When the symphony of crickets outside the tent finally found its way back into their ears, the ragged breathing of the two men inside slowly ebbed into a quiet calm.

“Did I just… make a sound out loud?” Zou Yang lay on his side on the sleeping mat, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper.

He could still feel Fan Jun’s lingering, scalding breaths brushing rhythmically against his bare back.

“…A little bit,” Fan Jun replied. He remained draped over him from behind, his chin resting comfortably on Zou Yang’s shoulder. “But… it wasn’t bad.”

“Not bad my ass,” Zou Yang muttered under his breath. “They definitely heard it.”

“They didn’t hear a thing,” Fan Jun whispered directly against his ear. “From where they’re sleeping, the only audible sound in the entire countryside is Zhang Chuanlong’s snoring.”

Zou Yang held his breath to listen closely for a few seconds before breaking into a soft chuckle. “The guy doesn’t even snore back at the dorm under normal circumstances.”

“People sleep poorly when they change beds.” Fan Jun’s hand began sweeping blindly across the surface of the sleeping mat.

“Stop feeling around at random; you’re going to smudge it everywhere in a second,” Zou Yang tsked.

“I’m searching for the wet wipes!” Fan Jun explained in a hushed tone.

“They’re not on my side,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun retracted his arm and searched behind his own back until his fingers brushed against the pack. He sat up, pulled out two sheets, and thoroughly wiped down his hands.

“Man…” Zou Yang rolled over, sprawling out comfortably flat on his back. “That was thrilling…”

“Don’t go rolling around just yet,” Fan Jun said, gently nudging him back onto his side. He took a fresh wipe and began tracing it across Zou Yang’s back. “I can’t tell exactly where it’s…”

“You’re executing a full-body scan over there,” Zou Yang noted, closing his eyes.

“Am I the only one who needs it?” Fan Jun countered. He wiped a few spots on the mat, rolled Zou Yang flat onto his back once more, and pulled a fresh wipe to clean his stomach.

“Hey, don’t wander any further down…” Zou Yang intercepted his wrist, catching his hand. “I’ll handle that myself.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun chuckled, placing the wipe securely into his palm.

The moon had been completely swallowed by a thick layer of clouds, plunging the interior of the tent into absolute darkness. Still too cautious to switch on their phone screens for illumination, they spent several minutes fumbling around in the dark before finally getting themselves entirely sorted out.

Zou Yang let out a long, exhaustive breath, lying still on the mat for a while. As the combined effects of the alcohol and the post-passion cooldown began to settle in, a distinct chill washed over him. “I’m actually starting to feel a bit cold.”

Without a word, Fan Jun lay back down and wrapped himself securely around him, locking his arms and legs over Zou Yang’s body like a vice. “Still cold?”

Zou Yang fell silent for a moment before bursting into a soft laugh. “You realize we actually brought sleeping bags, right?”

“Oh,” Fan Jun released his hold and sat back up, feeling around until he located the sleeping bags and unzipped them. “Shift over a bit; let me lay them out properly.”

Zou Yang obediently rolled off to the side.

The exact moment Fan Jun finished spreading out the bags and pulling the long zippers down, Zou Yang slowly rolled himself right back into his arms.

Fan Jun maneuvered him snugly into the core of the sleeping bag, drawing the zipper shut before sliding into his own and pulling Zou Yang close against his chest. “Still cold?”

“Not anymore.” Zou Yang tilted his head, his nose brushing affectionately against Fan Jun’s. “But I just remembered something…”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun murmured.

“I have absolutely no idea where my glasses flew off to,” Zou Yang stated.

“I’ll look for them,” Fan Jun said, already shifting his weight to sit up.

“Don’t bother,” Zou Yang immediately wrapped his arms around Fan Jun’s forearm to hold him in place. “They were an old backup pair anyway. How about you just compensate me with a brand-new pair instead?”

“I’ll happily buy you a brand-new pair,” Fan Jun reasoned. “How did it suddenly become a matter of compensation?”

“You probably crushed them under your weight when you threw me down earlier,” Zou Yang argued.

“When on earth did I…” Fan Jun blinked, thoroughly startled. “…throw you down?”

“Just now,” Zou Yang asserted.

“Is that honestly what you’d call a throw?” Fan Jun questioned.

“Mmhmm,” Zou Yang murmured with his eyes closed, his hand casually tracing across his own skin. “And you mauled me too.”

Fan Jun didn’t say a word, extending a hand to lightly trace over Zou Yang’s shoulder.

“Is that the only spot you remember?” Zou Yang teased.

Fan Jun’s fingers migrated higher, tracing over Zou Yang’s neck. The moment his pads brushed against two distinctly raised, swollen welts along the side of his throat, he let out a sharp, quiet intake of breath.

“What are you sharp-inhaling for?” Zou Yang whispered. “I didn’t even bite you, yet you left a whole string of marks over me like a feral dog.”

“A… string of them?” Fan Jun asked hesitantly. His hand drifted downward, tracing past the collarbone, over the chest, across the stomach, around the waist… all the way down to the thigh. Sure enough, his fingers encountered a series of distinctly raised, sensitive ridges.

He didn’t offer another word of defense. He simply pulled Zou Yang tightly against his chest, burying his face deep into the crook of his neck. “You brought it entirely on yourself.”

“Hmm?” Zou Yang tilted his head.

Fan Jun pressed a soft kiss against the corner of his lips. “Every single spot you pointed to is exactly where I bit.”

Zou Yang went entirely quiet. It took a long moment before he finally muttered a single command: “Sleep.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun complied.

But sleep refused to come.

Despite a heavy wave of drowsiness tugging at his eyelids, his mind kept flashing back to the vibrant, echo-filled sensory images of the past hour, preventing his thoughts from settling down.

After lying there with his eyes closed for a while, he finally opened them once more. “Zou Yang.”

“Hmm?” Zou Yang murmured, a thick trace of nasal drowsiness in his tone indicating he was right on the precipice of drifting off.

Fan Jun reached out, framing Zou Yang’s face with his hand to gently tilt it toward him. He pressed his forehead against Zou Yang’s lips, holding the position for a quiet moment before leaning in to claim his mouth in a deep kiss.

“…Hmm?” Zou Yang’s response was heavy with sleep-induced confusion, yet his lips naturally parted to welcome him anyway.

Compared to their previous ferocity, this drowsy kiss was infinitely gentler. Zou Yang remained completely passive, softly accommodating every trace of Fan Jun’s intricate, lingering demands…

By the time Fan Jun’s lips finally migrated back to rest against the corner of his mouth, Zou Yang’s breathing had already stretched out into a rhythmic, deep, and unbroken cadence.

…He was fast asleep.

Fan Jun let out an incredibly soft, tender sigh. He pressed a gentle kiss against the outer corner of Zou Yang’s closed eye, rested his forehead securely against his lips once more, and closed his eyes to join him.

The early morning in the countryside was infinitely more boisterous than a crisp morning in a residential city block.

It felt as though every single bird in the modern world had congregated around their specific tent to perform a chaotic chorus—each operating on a completely different key, boasting entirely unique vocal ranges.

Even the water in the adjacent creek seemed to rush with a significantly heavier velocity than the night before, generating a sharp, multi-tonal splashing sound as the currents swept over the smooth rocks…

The exact moment Zou Yang blinked his eyes open, Fan Jun was already awake. He was currently sitting upright beside him, propping his weight up with his arms as he gathered his senses.

Noticing the movement, Fan Jun quickly reached out and placed a palm over Zou Yang’s eyes. “Did the noise wake you up? Sleep a bit longer; I’ll head out to check if the breakfast spread is ready…”

“I’m already wide awake… those birds are seriously intense, it feels like they’re chirping directly inside my ear canal…” Zou Yang let out a massive yawn. He slid his arms completely out of the sleeping bag, locking his joints to execute a full-body stretch.

The exact second his back muscles tightened to the point of a near-cramp, he snapped back in, rolling over to wrap himself around Fan Jun’s torso before sinking his teeth sharply into his lower back.

“Ah—” Fan Jun gasped, his spine instantly snapping straight. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmhmm,” Zou Yang released his grip, rolling back over to lie flat on his back as his eyes tracked the transparent skylight cut into the ceiling canvas. “What time is it?”

“Five minutes to six,” Fan Jun reported.

“I haven’t woken up this early in an absolute eternity…” Zou Yang knit his brows. “How is this functionally any different from not sleeping at all…”

“Why don’t you try to catch another hour of sleep?” Fan Jun suggested, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “The other guys haven’t even stirred yet. Don’t you guys have your final block as your only class this morning anyway?”

“I won’t be able to fall back asleep,” Zou Yang said, tossing himself onto his side once more. “It is a camping trip, after all…”

He rolled right back to the center, finally pushing himself up into a sitting position. “The sleep just feels untrast…”

Before he could even finish the word, Liu Wenrui’s frantic voice cut through the canvas from outside: “Holy crap! Where the hell are my shoes?”

“Huh?” Fan Jun blinked, startled.

“His shoes are missing?” Zou Yang’s eyes lit up with instant amusement. He scrambled over to the tent opening, unzipped the flap, and poked his head out into the open air. “Your shoes vanished?”

Over at the adjacent site, Liu Wenrui was sporting an absolute nest of messy, bedraggled hair, completely bundled inside his sleeping bag as he crouched at his tent opening. “I’m down to a single solitary shoe… holy crap, are there actual shoe thieves operating in this wilderness?”

Zou Yang quickly squinted his eyes to scan the ground around their own entrance. Even though his own footwear had been kicked a considerable distance apart, one, two, three, four—both pairs were perfectly accounted for.

“Just slip into mine for now and go search the perimeter,” Li Zhiyue’s muffled voice called out from inside the tent. “Some local wildlife probably dragged it off into the brush…”

“Are you serious?” Liu Wenrui frowned. “There’s actual wildlife out here? What kind of wildlife? Wolves?”

“Dogs!” Li Zhiyue corrected. “When we pulled up to the parking lot yesterday, there were at least four or five local dogs roaming around. Did you seriously not see them?”

“No,” Liu Wenrui shot a glance toward Zou Yang. “The only dogs I saw were the three that piled out of our own vehicle.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zou Yang laughed.

“Zou Yang,” Fan Jun called out from inside the tent. “Get back inside first.”

“Hmm?” Zou Yang turned his head around.

“Get inside,” Fan Jun repeated, reaching out to wrap a hand around his ankle, giving it a firm tug.

“What’s up?” Zou Yang retreated back into the enclosure.

“That mark on your neck,” Fan Jun pointed significantly toward his throat before letting his gaze track lower. “It’s a bit too obvious…”

Zou Yang tsked, lowering his head to reach for his phone to snap a quick photo. The exact second he looked down at his own bare torso, he froze completely. He stared down at the sheer volume of vibrant red marks covering his skin before raising his head to stare at Fan Jun in absolute shock.

Fan Jun remained entirely quiet, shifting his hand up to cover his eyes as he let out a slow, quiet breath.

“Holy crap, Fan Jun?” Zou Yang lunged across the space, forcefully pulling Fan Jun’s hand away from his face to pinch his chin. “Do you honestly think the mark on my neck is the primary issue here?”

“Those are all… covered by clothing,” Fan Jun reasoned softly. “The one on your neck is the only one exposed to the world…”

“How did you manage to not bite me to death entirely?” Zou Yang whispered hoarsely.

As far as his eyes could track—spanning from the center of his chest all the way down to his thighs—his skin was completely adorned with an assortment of raised red lines and distinct marks. He had been well aware that Fan Jun was biting him during the heat of the moment, but he never could have imagined it would leave a pattern this extensive…

It looked exactly like a full-body canvas painting.

“I didn’t mean to,” Fan Jun murmured. He extended a hand to gently trace over one of the raised welts across Zou Yang’s chest, his brow furrowing slightly. “I simply lost control… your skin happens to be incredibly…”

“Incredibly what?” Zou Yang challenged, staring straight into his eyes.

“I didn’t… mean to…” Fan Jun repeated, his delivery turning slightly hesitant.

“That’s not the phrase I’m looking for,” Zou Yang noted.

“Your skin…” Fan Jun trailed off, tracking Zou Yang’s expressions closely to deduce exactly which statement he was supposed to emphasize.

Zou Yang didn’t offer a hint.

“I simply lost control,” Fan Jun stated clearly.

Zou Yang arched a single brow, giving Fan Jun’s chin a playful, gentle shake.

“Zou Yang, you…” Fan Jun burst into a genuine smile. “…you are truly something else.”

“What about me?” Zou Yang tilted his head.

Fan Jun didn’t bother responding with words. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms securely around Zou Yang’s neck as he planted his lips firmly against the side of his throat, delivering a deep, intense mark.

Caught entirely off guard by the sudden weight of the lunge, Zou Yang toppled backward, his spine colliding heavily against one of the structural aluminum support poles of the tent.

The pressure triggered a distinct, muffled metallic snap from the hardware. In an instant, the perfectly taut, semi-circular dome of the tent suffered a structural failure, collapsing inward right down the center line.

“Zou Yang?” Liu Wenrui’s startled voice echoed from mere inches away outside. He was clearly standing right next to their canvas canvas, likely hunting for his missing shoe along their perimeter.

“What does that have to do with—” Zou Yang started to call back, but Fan Jun quickly clapped a palm over his mouth to silence him.

Fan Jun had maintained an unshakeable reputation as the level-headed, mature “Brother Fan” and “Coach Fan” in front of this specific circle of friends; he clearly had no intention of shattering that pristine image over a morning mishap.

Zou Yang dissolved into silent laughter beneath his palm.

Fan Jun held the position for two quiet seconds before finally releasing his grip.

“I just lost my footing,” Zou Yang called out to the outside world.

Fan Jun leaned in to plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“In the middle of the morning?” Liu Wenrui’s voice began to drift further away. “If you two possess that much excess energy with nowhere to expend it, come out here and help me hunt down my shoe.”

“Let’s go,” Zou Yang said, reaching for his discarded T-shirt and pulling it over his head. “Time to go help our precious Wenrui locate his footwear.”

As he pulled the fabric down, his missing glasses slipped out from the folds, clattering onto the mat.

“Holy crap,” Zou Yang muttered, snatching them up. “My glasses were tucked inside my shirt the entire time?”

“Did a dog seriously manage to drag your glasses inside your shirt too?” Liu Wenrui questioned from outside.

“The dog strictly targeted your shoe,” Zou Yang called back.

Liu Wenrui let out a heavy sigh, followed by a series of distinct clicking noises meant to summon an animal.

“Are you seriously trying to click-call a shoe?” Zhang Chuanlong’s voice emerged as he finally stepped out of his tent.

“I’m click-calling you! Are you even fully awake yet?!” Liu Wenrui fired back.

“They aren’t broken, are they?” Fan Jun leaned over to inspect the frames in Zou Yang’s hands.

They couldn’t exactly be described as completely shattered, but they certainly hadn’t emerged unscathed either. The left temple arm was bent at a distinctly awkward angle.

Zou Yang tried forcing them onto his face to test the fit; the frames sat completely lopsided, one lens riding significantly higher than the other.

“Let me adjust them for you,” Fan Jun said. He gently slid the frames off Zou Yang’s face, lowering his head to analyze the bend.

“Just apply a bit of pressure to straighten out that left arm; as long as they can hold together until we make it back to the city, I can just stop by the shop right next to campus to get a fresh…” Zou Yang trailed off mid-sentence. He noticed a small, distinct puncture mark with dried blood resting right on the pad of Fan Jun’s left thumb.

Without his glasses, his vision was too blurry to make out the details clearly, so he leaned his face incredibly close to inspect it.

Fan Jun quickly recoiled, drawing his hand back.

“How did you get that?” Zou Yang asked, immediately reaching out to securely catch his wrist. He maintained an intense level of vigilance regarding any trace of trauma to Fan Jun’s left hand. “Did you clip it with a tool while working on the metalwork?”

“No,” Fan Jun replied, pulling against his grip.

Fan Jun’s left arm had recovered an immense amount of functional strength; Zou Yang couldn’t budge it an inch with a direct pull. Consequently, he used his grip on Fan Jun’s wrist to haul his own body forward instead, closing the distance to get a clear look. It was definitely a fresh, distinct puncture wound.

He paused, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over him as he looked up into Fan Jun’s eyes.

Fan Jun held his gaze. After a long moment of silence, he murmured in a low voice, “You bit me.”

“How on earth did I bite your thumb?” Zou Yang blinked, entirely missing the context.

Fan Jun cleared his throat. He slowly raised his right hand, gently tracing the pad of his thumb across the surface of Zou Yang’s lips.

A sudden, intense sequence of sensory memories flashed back through Zou Yang’s mind. In an instant, he could feel a fierce heat rushing straight to the tips of his ears, setting them completely ablaze.

“Damn it,” he muttered, swatting Fan Jun’s hand away. “Then why on earth didn’t you use your right hand instead? What would we have done if I had actually compromised your left hand?!”

“My right hand was occupied with other duties,” Fan Jun stated plainly.

Zou Yang felt his entire cognitive processing go completely blank for at least two solid seconds.

“I’m going to go help Liu Wenrui find his shoe,” he announced rapidly, throwing open the tent flap and scrambling out into the open air.

Liu Wenrui’s missing shoe was ultimately located right beside the wooden plank walkway they had used to cross the creek the night before. Three distinctly juvenile, clearly underage canine suspects were currently huddled nearby, happily tearing into a leftover steamed bun.

They were almost certainly the property of the campsite vendor.

“The evidence is ironclad; it was definitely them,” Liu Wenrui noted, picking up his retrieved shoe to inspect the damage. The leather surface featured a few shallow puncture marks. As they turned to head back to camp, he cast another glance toward the bun the puppies were sharing. “You don’t think that specific bun was poached from our supply stash too, do you?”

“Brother, our group of dogs completely cleaned out every single bun we had last night,” Zou Yang pointed out.

“Correction—the supply was completely wiped clean by the three standard dogs and the two absolutely shameless creatures sitting right next to them,” Liu Wenrui countered.

Hearing those words, a sudden wave of guilt washed over Zou Yang. He fixed a sharp stare on Liu Wenrui. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“What do you think I mean?” Liu Wenrui stared right back at him. “The two of you engaged in a full-blown make-out session right in front of twenty-odd onlookers last night, and you have the nerve to question me when I call you out on it?”

“…Oh,” Zou Yang muttered, an immense wave of relief washing over him.

By the time they returned to the central campsite, the morning sky was beginning to brighten with the first true rays of dawn.

Li Zhiyue, currently wearing Liu Wenrui’s single companion shoe on one foot, was crouched beside the folding table alongside Fan Jun, meticulously calibrating the portable projector hardware.

“What’s the plan?” Zou Yang asked, approaching them.

“We still have one final item left on the itinerary,” Li Zhiyue explained. “We originally intended to run this once you two made it back to the table last night, but you ended up consuming that much alcohol…”

Zou Yang instantly recalled that the primary reason they had requested Fan Jun to haul the heavy projector gear along was to screen the custom video montage Liu Wenrui had spent weeks editing.

“Can we even see the projection clearly now? The sun is actively rising,” Zou Yang noted, squatting down beside them.

“This particular unit is an absolute beast; I noticed it felt heavy as an anvil when I carried it yesterday,” Li Zhiyue said. “The lumen output on this hardware is exceptionally high; it could project a crystal-clear image even if the ambient light were twice as bright as this.”

“Holy crap,” Liu Wenrui noted, pulling up a chair to swap into his retrieved footwear as he let out a whistle. “Fan Jun, you seriously bought a piece of hardware this advanced just to watch movies at home? This must have set you back several thousand yuan, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun smiled softly. He handed the adjusted glasses back over to Zou Yang. “In the past… I didn’t exactly possess a wide array of recreational hobbies. I mostly just watched movies to pass the time, and this specific display quality makes for a much more comfortable viewing experience.”

As Zou Yang accepted the frames, his eyes instinctively tracked down to glance at Fan Jun’s left thumb once more.

Fan Jun didn’t offer a single word of commentary. He simply raised his hand, casually tracing the knuckle of his thumb along the outer edge of his own lips.

Zou Yang froze for a fraction of a second before violently whipping his head away. After a brief pause, he turned back around, silently mouthing a sharp curse:

Screw you!

Fan Jun burst into a genuine, silent laugh.

The projector was now perfectly calibrated, and Zhang Chuanlong returned from across the creek balancing a massive tray holding their pre-ordered breakfast spread. The five of them gathered around the folding table, digging into the hot congee and fried dough sticks while keeping their eyes fixed on the video casting onto the canvas wall of the tent.

A sudden burst of cinematic, clearly professional-grade theme music echoed through the open air. A digital folder icon expanded across the projection screen, labeled: Fan & Zou. Immediately following the transition, a simple title card emerged: Us.

Liu Wenrui had actually gone out of his way to edit a full, formalized title sequence.

Zou Yang reached out, giving Liu Wenrui’s shoulder a tight, appreciative squeeze.

“We’re brothers, say no more,” Liu Wenrui nodded understandingly.

Zou Yang turned his head to look at Fan Jun. Fan Jun didn’t return the gaze; his fingers were currently propping up his temple, his focus entirely locked onto the unfolding footage on the screen.

The opening sequence consisted entirely of still photographs. Beginning with the initial portrait sessions they had shot over at Rongrong’s studio, a continuous stream of images drifted, flipped, and rolled across the canvas wall in a variety of slick transitions.

Snapshots from the amusement park, candid frames of them eating meals—there were photos of him, and photos of Zou Yang. The vast majority of the collection consisted of frames Zou Yang had secretly snapped of him over the months, many of which he had zero active recollection of.

The exact second the photo logs from his birthday celebration the previous year began to filter onto the screen, Fan Jun felt a sudden, familiar blur distort his vision.

Following a brief succession of still frames, a video file began to play. The audio captured the collective chorus of the group singing the Happy Birthday melody, and the sight of those jumping candle flames dancing across the screen sent a familiar, sharp sting to the outer rims of his eyes.

Exactly one year ago today, the emotional landscape navigating both his and Zou Yang’s hearts had been incredibly fraught. There had been profound joy, sudden surprises, deep-seated aching, and immense pain…

The transition speed of the photos began to accelerate rapidly. The exact moment a snapshot of Zou Yang lying confined to a hospital bed flashed onto the canvas, Fan Jun instinctively closed his eyes. Fortunately, the file transitioned swiftly into another video sequence.

It was the footage of the flaming baked Alaska ice cream.

A single tear escaped his lashes, tracing down his cheek. Fan Jun quickly lowered his head, using the cuff of his sleeve to swiftly wipe it away.

Following that sequence, the volume of photos increased exponentially. Fan Jun’s vision had turned into a complete blur, leaving him entirely unable to discern the clear details of the projection.

He could only deduce from the audio cues that the final segment was a video file—footage documenting Zou Yang sitting at his desk back in the dorm room, meticulously drafting his birthday gift.

Writing the characters over and over again, discarding draft after draft into a mounting pile of scrap paper.

Then came the mounting process—the intricate, step-by-step traditional framing procedure. Even through his blurred sight, he could clearly make out the absolute, unwavering focus written across Zou Yang’s features as he kept his head lowered over the paper…

Finally, the masterpiece was completed. The camera lens swiveled to focus squarely on Zou Yang’s face, slowly zooming in for a close-up.

Sitting right beside him at the table, the real-world Zou Yang suddenly leaned in close against his ear, aligning his voice to speak in perfect synchronization with his digital self on the screen:

“Fan Jun, happy birthday.”