It was a clear September day in New York City. In a two-story apartment in the heart of Manhattan, Fang Li lay sprawled on the bed, flipping through a book and reading aloud.
“Columbia University, located in what many call the paradise of the world—downtown New York—just one subway stop from the famed Wall Street. As one of the oldest members of the Ivy League, it boasts world-class educational resources and cutting-edge research, attracting elite students from across the globe every year…”
In the dining room, Qin Weidong had already polished off the rest of Fang Li’s leftover breakfast. His class didn’t start until ten that morning, so he was in no rush.
While typing rapidly on his laptop, he didn’t even lift his head as he called toward the bedroom, “Sit up. Don’t lie on your stomach—you’ll press on your incision.”
“So now that we’re in America, you’ve mutated? Got eyes on the back of your head too?” Fang Li muttered and flipped another page, completely ignoring Qin Weidong’s warning.
He’d found this secondhand book last week, during a stroll through Greenwich Village near Columbia. The old Chinese owner of the bookstore had enthusiastically told him it was valuable. He bought it, only for Qin Weidong to later tell him their school library had free copies. That had stung Fang Li’s pride.
He was now determined to finish it—no way was he letting Qin Weidong mock him.
“Among the sixteen departments, the most outstanding are the Business School, Law School… Journalism School…” Fang Li read aloud, then grumbled, “So many top programs—why don’t they just say all of them are the best?”
Well, world-famous universities are supposed to be top-notch all around.
Qin Weidong walked over with Fang Li’s medication. He sorted out a few pills and placed them directly in Fang Li’s mouth—post-op meds from their doctor back in China, to help with recovery and heart health.
After Fang Li swallowed the pills, Qin Weidong picked up the glass on the nightstand, took a sip of water, and leaned down to kiss him deeply, passing the water along.
“Mmm…” Fang Li swallowed the mixture of pills and water. But Qin Weidong didn’t stop there—he gently swept his tongue around Fang Li’s mouth, checking for any pills left behind. Only when he was sure everything had gone down did he finally pull away.
Since they’d crossed the ocean to this new country, they no longer had to be cautious about their intimacy. If anything, it had only gotten more intense.
Qin Weidong set down the glass, glanced at the book Fang Li was reading, and saw it was still that same worn-out volume on Columbia’s history—likely outdated by now.
“You’ve been here this long, didn’t I already show you around campus when the semester started? And now you’re finally reading about it? Isn’t it a little late?”
Fang Li’s face turned red. “What do you know? I want to read it! I’m just taking a deeper interest in your school, that’s all. I wasn’t thorough before—now I want to go even deeper!”
Fang Li would never admit to Qin Weidong that the book he bought had an English cover. He had only been drawn in by the beautiful pictures on the front—he had no idea it was all about the history and achievements of Qin Weidong’s university! Otherwise, he would never have bought it.
Qin Weidong kissed him lightly and glanced at the pages. They were a mix of Chinese and long sections of English.
“Be good. Does reading it give you a headache?”
Back when they first arrived in New York, Qin Weidong had taken care of everything—opening a bank account, registering for classes, setting up phone service, contacting the landlord, buying household supplies… He handled both their studies and their daily life. Fang Li, on the other hand, couldn’t even manage a solo trip to the grocery store.
That was the price of being overly pampered back in China.
So now, every evening, Qin Weidong made time to help Fang Li with English. And truth be told, teaching Fang Li nearly crushed his spirit—he had never encountered anything so frustrating in his life.
For the first time ever, he came face-to-face with something he truly couldn’t do: teach Fang Li English.
“It doesn’t hurt…” Fang Li insisted stubbornly.
Qin Weidong took the old book away and handed him a conversational English book instead. “I’ll come practice with you at nine tonight. Chapter Three. Got it?”
Fang Li slapped the book over his face and grumbled, “You liar…”
“What?”
He flung the book aside, tugged at his hair in despair, and yelled, “I said you’re a total liar! A complete fraud! When we were coming here, you told me it didn’t matter if I didn’t speak English. You said there was a Chinatown, that everything would be fine—none of it mattered! You tricked me into coming, and now you want me to learn English?!”
To be fair, Qin Weidong couldn’t be blamed for this.
When they’d just arrived, he truly believed Fang Li’s lack of English wouldn’t be a problem. He could handle everything. But after the first week of classes, he overheard some classmates talking about another student’s girlfriend who had threatened suicide and wanted to go back home.
She had come along to study abroad with her boyfriend, but without English, she struggled with everything. She relied entirely on him, had no friends or social life, and he was too busy with school to take care of her needs. Her emotional health began deteriorating from their prep school days.
Last week, she was diagnosed with depression and told by a doctor to return home for rest. The couple had since broken up.
Qin Weidong told himself that happened because the other guy wasn’t capable. That would never happen with him.
Still, in those early days in New York, Fang Li struggled badly with jet lag and culture shock. The tiniest thing would set off a fight. Qin Weidong never knew what triggered him—but Fang Li would just cry alone in their apartment for an entire day.
Later, it was only after Qin Weidong took Fang Li out for a walk around the neighborhood to lift his spirits that Fang Li’s mood gradually improved.
This made Qin Weidong realize that, although he didn’t like Fang Li socializing too much and preferred to see only himself reflected in Fang Li’s eyes, he still couldn’t bear to see Fang Li become someone whose every joy and sorrow depended solely on him. So, he was willing to compromise and do his best to balance out the selfish thoughts in his own mind.
He told himself: Fang Li was his—there was no question about that, nothing could ever change it. He loved Fang Li just the way he was—whether he cried or laughed, whether he was willful or immature—and he would keep everything within a range he could control.
“If you learn English, you can go to the supermarket on your own, or stroll through the art district. Don’t you really like the street performers there?”
In truth, Fang Li didn’t entirely reject learning English. He suddenly sat upright, his hair a tousled mess, and said to Qin Weidong, “I will learn it—but not from you. I have conditions! I want a new teacher!”
“Why not let me teach you?” Qin Weidong asked.
Fang Li widened his eyes with an expression that seemed to say, Don’t you know why? “You seriously have the nerve to ask that?”
He pointed at the edge of the table, clearly holding a deep grudge. “Was that teaching? That wasn’t teaching, that was training the damn crown prince! Even back in that godforsaken countryside in Chongsi, when I scored a zero, no teacher ever smacked my hands with a ruler! Qin Weidong! You swore back in China that you’d never hit me, and what—one month in, and your promise has gone straight out the damn window!!”
His accusations were so heartfelt that Qin Weidong actually looked a little embarrassed for once.
He had to admit… he really had lost his temper a few times while teaching Fang Li.
It was partly his fault—he’d been too busy back home to help much with English, so he hadn’t realized how challenging it would be. Just a few basic words and grammar structures, and yet Fang Li’s brain kept pushing his patience to the breaking point.
What he taught today, Fang Li would completely forget by tomorrow.
Every night, Qin Weidong forced himself to carve out two hours for study sessions, only to keep getting dragged back into square one again and again. After ten-plus days of this, not losing control was almost impossible.
Reflecting on his recent behavior, Qin Weidong finally admitted, “Sorry. I lost control.”
“Get lost!” Fang Li couldn’t even be bothered to respond anymore. “I’ve finally seen you for what you are. You’re full of crap! Nothing but crap! I was dumb enough to believe your bullshit all the way from China to the U.S.! If I let you teach me again, I might as well drop dead!”
Qin Weidong was utterly scolded into the ground.
He thought it over and said, “Starting tonight, I swear—if you still don’t learn, I’ll hit myself instead. Deal?”
“Get lost!”
Fang Li no longer believed him at all. He slipped on his slippers and looked at his palm—not painful, but utterly humiliating!
“Don’t give me all that nonsense. I think you’ve changed! Ever since you got me, you haven’t cherished me one bit. Back when you were teaching me accounting, I didn’t understand a lot of things either, but didn’t you have endless patience then?! Where did it all go?!”
Qin Weidong was left speechless. He didn’t know how to explain.
He couldn’t very well say that back then, he never really wanted Fang Li to study that night school accounting course.
So whether Fang Li understood it or not didn’t matter to him at all. When there’s no real goal, it’s easy to be relaxed and tolerant.
But English was different. This time, he did want Fang Li to learn it. And Qin Weidong, by nature, was the kind of person who never stopped until he reached his goal…
“Don’t force your way of doing things on me. I’m changing teachers no matter what!”
Qin Weidong checked the time and finally realized—he really shouldn’t be imposing his approach on Fang Li.
Fang Li needed a teacher with a slower pace, someone patient and gentle to guide him through.
He pulled the angry Fang Li into his lap and held him tight, not letting go no matter how much he struggled.
“Baby, I’ll find someone else to help you with speaking practice and English lessons, alright?”
Fang Li relented a little. “Fine.”
He wasn’t someone who wanted to stay cooped up at home all the time either. He did want to learn English. Qin Weidong would only get busier in the future—was he supposed to just sit at home whenever he wasn’t around? That’d drive him crazy. He wanted to go out on his own too, to concerts, to the theater… all of it.
But Qin Weidong fell silent again. When Fang Li noticed, he asked, “What now? Worried? Don’t be…! Any teacher will do. I think even a stray dog on a New York street could teach better than you!”
Though his English hadn’t improved much, his ability to roast people had clearly reached new heights in America.
Qin Weidong ignored the jab and frowned. “But I won’t be around during the day…”
“What did you say?!”
Fang Li nearly exploded. He grabbed Qin Weidong’s hair and yanked. “What—are you planning to supervise my English lessons too?! You were the one who said I should switch teachers! You’re not allowed to back out now! I’m telling you—I don’t want you teaching me anymore! You get me a tutor! Decision made! If you say one word of protest, you can forget about touching me for the rest of the month!!”
Time was up—Qin Weidong had to leave for class. He wrapped an arm around Fang Li’s slim waist, kissed his lips, and said, “I’ll think about it.”
Damn it!! Damn it!! Damn it!!
Fang Li rolled his eyes so hard they almost flew out of his skull. Damn Qin Weidong! Why hadn’t the American air cured this bastard of his paranoia and pettiness yet??
Seriously—why wasn’t there a global competition for Jealous Bastards??
Qin Weidong would absolutely win a world championship if there were a competition for being petty!
……
Less than a month later, under Fang Li’s persistent demands and protests, Qin Weidong could no longer delay the matter—otherwise, Fang Li really wouldn’t let him sleep in the same bed.
Since coming to the U.S., Fang Li had been recovering well physically, and suddenly being denied intimacy—it was torture for Qin Weidong, worse than death.
He saw an email in the Chinese Students Association group chat from a student offering to tutor English as a side job.
After listening to the student’s self-introduction—fluent with a British accent—Qin Weidong imagined how nice it would sound if Fang Li could speak that way, and agreed to let him come over.
Fang Li was playing the piano downstairs. The movers had just brought it over that weekend. He sat by the window, the rich and fluid notes flowing as he lost himself in the music.
When Qin Weidong stepped inside and saw Fang Li at the piano, he thought back to when he rented this downtown apartment—he had imagined this exact scene, Fang Li by the floor-to-ceiling windows, playing piano.
But now, he felt a pang of regret. If someone else came over, wouldn’t they see Fang Li at first glance?
Qin Weidong walked over. “I found you an English tutor. Just like you asked—a Chinese student.”
Fang Li didn’t want a foreigner. He already felt pressure before even opening his mouth.
“He’s a sophomore at Fordham University,” Qin Weidong continued. “Says he’s majoring in TESOL, and he lives in the international student dorms.”
Fordham wasn’t far from Columbia, so it wouldn’t be far from their apartment either.
Fang Li stopped playing. “Do you have a photo of him?”
Qin Weidong frowned. “Why do you care what he looks like?”
Fang Li smirked. “To avoid ending up with another impatient brute like you.”
Qin Weidong gave in—but still had to set the record straight. He turned Fang Li’s face away from the sheet music. “Who bought this piano for you? You think I’m the same as him?”
“Okay, okay, you’re different!” Fang Li gave in. He knew better than to provoke this endlessly jealous vinegar jar.
“What’s his name? When is he coming?”
“Qiao Shi. I scheduled Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoons, three to five. But it depends on your availability.”
Qin Weidong had made sure to avoid Fang Li’s naptime.
“Fine.”
Fang Li was genuinely happy to escape Qin Weidong’s tyranny—but that unconcealable joy of liberation on his face hit Qin Weidong hard, leaving him quietly bitter and defeated.
All the pride he took in thinking he could take care of Fang Li perfectly—under that smile, it crumbled like bricks falling from a skyscraper in an earthquake.
“Sigh.” Qin Weidong let out a long breath.
“What are you sighing about?”
“I can’t believe I can’t teach you,” he said, defeated.
From China to the U.S., Qin Weidong’s intellect had always been top-tier. Back home, his achievements spoke for themselves. Many of the international students here were spoiled rich kids, but Qin Weidong was a battle-hardened talent who had already thrived in the domestic business world.
Now, at one of the world’s best universities, he was not falling behind at all. In fact, with his sharp mind and drive, he was starting to pull ahead.
Only when it came to Fang Li—he was completely out of his depth.
Fang Li resumed playing. His fingers danced beautifully over the black and white keys. “It’s normal. Don’t expect me to live up to your standards. Loosen up. Don’t force yourself, okay?”
Axolotl Translations 
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