By the time they got home, the sky had turned the color of dirty cotton.
The apartment building lobby smelled like wet shoes and old cleaning fluid. The elevator was slow, as if it also resented the idea of bringing them to the same door.
Jiang Yue walked ahead on purpose, keys in hand, because he refused to let Wei look like the one in control. He shoved the key into the lock and twisted.
The door opened.
Warm light spilled out, and with it the sound of their mother's voice—bright, social.
"Oh, you're here," she said immediately, stepping out of the kitchen. "You're early."
Jiang Yue froze, because "early" in this house now meant "unexpected," and "unexpected" meant "something is happening."
Then he saw the shoes by the entryway.
A pair of women's ankle boots. Nice. Clean. Not his mother's.
Jiang Yue's stomach tightened.
His mother smiled, too pleased. "I invited someone over. Tang Ruo is here."
Jiang Yue stared at her. "Why."
His mother blinked, like the question didn't make sense. "She's your classmate, right? She helped me carry things after the wedding. She's such a polite girl. And she said she wanted to borrow notes from Nianzhan."
Jiang Yue's head slowly turned toward the living room.
Tang Ruo was sitting on the sofa like she'd been born there, legs crossed, hair smooth, face bright. She waved when she saw Jiang Yue.
"Hi," she said cheerfully. "You're home."
Jiang Yue's jaw clenched.
Of course.
Of course Tang Ruo had chosen this moment.
He glanced at Wei.
Wei's expression didn't change. He looked at Tang Ruo, nodded politely. "Hello."
Tang Ruo stood up, smiling wide. "Hi, Wei Nianzhan. Sorry to bother you at home. I just… I wanted to ask about your history notes."
Wei's tone was calm. "It's fine."
Jiang Yue stared at the scene and felt something hot rise under his ribs.
It wasn't anger at Tang Ruo. Tang Ruo was predictable.
It was anger at his mother for inviting someone into the apartment without warning.
It was anger at the fact that his home was now a public space.
And it was—annoyingly—anger at the fact that Wei looked completely unbothered.
As if having Tang Ruo sitting in their living room was normal.
Jiang Yue forced a smile and walked past them into the kitchen.
His mother followed, lowering her voice. "Be nice."
Jiang Yue stared at the counter. "Why is she here."
His mother sighed. "Because she's a good student. And because you need friends who aren't just… Xu Zhe."
Jiang Yue blinked. "Xu Zhe is my friend."
"Yes," his mother said carefully, "but he's… a bit chaotic."
Jiang Yue laughed under his breath. "So you invited the popular girl to fix me."
His mother's eyes widened. "No. Don't twist it like that. I just thought… it would be nice for you to have classmates over. Like a normal family."
Normal family.
The phrase hit Jiang Yue like a shove.
He turned away before his mother could see his face change. "Fine," he muttered. "Whatever."
His mother reached for his hand briefly. "Yueyue," she said softly. "I'm trying."
Jiang Yue swallowed hard, then nodded once. "I know."
He left the kitchen.
In the living room, Tang Ruo was already leaning over Wei's notebook, head tilted close enough that her hair brushed his shoulder.
Jiang Yue's fingers curled.
Wei didn't move away, but he also didn't lean in. He stayed perfectly still, eyes on the notes, expression calm.
Tang Ruo pointed at a line. "So you memorize dates like this?"
Wei nodded. "Patterns."
Tang Ruo laughed softly. "That's amazing. You're really smart."
Jiang Yue sat down in the armchair opposite them, dropping his bag loudly onto the floor.
Tang Ruo glanced up at him, smile innocent. "Jiang Yue, we got assigned detention together," she said, as if this was casual news. "Teacher Gao is really intense."
Jiang Yue stared at her. "How do you know."
Tang Ruo blinked. "Everyone knows."
Jiang Yue's smile sharpened. "Right."
Wei finally looked up slightly, gaze flicking toward Jiang Yue.
Just a glance.
Jiang Yue looked away, because he refused to let Wei see anything.
Tang Ruo continued chatting, bright and easy, asking Wei questions about study methods, laughing at his short answers like they were charming.
Jiang Yue watched it happen and felt his irritation grow.
Not because he cared about Tang Ruo.
Because he hated the way she could walk into a room and change the air instantly.
Because he hated the way his mother watched Tang Ruo with approval, like she was a better version of the kid she'd raised.
Because he hated the way Wei sat there and allowed it, calm and polite, never giving away an emotion.
Jiang Yue leaned forward. "So," he said, voice casual, "Tang Ruo. Don't you have your own notes."
Tang Ruo looked at him, blinking innocently. "I do. But Wei's are better."
Jiang Yue smiled. "Of course."
Tang Ruo tilted her head. "Why. Are you jealous."
The word dropped into the room like a coin into water.
His mother, passing by with tea, froze slightly.
Wei's pen paused.
Jiang Yue stared at Tang Ruo.
Tang Ruo's eyes glittered. She wasn't teasing. She was testing.
Jiang Yue let out a soft laugh. "Jealous," he repeated. "Of you. Borrowing notes."
Tang Ruo smiled. "Of me being here."
Jiang Yue's jaw tightened.
His mother set the tea down too quickly, the cups clinking. "Tang Ruo," she said nervously, "drink some tea."
Tang Ruo smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Auntie."
Then she looked back at Jiang Yue, waiting.
Jiang Yue leaned back in his chair, forcing his voice light. "If you want to date my stepbrother, just say it."
Silence.
Wei's gaze snapped to Jiang Yue.
Not angry—just sharp, like a warning light.
Tang Ruo's smile widened, delighted. "Oh? Can I?"
Jiang Yue stared at her.
She was enjoying this.
He knew she was.
So he decided to enjoy it too.
Jiang Yue smiled slowly. "Sure," he said, sweet as poison. "Go ahead. He's very responsible. He'll probably schedule your dates between 7:15 and 7:30."
Xu Zhe would've died laughing if he were here.
Tang Ruo laughed softly. "You're funny."
Wei's voice came, calm but edged. "Enough."
It was the first time Wei had sounded even slightly irritated.
Jiang Yue's heart kicked.
He leaned forward slightly, eyes bright. "What. You don't like people joking about you."
Wei's jaw tightened. "I don't like you using people."
Jiang Yue blinked.
That wasn't what he expected.
Tang Ruo's eyes flicked between them, interest sharpening. His mother looked confused, worried.
Jiang Yue's voice stayed light. "I'm not using anyone. Tang Ruo is here because she wants to be."
Tang Ruo smiled, pleased. "I do."
Wei's gaze stayed fixed on Jiang Yue. "You're trying to provoke something."
Jiang Yue's smile thinned. "So what if I am."
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why."
The question hit too close.
Why.
Why did he want to provoke Wei.
Why did he want to see Wei crack.
Why did he want Wei to look at him like he mattered.
Jiang Yue's throat tightened.
So he chose the easiest answer.
"Because it's fun," he said, shrugging. "I like chaos."
Wei's gaze held his for a long beat.
Then Wei looked away first, jaw tense, and stood up.
He closed the notebook calmly. "Tang Ruo," he said politely, "I'll send you photos of the notes later."
Tang Ruo blinked, surprised. "Oh. Okay."
Wei nodded and walked toward his room.
Jiang Yue watched him leave and felt a small, sharp satisfaction—until it curdled immediately into something else.
Because Wei hadn't stormed off.
He hadn't argued.
He hadn't yelled.
He'd simply removed himself, controlled as ever.
As if Jiang Yue was something he could step away from.
Jiang Yue hated that more than any insult.
Tang Ruo sipped her tea, watching Jiang Yue over the rim of the cup like she could see through him.
His mother tried to laugh it off. "Teenagers," she murmured, too bright. "Always joking."
Tang Ruo set her cup down and leaned closer to Jiang Yue, voice low enough that his mother wouldn't hear.
"You're not jealous of me," she said softly.
Jiang Yue's eyes narrowed. "Then what."
Tang Ruo's smile turned sharp. "You're jealous of how calm he is."
Jiang Yue stared at her.
Tang Ruo's eyes glittered with cruel accuracy. "You want him to react. You want to be able to move him. But he doesn't move."
Jiang Yue's fingers curled. "Stop pretending you know me."
Tang Ruo shrugged lightly. "You're easy to read."
Jiang Yue's smile sharpened. "Then read this."
He stood up abruptly. "Thanks for coming," he said loudly, forcing politeness. "But you should go. It's late."
Tang Ruo blinked, then smiled. "Okay."
She stood, smoothing her skirt like she'd won something. She turned to Jiang Yue's mother. "Thank you for the tea, Auntie."
His mother looked startled but still smiled. "Of course. Come again."
Tang Ruo's gaze flicked toward Wei's closed door.
Then she looked back at Jiang Yue and smiled softly, almost kindly.
"Good luck," she said.
Jiang Yue stared at her like she'd insulted him.
Tang Ruo left.
The door shut.
Silence filled the apartment again, thick and heavy.
His mother stood in the living room, hands clasped, expression worried. "Yueyue," she said softly, "why did you chase her away."
Jiang Yue's throat tightened. "I didn't chase her away. She was done."
His mother sighed. "You were being mean."
Jiang Yue stared at the floor. "I was joking."
His mother's voice softened. "You don't joke like that when you're happy."
Jiang Yue's chest tightened.
He looked up at her, saw the worry in her eyes, and felt shame burn hot.
"I'm fine," he said, too fast.
His mother stepped closer. "Are you."
Jiang Yue couldn't answer.
He couldn't tell her that he felt like a guest in his own home. That he felt like the role of "son" was being rewritten. That he felt like Wei was quietly taking up space in his life, calm and steady, while Jiang Yue's own emotions ran wild and embarrassing.
So he smiled, because that was what he did.
"I'm just tired," he said.
His mother hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
She turned toward the kitchen.
Jiang Yue stood alone in the living room for a moment, staring at Wei's closed door.
He walked toward it without thinking, stopped right outside, and stood there.
He could hear nothing inside.
Wei's silence was like a wall.
Jiang Yue lifted his hand as if to knock.
Then he stopped himself.
Because what would he say.
Sorry for using you to provoke a reaction. Sorry for being angry that you're calm. Sorry for wanting you to look at me.
He hated himself for even thinking it.
He lowered his hand and turned away, heading to his own room.
As he passed the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
His face looked pale. His eyes looked too sharp.
Like he was losing.
And the worst part was that Wei Nianzhan hadn't even thrown a punch.
Jiang Yue shut his bedroom door and leaned against it, breathing.
Jealousy, he thought bitterly, wasn't always about wanting someone.
Sometimes it was about wanting to be wanted.
And Jiang Yue didn't know yet who he wanted that from more: his mother, who was trying to build a new family…
Or Wei Nianzhan, who refused to be moved at all.