“Sorry. You know I would have brought you with me if I could.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to poor people public flights.”

Another look. He waved them off. “How was the reunion?”

“Ah…fine, I guess.” There was something strange in his voice. Zhang Weiran was immediately concerned.

“Did something happen?” Damn, had they been noticed this fast? “Did your parents—”

“No, no—well, kind of? It’s been strange. I know I’ve only been here for today and that I was gone for a long time, but…”

The person behind Weiran was grumbling now, something about damn waiguoren.7 Weiran ignored them and pushed his suitcase through the aisle toward the front of the plane, still speaking in English to Xingyu. “But what?”

“One sec, let me get into my room.” The sound of a door opening and closing, and then Xingyu’s voice came back. “It’s Xiaokai.”

Weiran blinked. “Your little brother?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I know I haven’t been here in a while and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but he seems so…off. He came back too late to have dinner and there just seemed like there was something wrong.”

Weiran nodded at the flight attendant and thanked her in Mandarin. “Did you talk to him?”

“He said the same thing my parents did. That I wouldn’t know what he would look like if he was really upset.”

“So maybe there’s nothing wrong.” That seemed like the most logical conclusion, and it wasn’t like Little Xiao was their biggest concern right now anyway.

“Well, maybe, but I’m not so sure. I’m already worried about him. He hasn’t trusted me for years, so he won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Xingyu—”

“I know, I know.” Weiran could practically see Xingyu waving his hand. “Other things to worry about. Get settled and we can meet each other tomorrow, okay?”

Warmth bloomed in Weiran’s chest. Even though no one around him knew him or knew who he was talking to, he hid his smile behind his free hand. “Okay, let me know.”

He hailed a taxi once he’d gotten his checked luggage and escaped the airport. On the ride to the hotel, he scrolled through the pictures on his phone. Most were of people, and most of those people were just Xingyu—Xingyu and his sharp, handsome face, his easy smile, the way his nose freckled in the sun. Weiran first saw him walking across campus, earbuds tucked into his ears, fully absorbed in the book that he was reading as he walked. He hadn’t been able to resist—he’d gone up to him right away, and Xingyu gave him the brightest smile he’d ever seen in his life.

It was really no wonder that Weiran fell for him.