Chapter 70: May I Love You? (Part Two)

Gradually, Xi began to notice something amiss—the time they spent together was quietly diminishing. Han’s presence had started to fill every corner of Zai’s life. Zai would skip class just to sneak out and play with Han; in the midst of a date with Xi, Zai would run off to Han’s side; Zai’s temper would flare when Han was in a bad mood; and whenever Han smiled, Zai’s face would light up with contentment.

Xi suddenly realized everything had veered off course.

“Han, let’s go to the amusement park.” Zai always wanted to see Han smile, to make him happy, to keep him from feeling alone.

Han looked at Zai’s hopeful grin with helplessness, but that happiness was infectious. Shaking his head, Han tried to refuse, but Zai simply ignored him, pulling him out the door.

From roller coasters to the 360-degree spinning adventure to the mountain ride, the two young men tried everything—screaming, laughing, letting go. Today, Han’s expressions were richer than ever. Only in moments like these did he seem like a young man in his early twenties—youthful, energetic, full of vitality. Seeing Han so joyful, Zai felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

From then on, Han’s life became inhabited by two people: Zai, and an unfamiliar woman—Hui.

Han felt his days growing bright with color. Zai would drag him out of class just to see the sea; would come running when Han’s bike had a flat, only to realize Zai had other plans that day; would lose his temper when it started to rain; would buy Han all sorts of little things, from a toothbrush to a bag of chips.

Hui was a hidden presence. Han often felt followed—sometimes a pair of eyes by the bushes, sometimes a gaze from the back of the classroom, sometimes a shadow on the way home at night, sometimes a girl lingering outside his window, sometimes a mysterious camera flash at a happy moment.

Zai insisted Han was being stalked, that a strange admirer was observing his every move. Zai worried so much that he even stayed by Han’s side, but they never found anything.

One day, Han realized his feelings were strange—he missed Zai when he wasn’t around, smiled thinking of him, felt at ease with him by his side, wanted to share both happiness and sorrow with him first. Han always thought this was friendship—close friendship. Until he realized it was love.

The moment he understood, Han broke into a run—toward Zai. He didn’t know if he’d say anything or do anything; he just wanted to be there. He dashed through the alley by his house, across the school’s field, past the teaching block, until at last he saw Zai. But he stopped in his tracks, for Zai was embracing Xi, and the happiness on Xi’s face rooted Han to the spot. That was another world—his was apart. The disappointment on Han’s face made the setting sun and falling leaves seem all the lonelier. He never saw the confusion and sorrow on Zai’s face, hidden behind Xi.

Zai, too, began to notice something strange. On dates with Xi, he would think of Han; whenever something fun happened, he would want Han to experience it; he always had gifts in mind for Han; he became angry and worried over Han’s mysterious follower; Han’s smile gave him satisfaction, Han’s gloom made him want to lash out.

It all came to a head on Zai’s birthday.

“Why aren’t you happy? You’re the birthday star—you should be smiling!” Xi noticed Zai’s distraction and tried to cheer him up.

“I’m just thinking about something,” Zai replied absently.

Seeing his absent look, Xi felt pain twist inside. As an outsider, she could see what had happened and what would happen, even if she tried to ignore it, even if she didn’t want to admit it, even if she had tried with all her heart—nothing could stop what was coming. Tears stung her eyes as she fought to keep them from falling. Her voice trembled, “Zai, do you know…?”

Zai looked up, confused, seeing tears in Xi’s eyes.

“Zai, do you know?” Xi finally said it. “The way you look at Han isn’t the way you look at me.”

Zai’s stirring spoon paused midair. Silence fell. Memories flickered through his mind like paintings: the first time they met, Han’s back as he rode his bicycle; Han’s nimble fingers flying over piano keys; Han’s lonely expression when they parted; the mysterious smile that crept onto Zai’s face when he saw Han again. The memories tumbled in his mind, making his heart race—until suddenly, Zai seemed to understand. He stood up abruptly.

Xi grasped his sleeve, tears finally spilling over. “Are you going to him?”

Seeing the tears in her eyes, Zai hesitated. “Today is Han’s birthday too. I want to celebrate with him.”

Seeing his resolve, Xi lowered her head. She had always known she loved Zai, always known his happiness would never belong to her. Zai’s happiness belonged to the one who could make him smile like a child—and that person was Han, not her.

“Zai,” Xi said, gathering her courage. “Because I love you, I’ll let you go.”

Zai bit his lip, watching Xi’s hand fall away, then turned. “I’m going to celebrate Han’s birthday,” he said, and left.

Watching his retreating back, Xi knew she had lost him, and at last, she broke down and sobbed.

Han stared at the birthday cake before him, softly singing, “Happy birthday to me.” The dim candlelight flickered over his face, highlighting his loneliness. The memories were so vivid—years ago, on this same day, Zai had celebrated with him. He remembered every wish he had made. But wishes are just wishes, never coming true. Tonight, Zai should be celebrating with his girlfriend, and Han, as always, was alone.

As he sang, tears slipped down his cheeks. Suddenly, the door swung open, and magically, Zai appeared, smiling, holding a bouquet. “Happy birthday, Han.”

Han burst into tears and laughter. The candlelight still flickered; but now there were two singing the birthday song—unseen by them, Hui watched from afar through her binoculars.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Xi tonight? Why are you here?” Han’s voice was hoarse from crying.

“How could I not come? It’s your birthday, isn’t it? I remember the wish I made back then—I’ll make sure it comes true myself.” At that moment, Zai smiled like a child, joyful at such simple happiness—the smile pure, unsullied.

Seeing Zai’s smile, Han nodded, happiness flooding his face. Together, they blew out the candle.

“Zai, you know that feeling, when the right person is standing before you, but you just can’t reach out and hold their hand?” Han and Zai sat on the second-floor balcony of Han’s house, under a sky thick with stars. The night wind tousled their hair.

Zai didn’t answer, but sat there quietly. In the moonlight, their shadows slowly merged; one head rested gently on the other’s shoulder.

After that night, both knew something had changed, but they tried desperately to keep things as they were. Zai still went out with Xi, though both knew everything was different. Han still searched for the hidden figure, but always in vain. Hui, invisible, saw everything most clearly.

Hui had always secretly loved Han, but lacked the courage to approach him. She followed him everywhere, observing every detail of his life. She could recount his every movement at home. But no one knew she was there. She knew all about Han and Zai, about their changes. Perhaps she felt sad, jealous, regretful, or even offered them her blessings. The complexity on her face told everyone how deeply she loved Han.

“Is this your boyfriend, Hui?” a friend asked, seeing Han’s photo on her laptop.

“Yes. Isn’t he handsome?” Hui’s face shone with pride, but there was a hidden sorrow no one else could see.

“Wow, your boyfriend is really good-looking! You have to bring him next time so we can all meet him. And bring his friends—maybe there’ll be other handsome guys, too!” The crowd laughed and teased.

Hui didn’t answer, only smiled—a smile tinged with bitterness only she understood.

By day, Zai still greeted everyone with a smile. But when night fell, his brow would furrow, because even he couldn’t figure out what place Han held in his heart.

Han was just as lost. Every day, he saw Zai, yet the feelings in his heart were completely different. By day, he acted as though nothing had changed; at night, he scribbled endlessly on white paper, until finally, he made up his mind to write a song—his own special song.

Yet outwardly, they remained like best friends: skipping class together, playing music, going to the seaside, sneaking goods from the convenience store and running off together, laughing.

“Zai, I wrote a song I want you to hear.” Han plucked nervously at his guitar, both shy and anxious.

“Really? Play it for me, quick!” Zai’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Han strummed gently and began to sing, his voice soft and clear, with a hint of huskiness. The fiery sunset spread across the lake, a light mist hovering above the water. Sitting side by side on the lakeside bench, their faces were bathed in red by the sun. Their smiles were natural, peaceful, and in perfect harmony. Their shadows stretched long behind them.

Han sang, his voice drifting in the air. When he finished, he set the guitar down, cheeks tinged with red in the sunset, lowering his head in embarrassment. Zai gazed at him, searching for something in his face. Slowly, Han looked up; Zai leaned in, and Han closed his eyes. At last, their lips met—softly. After a long moment, they parted, exchanged shy smiles, and turned to watch the sunset together. Han’s hand slid along the bench, and Zai gently placed his own on top, squeezing it tight.

At this point, Jiang Yihan could hear the soft sounds of the audience wiping away tears—a happiness so warm and tender, the two finally claiming their own happiness. It was undeniable: Park Young-hoo made full use of his camera, capturing their confession in vibrant, beautiful colors.

Happy lives are always the same. Nothing changed in Zai and Han’s life except the looks on their faces and the smiles they shared when they met.

Xi watched the happy couple, dried her tears, and smiled. Hui, glancing at the two laughing outside, looked around her room—walls plastered with Han’s photos—and, too, smiled.

“Han, let’s go to the beach tomorrow,” Zai said cheerfully.

“Why? Is it a special day?” Han asked, his smile as bright as a child’s.

“No reason. I just want to be with you.” Zai only wanted to give Han the simplest happiness.

Suddenly, “Perverts!” came the ugly jeers of their classmates. Han and Zai turned toward the sound.

“What’s wrong with them? They’re so weird! Such a disgrace!” One spat on the ground.

“I think you’re just jealous! We haven’t done anything wrong; we haven’t hurt anyone. What right do you have to judge us?” Zai shouted back, ignoring Han’s worried attempts to calm him. “Han, we haven’t done anything wrong—why should we be afraid? We have every right to announce our happiness to the world!”

Seeing Zai stand up for him, Han could only smile—tolerant and happy.

The jeering classmate, unwilling to back down, picked up a rock and hurled it. With his back turned, Zai didn’t see it coming—but Han did. Han yanked Zai behind him, and the rock struck Han’s head, drawing blood. In an instant, chaos erupted.

Zai rushed forward, grabbed the would-be assailant before he could escape, and pummeled him, venting all his fury, until Han pulled him away.

After leaving the infirmary, Zai looked at Han’s bandaged forehead, his heart aching with guilt and worry. Han, understanding Zai’s feelings, took his hand and smiled, “Didn’t we say we’d go to the beach? Come on, let’s go.” Glancing at Han’s wound and then at his expectant smile, Zai nodded.