised the cue, he glanced at Fan Jun. “Aren’t you going to come teach me?”

He said it quietly—Fan Jun probably couldn’t hear it clearly and had to rely on reading his lips.

But Liu Wenrui, standing nearby, immediately cursed under his breath. “Oh, come on.”

Zou Yang glanced at him.

“Let’s break, let’s break,” Liu Wenrui hurriedly dragged Zhang Chuanlong away.

Zou Yang was still smiling when he suddenly realized Fan Jun was no longer in front of him.

Before he could turn around, he felt warmth behind him. Then Fan Jun’s hand reached forward, guiding his hand on the table.

“You…” Fan Jun held one of his fingers, his voice close to his ear, “this hand… is really beautiful.”

“Is that what you said back then?” Zou Yang tilted his head.

“No,” Fan Jun said. “I don’t want ‘back then.’”

Zou Yang didn’t speak.

“I only want now.” Fan Jun adjusted his grip, helping him set his stance. “Cue up.”

“Mm.” Zou Yang positioned the cue.

“Go ahead,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang struck the cue ball hard, scattering the neatly arranged balls across the table.

It was loud—but the three at the next table acted as if they were deaf, not even glancing over.

Meanwhile, people at other tables turned to look.

“Nice,” Fan Jun straightened.

“Your turn,” Zou Yang stepped aside.

Fan Jun picked a striped ball and sank it effortlessly. Then he circled halfway around the table, lining up his next shot.

Zou Yang leaned against the table, watching him.

The hall was crowded today. People had greeted Fan Jun when they came in, and now and then, others would glance their way.

But in Zou Yang’s eyes, only Fan Jun was in focus.

Watching him line up the shot, aim, and strike…

It felt strange—like they had known each other for years, been together for years.

Hanging out with friends, playing games together.

Ordinary. Everyday.

And maybe because everything they had been through was so intense, so deeply carved into them, Zou Yang felt an almost intoxicating peace in this simple, quiet normalcy.

Fan Jun, standing across from him, looked up.

“Hmm?” Zou Yang tilted his head.

Love you.

Fan Jun mouthed the words. At the same time, he struck the cue ball. It hit a striped ball, sending it spinning across the table—like it was carrying those words straight toward Zou Yang.

The ball was aimed at the corner pocket, right near Zou Yang’s hand.

He smiled. Just as it dropped, he reached out and caught it.

Then he looked back at Fan Jun and mouthed the same words.

Love you.