Chapter 3: Jian Xingsong Finally Broke Up!
Xie Zhijin had known for a long time that Jian Xingsong lived here. He had bought an apartment in the building ages ago and wanted to move in right away, but held back for fear of spooking him.
Earlier today, a friend threw a birthday party. They were on fairly good terms, and though Xie Zhijin hadn’t really wanted to go, he couldn't refuse the enthusiastic invitation. He never expected that he would be there too.
And he certainly never expected such a massive, wonderful surprise.
Jian Xingsong had finally broken up with him!
In this moment, Xie Zhijin was incredibly thankful he had agreed to attend the gathering. Otherwise, wouldn't he have completely missed this news?
He sent Jian Xingsong a quick message: [Your profile picture is so cute, is it a new piece?]
He knew Jian Xingsong was a crochet blogger who loved his craft. His WeChat background was always set to one of his favorite works, and occasionally, when he crocheted something particularly well, he’d post it on his Moments to show it off.
What a cute little fool—he just had terrible taste in men, actually falling for a scumbag like Shen Jinye.
At the thought of Shen Jinye, Xie Zhijin’s expression briefly twisted, and he let out a subconscious "tsk" of disdain.
Right then, the elevator doors closed. It was just him and Jian Xingsong, and the air was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. To Jian Xingsong, that quiet "tsk" sounded as if it had been directed right at his ear.
Jian Xingsong kept his head bowed, biting his lower lip hard as his hands unconsciously twisted the drawstrings of his hoodie.
Was Xie Zhijin scoffing at him? Because of his presence? Jian Xingsong practically pressed himself flat against the elevator wall, cautiously putting distance between himself and Xie Zhijin to avoid annoying him.
Little did he know, this reaction only made Xie Zhijin’s brow furrow deeper. Was he some kind of monster? Why was Jian Xingsong so afraid of him?
Hesitating for a moment and worried about scaring the younger man further, Xie Zhijin took a step back to maintain a relatively safe distance.
With his eyes cast downward, Jian Xingsong saw the owner of those designer sneakers take a step back, and his head dropped even lower.
I really am that annoying, he thought. Next time, I should wait until it's later to take out the trash.
Silence spread through the elevator, but thankfully, they soon reached the eighth floor.
Ding—
The doors slid open. Jian Xingsong looked out at the familiar hallway. He hesitated, glanced at Xie Zhijin, and with a voice that felt like it was blocked by a stone, spoke up awkwardly. "I—I'm here."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he practically fled the elevator. But then he heard footsteps following right behind him. He instinctively turned around, only to see Xie Zhijin stepping out as well.
Dressed in a cool blue-and-white hoodie with a small crossbody bag, Xie Zhijin leaned against the nearby wall, crossed his arms, and dangled a set of keys. "I live here, too."
The keys hung from a well-defined middle finger, and attached to the keychain was a small crocheted pig.
Jian Xingsong was slightly nearsighted and only thought the little plush looked somewhat familiar.
He took a quick peek before immediately lowering his head and backing toward his own front door. "Oh... okay."
So adorably clueless, Xie Zhijin thought.
Xie Zhijin took a large stride toward him. For every step he took, Jian Xingsong took one back, until his back was completely pressed flat against his own front door.
Unable to bear it any longer, he forced a stiff expression and looked up at the approaching man.
Looking down at Jian Xingsong, Xie Zhijin couldn't help but smile. He held out his hand. "Hello, Jian Xingsong. I'm Xie Zhijin... your new neighbor."
Jian Xingsong instinctively brought his hands up to shield his head, only to realize that the large hand was being extended in a friendly gesture for a handshake.
Jian Xingsong looked down at the lightly veined arm. On the wrist sat a watch he didn't recognize. A thin silver ring rested on the middle finger, while a thicker silver band wrapped around the ring finger.
Paired with Xie Zhijin’s strong, perfectly proportioned hands, it looked incredibly handsome. Jian Xingsong couldn't help but steal an extra glance.
The hand gave a slight wave. The silver rings caught the overhead light, flashing dazzlingly. Jian Xingsong felt as if his gaze had been entirely captivated by the gleam of the silver.
"Jian Xingsong?" the man called out softly, his tone inexplicably gentle.
They were so close that even his voice seemed to carry a hint of intimacy.
Jian Xingsong’s earlobes grew warm. Snapping back to reality, he hesitantly reached out and gave the hand a light shake. "Hello?"
Feeling the warm, soft touch against his palm, Xie Zhijin lowered his eyes to the hand that was a full size smaller than his own. It struck him as dazzlingly pale, yet pitifully slender.
He gave it a gentle squeeze, and the hand quickly slipped out of his grasp.
Jian Xingsong had no idea how to face this new neighbor who supposedly hated him. He cautiously raised his eyes to sneak a quick peek at Xie Zhijin, only to find that the man’s expression hadn't grown cold; in fact, there was even a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
A massive question mark popped up in Jian Xingsong’s head. Didn't Xie Zhijin hate him? Why was he even greeting him?
"I look forward to our time as neighbors, little neighbor," Xie Zhijin said. He smoothly hid his hand behind his back, rubbing his fingertips together as he recalled the sensation—delicate, yet slightly rough.
He knew that this texture came from the thin layer of calluses Jian Xingsong had developed from years of doing needlework.
"I... look forward to it too." As if I'd dare!
Jian Xingsong’s heart drummed in his chest. He couldn't figure out what Xie Zhijin was playing at. Maybe he was just greeting him out of basic politeness?
Jian Xingsong decided that must be it. His hand gripped the doorknob; he desperately wanted to just throw the door open and dart inside.
"A housewarming gift." Seemingly out of nowhere, Xie Zhijin produced a square packaging box, fastened with a stiff paper sleeve adorned with a cute little bear.
Jian Xingsong accepted it blankly with both hands. "Th-thank you?"
Why was he giving him a gift?
Looking at the familiar pattern on the box, Jian Xingsong immediately knew it contained a croissant from his favorite bakery.
"You're welcome. See you around." Xie Zhijin waved goodbye with effortless ease and even gently ruffled Jian Xingsong’s fluffy, slightly curly hair. "Such a cute little bunny."
He unlocked the door across the hall, but just as he was about to pull it shut, he leaned back out and waved his phone. "Oh, by the way, Jian Xingsong—the account that messaged you today is really me, not a spammer. Could you do me a favor and take me off your block list?"
Jian Xingsong’s face slowly burned crimson. Not knowing how else to react, he merely offered a stilted nod. "O-okay..."
"Good night." Xie Zhijin closed his door, though he immediately peered through the peephole to watch Jian Xingsong.
Completely unaware that Xie Zhijin was secretly observing him, Jian Xingsong gripped the pastry box, took one last look at the tightly shut door across the hall, then turned and let himself into his own apartment.
The building was designed with two apartments per floor, positioned directly across from each other with the elevator right in the middle.
It seemed inevitable that he’d be interacting with Xie Zhijin quite a bit from now on. He just wondered if Xie Zhijin would be easier to get along with than his previous neighbor.
Today had been a day of absolute emotional whiplash, Jian Xingsong thought. His eighty-square-meter apartment was decorated in a cream-and-natural-wood style, giving the whole space a warm, cute, and cozy vibe. Right upon entering, there was a small dining table.
He placed Xie Zhijin’s gift on the table and opened it. Sure enough, it was a croissant from his favorite bakery—and it was matcha flavored, too.
That particular flavor was incredibly hard to get; it was so delicious that it constantly sold out, not to mention it was quite expensive.
Jian Xingsong would only buy one when something happy happened and he needed to treat himself, and even then, he wasn't always lucky enough to snag one.
As the familiar scent of matcha drifted to his nose, Jian Xingsong picked nervously at his fingers. He pulled out a chair, sat down, picked up the pastry, and took a bite.
Suddenly, his eyes began to sting with unshed tears. It was so sweet.
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