Aki Apricot Juvenile - Chapter 5
The most confusing path isn’t the one beneath your feet, but the one within yourself—the clash between who you are and who you used to be.
Qiu Xingyou remembered something Jiang Ji once told him long ago: “When I’ve made a name for myself, I’ll give you a life under the moon and flowers.”
Back then, it had sounded like a promise from a dream. But now, looking back, it was nothing more than a beautiful lie.
Jiang Ji had indeed become a man of fame and fortune. And Qiu Xingyou, now in his thirties, could only sigh at how time had reshaped them both. Even if Jiang Ji had never married, and Qiu Xingyou had never found anyone else, they were no longer the same people who once fell in love. Time itself is the grandest lie of all.
That morning, Meng Li had gone out early, leaving Qiu Xingyou alone in the house. He had planned to spend the day reading and napping—just quietly letting the hours slip away.
But not long after he lay down, a sharp knock on the door jolted him awake.
A deliveryman shoved a parcel into his hands and left without a word.
Thinking it was for Meng Li, Qiu Xingyou didn’t pay it much attention—until he noticed the handwriting on the label. That familiar, clean script stopped him cold.
The recipient’s name was his own.
And the sender is Jiang Ji.
He hesitated for a long time before finally giving in and opening the box.
Inside the large cardboard package lay a framed photograph.
It was of the two of them, taken the year they’d first met fresh-faced, smiling, the light of youth still soft in their eyes.
Qiu Xingyou felt his chest tighten. His nose stung; he rubbed the corner of his eyes before any tears could fall.
Turning the photo over, he found a poem written on the back in Jiang Ji’s elegant hand. It was Xi Murong’s “A Tree in Bloom”, Qiu Xingyou’s favorite poem from his student days.
How
Can I make you meet me.
In the most beautiful moment of your life?
For this,
I’ve prayed to Buddha for five hundred years,
asking that we be granted one chance encounter.
So Buddha turned me into a tree,
planted by the path you must pass.
Under the sunlight, I bloom carefully,
each flower a wish from my past life.
When you come near,
listen closely.
The trembling leaves are my heartbeat of waiting.
And when you walk by without a glance,
the petals that fall behind you.
My friend, those are not petals.
They are my heart, breaking.
To the only love of my life,
Written in the season when cherry blossoms bloom…
—Jiang Ji
Qiu Xingyou laughed softly.
It was the first time he had smiled for Jiang Ji since coming back to Luozhou.
He remembered Jiang Ji’s confession all those years ago, “I don’t think love has anything to do with gender. So… I think I love you.”
How naive it had sounded. How sweet it had felt.
And now, how bitter it had become.
As he sat there lost in thought, another knock thundered through the door loud, impatient.
It was the same deliveryman as before.
This time, he wheeled in a massive box taller than Qiu Xingyou himself.
“Hey, uh,” the man said, squinting at the label. “You sure this isn’t one of those… inflatable dolls or something?”
Qiu Xingyou chuckled faintly and shook his head.
After the man left, he studied the box. The handwriting again Jiang Ji’s.
He had no intention of opening this one.
But before he could turn away, a faint scratching sound came from inside.
His heart lurched.
No way… Jiang Ji didn’t actually send something alive, did he?
A sudden slice! The sound of something cutting through tape.
Qiu Xingyou froze as a blade poked through from the inside, slitting open the sealed seams.
Now that he looked closer, the box was riddled with tiny holes. A chill ran down his spine.
When the top flaps fell open, the cardboard panels collapsed outward.
And standing there, perfectly whole and real, was Jiang Ji.
Despite the early spring chill, he was dressed in a coffee-colored short-sleeved shirt and tailored trousers. His soft hair fell neatly across his forehead, and his peach-blossom eyes curved into a smile that once again stole Qiu Xingyou’s breath.
Without a word, Jiang Ji stepped forward and wrapped him tightly in his arms.
“Xingyou,” he murmured, voice trembling. “I missed you so much.”
Qiu Xingyou barely managed a whisper: “Long time no see.”
The words were mismatched, but their hearts understood.
Jiang Ji pressed his face into Qiu Xingyou’s hair, breathing him in. “You still smell the same.”
“Mm.”
The embrace lasted forever.
When they finally parted, Jiang Ji guided him to the sofa. The air between them felt so thick, so fragile it might shatter.
“…How were things in Japan?” Jiang Ji asked softly.
“Fine,” Qiu Xingyou replied after a pause. “I met good people. Made some friends.”
Silence again.
Then Jiang Ji spoke: “I never ended up with Yan Yue.”
“Really?” Qiu Xingyou smiled faintly.
To Jiang Ji, that smile felt like electricity running through his veins.
“Do you still love me?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But I love you.”
“That’s… nice,” Qiu Xingyou said, rising to his feet.
He took Jiang Ji by the wrist, walked him to the door, and gently pushed him out.
“I love you too,” he said quietly, closing the door between them. “But not every love is meant to stay. Sometimes, letting go is the kindest way to love.”
His words echoed like a spell, carving themselves into Jiang Ji’s heart.
When Qiu Xingyou finally opened his eyes again.
There was no door, no package, no deliveryman.
No photo.
Nothing.
He exhaled a long, trembling breath.
“Good,” he whispered to the empty room. “It’s better this way. I’m glad you’ll never know.”
Mini Theater: Meeting the Family
Not long after, Qiu Xingyou and Jiang Ji officially became roommates.
Since the dorms were short on space that year, the two had to share a room. Perhaps because both were afraid of loneliness, they got along almost instantly. Within a month, they were inseparable.
So naturally, Qiu Xingyou decided to introduce Jiang Ji to Meng Li.
The meeting, however, didn’t go quite as planned.
Meng Li had invited Qiu Xingyou for hotpot at a small restaurant near campus. Wanting to bring his new friend along, Qiu Xingyou brought Jiang Ji with him.
But the moment Meng Li saw the two of them walking hand in hand through the door, he froze—then shot to his feet.
“Xingyou,” he said sharply, pulling him aside. “Who’s that?”
“My roommate,” Jiang Ji answered smoothly before Qiu Xingyou could speak.
Meng Li frowned. “You don’t think he looks a little too… gay?”
“Ah.what?” Qiu Xingyou blurted out, startled. “How do you even know?”
“Just a feeling.”
(Later, that feeling turned out to be right.)
Back at the table, Meng Li sat with arms crossed, his expression cold. “Name?”
“Jiang Ji.”
That was all.
The rest of the meal passed in awkward silence until Jiang Ji finally excused himself.
To make up for the tension, Qiu Xingyou hurried to pay the bill.
“Ge, why were you so harsh on him?” he asked as they left.
“Harsh? I wasn’t,” Meng Li muttered.
“Your hands are freezing,” Qiu Xingyou said, rubbing them together.
Meng Li gave a faint smirk. “That’s called having skin like ice and bones of jade.”
His deadpan tone made Qiu Xingyou burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. And your ‘skin like ice, bones of jade.’”
And just like that, the tension melted into laughter.
a small, fleeting warmth amid the cold distance of time.