Kiss you at Sunset (BL) - Chapter 18

When Yang Jin was a child, he had a big yellow dog. Not only was it good-looking, but it was also gentle and obedient. The only pity was that it was missing a hind leg, which made it walk unsteadily. Because of this, every day after school, Yang Jin would carry it wherever he went.

He still remembered how he hid inside his house and cried the whole day when the dog passed away due to illness.

Zhou Shiluo believed that Yang Jin liked animals, perhaps even loved them deeply.

But do people really never change? In just two short years, Yang Jin’s personality had undergone a drastic transformation—let alone his mindset and interests.

Zhou Shiluo felt he should trust Yang Jin, but everything that had happened recently had unconsciously influenced his judgment.

His perception of Yang Jin had shifted. Maybe this person was no longer the boy who used to follow him around, smiling brightly.

This thought was hard for him to accept.

The residential group chat had split into two factions. One side believed there wasn’t enough evidence, arguing that a single video proved nothing. The other side analyzed Yang Jin’s suspicious movements and concluded that he was acting guilty.

Zhou Shiluo didn’t participate in the discussion. He muted the notifications and tossed his phone aside in frustration.

Lying on his bed, he remained silent for a long time. His mind replayed every moment since his reunion with Yang Jin, until the images stopped at the end of that video.

The weight of the questions pressed down on him.

Did Yang Jin really do it?

If so, why did he go out of his way to this neighborhood just to feed the dogs?

Why did he act so sneaky?

And was the thing he overheard at the KTV related to this?

Had Yang Jin truly changed?

Could his words still be trusted?

Just as his thoughts were spiraling, Yang Jin’s call came in.

Zhou Shiluo froze, staring at the familiar name on the screen, feeling even more restless. He wanted to decline the call but subconsciously felt that Yang Jin deserved a chance to explain himself.

At that thought, he chuckled bitterly.

Since when had he become so paranoid and easily swayed?

He swiped to answer but didn’t say a word.

Yang Jin, however, didn’t seem to care whether he spoke or not. As soon as the call connected, he scolded, “Zhou Shiluo, are you out of your damn mind?”

Zhou Shiluo was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Yang Jin to start like that.

In his youth, Zhou Shiluo had been bold and brash, never allowing anyone to ride roughshod over him.

Back then, whenever he got mad, he only knew how to handle things with his temper and fists. But now, he was much better at controlling himself. Though he still struggled at times, he admired his self-restraint compared to before.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why did you bring up Yang Dachao?”

Zhou Shiluo couldn’t see Yang Jin’s expression, but he could tell from his voice that he was furious.

He recalled what Tan Cui had said about Yang Dachao. There was no way to verify the truth, but when he met the man last time, Yang Dachao reeked of greed and opportunism. Yang Jin shouldn’t be involved with someone like that.

“You should stay away from him,” Zhou Shiluo said.

Yang Jin let out a dry laugh, forcibly suppressing his anger. “And what does that have to do with you?”

That question jolted Zhou Shiluo.

It really had nothing to do with him.

So instead, he thought of Dahei and Xiaohei.

Letting out a weary sigh, he sidestepped the topic of Yang Dachao and calmly said, “Yang Jin, let’s add each other on WeChat. I have something to tell you.”

Yang Jin didn’t respond immediately. Maybe Zhou Shiluo’s serious tone made the air between them tense for a second.

Just as Zhou Shiluo thought Yang Jin would continue saying something harsh, he suddenly relented and muttered, “Okay. I’ll add you.”

Not long after the call ended, Yang Jin’s friend request came through. Zhou Shiluo accepted it right away and forwarded the video from the group chat.

At this point, there was no point in beating around the bush. If he kept bottling things up, he’d be the only one left feeling uneasy.

Since he had to ask eventually, why keep hesitating?

Everyone changes with time.

You can’t stop someone from turning bad, just as you can’t stop someone from growing better.

Life is unpredictable—all you can do is live with a clear conscience.

Zhou Shiluo waited in silence.

Two minutes later, Yang Jin had likely finished watching the video. He replied with a single question mark.

Seeing that, Zhou Shiluo gathered his thoughts and typed out a message:

“These two dogs were poisoned.”

After sending it, he tossed his phone aside. But every few seconds, he picked it up again to check.

From the moment he hit send, his heart had been uneasy.

On the surface, he told himself it didn’t matter. But deep inside, he was unconsciously hoping for something.

He didn’t know how Yang Jin would react after watching the video, but he could guess it wouldn’t be a pleasant expression.

The words “The other party is typing…” remained on the screen for a long time, making Zhou Shiluo increasingly restless.

Finally, Yang Jin’s message arrived—a direct and cutting question:

“So now you think I poisoned the dogs?”

Zhou Shiluo’s emotions wavered.

He wanted to say that he trusted Yang Jin.

But the moment he asked the question, it was already a form of suspicion.

Would explaining himself further even matter?

Feeling guilty, he stayed silent.

Seeing no response, Yang Jin called.

Zhou Shiluo had his own reasons for choosing to message rather than call—texting could ease the awkwardness of the conversation, but a phone call couldn’t.

Silence over a call was unbearable.

So he ignored the first one.

But Yang Jin was persistent.

He called again.

And again.

By the third time, Zhou Shiluo had no choice but to answer.

Surprisingly, Yang Jin’s tone wasn’t aggressive as expected. Instead, he was eerily calm—so calm that it caught Zhou Shiluo off guard.

Yang Jin repeated the unanswered question.

“You suspect me, don’t you?”

“No,” Zhou Shiluo thought carefully and finally asked the real question on his mind.

“I just don’t understand why you were sneaking around to feed the dogs.”

The key issue was the way Yang Jin had avoided the camera.

Yang Jin didn’t respond.

A long silence followed, and then Zhou Shiluo heard the flick of a lighter—Yang Jin was smoking.

He wanted a cigarette too, but he had already finished off the half-pack Liu linshen had left in his car earlier that afternoon.

All he had now was a half bottle of cheap, awful-tasting red wine.

Zhou Shiluo waited quietly.

On the other end, Yang Jin replayed the video.

In the footage, he did look suspicious—sneaky, even guilty.

No wonder Zhou Shiluo doubted him.

If he hadn’t known what he was doing at the time, even he might’ve questioned himself.

Back then, he had only been hiding from Zhou Shiluo.

He had gone out of his way to buy him soup dumplings, only to see him leave with another man, arms around each other.

So he did something stupid—he sat down and ate with the dogs instead.

Halfway through his meal, Zhou Shiluo and that man unexpectedly returned.

Yang Jin had his pride.

He didn’t want to be seen, so he hid.

Thinking back on it, he let out a couple of self-deprecating chuckles.

Zhou Shiluo, confused, asked, “What’s so funny?”

Yang Jin didn’t explain.

Instead, he put on a serious tone and told him,

“Bro, believe it or not—I never told anyone to spike a girl’s drink, and I never poisoned those dogs.”

That single “bro” left Zhou Shiluo stunned.

Suddenly, he felt like he had made a huge mistake.

How could he doubt the boy who had always been so kind?

His throat tightened.

Forcing out the words, he said, “I believe you.”

Yang Jin’s reply was indifferent.

“Okay.”

Then, very softly, he added,

“Bro, let’s not contact each other anymore.”