During the afternoon break, Ji Qian’ang moved to the window in the last row without protest, silently obeying Tang Yu’s demand.
Tang Yu glanced back. Ji Qian’ang read with his head lowered, sunlight making the gauze over his left eye almost translucent. Tang Yu turned away and tightened his grip on his pen.
Luo Yueze leaned over Tian Qianxing’s shoulder and surveyed the distance between them. “Did you two fight?”
“No.”
“Then why is he sitting so far away?”
“Ji Qian’ang likes bathing in sunlight.”
Tian Qianxing had no answer. Just admit you fought.
For swimming class, Tang Yu changed into black trunks and walked toward the lockers with a team towel around his waist. Ji Qian’ang remained fully dressed on a bench.
Their eyes met. Ji Qian’ang’s gaze traveled over Tang Yu’s bare torso to the waistband resting on his hipbones.
“Class is starting. Why aren’t you changing?”
Ji Qian’ang pointed at his bandaged eye. “Are you planning to give me an infection?”
Several nearby boys exchanged glances and hurried out. Tang Yu shoved his clothes into a locker and slammed it shut.
Swimming was effortless for him. The Repulse Bay house had a pool, and when no one stayed with him, Tang Yu floated there alone. Solitude filled his head with endless wants—for unconditional devotion, for a future without obstacles.
But underwater, the world went silent. Body and mind wanted only one thing: the steady rhythm of breath.
After attendance, Tang Yu led the warm-up. Ji Qian’ang sat nearby with his back to the class, their gazes meeting across the pool. Tang Yu looked away coldly.
During free practice, someone kicked Tang Yu’s calf as he passed the edge.
“Tang Yu!” Luo Yueze shouted.
Tang Yu caught the tiles with one hand, tightened his core, and turned the fall into a sideways dive. He surfaced with wet hair plastered to his scalp while several boys laughed.
Feng Jian stood above him. “Our captain really does have quick reflexes.”
Tian Qianxing seized Feng Jian by the neck, certain he was avenging Jiang Hao. “Do you understand how dangerous that was?”
Tang Yu moved to climb out when one calf cramped. He ignored it and kept treading water—until the whole leg stopped obeying. Water covered his chin, eyes, then his head.
He reached for the edge. His other leg cramped too.
Voices shouted above, muffled by the ringing in his ears. He held his breath as long as he could.
A violent splash broke the surface.
Someone reached him from behind, locked an arm beneath his shoulder and across his chest, and hauled him upward.
Tang Yu emerged choking. His lungs burned as he collapsed on the tiles, arms shaking beneath him.
Ji Qian’ang struck his back with one hand, thumb braced against the hollow of Tang Yu’s waist.
“You…”
“Don’t move.” Ji Qian’ang panted beside his ear.
The instant he heard Luo Yueze shout, Ji Qian’ang had run from the bench and jumped in without even removing his shoes.
He lifted Tang Yu’s calf across his arm. Tang Yu tried to withdraw it when his skin met Ji Qian’ang’s hot thigh, but Ji Qian’ang held him still and massaged the knotted muscle.
“Endure it.”
Tang Yu bit his lip and watched him from the corner of his eye. Tang Yu had demanded distance, and Ji Qian’ang had complied—moving his desk away and never speaking without reason.
Yet he had jumped in immediately when Tang Yu sank. His eye had already been ruined because of Tang Yu. Now the wound was soaked.
Tang Yu reached for the wet bandage. Ji Qian’ang turned away.
“Don’t touch.”
After loosening the cramp, he tore off the gauze. His eyelid was swollen, and a fresh cut at the corner bled where he had struck the pool edge.
“You didn’t think about your eye before jumping?”
Ji Qian’ang tossed the bandage away. His soaked uniform clung to him. “If you drowned, I couldn’t explain it when I returned.”
Tian Qianxing drove away the spectators while Luo Yueze hauled Feng Jian and the others toward the office.
As Ji Qian’ang walked off, Tang Yu saw a long scar crossing his back from shoulder blade to waist.
His heart seemed to stop. He had never known what kind of life Ji Qian’ang lived before the Tang family. The title heir to a shipping dynasty clearly meant little.
All Tang Yu knew was that Ji Qian’ang was bleeding because of him.
Damn him. Who had asked him to jump in?
Tang Yu called his name and muttered something in Cantonese.
Ji Qian’ang turned. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Tang Yu scowled. He had lowered himself enough to offer thanks, and the idiot had not heard.
Tian Qianxing leaned over with a towel and shouted, “He said thank you! Thank—you! Did you hear?”
Tang Yu stood too quickly and his calf seized again. “Tian Qianxing, shut up!”
“I’m translating.” Tian Qianxing turned back to Ji Qian’ang. “He also said you were amazing—jumping in fully dressed, even better than a lifeguard.”
“Tian Qianxing—”
Running away, Tian Qianxing shouted, “Ji Qian’ang, he says you look better without clothes!”
Tang Yu sat recovering for several minutes, cursed Tian Qianxing thoroughly, then went looking for Ji Qian’ang.
He found him at the changing-room sink. His left eye was nearly swollen shut, bruised purple around the socket, with blood still seeping from the new cut.
“I’ll do it.”
Tang Yu took the cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, and raised it toward Ji Qian’ang’s face—only to discover he could not reach. He rose onto his toes, their shadows overlapping beneath the light.
A hand closed above Tang Yu’s hip and pressed him back onto his heels.
Only then did Ji Qian’ang lower his head, his dark gaze fixed openly on Tang Yu.
“Why stand on tiptoe?” he asked. “Can’t bear to make me bow?”