Chapter Text
If you looked closely at the crowd at that party, in the last house of a dead-end street in Wangfujing, you’d notice Shen Wenlang and Gao Tu’s story quietly unfolding—just as it was always meant to since the day they were born.
One of them trusted destiny with absolute faith.
The other didn’t believe in half of what people said.
Gao Tu was only there because he’d been dragged along, like every other time his friends forced him to go to one of these university house parties. They always swore they’d stick by his side, but ten minutes later they’d already vanished to the other side of the house, drunk out of their minds—if he was being optimistic.
They loved to say that one day, at one of these parties, Gao Tu would meet his soulmate. And when that person spoke his name, the soulmate mark would appear, and everything would have been worth it. Because being with your soulmate is the best feeling in the world. And the sex? Apparently mind-blowing. Scientifically proven, according to the countless articles Gao Tu had read.
He liked to close his eyes and imagine what his soulmate would be like—their height, their eyes, whether their smile would come easily or be something rare and precious.
As a child, Gao Tu used to read random lists of girls’ names, hoping one of them would trigger something. Nothing ever happened. Eventually, he gave up, realizing how pathetic it all seemed. His soulmate would show up when the time was right; he didn’t need to force it. But watching all his friends find theirs while he was left behind never stopped stinging.
That’s why Gao Tu always gave in, even if deep down he no longer believed he’d meet the one at a party full of cheap alcohol and terrible electronic music.
Wenlang, on the other hand, was too bored for his own liking. He was usually the liveliest of his friends, but that night he didn’t even know why he’d come.
His friends had already disappeared with a few interesting omegas, saying they needed to have fun before meeting their soulmates. They’d called him along, but Wenlang just wasn’t in the mood. Chang Yu had even put a hand on his forehead to check if he was sick—because it was that unusual.
This was a subject Wenlang didn’t like to think about. He never believed in soulmates. That some random name would just appear on your skin out of nowhere and mean that somewhere in the world there was a person made for you. He didn’t buy it.
His neighbor had gotten her soulmate mark by accident at twelve, after saying the name of a drama character out loud—only to discover it matched her soulmate’s. She never found the person, so now she has a random name tattooed on her collarbone. At least she can pretend to be a fan of the actor.
That was one of the many reasons Wenlang didn’t believe in this whole soulmate thing. A social convention that stripped people of their freedom of choice. Why waste your life waiting for someone destined to you when you could choose for yourself? And besides… Wenlang never felt entirely at ease around omegas. So, during nights like this, he’d fake it, then end up with some beta at most.
Sitting near the pool, Wenlang saw Gao Tu for the first time. Or rather, he noticed him for the first time. They had crossed paths on campus dozens of times, but neither had ever paid enough attention.
Because it hadn’t been the right time.
At first, Wenlang found the guy’s frown and irritated walk amusing. He looked far too tense for someone at a party. But amusement slowly turned into fondness. "Cute", Wenlang thought, taking a sip of his beer as he watched Gao Tu sit down on one of the lounge chairs, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.
Interesting. Worth his time. That was the upside of not having a soulmate—he could like whoever he wanted, with no strings attached.
Wenlang got up and took the chair next to him.
“Hey, you okay? You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”
Gao Tu, who hadn’t even noticed Wenlang’s presence, blinked twice before looking at him.
"Huh? Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You look like you just came back from a therapy session with Donald Trump and he told you all his most sordid secrets.”
Gao Tu stared for a moment, processing that, then burst into laughter—the kind of laughter Wenlang hadn’t heard in ages. Warm. Bright. The dimples that appeared in one cheek were devastatingly charming. Wenlang had the sudden, ridiculous urge to make that happen again.
“I just…” Gao Tu hesitated, debating whether to be honest with a stranger. But really, what did he have to lose? “I didn’t want to be here. It’s so crowded and the music’s too loud.”
“Then why did you come?”
“My friends always drag me to these things, and I never know how to say no.”
“Even if it means walking around miserable when you could be anywhere else?”
Gao Tu buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.
“I’m pathetic. I didn’t have anything better to do. My other thrilling plan was to stay in my room rereading Harry Potter.”
Wenlang laughed.
“I’ve never read Harry Potter, but I’ve seen the movies. Are they as good?”
Gao Tu looked at him like he’d committed a crime.
“The movies don’t even capture half of the essence of the books. Unfortunately, the author’s personality doesn’t match the work’s quality.”
They kept talking. From Harry Potter they moved on to music—Gao Tu liked classic romantic songs like Jay Chou and Teresa Teng, while Wenlang preferred rock bands like Beyond and Black Panthers—then favorite movies (Wenlang was personally offended Gao Tu had never seen Star Wars), and eventually silly jokes that somehow were still funny.
Everything flowed strangely well, like they’d known each other forever. Neither had even asked the other’s name yet. If they had, things might’ve turned out differently.
But it wasn’t time yet.
More and more people filled the pool area until it went from almost empty to crowded. And then the conversation turned dangerous. Neither of them could honestly deny the spark of attraction that had flared the moment their eyes met. But neither expected it to escalate.
The topic of soulmates came up, and Wenlang was blunt.
“This whole soulmate thing is just a social construct. I can’t believe some supernatural force gets to decide who I’m with. That should be my decision.”
“Have you met yours?” Gao Tu asked.
“No, and I hope I never do. I want to choose who I’ll spend the rest of my life with.”
“Soulmates aren’t just romantic,” Gao Tu explained. “It can be your best friend. Someone meant to be in your life.”
“That doesn’t make it less depressing.”
“I think it’s sweet. I can’t wait to meet mine.”
Wenlang shook his head, leaning closer to Gao Tu.
“Maybe that just makes you blind to what’s already right in front of you.”
Gao Tu nearly choked.
That was flirting.
It had to be.
He wanted it to be.
He just didn’t know how to respond.
So he changed the subject.
“What about you? Why are you out here alone instead of in there having fun? Anti-social too?”
“I wasn’t alone. I was enjoying my own company,” Wenlang replied. “I’m great company, you know.”
Gao Tu couldn’t help it—he laughed again, louder this time, dimples on both cheeks now. Wenlang silently congratulated himself.
“Then I should feel honored to get your company for free, huh?” Gao Tu teased.
Wenlang leaned in closer.
“Who said it was free?”
From this distance, Wenlang could see every detail of Gao Tu’s face: a tiny mole near his eye, almost invisible in the low light; the perfect slope of his nose; lips that looked far too soft for their own good. He felt an odd, overwhelming urge to confirm that.
Gao Tu wasn’t faring any better. He could feel Wenlang’s warm breath brushing against his mouth, study the deep, rich shade of his brown eyes—something no colored pencil could ever capture. Wenlang moved closer, slowly enough for Gao Tu to pull away if he wanted.
He didn’t.
So Wenlang kissed him.
They could lie and say they felt fireworks exploding between them, like in some cheesy romance movie. That wasn’t what happened. But it was different. Their mouths moved together in perfect rhythm, like they’d done this a thousand times before. Gao Tu’s right hand slid up to cup Wenlang’s cheek, thumb stroking softly, while his left clutched the hem of Wenlang’s shirt like a lifeline. Wenlang rested his hands on Gao Tu’s thighs, leaning into the warmth of his touch.
Someone fell into the pool, water splashing everywhere, followed by loud laughter. Neither of them moved. They were too lost in the kiss.
But Wenlang remembered they weren’t alone. He pulled back just enough to whisper:
“Wanna get out of here?”
He didn’t expect Gao Tu to agree so fast. But he did—almost without thinking.
The next day, Wenlang would blame the alcohol. Even though he’d only had that one half-finished beer. It was a good excuse.
Gao Tu, however, had no one to blame.
And maybe… he didn’t want to.