Three days after confirming their relationship, Xu Weiran scheduled their first in-person house viewing.
He brought it up Monday night.
Dong Enze had just finished rehearsal and returned home, still wearing the dance company's black practice clothes. His hair was damp with sweat. He bent down in the entryway to take off his shoes, two bottles of milk and a bag of fruit from the convenience store in hand. The moment he straightened, Weiran looked up from the living room.
“Clear your Wednesday afternoon.”
Enze stopped beside the shoe cabinet, still holding the paper bag.
“What for?”
“House hunting.”
His tone was as flat as if he were reminding Enze to take out the trash the day after tomorrow.
It took Enze two seconds to remember the house they had looked at together around the dining table a few days ago.
That day, his hangover had not yet worn off, and his head had been crammed full of the news that Weiran liked him, that they were already boyfriends, and that they would still be moving together in the future. Although they had ultimately studied the floor plan seriously, when he thought back on it afterward, the memory was still covered in an unreal haze.
Only now, with Weiran actually scheduling an in-person viewing, did the house that had existed only in photos on a tablet suddenly change from a vague possibility into an imminent reality.
Enze changed into slippers and carried everything into the living room.
“So it’s the one you showed me last time?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Weiran sent the address to his phone, then lowered his head to confirm the time the realtor had sent.
“It’s scheduled for Wednesday afternoon, so take the afternoon off. You’re the one who needs to decide how it should be renovated.”
Enze saw the message and opened the map. The house was in a residential neighborhood some distance from downtown, about forty minutes by car from Weiran’s company and even farther from the dance company.
He zoomed in on the route, then out again, hesitating.
“…Then do whatever makes you happy. You’re the one paying.”
Weiran looked up and raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t dance.”
The hand holding Enze’s phone stopped.
“What?”
“Where to put the mirrors, what kind of flooring to use, whether to open up the two rooms.” Weiran looked at him. “How would I know?”
“You can ask the designer.”
“Is the designer going to be the one using it?”
“No.”
“Then there you go.”
Enze stood beside the sofa without speaking for a long while.
He knew Weiran had always considered him when looking at houses. Once they were sober, they had also cleared up the misunderstanding completely. But knowing was one thing. Actually hearing Weiran hand the renovation decisions over to him was another.
This was not about putting up a mirror for a roommate who was only staying temporarily.
Weiran genuinely intended to place part of their new home in Enze’s hands, letting him decide what the space would become according to his work and daily habits.
From the way he spoke, Weiran did not even think it was something worth emphasizing.
As if the house were already Enze’s, too.
“But you’re buying the house,” Enze couldn’t help saying.
Weiran earned more than he did. Over the past few years, he had produced plenty of hit songs, and his film-scoring and music-production projects were steady as well. When they had rented before, they had always split the rent and living expenses evenly. But when it came to buying a house with a yard like this, Enze knew perfectly well that he could not come up with the same amount as Weiran.
It wasn’t that he was unwilling to contribute.
Their relationship had only just changed. He still was not completely used to the words “boyfriend,” and he did not want to casually move into a house Weiran had bought and renovated for him.
Weiran closed the tablet and leaned back against the sofa.
“So?”
“I can’t be the one making that many decisions.”
“Why not?”
“Because…”
Enze stood there and suddenly could not come up with a genuinely reasonable explanation.
Weiran watched him for several seconds.
“You’re still planning to treat yourself like a guest?”
“I’m not.”
“Then stop saying it’s my money.”
“But it is.”
“I’m paying first.” Weiran’s tone remained calm. “We can discuss how to split the renovation, furniture, and future living expenses later. If you really care, contribute proportionally afterward, or take responsibility for a fixed portion.”
Enze stared at him.
He had assumed Weiran had never thought about any of this.
But the uninterrupted answer made it obvious that Weiran had considered it long ago.
“When did you think about this?”
“When I was looking at the house.”
“You never told me.”
“I mentioned moving before, and you went out and got drunk twice.”
Enze immediately shut his mouth.
Weiran glanced at him.
“Would it be wise to tell you too much now?”
“That was a misunderstanding.”
“Who caused the misunderstanding?”
“You didn’t explain clearly.”
“You didn’t ask.”
The conversation was about to circle back to the misunderstanding they had already resolved, so Enze wisely stopped.
Weiran reached over and took the paper bag Enze had carried all the way home. He looked inside.
“More milk?”
“We were almost out.”
“There’s still some in the fridge.”
“Only two bottles.”
“Two bottles aren’t enough?”
“You drink it in the morning.”
Weiran was silent for a moment, then looked up at him.
Enze had no idea why.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Weiran set the milk on the coffee table.
Even though their relationship had changed, some of their habits remained exactly as they had always been.
Enze still remembered to buy milk on his way home, and Weiran was still used to Enze standing in the entryway and immediately announcing what was missing from the fridge. Becoming lovers had not instantly turned them into different people around each other. It had simply added a reason to their already densely intertwined life—a reason they could embrace and openly say they liked one another.
Weiran did not think there was anything wrong with that.
If anything, Enze was the one who occasionally seemed unaccustomed to it.
Like now.
He had already walked over to the sofa, but instead of sitting down as he always had, he stood there as if he no longer knew where he was supposed to sit.
Weiran watched him for a moment.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Tired.”
“Then why are you standing?”
Enze looked down at the sofa.
Before, he had sat wherever he wanted. Sometimes he would even collapse across it and take up most of the space. Now that he was Weiran’s boyfriend, he had somehow begun worrying about the distance between them. Even sitting on the same sofa had become a question: should they stay apart with a throw pillow between them like before, or should he move a little closer?
Weiran understood immediately.
He did not point it out. He simply shifted aside and made room.
Enze sat down.
A small distance still remained between them.
Weiran glanced down, reached out, and took his wrist, pulling him closer.
Enze was caught off guard and his shoulder bumped into Weiran’s.
“What are you doing?”
“Why are you sitting so far away?”
“It’s not that far.”
“There’s room for another person between us.”
“Didn’t you used to complain that I was crowding you?”
“That was before.”
Weiran said it as if it were self-evident.
Enze looked at their touching arms, the corners of his mouth slowly curving upward.
“And now?”
“Now I don’t mind.”
“What about later?”
Weiran turned his face toward him.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Can’t I ask one?”
“First tell me whether you can take Wednesday afternoon off.”
Enze picked up his phone and checked the dance company's schedule. There was a regular rehearsal Wednesday afternoon, but no formal performance coming up. Coordinating a half-day off with the team captain would not be difficult.
“I probably can.”
“Not probably.”
“I’ll ask in a minute.”
Weiran stared at him.
After a few seconds under that stare, Enze could only open the chat with the team captain right in front of him and send a leave request.
He stopped halfway through typing the reason.
Weiran noticed.
“Why aren’t you sending it?”
“What should I put as the reason?”
“House hunting.”
“They’ll ask.”
“What will they ask?”
Enze remembered the two times he had passed out drunk downstairs outside the apartment, and how both times people from the dance company had used his phone to call Weiran. No one had said anything outright, but the team captain and vice-captain had obviously realized that his relationship with his so-called roommate was not entirely ordinary.
If he told them now that he was taking Wednesday afternoon off to look at a house with Weiran, the entire dance company would probably know within half a day that they were preparing to move into a new home.
“They’ll ask who I’m going with.”
“With me.”
“And then?”
“What do you mean?”
Enze turned to look at Weiran’s excessively calm face and suddenly understood that this man simply did not care if the dance company found out.
“You don’t mind?”
“What would I mind?”
“Us.”
Weiran was silent for two seconds.
“Do you want to keep it a secret?”
Enze immediately shook his head.
“No.”
He simply had not thought about how to explain it to other people since confirming the relationship.
For the past six years, Weiran had always been the roommate Enze described as being good at making music, not especially easygoing, but always willing to rescue the dance company in the middle of the night. Now the same person had suddenly become his boyfriend. Every time Enze thought about it, his heart still raced. Telling the people around him was another matter entirely.
Weiran looked at his reddening ears and took the phone from his palm.
“What are you doing?”
“Sending it for you.”
“Wait—”
Enze reached for the phone, but Weiran had already quickly typed a line and pressed send.
“Xu Weiran!”
He snatched the phone back.
The message was already gone.
—Requesting Wednesday afternoon off to look at a house with my boyfriend.
Enze stared at the line, his entire body frozen on the sofa.
“Why did you write ‘boyfriend’?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I am, but…”
“What’s the problem?”
“You did that on purpose.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Weiran admitted it without the slightest burden of guilt.
Enze’s phone vibrated almost immediately.
The team captain replied with a string of question marks.
Then came another message—
“Boyfriend?????”
Less than five seconds later, the vice-captain’s message popped up too.
“When did you get a boyfriend?”
Before Enze could respond, someone in the dance-company group chat had already taken a screenshot and asked whether he was talking about the person everyone called his roommate.
His phone kept vibrating, messages jumping up one after another.
Enze looked up and glared at the culprit.
Weiran had picked up his tablet again, looking as if the whole thing had nothing to do with him.
“Happy now?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They’re going to question me all day tomorrow.”
“Then tell them the truth.”
“Tell them you confessed while I was drunk?”
Weiran looked up.
“You were the one who asked if I liked you first.”
“But I blacked out.”
“You still dare bring that up?”
Enze immediately swallowed the rest of his words.
Seeing his guilty expression, Weiran reached over and ruffled his hair.
“Clear your Wednesday afternoon.”
Enze looked down at the messages still multiplying wildly in the dance-company group chat and answered helplessly.
“Got it.”
Sure enough, Enze was surrounded by people from the dance company for a full hour Wednesday morning.
The moment he stepped into the rehearsal room, everyone’s eyes turned toward him at once.
Someone whistled, someone clapped, and the vice-captain even stood up from the floor and slung an arm over his shoulders.
“You’re going house hunting with your boyfriend?”
Enze expressionlessly pushed his arm away.
“Don’t you have anything else to do?”
“Sure. Rehearse.”
“Then why aren’t you warming up?”
“Because gossip is more important.”
The team captain stood to one side with his arms crossed, unable to hide his smile.
“So it really is Mr. Xu?”
Enze bent down to put his backpack away.
“Mm-hmm.”
The whole group immediately erupted in barely suppressed cheers.
“I knew it!”
“He came downstairs to pick you up both times. How could he be just your roommate?”
“And the way he looks at you is terrifying.”
Enze lifted his head.
“What’s terrifying about it?”
“Not terrifying like he hates you.” The youngest company member struggled to explain. “It’s more like…if we lost you, he’d tear the entire dance company apart.”
The people beside him nodded vigorously.
“Last time he asked how much you’d had to drink, even the captain lowered his voice.”
The captain turned and glared at them.
“Shut up.”
The vice-captain still refused to let Enze off the hook.
“So who confessed first?”
“Rehearse.”
“Have you kissed?”
“Rehearse.”
“Have you slept together?”
Enze’s ears instantly turned red.
The reaction was far too obvious, and the entire rehearsal room exploded again.
“You really did?”
“That’s not what you think!”
“What do you think we think?”
“He was just drunk.” The captain knew what had happened that day and offered an explanation. “Mr. Xu was probably only taking care of him.”
“Taking care of him in the same bed?”
“How do you know it was the same bed?”
“It’s written all over his face.”
Enze took a deep breath and clapped twice.
The crisp sound made everyone fall silent instinctively.
He stepped in front of the mirror, the expression he always wore during principal-dancer rehearsals settling back over his face.
“Anyone who asks again today gets an extra hour of basic drills.”
The rehearsal room instantly became silent.
Enze swept his gaze over everyone.
“Warm up.”
Everyone scattered quickly.
Only the vice-captain, passing by him, still lowered his voice to say, “Congratulations.”
Enze turned.
The other man had already run several steps away, then glanced back at him with a grin.
“You don’t have to sit downstairs refusing to go home this time, right?”
Enze froze for a moment.
The heaviness that had weighed on his chest during that period came back to him because of the remark, but it no longer hurt as badly as it had then.
He lowered his head and smiled.
“No need.”
Because whether he returned to the old apartment or moved into the new house in the future, Weiran would still be there.
At one in the afternoon, Enze left the dance company early.
He showered in the changing room and changed into a simple gray knit shirt and black pants. Before leaving, he stood in front of the mirror and fixed his hair twice, then decided he looked too deliberate and reached up to muss it slightly.
The vice-captain leaned against the door and watched the whole process.
“You’re dressing up like that to look at a house?”
Enze didn’t turn around.
“This is how I normally dress.”
“You normally only wear workout clothes.”
“You have too much free time?”
“I’m just reminding you that a three o’clock house viewing isn’t a date.”
Enze picked up his coat.
“It can be both.”
The vice-captain stepped aside with an exasperated look.
“Just go.”
Enze laughed, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the dance company.
The weather outside was a little warmer than it had been a few days ago. Sunlight fell over the roads and building walls. The wind still carried early-spring chill, but it was no longer biting.
Weiran messaged to say that he had parked by the side entrance.
Enze walked around the building and immediately spotted the familiar black car.
He opened the front passenger door and got in.
Weiran glanced at him.
“You’re three minutes late.”
“The team kept asking questions.”
“What questions?”
“About my boyfriend.”
Weiran started the car without the slightest trace of remorse.
“So?”
“Someone also asked if we’d slept together.”
Weiran’s hand on the steering wheel stopped for an instant.
Enze had only meant to tell him what he had endured that morning. He had not expected a reaction, and immediately caught the brief awkwardness in Weiran’s eyes.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“You are.”
“Put on your seat belt.”
“Xu Weiran.”
Weiran turned, pulled the seat belt hanging beside the seat across him, and buckled it for him.
Their distance suddenly closed.
Enze had meant to keep questioning him, but the words stopped in his throat.
Weiran withdrew his arm as if nothing had happened.
“Sit properly.”
Enze watched the hand return to the steering wheel. After two quiet seconds, the corners of his mouth slowly lifted.
“You got shy?”
“No.”
“Your ears are red.”
“It’s hot in the car.”
Enze reached over and turned down the air-conditioning.
“How about now?”
Weiran shot him a sidelong glance.
“Are you planning not to look at the house today?”
“I want to.”
“Then be quiet.”
Enze’s smile grew more obvious, but he finally stopped teasing him.
The car left the neighborhood where the dance company was located and gradually moved away from downtown.
The high-rises lining both sides of the road slowly gave way to low residential buildings and broad stretches of trees still wearing the colors of late winter. Traffic was light, and afternoon sunlight poured through the windshield, falling over their overlapping shadows.
Enze leaned back and looked out the window.
The route was farther than it had seemed on the map.
“Will getting to work be inconvenient?”
“It’s fine.”
“Forty minutes.”
“Thirty-five if there’s no traffic.”
“Your current office is only twenty minutes away.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then why look in this area?”
“Because it’s farther from your dance company?” Weiran asked in return.
Enze paused.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s quieter here, and the houses are bigger.”
“But you work late. You’ll still have to drive that long to get home.”
“I can work from home.”
Weiran turned on his signal and drove onto another wide road.
“And don’t you always say downtown is too noisy?”
Enze had said that. After every tour, he complained about the traffic noise outside his window. Even when he wanted to sleep in, road construction woke him up. He had never imagined Weiran would actually include an offhand complaint in his house-hunting criteria.
“When did you start looking?”
“A little over a month ago.”
“That early?”
“We ran out of room.”
Weiran’s tone remained flat.
“Your shoes are about to spill into the living room, too.”
“Most of the space is taken up by your equipment.”
“You have more stuff.”
“One of your machines costs as much as ten pairs of my shoes.”
“We’re discussing space, not price.”
They argued for a few lines over whose belongings took up more room.
By the end, Enze suddenly laughed.
Weiran glanced over.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
He had simply remembered that not long ago, he had genuinely believed Weiran planned to move all his equipment away and leave Enze alone in the apartment.
Now they were on their way to a new home, arguing about who owned more things.
The fear that had once made it hard for him to breathe seemed distant now, but remembering it made him cherish every real detail unfolding before him.
Weiran watched him for a moment.
“Thinking nonsense again?”
“No.”
“Whenever you say no, there usually is something.”
Enze turned to him.
“I was just thinking that it’s a good thing you explained everything clearly.”
“You finally asked after getting drunk.”
“Then I did at least one thing right.”
“You’re proud of that?”
“At least the result was good.”
Weiran gave a quiet snort but did not deny it.
The house was located in a quiet neighborhood where new and old residences mingled.
It was neither an apartment nor the spacious high-rise residence they had originally imagined, but a two-story detached house with its own yard. The exterior combined pale gray walls with dark wood. A row of fairly short evergreen shrubs lined the side facing the street, preserving privacy without completely blocking the light.
As the car approached, Enze sat up straighter.
In person, it was much larger than in the photos.
The house stood some distance back from the road. The front yard was paved with smooth stone slabs, with room for two cars beside it. The lawn was still slightly yellow from the season. A tree in one corner had not yet fully sprouted, its branches spreading beneath the blue-white sky.
The realtor was waiting at the door.
Weiran parked, and the two of them walked over together.
She was a woman around forty, wearing a dark coat and holding a tablet and a ring of keys. She greeted them politely.
“Mr. Xu?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Weiran shook her hand briefly.
She turned to Enze.
“And this is?”
Enze was about to introduce himself, but Weiran spoke first.
“My boyfriend, Dong Enze.”
He said it as naturally as if he were introducing someone everyone already knew.
Enze’s steps faltered slightly.
The realtor showed no particular reaction. She simply smiled and held out her hand.
“Mr. Dong, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.”
His ears heated up again as they shook hands.
He had only just been questioned by the entire dance company that morning, yet hearing Weiran call him “boyfriend” in front of a stranger still made him feel as if his heart had suddenly been squeezed.
Weiran acted as though he had not noticed and accepted the documents from the realtor.
“The house is vacant?”
“The owner moved abroad last year. It’s currently empty. The property has been very well maintained, and all the systems are inspected regularly. I also asked the owner to provide the information you requested about soundproofing and the wall structure.”
As she spoke, she opened the gate to the yard.
“We can start outside.”
The stone path ran along the side of the house toward the backyard.
Enze followed beside Weiran. The farther they went, the more he saw spaces the photos had failed to capture fully. The backyard was even more spacious than the front. A waist-high wall bordered the lawn, with trees and shrubs on the other side. The yard was almost entirely hidden from the street, offering excellent privacy.
The realtor pointed toward the back of the house.
“There used to be an outdoor deck here, but the previous owner removed it. If you’d like, you can put in a new wooden deck or stone patio. The utility lines are already in place, so adding an outdoor sink or lighting later would be easy.”
Enze crouched and touched the grass.
“What about drainage?”
The realtor seemed not to have expected his first question to be so practical, but answered immediately. “The slope directs water toward the drainage channels on both sides. There’s no record of standing water during last year’s heavy rains. We can provide the inspection records as well.”
Weiran watched him from the side.
“Weren’t you going to do whatever makes me happy?”
Enze looked up.
“We’re already here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And standing water in the yard would be a pain.”
“Didn’t you want to grow something?”
“Growing plants and flooding aren’t the same thing.”
The realtor smiled at their exchange and added, “There’s good sunlight here, so it would be ideal if you’d like to grow flowers or herbs. You could also make a small vegetable garden in back.”
Enze’s eyes visibly brightened.
Weiran immediately poured cold water on the idea.
“He can’t keep plants alive.”
“I can learn.”
“Start by saving the one at home.”
“It’s still alive.”
“Two leaves count as alive?”
“Of course they do.”
The realtor held back a laugh and led them inside.
When she opened the glass door facing the yard, the first thing Enze saw was the huge floor-to-ceiling window from the photos.
Afternoon sunlight poured into the living room almost without obstruction.
The empty house had a much wider view than the photographs suggested. Light wood flooring covered the ground, and the walls were clean. The living and dining areas connected, while the other side held a semi-open kitchen. From the entrance, the yard looked like a scene framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Enze stood in the middle of the living room without speaking.
The living room in their current apartment was so small it could barely hold the sofa, coffee table, and dining table. Whenever Enze practiced his movements, he had to push the coffee table away. Even turning around required him to keep his arms tucked in so he would not knock over the floor lamp.
Here, even with a full-sized sofa and dining table, there would still be a huge open area in the center.
Weiran came to stand beside him.
“Well?”
Enze walked forward a few steps, then looked back at the distance.
“It’s huge.”
“You’ll still hit the table?”
“Not if you don’t buy a ridiculously large one.”
“You pick it.”
Enze turned to him.
“Really?”
“Otherwise?”
Weiran flipped through another page of the documents.
“Didn’t you mention wanting an island?”
“That was just something I said.”
“We can build one.”
“Won’t it be cramped?”
“Measure it yourself.”
Weiran took a laser measure from the realtor and handed it directly to him.
Enze stared at the little device in his hand.
The realtor pointed toward the kitchen.
“The original island was removed, but the plumbing and electrical connections are still in place. If you’d like to add one again, the size can be adjusted according to your needs. There’s also plenty of storage in back.”
They walked into the kitchen.
The counters ran along two walls, with light coming through the windows on the yard side. Beside the main refrigerator space was a narrower opening that could hold a wine cooler or a second small refrigerator.
Enze opened every cabinet to check the depth and hardware, then stood before the stove and traced the workflow with his hands.
“The sink is too far from here.”
Weiran stood at the entrance.
“Is it?”
“You don’t cook.”
“Occasionally.”
Enze looked back at him.
“Instant noodles don’t count.”
“Who made the hangover soup when you got drunk those two times?”
“That was delivery.”
Weiran fell silent.
The realtor lowered her head to hide a smile.
Enze laughed first. He returned to Weiran’s side and lowered his voice.
“You can be in charge of washing dishes.”
“There’s a dishwasher.”
“Then be in charge of putting the dishes in it.”
“Fine.”
“And taking them out.”
Weiran glanced at him.
“You have a lot of requirements.”
“You said we’d renovate according to our habits.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“My habit is not wanting to put dishes away.”
“Then how did you always end up doing it before?”
“Because you leave them there until the next day.”
In the empty kitchen, they seriously discussed who should be responsible for cleaning up the dishes. The house had not even been confirmed as a purchase, but the conversation came as naturally as if they had already been living there for years.
After leaving the kitchen, the realtor showed them the other rooms on the first floor.
There was a modest guest room near the entryway, with a full bathroom and storage room across from it. On the other side of the living room were two adjoining spaces separated by a non-load-bearing wall.
“These are the areas Mr. Xu asked about,” the realtor said. “The wall can be removed. Once opened up, the space would be about this large.”
She brought up the measurements on her tablet.
“It would work well as a home gym, entertainment room, or for other purposes.”
Weiran handed the information to Enze.
“Yours.”
Enze did not take it.
Instead, he pushed open one of the doors and walked inside.
Both rooms were empty except for the simplest ceiling light fixtures. Each had a window facing the side yard. The light was not especially bright, but it was steady enough that direct sunlight would not create harsh reflections in a mirror.
Enze walked to the dividing wall and touched it.
Once removed, the combined space would be large enough for a small dance studio.
Not merely a place to try a few steps at home now and then.
With professional flooring, a full wall of mirrors, and a barre, he could complete solo rehearsals here and review his routines before performances.
He had never imagined owning a real dance studio at home.
When he had first joined the dance company at twenty-two, he could only afford the most basic practice shoes. If he wanted to practice longer after class, he had to wait for everyone else to leave and ask the teacher whether he could borrow the studio for another half hour.
Later, he became an official company dancer, then a principal performer, and eventually the principal dancer. The resources available to him had increased, but he had always felt that dance belonged only to the dance company and rehearsal rooms.
Home was where he went to rest.
But this house seemed to be making room for his work and passion for the first time.
“You’re really giving this to me?” Enze asked, turning around.
Weiran stood in the doorway without entering.
“Who else would I give it to?”
“But connecting the two rooms is wasteful.”
“How is it wasteful?”
“We could keep one as a guest room.”
“There’s already one on the first floor.”
“What if someone comes to stay later?”
“Who would come?”
“Your parents, or mine.”
“There are rooms upstairs.”
Weiran looked at him.
“If you don’t like it, we won’t remove the wall.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it.”
Enze walked back to the center of the dividing wall and looked over both spaces again.
“It just feels…too good.”
The last three words came out very softly.
Weiran still heard them.
He entered the room and stood beside Enze.
“Is something too good not allowed?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Enze looked down at the floor-plan documents in his hand.
“I never imagined we could have this at home.”
Weiran turned to him.
“You can imagine it now.”
Enze lifted his eyes.
Weiran’s expression remained faintly indifferent, and his tone held no deliberate tenderness. Yet that ordinary sentence landed in Enze’s heart more directly than any beautiful promise.
You can imagine it now.
Because they could afford it, and because Weiran was willing.
More importantly, because there was truly a place for Enze in this home.
Enze was quiet for a while before pointing toward the window.
“Don’t put the mirror directly opposite the window.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Cover this entire wall with mirrors, and leave storage underneath.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The floor has to be professional-grade. We can’t use ordinary wood flooring.”
“You decide.”
“The ceiling needs soundproofing, too, or the second floor will hear everything.”
“Okay.”
“We can put speakers beside it, but they don’t need to be too big.”
Weiran glanced at him.
“I’ll handle the equipment.”
Enze laughed.
“I almost forgot we have a professional in the house.”
“You’re only remembering now?”
“You don’t dance.”
“But I can hear a beat.”
“Then you can watch my rehearsals later.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll keep asking if it looks good.”
“Then answer me.”
“It doesn’t look good.”
“You haven’t even seen me dance yet, and you’re saying it won’t look good?”
Their voices echoed through the empty room.
The realtor stood outside without interrupting, occasionally writing down the questions they raised.
Enze used the measuring device several times. Weiran stood nearby and watched him move from initially not daring to decide anything to seriously planning the location of the mirrors, storage, and speakers.
That was why he had brought Enze along.
Photos and floor plans could show someone what a house looked like, but they could not decide whether it could truly become their home.
Weiran had looked at too many houses alone.
He could find flaws in every one, yet could never quite explain what was missing.
Now, standing here and watching Enze gesture at where the wall of mirrors should begin, Weiran felt for the first time that an unfamiliar house was gradually growing a shape connected to the two of them.
After finishing the first floor, the three of them went upstairs.
A tall window stood at the turn of the stairs, and afternoon light fell across the wooden steps. Halfway up, Enze looked toward the high ceiling.
“That’ll be hard to clean.”
Weiran followed behind him.
“Hire someone.”
“How many times a year?”
“When it gets dirty.”
“You’re the kind of person who waits until you can’t see outside anymore.”
“Would you clean it?”
“I can buy an extension pole.”
“And then fall down the stairs?”
Enze turned and glared at him.
“Don’t curse me.”
Weiran reached out and steadied him by the waist.
“Watch where you’re going.”
His palm pressed against Enze through the thin knit shirt, and Enze’s body instantly stiffened.
The realtor was walking ahead, seemingly unaware of what was happening behind her.
Weiran had only steadied him naturally, withdrawing his hand once Enze was stable.
But the warmth remained at Enze’s waist.
He continued upstairs, his ears slowly turning red.
They had been in a relationship for three days.
They had hugged, and they had slept in the same bed. But he had been completely blacked out that night, and while sober, their genuinely conscious intimate contact still consisted only of a few hugs and hand-holding.
They knew each other’s lives too well, which somehow made them unaccustomed to the closeness of lovers.
Weiran could calmly introduce him as his boyfriend in front of the realtor, yet when his palm actually touched Enze’s waist, his fingers still curled briefly after he pulled away.
No one knew the other better than they did.
At the same time, no one needed to relearn how to love the person before them more than they did.
The second floor had three bedrooms and a sitting area.
The primary bedroom faced the backyard. A wall of windows made the room exceptionally bright. It connected to a private bathroom and walk-in closet, and there was also a glass door leading to the terrace.
When Enze entered, the first thing he noticed was where the bed would go.
There was enough room for a very large bed, with plenty of space left on both sides.
He stood in the center of the room and suddenly thought of waking up in Weiran’s bed three days earlier.
That bed was also queen-sized, but after the various pieces of equipment and cabinets had been added, the room felt cramped. Two grown men sleeping together inevitably meant bumping hands and feet.
That would not happen here.
A larger bed.
Nightstands on both sides.
There could even be a sofa by the window.
“This is the primary bedroom.” The realtor opened the walk-in closet. “The storage is deeper than it looks in the photos. The previous owners used it for two people, and the left and right sides can be separated.”
Enze instinctively walked over.
The closet really was large.
Basic cabinetry had already been installed along both walls, with enough room to walk between them. With some reorganization, it could hold not only their everyday clothes but all of Enze’s stage costumes that currently filled his storage boxes.
Weiran stood by the door.
“Enough?”
Enze turned around.
“You’re asking me?”
“Who else?”
“This is the primary bedroom’s closet.”
“I know.”
Enze looked at him, his heart suddenly beating faster.
“So…we’re sleeping in this room?”
Weiran raised an eyebrow.
“If we’re not sleeping together in the primary bedroom, what are we using it for?”
“I thought we might still sleep in separate rooms.”
Even the realtor briefly went silent.
Weiran stared at him.
“We’re boyfriends.”
“I know.”
“And we’ve lived together for six years.”
“I know that, too.”
“Then why would we sleep separately?”
Enze opened and closed his mouth.
“Because we always slept separately before.”
“Before, we were roommates.”
Weiran deliberately used the term Enze had still found unpleasant a few days ago.
Enze immediately objected. “You said we weren’t going to talk about that anymore.”
“How is what you’re doing now any different from a roommate?”
“I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”
“By the time the renovations are done and we move in, it’ll be at least a few months.”
“A few months is still soon.”
“Then how many years do you want to wait?”
The realtor looked out the window at precisely the right moment, as if she had suddenly become deeply interested in the backyard.
Enze’s face was already bright red.
He turned and walked into the closet, pretending to inspect the cabinets seriously.
Weiran stayed where he was, watching his back.
“Dong Enze.”
“What?”
“Should we divide the primary bedroom into two rooms?”
Enze paused for two seconds.
“No.”
His voice came from inside the closet. It was not loud, but it was perfectly clear.
The corners of Weiran’s lips slowly rose.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
Enze poked his head out.
“I said no.”
“Why?”
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
Weiran did not deny it.
Enze came back and lowered his voice.
“Boyfriends sleeping together—is that not allowed?”
“It’s allowed.”
“Then why ask?”
Weiran looked at his red ears, suddenly in a very good mood.
The realtor waited until they finished before continuing to introduce the bathroom fixtures as if nothing had happened.
The primary bathroom had a separate shower and toilet area, with room for a bathtub beside the shower. The double vanity faced an entire wall of mirrors, and both the storage and natural light were excellent.
Enze stood at the doorway and looked around.
“Should we keep the bathtub?”
“You’ll use it?”
“After rehearsal, maybe.”
“Then keep it.”
“What about you?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then we can get a bigger one.”
Weiran looked at him.
Only afterward did Enze realize how that sounded and hurriedly added, “I mean, you can use it too. Not together.”
Weiran’s expression remained calm.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“That look on your face meant something.”
“You’re overthinking it.”
The more Enze explained, the worse it sounded, so he finally shut up.
They left the primary bedroom and continued through the other two rooms.
The room near the stairs had excellent light and could serve as a guest room. The innermost room was separated from the primary bedroom by a small sitting area. It was quiet and had its own window.
Weiran took one look and said, “Studio.”
Enze followed him inside.
The room was much larger than Weiran’s current room. With proper soundproofing, all the music equipment could be gathered here. Once the door closed, work and rest could be completely separated.
Enze imagined Weiran sitting at a work desk by the window, monitor speakers mounted along the wall, with the keyboard and synthesizer no longer crowded beside the bed. He suddenly felt that the room suited Weiran perfectly.
“The desk goes here.” Enze walked to the window. “There’s light during the day.”
“The screen will glare.”
“Then turn it slightly.”
“The wiring needs to run along this wall.”
“We could build a whole row of cabinets so the equipment doesn’t have to sit on the floor.”
Weiran glanced at him.
“Didn’t you say you didn’t understand this stuff?”
“I’ve lived with you for six years. I understand a little.”
“Then what are those black boxes?”
Enze was silent for two seconds.
“Equipment, generally speaking.”
Weiran let out a soft laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
“I really do know what they are.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Weiran came to stand beside him and looked down at the floor plan provided by the realtor.
“I believe you’ll put everything in the cabinets and then be unable to find anything.”
“That’s something you would do.”
“Then I’ll decide on the studio myself.”
Enze nodded.
“You should decide that.”
After saying it, he seemed to remember something and looked at Weiran again.
“And I really get to decide on the dance studio?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“All of it?”
“As long as the budget stays reasonable.”
“What does reasonable mean?”
“Don’t build a theater in the house.”
Enze laughed.
“I’m not that extreme.”
“You were already planning to remove two walls.”
“Only one.”
“You also want to redo the ceiling.”
“Soundproofing is important.”
“And flooring, mirrors, speakers, and storage.”
The more Enze listened, the guiltier he felt.
“That does sound like a lot.”
“I didn’t say we wouldn’t do it.”
Weiran looked up.
“List everything first.”
“And then?”
“Find a designer.”
“What if it’s too expensive?”
“Adjust it.”
Enze looked at him.
“Why are you so good to me?”
The question came out suddenly.
Weiran’s fingers stopped on the page.
The realtor had gone outside to inspect the terrace door, leaving only the two of them in the studio.
Weiran turned around.
“Because it’s you.”
There was no unnecessary embellishment in the answer.
Yet Enze stood there for several seconds, unable to speak.
Weiran seemed to think the answer was sufficient and lowered his head to the documents again.
Enze suddenly reached out and hugged him.
The movement came without warning.
The papers in Weiran’s hand were caught between them with a soft rustle. He looked down at the arms around his waist.
“What now?”
“I wanted a hug.”
“The realtor is still outside.”
“She can’t see us.”
“She’ll be back soon.”
Enze did not let go. Instead, he buried his face against Weiran’s shoulder.
“Just for a second.”
Weiran did not agree aloud, but his hand had already settled against Enze’s back.
They stood quietly embracing in what might become Weiran’s studio.
Early-spring afternoon sunlight lay outside the window. No obvious traffic noise came from the distant residential neighborhood, only wind moving through branches that had not yet fully sprouted. The empty room made their breathing especially clear.
Enze closed his eyes.
He had always believed that liking Weiran was something he could neither say nor expect to be returned.
So whenever Weiran took care of him, he told himself not to read too much into it. Whenever he began to hope, he immediately retreated to the position a roommate was supposed to occupy.
Now Weiran had placed a room, a house, and even a long stretch of future life before him, telling him that he could decide for himself and begin imagining things he had never dared imagine before.
It wasn’t that Enze wasn’t happy.
Happiness had simply arrived so completely that for a moment he did not know how to hold it.
As if sensing that he was overthinking again, Weiran lightly patted his back.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.”
“You said that last time, too.”
“I’m sober now.”
“You can cry sober.”
Enze lifted his face.
“I really am not crying.”
His eyes were not red.
Weiran studied him for two seconds before letting go.
The realtor happened to return, looking as natural as if she had not seen anything.
“Would you like to see the terrace as well?”
Enze quickly stepped back half a pace.
“Yes.”
The terrace opened from the second-floor sitting area and faced the backyard.
It was not particularly large, but there was enough room for a table and several chairs. The railing was a reasonable height, and no nearby buildings blocked the open view.
Enze rested his hands on the railing and looked down.
The backyard tree looked taller from this angle. By late spring, its branches would probably block part of the view.
“Can we dry clothes out here?”
Weiran stood beside him.
“There’s a laundry room.”
“Sheets are better when they dry in the sun.”
“Then dry them here.”
“But a drying rack would look ugly.”
“You choose.”
“Maybe we can make one that folds away.”
Enze was already thinking seriously about it.
Weiran did not interrupt.
He knew that only someone who truly considered a house their home would worry about where to dry the sheets.
After the realtor explained the surrounding area and the maintenance of the house, she let them walk through it one more time on their own.
Weiran went downstairs first to confirm the equipment information.
Enze stayed upstairs and returned to the primary bedroom.
There was no furniture in the room.
As time passed, the afternoon sunlight shifted to the other side and fell across the floor near the window. Enze walked to where they would probably put the bed and looked down for a while.
A little later, Weiran came in.
“What are you looking at?”
“Where to put the bed.”
“Here.”
Weiran pointed to the center of the wall.
Enze walked two steps to the side.
“Which side do I sleep on?”
“Whichever.”
“Aren’t you used to sleeping on the right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the left.”
“Fine.”
“Will it be cold by the window?”
“Replace the windows.”
Enze turned.
“We’re replacing those, too?”
“We’ll redo the soundproofing and insulation.”
“Will the renovations take a long time?”
“We haven’t even started designing.”
“Then when can we move in?”
Weiran looked at him.
“We haven’t even bought the house.”
Enze froze.
He had already begun naturally discussing the bed’s position, the windows, and when they would move, completely forgetting that this was only their first in-person viewing.
“Do you like it?” Weiran asked.
Enze did not answer immediately.
He looked around the room again.
The house was of course wonderful.
It was spacious and bright, and the yard and dance studio met nearly all of his unspoken hopes. But that was not the only reason he liked it.
More important was that Weiran was standing here.
They had just discussed the kitchen, walk-in closet, studio, and which side of the bed they would sleep on. Those empty rooms were already gradually filling in his mind with things that belonged to the two of them, one conversation about the future after another.
“I like it,” Enze said.
Weiran looked at him.
“The house?”
“I like the house, too.”
“What else?”
Enze had not expected Weiran to press him.
Looking at the person standing so close, Enze suddenly smiled.
“You.”
The expression in Weiran’s eyes softened.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Aren’t you going to say you like me, too?”
“I said it this morning.”
“That was three days ago.”
“Does it expire after three days?”
“You can renew it every day.”
Weiran raised an eyebrow.
“You’re getting more demanding.”
“Can’t boyfriends make demands?”
“Depends.”
Enze moved a little closer.
“What about now?”
The room was very quiet.
Weiran looked at him. In the end, he raised a hand and touched the side of Enze’s ear with his fingertips.
“I like you.”
Just four words.
They were enough to make Enze smile with complete satisfaction.
He did not immediately throw his arms around Weiran as he had in the studio. He simply stood in front of him, his gaze slowly dropping from Weiran’s eyes to his lips, then freezing at the thought.
They had not kissed yet.
In the three days since confirming their relationship, hugging had become more natural, and they occasionally held hands. But neither of them had actively crossed that closer line.
Weiran clearly noticed where he was looking.
“What are you looking at?”
Enze immediately raised his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“There you go again.”
“Really, nothing.”
Weiran did not expose him.
The realtor’s footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. Enze stepped back, as if relieved and yet a little disappointed.
The three of them reunited in the living room downstairs.
The realtor handed Weiran the complete documents and property report.
“After seeing everything today, what do you think?”
Weiran did not answer directly. He looked at Enze.
“Ask him.”
Enze had not expected the decision to be handed back to him.
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm.”
The realtor waited patiently.
Enze glanced at the floor-to-ceiling window leading to the yard.
The sunlight was no longer as strong as when they had first entered, and the shadows in the yard had stretched long. If they really lived here, he might eat breakfast here in the morning, then come home through the entryway after rehearsal and see Weiran in the living room or upstairs in his studio.
Those scenes had not happened yet, but they were already as clear as memories.
“I really like it,” Enze finally said.
The realtor smiled and nodded.
“And you, Mr. Xu?”
“We can negotiate.”
Weiran’s answer was as concise as always.
The realtor immediately explained the price, payment process, and terms that could be negotiated. The owner wanted to move quickly, but some equipment inspections were not yet complete. Before the final contract, they would also need to hire a professional to inspect the property again.
Weiran asked very detailed questions.
He confirmed everything from the structure, title, and maintenance records to neighborhood noise and possible restrictions on future renovations. Enze sat beside him, occasionally noting questions related to the dance studio.
When they discussed the price, Enze instinctively glanced at Weiran.
It was a very large sum.
Weiran noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“If you have something to say, say it.”
The realtor temporarily left the living room to retrieve another document from her car.
Enze lowered his voice.
“You really want to buy it?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I do.”
“Then we’ll negotiate.”
“But it’s expensive.”
“It’s within the budget.”
“How much money do you even have?”
Weiran looked at him.
“Investigating your boyfriend’s assets only now?”
“I’m worried.”
“I can afford it.”
“The renovations will cost a lot, too.”
“That’s within the budget as well.”
“Then I—”
Weiran knew what he was about to say and interrupted him.
“We’ll discuss how much you’ll cover after we get home.”
“But the purchase itself—”
“The ownership registration can be discussed, too.”
Enze froze.
He had assumed the house would obviously be registered only in Weiran’s name.
“What does that mean?”
“If you’re contributing money, we’ll handle it according to the proportion.”
Weiran’s tone was calm, with not a trace of joking.
“If you don’t want to contribute to the purchase, that’s fine, too. You can choose a portion of the renovations, furniture, or fixed expenses that you can afford.”
Enze looked at him.
“Aren’t you afraid that someday we might…”
He did not finish.
Weiran’s expression had already darkened.
“Someday what?”
Enze knew the question was ill-timed, but he still had to face reality.
“If we break up, the house would be complicated.”
They had only been in a relationship for three days.
He did not want to separate. He simply did not want Weiran to make a financial decision with consequences lasting years because of the emotions of the moment.
Weiran was silent for a moment.
“That’s why we need to discuss everything clearly.”
He did not get angry at the unlucky hypothetical, nor did he use “We won’t break up” to avoid the real issue.
“Contributions, ownership percentages, and what happens if things really change later—we can put everything into an agreement.”
Enze’s expression shifted slightly.
“You’ve thought about all of this?”
“Buying a house isn’t buying clothes.”
Weiran looked at him.
“And regardless of what our relationship is right now, you were going to live here with me. Putting everything in writing is better for both of us.”
The words were so levelheaded they were almost nothing like a romantic confession.
Yet Enze found them more reassuring than any unrealistic promise of forever.
Weiran was not pretending that the future carried no risks.
He was simply taking Enze seriously enough to include him in every decision, even the most practical and unromantic parts.
“Okay.” Enze nodded. “We’ll calculate it when we get home.”
Weiran hummed.
“But I probably can’t contribute much.”
“I know.”
“You know how much I have?”
“Approximately.”
Enze narrowed his eyes.
“Did you peek at my account?”
“You ask me about your taxes every year.”
Enze remembered and could not argue.
Weiran added, “And you never look at the price before buying things.”
“I do look.”
“How many pairs of shoes did you buy last month?”
“For work.”
“How many?”
Enze looked away.
The realtor returned just in time to save him.
After confirming how they would be contacted next, the three of them walked through the house once more. Before leaving, Enze stood in the entryway and looked back at the empty living room.
Weiran had already reached the door and noticed that Enze had not followed.
“Enze.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Let’s go.”
Enze answered, but lingered for another two seconds.
This time, unlike every previous time he had imagined moving, he did not feel that someone was about to leave.
He was leaving a house that did not yet belong to them together with Weiran.
And soon, they might return together.
It was nearly evening when they finished viewing the house.
Weiran did not drive home immediately. Instead, he parked outside a café near the residential neighborhood.
They chose a table by the window.
The café was not crowded, and the evening sunlight warmed the wooden tabletop. Enze ordered a caffeine-free fruit tea, while Weiran got his usual iced Americano.
“Doesn’t your stomach hurt?” Enze asked.
“Only one cup today.”
“Does the one from this morning not count?”
Weiran stopped moving.
“How did you know?”
“The cup was in the sink.”
“That was yesterday’s.”
“I washed the dishes last night.”
Weiran fell silent.
Enze pushed the iced Americano half a table farther away.
“Drink it later.”
“Why?”
“On an empty stomach.”
“We’re going to eat.”
“Don’t drink it before the food comes.”
Weiran looked at the coffee sitting farther away, then ultimately did not take it back.
After confirming their relationship, Enze had thought their interactions would change dramatically.
In reality, many things had not changed at all.
He still kept track of how many cups of coffee Weiran drank, and Weiran still coldly ordered him to rest whenever he overdid it at rehearsal.
The only difference was that the concern they had once been unable to explain could finally be openly filed under liking each other.
Before the food arrived, they took out the house documents again.
Enze first listed his dance-studio requirements in his notes.
Professional flooring, mirrors, soundproofing, speakers, storage, and a small area for stretching and keeping equipment.
By the end, even he felt the list had gotten too long.
“We really don’t have to do all of it.”
Weiran glanced down.
“Get an estimate first.”
“If it goes over budget, we can use fewer mirrors.”
“Wasn’t it only one wall to begin with?”
“I thought about it. Partially covering the other wall would be good, too.”
“You do have a lot of requirements.”
Enze pulled his phone back.
“Then I’ll delete it.”
Weiran pressed down on his hand.
“I didn’t say no.”
“You just complained that it was a lot.”
“Complaining that it’s a lot and refusing to do it are two different things.”
Enze looked at the hand resting over his.
Weiran did not immediately withdraw it.
Their hands remained on the table like that.
Soft music played in the café, and pedestrians moved slowly past the window. No one noticed the two people in the corner, and no one knew that three days ago they had been merely roommates who had shared a life for six years.
Enze turned his palm over and carefully threaded his fingers between Weiran’s.
Weiran lowered his eyes to look.
He did not pull away.
Enze could not stop the smile tugging at his lips.
“What are you smiling at?” Weiran asked.
“Is holding hands not allowed?”
“It’s allowed.”
“Then stop looking at them.”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you be this careful.”
Enze tightened his grip slightly.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be used to it.”
“You weren’t like this when you were drunk.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You’re very good at hugging.”
Enze’s ears grew hot.
“Can you stop bringing that up?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“So you’ll remember.”
“I’m not drinking anymore.”
“You’d better not.”
Weiran’s fingers slowly closed around his.
The movement was light, but it drew all of Enze’s attention to their joined palms.
They only let go when the food arrived.
During the meal, they continued discussing the house.
What kind of sofa to put in the living room, whether to bring their existing dining table, how large the kitchen island should be, and whether they really wanted to grow anything in the yard.
“The old sofa can go upstairs,” Enze said.
“It’s too old.”
“It’s still usable.”
“The middle has already collapsed.”
“That’s because you always sit in the same spot.”
“You’re always lying on it.”
Enze thought of the old sofa that had been with them for six years.
When they first moved into the apartment, it had already been old furniture left by the landlord. Later, when their incomes became steadier, they had had many chances to replace it, but something always came up and they kept putting it off.
That sofa had seen Weiran fall asleep while working, and it had seen Enze sit alone until dawn after messing up a performance. They had eaten countless late-night meals on it, watched countless movies they never finished, and confessed their feelings for the first time only a few days ago.
“I don’t want to throw it away,” Enze said.
Weiran looked at him for a moment.
“Refurbish it.”
“Can we?”
“Replace the filling and reupholster it.”
“Then put it in the upstairs sitting room.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“We should keep the dining table, too.”
“The table is even older.”
“It was the first one we bought together.”
“Because it was thirty thousand won cheaper.”
“Cheap or not, we picked it out together.”
Weiran did not argue again.
“Keep it.”
Enze smiled.
They were not going to throw away all six years of their life and move into a new house without a trace of the past.
The old sofa, dark dining table, and scratched storage boxes beside the balcony could all move with them.
A new home did not have to erase their old life.
It simply gave them enough room, after being cramped for so long, to keep filling the days ahead.
By the time they finished eating, it was dark outside.
Traffic gradually increased as they drove back toward downtown. Enze leaned against the passenger seat and looked through the photos he had taken that afternoon.
He paused at the photo of the primary bedroom.
There was no furniture in the image, only wood flooring lit by the evening sun. Yet he could already imagine what it would look like with a bed inside.
Weiran would sleep on the right.
He would sleep on the left.
Weiran’s earphones and phone would probably still end up on the nightstand, while Enze’s side would collect the things he always forgot to put away before bed.
“What are you looking at?” Weiran asked.
“The primary bedroom.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are we really going to sleep together?”
Weiran glanced at him.
“You can still change your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
“Then stop asking.”
“It just feels strange.”
“What feels strange?”
Enze thought for a while.
“Before, I used to knock even when I entered your room.”
“You usually knocked twice.”
“I only went in if you didn’t answer.”
“Waiting two seconds counts as waiting?”
“It was our rule.”
“You won’t need to anymore.”
Enze paused.
“I won’t need to knock?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What if you’re working?”
“The studio is elsewhere.”
“What if you need to be alone?”
Weiran’s hands remained on the steering wheel as he was silent for two seconds.
“I’ll tell you.”
Enze nodded.
He liked that answer.
Not because becoming lovers meant they would automatically stop needing boundaries, but because Weiran was willing to clearly tell him when he needed space instead of making Enze guess whether to come closer or step back.
“You too,” Weiran said.
“What?”
“If you want to be alone, say so.”
“I probably won’t.”
“Don’t say that so confidently.”
“I really won’t.”
“You hid outside for a week a few days ago.”
Once again, Enze was rendered speechless.
Weiran looked ahead, the faintest curve touching his lips.
“So say something when there’s a problem.”
“Got it.”
“Don’t overthink things on your own.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t drink.”
“I really got that one.”
“If there’s a third time—”
“There won’t be a third time.”
Enze answered with unusual firmness.
After a moment, he added quietly, “Because now I don’t have to be afraid you’ll leave.”
Weiran’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.
The car stopped at a red light.
He turned his face toward Enze.
“Mm-hmm.”
It was only a very soft response.
But Enze heard a promise in it.
The light turned green, and the car moved forward again.
All the way back to the apartment, they continued discussing the details of the house. Enze said they could put an outdoor table in the yard, and Weiran said it would inevitably become a place to pile junk. Enze suggested adding a bathroom beside the dance studio, and Weiran reminded him that there was already one on the first floor.
They kept talking from the elevator until they opened the apartment door.
When the entryway light came on, Enze suddenly stopped.
The apartment was still cramped.
The shoe cabinet was crammed full, transparent storage boxes were stacked along the hallway, the floor lamp in the living room leaned to one side, and the coffee table had not been returned to its original place after Enze moved it that morning.
They had lived here for six years.
This place held too much of the hardship and busyness of their early days. It remembered how they had gone from twenty-two to twenty-eight together.
Enze had never thought the home was bad.
Even small, it was warm enough.
Now that he knew they might truly leave, a little reluctance still surfaced in his heart.
Weiran changed his shoes and noticed Enze still standing there.
“What’s wrong?”
“If we really buy it, when will we move?”
“Soonest would be a few months.”
“What about the lease here?”
“Six months left.”
“Then the timing works.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Enze looked around.
“I’m suddenly a little reluctant to leave.”
Weiran followed his gaze toward the living room.
“It’s not like we’re leaving tomorrow.”
“But we’ll leave eventually.”
“You can come back through here if you want.”
“Someone else will rent it.”
“Then don’t think about that.”
Enze turned to him.
“Don’t you feel reluctant?”
Weiran did not answer immediately.
He had always thought the apartment was too small and too old, and he had wanted to move somewhere more suitable for a long time. But it would not be true to say he felt no reluctance at all.
This was the first home they had shared.
When they moved in, they had not had much money and had no idea what the future would become. Many dreams had been spoken casually while they sat on the floor eating instant noodles, and neither of them had been sure any of them would come true.
Now those words had become reality one by one.
Enze had become the dance company's principal dancer, and Weiran had stable work and income.
They were even preparing to move into a home with a large living room, a private studio, and a dance studio.
“Yes,” Weiran finally answered.
Enze smiled.
“Then take more pictures before we move.”
“Don’t you have enough on your phone?”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
“The old ones don’t have my boyfriend in them.”
Weiran looked at him.
Enze suddenly thought of a good idea and immediately took out his phone.
“Let’s take one now.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m tired.”
“Just one.”
“Dong Enze.”
Enze had already moved beside him and opened the front-facing camera.
“Look here.”
Weiran stared at the screen expressionlessly.
“Don’t make that face.”
“This is my face.”
“Smile.”
“No.”
Enze reached over and pinched his cheek.
The shutter clicked at the same time.
In the photo, Enze was smiling with his eyes curved into crescents, while Weiran had turned to look at him, one hand reaching to pull down the hand pinching his cheek.
There had been no preparation, and it was not exactly a proper pose.
But it looked more like them than a deliberately arranged photo would have.
Enze looked at it and was thoroughly satisfied.
“This one’s great.”
“Delete it.”
“No.”
“My expression is weird.”
“What’s weird about it?”
“Everything.”
“You’re looking at me.”
Weiran stopped.
In the photo, he really was not looking at the camera.
His gaze rested on Enze’s face, his brows slightly drawn together, yet there was no real impatience in his eyes. The expression was even gentler than he probably thought it was.
Enze saved the photo to his favorites.
“This is our first picture together after getting together.”
Weiran did not ask him to delete it again.
He took off his coat and walked into the living room.
Enze followed behind him.
“If we buy the house, we can print this and put it up in the new place.”
“No.”
“Then put it in the bedroom.”
“Even worse.”
“It doesn’t matter if you say no.”
“Then why ask?”
Enze laughed and hugged him from behind.
The movement was more natural than it had been that morning, no longer as tense as it had been right after they confirmed their relationship.
Weiran stopped.
“You’re clingy today.”
“Can’t boyfriends be clingy?”
“You were clingy before, too.”
“That was as a roommate.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Of course it makes a difference.”
Enze rested his chin on Weiran’s shoulder.
“Before, I didn’t dare hug you.”
Weiran remembered how, before they had talked everything out, Enze would occasionally lean against him over the back of a chair or accidentally brush his shoulder on the sofa. No matter how close they got, Enze always stopped just short of a distance that could be misunderstood.
Now the arms around his waist were unmistakably more than anything ordinary roommates shared.
Weiran looked down.
“You dare now?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then why did you ask about separate rooms a few days ago?”
Enze buried his face behind Weiran’s shoulder.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Hugging once and sleeping together every day aren’t the same.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“You really want to sleep together?”
Enze clearly felt Weiran’s body pause for an instant after he asked.
He had only been teasing him casually and had not expected to hit on a real answer.
Weiran turned around.
Because Enze had not let go, the distance between them became very small.
“Is that not allowed?”
“It’s allowed.”
“Then don’t ask.”
Enze looked at him, then suddenly let his gaze fall to his lips again.
Just as it had in the primary bedroom that afternoon.
Only now there was no realtor outside, and no one could suddenly walk in.
The apartment held only the two of them.
Weiran noticed his gaze and did not pretend not to see it this time.
“What have you been looking at all day?”
Caught in the act, Enze’s ears grew hot again.
“Nothing.”
“One last chance.”
“For what?”
“To tell the truth.”
Enze’s arms were still around Weiran’s waist.
His heartbeat raced from their closeness.
They were boyfriends now.
Wanting to kiss him was not strange.
But the boundary they had never crossed in six years would not simply disappear because of a new title. For Enze, moving toward Weiran still required more courage than hugging him.
He was silent for a long while before asking softly, “Can I kiss you?”
The moment the words left his mouth, he stopped breathing.
Weiran did not answer immediately.
Those few seconds stretched unbearably long.
The hands around his waist began to loosen.
“If you’re not ready yet—”
Weiran suddenly raised a hand and placed his palm against the back of Enze’s neck.
The next second, he pulled him closer.
When their lips met, Enze froze completely.
It was a very gentle kiss.
There was no urgency or excessive probing, only a soft, brief meeting of their lips. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath, close enough that all the emotions they had never dared say aloud over the past six years finally received the most direct answer.
Weiran pulled back slightly.
His hand remained at the back of Enze’s neck.
“Yes.”
He supplied the answer late, in a low voice.
Enze stared at him blankly.
His ears, cheeks, even the side of his neck had turned red.
Weiran had been fairly composed, but seeing Enze’s reaction made his own expression grow faintly awkward.
“What kind of face is that?”
“You kissed me.”
“Wasn’t that what you asked?”
“But I didn’t expect you to kiss me first.”
“Then should I take it back?”
“No.”
Enze answered instantly.
The corners of Weiran’s lips lifted.
“How would I take it back?”
Enze did not answer.
He simply hugged Weiran tighter and leaned down again.
The second kiss was initiated by him.
It was still clumsy, and because he was so nervous, he only brushed the corner of Weiran’s lips. But Weiran did not dodge. Instead, he turned his face slightly and let their lips meet again.
This time, it lasted a little longer.
City lights outside filtered through the gap in the curtains. Only the entryway light and floor lamp illuminated the living room. The old sofa, faintly sunken from years of use, remained in its place. Two cups they had not put away that morning sat beside the coffee table, and the sticky note Enze had written a few days ago was still attached to the refrigerator.
Their first kiss took place in the old home they had shared for six years.
Not in the new house with its huge windows, yard, and spacious primary bedroom.
But in this cramped, old apartment packed with everything they had been through together.
When they parted, Enze remained very close.
“Weiran.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“I’m really happy today.”
Weiran looked at his slightly reddened eyes.
“Don’t cry.”
Enze laughed.
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
“If we really buy the house, I’ll do my best to contribute.”
“We’ll calculate it later.”
“I’ll take the renovations seriously, too.”
“You’ve already demolished one wall.”
“I can buy fewer pairs of shoes.”
“I’m remembering that.”
“But we can’t skimp on the mirrors.”
“I know.”
Enze smiled again.
He buried his face against Weiran’s shoulder and held him for a long time.
Weiran did not urge him to let go.
The floor lamp cast two shadows leaning together across the floor. After no one moved through the entryway, the sensor light slowly went out.
They had not signed the contract yet, nor had they settled every renovation detail.
For now, the house was still only a possibility.
But to Enze, it was no longer a place Weiran would buy with his own money while Enze merely followed him inside.
How to lay the dance-studio floor, which side of the primary bedroom they would sleep on, where to put the old sofa and dining table, even where to dry the sheets in the yard—all of it was something they would decide together.
It was not just Weiran’s house.
It was the next home they were preparing to share.
From twenty-two to twenty-eight, they had lived together for six whole years under the name of roommates.
Now, at last, as boyfriends, they could revisit the future that had begun with rooming together—and had never truly been without each other.