My Boyfriend is the Heartthrob, and I’m Just a Passerby.

This summer’s weather was unusually erratic.

Sometimes, the sunlight lingered far too long, making it feel as though the day should have ended already, yet it remained high overhead. Other times, in just the blink of an eye, the sky would plunge into deep darkness.

Just like now.

Not long after they arrived, the surroundings had completely darkened.

The place Ye Jishu brought him to was a mountain.

Though every mountain looked more or less the same, this one had a unique feeling to it.

Because of that, Yan Mei realized he had seen it before—on the bus ride here.

He just hadn’t expected that the thing they were looking for would be here. No wonder Ye Jishu had been staring out the window the entire time. Maybe he had been thinking about that [stone] as well.

The air was thick with the damp scent of soil after a rainfall.

Above them, the leafy canopy was reminiscent of the school grounds.

As the breeze swept through, it rippled like a green tide, rolling past overhead.

[It feels like walking through the enclosed tunnels of an aquarium.]

But right now, they were trapped in a sea of overgrown greenery.

Even with long pants and a shirt, the tall grass scraped against their skin, leaving faint stinging sensations where it cut through fabric. The oppressive heat seeped through any exposed gaps.

Not far ahead, Ye Jishu took a few more steps before stopping.

Then, he turned around and looked at Yan Mei.

Although his face remained expressionless, Yan Mei could still sense a hint of hesitation.

“There really aren’t any department activities scheduled tonight?”

[Jishu is trying to look out for me.]

Yan Mei knew one thing.

Ye Jishu never cared about how others saw him.

Yet now, he has learned to consider things from Yan Mei’s perspective.

Even if it was just a simple question, it made him incredibly happy.

“Don’t worry about it.” He responded without hesitation. “Memories can be altered. I won’t lose any attendance points.”

Ye Jishu: “……”

So much for trying to act normal. He was still going to use inhuman abilities, after all.

But honestly, he wasn’t trying to argue.

Since Yan Mei had personally reassured him, he stopped worrying.

Branches crunched beneath their feet as they walked up the mountain.

Ye Jishu led the way.

Yan Mei liked this. Having the other person within his line of sight—just looking at him like this—he could walk forever.

Ye Jishu hadn’t told him exactly where they were going, but Yan Mei didn’t ask.

Wherever he wanted to go was fine.

A quiet atmosphere spread between them, seeping through the overgrown grass.

Ye Jishu wasn’t much of a talker to begin with.

Expecting him to start a conversation was unrealistic.

Besides—

Yan Mei liked it when he simply listened.

Unlike any other human, Ye Jishu almost never lied.

Generally speaking, if he said something, it meant he truly believed it.

Which made every word precious.

Such a precious Ye Jishu should—

But judging by the way things look, it seems like they’ll have to walk for a while.

Yan Mei: “Jishu, let’s play a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“I saw humans playing this before. I ask a question first, and you answer. Then, we switch—you ask a question, and I answer. That’s it. No dodging, and you have to tell the truth.”

A boring game.

If not played with someone he cared about, it was meaningless.

Yan Mei only suggested it as a way to learn more about the parts of Ye Jishu he didn’t yet know.

However—

The person in front of him didn’t look back.

“Do you really want to play?” Ye Jishu said. “It wouldn’t be very fair, would it?”

Yan Mei froze.

That was… an unexpected answer.

For a split second, the shadows under the trees deepened.

Countless messy thoughts flooded his mind.

Why use that questioning tone?

Did Jishu not want to tell him about himself?

Was he moving too fast, making Jishu uncomfortable?

…Or did Jishu still think of him as a monster, and was trying to avoid—

[No. No, stop.]

He forced himself to calm down.

He was always overthinking.

But in reality, Jishu’s way of speaking had always been straightforward and simple.

He didn’t want to be that kind of person—the one in a relationship who constantly second-guesses everything.

Jishu’s world was different from all the humans Yan Mei had encountered.

A voice spoke ahead of him.

“I don’t have any secrets. I can answer whatever. But you’re different. What if something slips out?”

Hearing this, Yan Mei sharply raised his head, looking at Ye Jishu.

Saying something like that—it seemed even he felt a little unnatural about it, because he didn’t stop walking or turn around.

“…I don’t really know what counts as abnormal. But this place is still considered the wilderness. It’s not safe, right?”

[So cute.]

[He was actually worrying about me…!]

Yan Mei couldn’t hold back any longer.

His overflowing emotions—those intense feelings named love—surged up inside him.

In a single step, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around Ye Jishu from behind.

He didn’t care that it made the other person let out a startled “Ah!”

“It’s fine,” he murmured, rubbing against the top of Jishu’s head, savoring the warmth in his arms. His mood lifted as he said, “No foolish creature would dare show itself in front of me. Because meeting me means meeting its end. If they want to eavesdrop, they can try.”

Ye Jishu paused.

[Saying something like that so casually… isn’t that a little terrifying?]

Only in moments like these did he suddenly remember—

The person in front of him was not human.

The slick, writhing tentacles, the countless unblinking eyes stretched across the low-pressured sky…

They weren’t hallucinations.

Yan Mei could take on that form at any time.

[What exactly is Yan Mei?]

Ye Jishu seriously pondered for a few seconds—then gave up.

His contact with the supernatural was minimal. The information he had about that world from the Control Bureau was incomplete.

And since he wasn’t particularly interested in knowing more, up until now, he remained entirely clueless about just how powerful Yan Mei really was.

Still, a vague instinct told him—

If this were a game, then Yan Mei was probably the kind of boss that wiped out every enemy on spawn.

…Maybe he didn’t even have a health bar.

The character controlled by the protagonist would always be completely suppressed upon appearance.

After a few minutes, Yan Mei finally let go of him. Before releasing him, his nose intentionally or unintentionally brushed against his neck.

Ye Jishu felt a little ticklish and couldn’t help but squint his eyes, raising his shoulder to rub against it.

“Can we start now?”

Ye Jishu: “Mm.”

The two, who had paused their steps, started moving forward once more. Small pebbles scraped against the soles of their shoes, producing a creaking sound.

The mountain wind wove between them.

Yet, at some point, the oppressive heat that had enveloped them seemed to have slightly receded.

“Jishu, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

“As for me, I like white,” Yan Mei said. “Because you remind me of white. Your skin is so fair that it turns red with just a slight touch.”

[Really? White.]

[Maybe it’s because I spend most of my time indoors and rarely go out.]

“It’s your turn, Jishu.”

[……]

What kind of question would be safe to ask?

As Ye Jishu hesitated, a thought suddenly emerged in his mind. There was indeed something he was quite curious about.

“Why did you join the film club?”

If Yan Mei was just trying to blend in with normal people by fabricating an identity, he could have chosen another club. After all, unlike Ye Jishu, he was extremely popular—any club would have fought to recruit him. There was no reason for him to specifically choose the film club.

It should have been an easy question to answer.

Ye Jishu speculated that Yan Mei might say he joined simply because he happened to see the flyer or just picked randomly because he didn’t want to be bothered.

However, after the question was asked, an eerie silence fell over Yan Mei behind him.

“…… If I say it, will you laugh at me, Jishu?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Ye Jishu could feel the intense gaze coming from behind him.

It was as if, if he answered incorrectly, Yan Mei would refuse to answer altogether.

“I won’t.”

A few seconds later, Yan Mei surrendered.

“Because I’m really interested in movies. Before joining the club, I watched a lot of them, so when I saw there was a club, I joined.”

[……He likes them? Seriously?]

Ye Jishu was a little surprised.

He hadn’t expected such an answer.

“You… like watching movies?”

Yan Mei probably found this topic strange and wanted to move past it quickly. Instead of answering, he immediately threw back another question.

“Jishu, why do you like video games so much?”

As they walked, a branch in their way was snapped in half by the person behind him with a crisp “crack.”

Yan Mei seemed to really care about this.

Ye Jishu reflected on himself for a moment—was he perhaps too obsessed with games?

“Because it helps pass the time,” he answered truthfully. “And I like clearing levels and earning rewards on my own.”

“……Earning rewards by yourself? I wouldn’t have guessed. You don’t seem to have much desire for things.”

Ye Jishu: “I do.”

“Really? Like what—”

“I really want you,” Ye Jishu said. “That’s why I was the one who initiated our breakup back then. It was so I could say I liked you again and truly have you. Even though letting things stay ambiguous and unresolved would have been easier, I still preferred overcoming the challenge myself.”

The moment his words landed, the footsteps behind him suddenly halted.

Ye Jishu turned around in confusion, only to see Yan Mei standing still, lifting an arm to cover his face.

“Honestly, I don’t get how Jishu can say things like this so nonchalantly…”

The shade of the trees was sparse, rustling with the wind.

Through the gaps in the branches, his expression was completely hidden.

But beneath the strands of his hair, the tips of his ears had turned entirely red.

[Ah, was that too much?]

“Then I won’t say it next time.”

“No,” Yan Mei immediately lowered his arm, his posture firm as he stared at him intensely. “Absolutely not. I still want to hear it.”

“……”

[……That was a quick change.]

Yan Mei seemed to have recovered.

“It’s your turn to ask a question, Jishu.”

Ye Jishu hesitated for a moment before deciding to voice what had been on his mind.

“Then, what kind of movies do you usually like to watch?”

“……Why are we still talking about this?”

“Because I want to know.”

“……”

“Is that not okay?” Ye Jishu hesitated slightly.

He glanced at Yan Mei, who, upon seeing his gaze, immediately relented—even though he wore a conflicted expression.

“……It’s fine.”

Even though Ye Jishu had successfully gotten a confirmation, he didn’t rush for an answer. Instead, he patiently waited as Yan Mei struggled, his gaze wavering, his breath quickening for a brief moment. Avoiding eye contact, he finally lowered his voice and said:

“Romance movies.”

“…What?”

Yan Mei mumbled under his breath, so he hadn’t really heard it clearly.

Ye Jishu brushed aside a branch and stepped a little closer. Now, they were close enough to hear each other’s breaths.

“Can you say it again?”

Yan Mei: “…Romance movies.”

The second time, he seemed to have resigned himself to his fate.

Without waiting for Ye Jishu to press further, he blurted everything out at once.

“I don’t really understand what normal relationships are like. So, when I started feeling those emotions, I took out every romance movie I could find and watched them all. A lot of scenarios in them matched up with my feelings for you, so I couldn’t stop watching—”

During the daytime at school, he would see Ye Jishu in their usual spots, keeping a certain distance.

But there would be no response.

So, at night, he couldn’t help but watch romance-related movies.

Sweet ones. Tragic ones.

It didn’t matter. They actually helped him sort things out.

“I don’t even remember how many I watched. So when I saw the film club invitation, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to say yes… And even after we got together, the habit of watching movies stuck with me.”

Yan Mei raised his arm again, covering his face.

[So that’s why.]

No wonder… sometimes, Yan Mei seemed to overthink things.

There was one possibility. Just a possibility—

“Yan Mei, have you never dated anyone before?”

“Of course not!” Upon hearing this, Yan Mei abruptly dropped his hand, staring at him as he spoke heavily, “Did Jishu really think I would treat just any human this way? I only like you. Because I want to cherish you, that’s why I—”

His words suddenly cut off.

Because he had met Ye Jishu’s gaze.

Ye Jishu: “I know.”

[That was unfair, wasn’t it?]

He reflected on his own actions for a moment.

He had spoken so righteously, but in reality, he was still being selfish.

[I like it—I like how Yan Mei is influenced by my actions, how his emotions shift because of me, how he makes those troubled expressions.]

Even if others thought Yan Mei’s behavior was possessive, oppressive—it didn’t matter. He never felt like he had to endure it. In fact, he liked it—because the ever-composed Yan Mei, who was unshaken before everyone else, would only reveal his sentimental side in front of him.

Yan Mei wasn’t human.

That’s why he was perfect—without the flaws of broken promises or the ugliness of humanity.

Yet, this flawless existence had one extremely imperfect, fragile point—one that could collapse at any moment.

“Yan Mei, thank you.”

Thank you for liking someone as unremarkable as me. Thank you for noticing me among so many people.

The Bureau once told him.

They had deliberately controlled his life to make it align with that of an ordinary person.

But Ye Jishu knew—this was truly who he was, and this was the life he lived.

The mountain wind happened to rise at this moment, sweeping through the shade of the trees.

The hems of their shirts lifted in the breeze, and wild grass brushed against his exposed skin, bringing a faint tickling sensation.

Yan Mei stared at him intently.

That was—an overwhelmingly strong emotion.

But he didn’t say a word, only waiting for the person in front of him to continue speaking.

“When we first met, I was immediately drawn to you,” Ye Jishu said. “I don’t know exactly when your birthday is, but—I still wanted to tell you in person, happy birthday.”

He took out a gift he had prepared in advance from his pocket.

Yan Mei’s gaze followed his movement, landing on the outstretched right hand.

It was—

He was stunned for a moment.

[A stone.]

[Why is it a stone?]

Even though it was a decorative red stone with colorful patterns from a boutique shop, it was still just a stone.

Despite his confusion, his heart swelled with joy at receiving a gift.

It had nothing to do with what it was or how much it cost.

As long as it was something Jishu gave him, Yan Mei would love it. Even a ten-yuan octopus keychain—he had cherished it dearly.

But… he couldn’t quite understand.

“I originally planned to give you something practical,” Ye Jishu explained. “But when I saw this, I just felt that I should give it to you.”

Ye Jishu didn’t have a favorite color.

If he had to answer, he’d just say “whatever.”

But for some reason, he felt that Yan Mei was red.

As striking as blood, as dazzling as fire—but without any negative connotations.

Because humans need blood to survive. And Ye Jishu was human.

“This was completely unexpected. Your folklore department happened to be conducting field research here. Actually, I had planned to give you your gift while telling you about it—the legend of a stone that can grant any wish.”

[I’m talking so much… Am I always this talkative?]

Because he liked him. Because he didn’t want to be misunderstood.

…Human potential truly was limitless.

As Ye Jishu thought to himself, he continued, “I wanted to give you this stone because it reminded me of that legend. The wishing stone doesn’t actually exist—I’m certain it was made up. Because the story only spread widely after something happened to me.”

…

From as far back as he could remember—

People had said things about him, either behind his back or right to his face.

[What’s with Ye Jishu’s personality?]

[I’ve never met anyone like him.]

[…]

All those voices were a blur in his ears.

Like hearing echoes through endless rain.

Muffled sounds, bubbling up like they were trapped in water.

All because—

From birth, Ye Jishu had a slight hearing impairment.

He wasn’t deaf, just had [mild hearing loss]. Just that little difference made him an outsider.

He could hear.

As long as people spoke a little louder, a little slower, he could understand.

But few people had the patience.

So, for Ye Jishu, the world had always been quiet. He liked curling up in his own space.

He couldn’t catch normal conversations, didn’t understand other people’s reactions. Studying was fine—he could rely entirely on reading. So, he never really cared. He liked being alone in silence anyway, even if the reason was different, the result was the same.

Having a [disabled] child was mentally exhausting.

Before long, his parents divorced.

Both of them remarried, started new families, and passed him around like a burden.

Ye Jishu couldn’t hear everything, but he saw, he understood.

Because he had never spent much time with his parents to begin with, his feelings for them were lukewarm. He didn’t care. During school breaks, he bounced between different relatives—none of them long enough to form attachments—so he didn’t care about that either.

School didn’t cost much. His parents occasionally sent living expenses, so he got by.

Then, in middle school, by chance—

He entered some math competitions and did surprisingly well. The prize money made things even easier, and he even had enough to buy a phone.

He didn’t want to spend weekends at home playing games, only for his relatives to get annoyed. He also didn’t want to sit in a shop wasting money. So instead, he started coming to this mountain to play on his phone. It was quiet here, no one to bother him.

Ye Jishu said, “Back then, I heard some legends about a stone that could grant wishes.”

But he had never made a wish.

He didn’t know how it happened.

One day, his hearing suddenly returned to normal.

At first, it was overwhelming—he hadn’t realized how noisy the world was. He found himself wanting to escape to stairwells, shady trees, and other quiet places.

Ye Jishu never told anyone.

His relatives found out three months later.

They were shocked.

Then, somehow, word spread that Ye Jishu often went to the mountains.

“…”

Ye Jishu continued, “And then, people started saying that I must have made a wish in the mountains, and that’s why my hearing was restored…”

[Even though I never actually made a wish.]

Thinking about it now, maybe it was because [hearing impairment] wasn’t a very ‘background character’ kind of setting. Maybe the Control Bureau had done something.

It didn’t matter whether he could hear or not.

But it was nice to hear things clearly.

That was why, when the Control Bureau people showed up, he cooperated. He understood that they meant no harm.

After his hearing returned, the whispers and gossip in school faded. Everyone was excited about it for a while, but then the rumor took on a life of its own. Since no one could figure out where Ye Jishu had been hiding, their focus shifted to the stone.

Even now, people only vaguely, mysteriously say, “Someone apparently had their wish granted.”

As the nameless “someone” in that rumor, Ye Jishu had no complaints.

If anything, he was happy to let it be.

“This is where I always came to be alone,” Ye Jishu said, revealing his secret place. “And this—this is where they think the wishing stone is.”

“And over here.”

Yan Mei followed his gaze.

There was a dried-up stream, but traces of water erosion still remained.

In the rainy season, water would probably gather here, creating a gentle, trickling sound.

He imagined Ye Jishu in the past, sitting here alone, playing on his phone.

The mountain breeze blowing.

The stream babbling.

That focused gaze, locked on the screen, now lifted to look at him.

[So cute. So, so cute.]

[He doesn’t even realize—when he talks about this place, his eyes light up.]

Like he was anticipating Yan Mei’s reaction.

His heart itched.

Yan Mei’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.

In front of him, Ye Jishu remained completely unaware, still talking.

“When I bought the stone, I thought—if it really could grant any wish, I wanted to give it to you. Even if it wasn’t the real wishing stone, as long as you held it, I would do my best to make all your wishes come true.”

He paused.

“I hesitated after that and almost didn’t give it to you.”

Because no matter how he looked at it—it was kind of weird.

A ten-yuan octopus keychain, and now a cheap stone…

If people knew, they’d definitely laugh at him.

Like he hadn’t put in any effort. Like he wasn’t taking it seriously. Even though it was the complete opposite.

Even Ye Jishu, oblivious as he was, suddenly realized that his actions had backfired again.

Just like how, for their first date, he had chosen an arcade.

[If I posted this online, I’d probably get thousands of shares telling him to ‘break up immediately.’]

But since they happened to be here now, and the stone came up—

“I’ll get you a proper gift.”

“No need,” Yan Mei suddenly said.

Ye Jishu looked up and found that the person before him had an expression of barely restrained emotion. His gaze was locked on Ye Jishu, unwavering.

“I love it. I really love it…”

“Can I kiss you here? Just one kiss, okay? I really, really like you, Jishu…”