The video wasn’t long, lasting less than twenty minutes.

Yet, within those brief twenty minutes, Fan Jun lived through the entire past year all over again.

Except this time, it was through the lens of Zou Yang’s world.

Watching himself as he existed in Zou Yang’s universe, witnessing the journey of their year through those eyes, he discovered the intricate details and unspoken emotions he had never been privy to—pieced together, drop by drop.

When the video finally faded to black, no one in the room spoke. No one even moved.

A delicate, tingling warmth traced its way across Fan Jun’s face as tears streamed continuously from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t bother raising his sleeve to wipe them away this time; he simply let them flow and gather.

In this exact moment, he was no longer the unshakeable, emotionally guarded Fan Jun everyone else relied on.

He was simply the Fan Jun who needed Zou Yang more than anything else in the world.

Zou Yang reached out, his fingers lightly hooking under Fan Jun’s chin to brush away a few stray tears. Then, he stood up and gently ruffled Fan Jun’s hair.

Fan Jun wrapped his arms tightly around Zou Yang’s waist, burying his face directly into his stomach.

The cotton T-shirt quickly soaked through. Zou Yang could feel a warm, heavy dampness spreading across his skin, accompanied by the subtle, rhythmic trembling of Fan Jun’s shoulders.

The very same Fan Jun who had been desperate to maintain his dignified “Coach Fan” persona just minutes prior had completely abandoned his armor. He held onto Zou Yang, weeping with the raw vulnerability of a child.

Zou Yang remained quiet. He leaned down, lightly patting Fan Jun’s back with one hand while his other fingers playfully twirled a stray lock of hair at the crown of his head.

Beside them, Liu Wenrui pulled a tissue, pressing it firmly against his eyes as he let out a long, deeply affected sigh.

Li Zhiyue pulled a tissue of his own, methodically dabbing at his face.

Zhang Chuanlong was the only one who hadn’t moved. He didn’t appear to be crying; he was simply staring blankly at the empty projection screen, lost in thought.

Zou Yang had fully expected himself to break down during this part of the morning, but for some reason, the tears never came. A tumultuous storm of emotions was churning deep within his chest, yet his eyes remained dry.

He was simply filled with a profound, overwhelming sense of awe.

Awe for his own journey, and awe for Fan Jun—a man who almost never allowed a shred of intense emotion to breach his exterior, yet was currently trembling in his arms.

Fan Jun was weeping fiercely. He wept completely unreservedly, right in front of Zou Yang—whom he usually viewed as a kid to protect—and Zou Yang’s college roommates.

Across the creek, the campers who had gone for breakfast began returning to their sites. People were gradually packing up their gear; some were preparing for the drive back to the city, while others were mapping out their next destination.

While their little group remained entirely frozen in time on their side of the bank, the bustling world across the water paid them little mind, focused entirely on the tasks at hand. As the neighboring groups finally began to drive off, an older gentleman turned back and offered a friendly wave in their direction.

Zou Yang raised his free hand and waved back.

Watching the travelers depart, an indescribable sensation suddenly bloomed in his chest.

How many people do you actually cross paths with over the course of a single lifetime?

How many souls simply wander through your existence as background noise?

They drift through your peripheral vision, brush past your shoulder in a crowd, or leave faint echoes of their voices in the air. Your eyes might casually scan their faces for a fraction of a second, yet you will never remember a single one of them…

Then there are those with whom you exchange a sentence or two—a brief conversation, a minor dispute. Or those whose names you happen to learn, whose existences you acknowledge from afar, but with whom your life paths will never truly intersect.

Yet, out of those millions of fleeting near-misses, a select few somehow manage to stay by your side.

They become your friends, your confidants.

And then, out of those infinite possibilities, a single individual emerges like an absolute miracle, transforming into an indispensable piece of your very existence.

A lover. A boyfriend.

He lowered his gaze, staring fondly at the cowlick at the crown of Fan Jun’s head.

Right then, Zhang Chuanlong—the one close friend who had remained entirely silent and motionless throughout the screening—pulled a fresh tissue. Surrounded by the now-deserted wilderness and the gentle bubbling of the creek, he lowered his head and let out a massive, trumpet-like blow of his nose.

“Holy crap!” Liu Wenrui barked, jumping slightly. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Look at your pathetic excuse for courage,” Zhang Chuanlong muttered, his eyes completely bloodshot as he blew his nose a second time. “Go build some character.”

Zou Yang felt Fan Jun stiffen slightly against him before his shoulders dissolved into a silent chuckle against his stomach.

“Shut up,” Zou Yang laughed, reaching backward to pluck a couple of clean tissues from the box, stuffing them into Fan Jun’s hand.

Fan Jun accepted the paper, gradually loosening his tight grip around Zou Yang’s waist. He buried his face into the tissues, letting out a long, heavy exhale before thoroughly wiping his face clean.

When he finally looked up, the rims of his eyes and the tip of his nose were bright red, casting the small scars on his face in a matching crimson hue. Zou Yang couldn’t resist reaching out to gently cup his cheek.

“Let’s pack up,” Fan Jun said, his voice distinctly raspy. “The drive back is going to take over an hour.”

“Mmhmm,” Zou Yang agreed.

Fan Jun used a clean corner of the tissue to gently dab at the front of Zou Yang’s shirt. “It’s completely soaked through. Did you pack a spare change of clothes?”

“The wind will dry it out in no time once we get moving.” Zou Yang affectionately ruffled his hair.

Once the gear was fully consolidated, the group hauled the folding cart across the wooden plank walkway the vendor had constructed, making their way back to the parking lot.

When they went to return the rental gear, they ended up having to pay the vendor a twenty-yuan penalty fee due to the structural support pole Zou Yang and Fan Jun had managed to snap in their tent.

Fan Jun took the wheel for the return leg of the journey. The moment the car cleared the campsite, the three passengers in the back went out like a light. Watching them sleep so soundly, Zou Yang felt a lingering wave of self-consciousness, wondering if the bastards had actually stayed awake all night just to eavesdrop on the tent walls.

When the car finally pulled up to the commercial trade center, Fan Jun hopped out, allowing Zou Yang to slide into the driver’s seat to navigate the rest of the way back to campus.

“Send me a text the second you make it to school,” Fan Jun murmured, leaning his arms against the open window frame.

“Mmhmm,” Zou Yang nodded. “Did you grab all your gifts? Did you make sure to pack the one the guys put together for you too?”

“They’re both safely in the bags,” Fan Jun said, lifting the two shopping bags in his hand to show him.

“Good,” Zou Yang noted.

“Get going,” Fan Jun added, casting a brief glance toward the back seat where the other three were still deeply committed to feigning sleep. “And tell the guys I said thank you.”

Despite a profound, overwhelming desire to skip his remaining classes, Zou Yang forced himself to stay disciplined. The moment Fan Jun turned around to walk away, Zou Yang rolled up the window and clicked his seatbelt into place.

The moment Liu Wenrui migrated from the back row into the passenger seat, Zou Yang fired up the ignition and steered the vehicle toward the university.

“Man…” Liu Wenrui let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“What’s on your mind?” Zou Yang glanced at him.

“Just processing things,” Liu Wenrui said. “This entire birthday trip has left me incredibly reflective.”

“It’s mostly just looking at the two of them,” Zhang Chuanlong added from the back, his tone thick with sentiment. “They’ve had it incredibly rough. So many couples would have completely drifted apart during a brutal stretch like the one they just survived.”

“Seriously…” Liu Wenrui and Li Zhiyue chimed in simultaneously.

“Alright, that’s quite enough out of you guys,” Zou Yang cut in. “We didn’t just meet yesterday. If you keep up this level of sappy melodrama, I’m severing ties.”

“Fine, let me pivot to something entirely practical then,” Liu Wenrui tsked. “That mark Fan Jun mauled into your neck? You might want to throw a band-aid over it before we hit campus. I guarantee people are going to stare and ask questions.”

“What the…” Zou Yang felt his face instantly burst into flames.

“Don’t give me that,” Liu Wenrui scoffed. “You’re the type of person whose skin flares up into a vibrant red patch if you so much as scratch an itch. Do you honestly have no concept of how glaringly obvious it is?”

“…Got it,” Zou Yang muttered.

“Honestly, it’s not even a big deal. It’s just a hickey,” Zhang Chuanlong reasoned. “If anything, it’s definitive proof that the man has officially off the market. He’s the absolute pride of our dorm room.”

“Please don’t start celebrating just yet,” Liu Wenrui countered. “Look at the neighboring suites. The fast movers locked things down freshman year, the slower ones secured partners by sophomore year. Our specific room has been operating like a state-funded sanctuary for preserving singlehood… Pride? I’m just trying to avoid letting the world know we still have three single bastards left in containment.”

Li Zhiyue dissolved into a fit of silent laughter, turning into a coughing fit as he choked on his own breath.

“The sheer volume of resentment in your voice is palpable,” Zhang Chuanlong noted.

[Zou Yang]: Just made it to campus. Heading into the lecture hall now.

[Fan]: That video montage… could you forward a copy of the file to me?

[Zou Yang]: You seriously want to watch it all over again?

[Fan]: I want to keep it as a permanent keepsake.

Zou Yang quickly transferred the video file over to Fan Jun’s chat window.

[Fan]: Are you heading over to my place later tonight?

[Zou Yang]: Yeah, I am.

[Fan]: Should I come pick you up?

[Zou Yang]: My car is parked on campus. I’ll just ride my scooter over; it’s fine.

“We should be seeing some concrete movement on that front any day now,” He Chuan noted, checking the small desk calendar on his workspace. “Logically speaking, between the initial asset frozen orders, the formal litigation, and the final execution of the compensation payouts, a standard timeline shouldn’t exceed two to three months from start to finish.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun acknowledged.

“I had another extended discussion with Boss Li over at the coffee shop yesterday,” He Chuan continued, pouring a fresh round of tea. “He’s officially finalizing the transfer of the lease to my name by the end of this week.”

“He managed to hold out for this long, and the business still didn’t register a single trace of improvement?” Fan Jun asked.

“Let me tell you something about commerce: that’s just the nature of the beast. You can’t salvage a dying business purely through stubborn endurance,” He Chuan said, waving off the thought before fixing a direct look on him. “So, where’s your head at? Have you given it any serious thought?”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun looked at him.

“Are you planning on injecting a bit of capital to partner up with me on this venture?” He Chuan asked.

Fan Jun remained quiet.

“The afternoon I first mentioned needing to secure a loan, you already had this specific thought rolling around in your head, didn’t you?” He Chuan laughed. “Given the depth of our history, I’m not going to beat around the bush with you.”

“What kind of financial buy-in are we looking at?” Fan Jun inquired.

“That’s entirely dependent on your comfort level,” He Chuan said. “But before we advance the logistics, there’s a specific question I need to ask you directly.”

“Go ahead,” Fan Jun said.

“Regarding you and Zou Yang,” He Chuan said, locking eyes with him. “You two aren’t just standard friends, right? Like… it’s not just a matter of being fiercely loyal bros or lifelong confidants. It’s… something significantly deeper than that…”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun confirmed smoothly.

“That’s perfectly fine then,” He Chuan nodded. “As for the investment amount, calculate it entirely based on your personal financial landscape. Ten grand, twenty grand… whatever works. Obviously, the more capital we can secure, the better the initial positioning.”

“Your primary objective is using my presence to secure a permanent link to Zou Yang, isn’t it?” Fan Jun asked directly.

“That’s absolutely a core strategic consideration,” He Chuan admitted freely. “Given the proximity of your relationship, bringing you on board functionally expands our business network into an entirely new sector. I have zero intention of exploiting either of you; this is purely a matter of calculated profitability.”

Fan Jun kept his counsel, remaining silent.

“Take some time to run the numbers,” He Chuan said. “There’s no immediate rush. If any specific hesitations pop up, air them out with me directly. Just keep one fundamental truth in mind.”

He Chuan raised his index finger, staring intently at Fan Jun.

“Which truth is that?” Fan Jun asked.

“Based entirely on the fact that back when you were pulling a meager monthly salary, you still possessed the absolute guts to step out of that vehicle and go toe-to-toe with those thugs to protect me,” He Chuan stated fiercely. “I, He Chuan, will never, under any circumstances, screw you over.”

He Chuan delivered the statement with such a massive wave of theatrical passion that his own eyes actually began to glisten with tears of self-induced emotion.

“…That much I believe implicitly,” Fan Jun said.

“So take your time to weigh the options. If you want an extra layer of reassurance, run the entire concept by Zou Yang as well,” He Chuan suggested. “The kid is a university student; his analytical mind operates at a high level.”

Fan Jun was off the schedule for the evening. The moment Zou Yang’s final lecture concluded, he headed straight over to the shop to meet up. The two grabbed a casual dinner of mixed rice at a small diner right outside the residential compound, took Xiao Bai out for a couple of laps around the block, and returned to the apartment.

The moment the front door swung open, Da Hei was already stationed prominently atop the shoe cabinet, immediately extending his head to rub affectionately against Zou Yang’s forearm.

Zou Yang stroked the cat’s head. Before he could even swap his shoes for slippers, his eyes were instantly drawn to the living room wall directly above the main table. Two large, traditional hanging scrolls were mounted prominently side-by-side.

Love begins from sources unknown, yet it deepens into an unyielding devotion. The living may die for it, and the dead may find life through it.

I long to transform into the gentle southwest wind, traversing the vast distances to sink into your embrace.

“You…” Zou Yang froze in his tracks. “Why on earth did you actually hang them up on the main wall?”

“They’re fully professionally mounted; why wouldn’t I hang them?” Fan Jun reasoned, gesturing toward the opposite wall behind the sofa. “And that specific frame is securely mounted over there.”

Zou Yang turned his head. Suspended directly above the sofa was a long, horizontal display frame. Sealed inside was the abstract artwork he had constructed using the shredded remnants of his discarded calligraphy drafts.

This particular piece wasn’t a major issue; at the very least, a casual observer would never be able to deduce the original source material.

“What about… the other one?” Zou Yang asked carefully.

“That’s mounted in the bedroom,” Fan Jun reported.

“Oh,” Zou Yang let out a soft breath of relief. He slipped out of his shoes, but after a moment of consideration, he couldn’t resist asking, “Was it absolutely mandatory to display them so prominently?”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun nodded. “An absolute non-negotiable.”

“Fine, whatever,” Zou Yang chuckled, walking over to the table to study the characters detailing the wall.

“I’m incredibly fond of these tiny illustrations you included,” Fan Jun noted, pointing toward the miniature ink drawings nestled at the very tail end of the text.

One scroll featured a tiny rendering of Xiao Bai, while the adjacent scroll concluded with a miniature Da Hei. Each drawing was roughly the size of a standard written character—simple, efficient brushstrokes that perfectly captured the distinct essence of each animal.

“You’re remarkably skilled. Managing to convey that Da Hei is a pristine white cat using nothing but a few minimalist lines is impressive,” Fan Jun teased.

“Naturally,” Zou Yang retorted, collapsing backward onto the sofa and sprawling his arms wide across the cushions.

“There’s a specific matter I need to discuss with you,” Fan Jun said, walking over to the sofa before sinking down to sit directly on the carpet by his side.

“Let’s hear it,” Zou Yang said, reaching down to playfully trace a finger along his jawline.

“The coffee shop He Chuan has been eyeing? The current owner officially agreed to execute the lease transfer to his name,” Fan Jun explained. “He approached me to ask if I’d be willing to enter a formal business partnership with him.”

“What kind of financial buy-in is he expecting from you?” Zou Yang inquired.

“The exact amount is fluid,” Fan Jun said, casting a brief glance up at him. “His primary underlying objective… is securing a solid bridge to your network and resources.”

Zou Yang didn’t respond immediately. He propped his head against his arms, slipping into deep thought for a long moment before finally speaking. “What is your personal stance on the matter? Strip away his underlying motivations regarding my network entirely—what do you want?”

“The afternoon he first went to negotiate the terms, he mentioned he was short on capital… and I found myself genuinely wanting to invest…” Fan Jun admitted.

“Then go through with it,” Zou Yang cut in before he could even finish the thought.

Fan Jun stared up at him. “But back then, if I had approached him independently, he might not have readily agreed to a partnership. The only reason he’s presenting the option to me now is because he wants to…”

“You don’t need to overanalyze his motives,” Zou Yang asserted. “If your personal assessment tells you that partnering with him is a viable, profitable move, and he’s actively extending the offer, then lock it down. Disregard everything else. Whether he’s trying to leverage a relationship or not is irrelevant; the ultimate leverage remains entirely in your hands, understand?”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun acknowledged softly.

“Where is the source of your hesitation?” Zou Yang asked.

“It just… makes me feel as though I’m utilizing you as a piece of financial leverage,” Fan Jun murmured under his breath.

“He’s clearly deduced that our relationship extends far beyond a standard friendship, hasn’t he?” Zou Yang asked.

“At this stage… it would be remarkably difficult for anyone to miss it,” Fan Jun admitted.

“Given the nature of what we are to each other, our lives and choices are naturally going to be intertwined in a lot of areas. There’s no clean way to separate those threads, nor should we have to,” Zou Yang stated firmly.

“Mmhmm.” Fan Jun reached up, giving Zou Yang’s cheek a tender, affectionate pinch.

“How much of your own capital are you projecting to inject into the partnership?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun calculated briefly. “I’ve managed to accumulate a little over a hundred thousand yuan in personal savings over the years. My plan is to…”

“Holy crap,” Zou Yang snapped his head up, staring down at him in shock. “Fan Jun, you’re an absolute assassin when it comes to hoarding cash, aren’t you?”

“I entered the workforce full-time the literal second I cleared high school, and there was a solid two-year stretch where the academy’s enrollment skyrocketed. The student volume was massive, and my commission structure was exceptionally high,” Fan Jun explained with a smile. “Plus, my personal lifestyle expenses are virtually non-existent. Uncle Lyu never even charged me a single cent for room and board.”

“Don’t empty your entire accounts into this. Limit the initial buy-in to an even hundred thousand,” Zou Yang advised. “If the venture requires additional liquidity down the line, I can help bridge the gap for you.”

“There’s no need,” Fan Jun said. “In the event that the business tanks—”

“Hey!” Zou Yang instantly pointed a warning finger right at his face. “Watch your mouth! Spit that bad luck out right now!”

“Pei, pei, pei,” Fan Jun complied instantly, spitting out the negative energy.

“Then proceed with the buy-in using your own capital,” Zou Yang conceded, choosing not to press the point. “If the operational logistics run smoothly over the first couple of quarters, you can always inject additional capital later.”

“Mmhmm.” Fan Jun tilted his head back, resting it comfortably against Zou Yang’s thighs. “Zou Yang.”

“Hmm?” Zou Yang murmured.

“Having you in my life is an incredible gift,” Fan Jun said softly. “It gives me an immense sense of security.”

“Which is precisely why you need to communicate everything to me directly. While I might not possess the practical expertise to solve every corporate dilemma, I have an endless supply of logical reasoning, faulty logic, and pure opinions at my disposal,” Zou Yang said, lightly shifting his legs. “And if all else fails, I can always just be completely unreasonable on your behalf.”

Fan Jun broke into a genuine laugh.

Suddenly, Zou Yang’s smartphone—which had been discarded atop the shoe cabinet near the entrance—began to ring loudly. Xiao Bai darted across the room, delicately clamping the device between her teeth before trotting back to deliver it.

“Hey, Bai,” Zou Yang said, accepting the device before immediately wiping the cat’s lingering drool onto Fan Jun’s shoulder fabric. “You should honestly consider enrolling in an elite academy at this point…”

“Where exactly do you think you’re wiping that?” Fan Jun muttered, pulling at the fabric of his T-shirt to inspect the damp spot.

“It’s Attorney Cao…” Zou Yang noted, clicking the accept button and raising the device to his ear. “Hello, Attorney Cao.”

“Hello, Zou Yang. I apologize for reaching out at this hour,” Attorney Cao’s voice cut through the line, crisp, concise, and thoroughly professional as always. “I am calling to formally notify you regarding the logistics surrounding the division of your late father Zou Yanqing’s estate…”

Zou Yang fell silent, listening intently as the details unfolded.

The execution phase of the initial compensation lawsuit had reached its absolute conclusion. At this stage, Zou Tianrui’s legal representation had requested a formal meeting at the firm’s offices to legally split the remaining residual assets.

The moment the call disconnected, Zou Yang sank back into the sofa cushions, closing his eyes as he let out a long, exhaustive sigh.

“Is it time to negotiate the final asset division?” Fan Jun inquired gently.

“Yeah,” Zou Yang said, his brow furrowing. “Tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. The entire prospect is an absolute headache.”

“Do you have lectures scheduled during that block?” Fan Jun asked.

“No. And even if I did, I’d submit a formal leave request anyway,” Zou Yang said, letting out a massive yawn. “The sooner we push through this final hurdle, the sooner the chaos settles. I just want to finally live my own life with some peace of mind.”

“Do you want me to coordinate with your roommates to have the dorm crew accompany you again?” Fan Jun asked.

“Even if I actively barred them from attending, they’d still find a way to show up. This is the exact brand of drama that the neighboring suites would happily skip class to spectate,” Zou Yang chuckled. “But I need you by my side for this.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun agreed instantly. “Do you anticipate things turning physical again?”

“Attorney Cao has already filed a formal request for local law enforcement presence on-site to assist with crowd control and maintain order,” Zou Yang explained. “There shouldn’t be any massive disruptions this time around. We’ve reached the absolute endgame; throwing a tantrum at this stage won’t alter the legal reality…”

“Honestly, there was zero practical need to involve law enforcement,” Liu Wenrui noted from the backseat of the vehicle the following afternoon. “The second our crew positions ourselves at the entrance, if it’s the exact same crowd from last time, they won’t dare lift a single finger against us.”

“Aren’t they primarily backing down because they see Fan Jun standing there?” Li Zhiyue pointed out.

“Brother Zhiyue,” Liu Wenrui countered. “There are certain fundamental truths in this world that never need to be voiced out loud. As long as we recognize them implicitly in our hearts, it’s sufficient. Spelling them out only damages collective morale.”

“Message received,” Li Zhiyue laughed.

Since it was a standard weekday afternoon, the commercial parking complex was entirely packed to capacity. Fan Jun had to navigate the grid for a full loop before finally securing an available slot.

The second the doors unlocked, the group piled out, their eyes instantly scanning the immediate perimeter. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

Zou Yang placed a quick call to the law firm’s reception desk to notify them of their arrival, casually inquiring if his aunt and the rest of that faction had already checked in. The receptionist confirmed that no suspicious or hostile groups had emerged in the lobby yet.

“Let’s move. The coast is clear,” Zou Yang announced.

“They haven’t arrived yet?” Liu Wenrui noted. “Doesn’t our massive entourage make it look like we’re the ones showing up to instigate a riot?”

“Not at all,” Fan Jun countered smoothly. “Bodyguards.”

“Exactly!” Zhang Chuanlong barked, instantly stepping out to take the lead position right in front of Zou Yang.

“…Watch where you’re stepping; you’re on my shoe,” Zou Yang noted dryly.

Their timing was calculated to the absolute minute. The exact second they stepped through the glass doors of the firm, a staff member immediately guided Zou Yang toward the primary executive conference room.

Zou Tianrui and her maternal aunt were already seated inside, waiting.

Hearing the sound of the door swinging open, Zou Tianrui turned her head to cast a brief glance in his direction. Zou Yang offered a single, curt nod of acknowledgment before pulling out a chair directly opposite her.

In the two months that had elapsed since their last encounter, Zou Tianrui had visibly lost a significant amount of weight. However, her overall disposition and mental focus appeared markedly more stable and grounded compared to the erratic state she had been in previously.

“Let’s begin,” Zou Yang stated clearly.