“How much more do you need?” Jiang Tong had tried his best to downplay the situation, but Xiao Fengtai caught the point immediately. “Should I transfer it directly to your bank account or remit it to the mainland? Is SGD inconvenient?”
It wasn't a face-to-face conversation, but a video call. Across the screen, love seemed to lose its warmth. Xiao Fengtai’s bluntness was like a small steel needle, making Jiang Tong’s brow furrow with a sharp sting. “I didn’t bring this up to ask you for money.”
When Jiang Tong had previously vanished without a word, Xiao Fengtai was initially confused and lost, then became utterly infuriated. A young master raised in a family of immense wealth, he took the favor and flattery of others as a given; receiving such unprecedented cold treatment naturally meant he wouldn't let the matter drop easily.
After Jiang Tong returned to Singapore, he had taken the time to write a long message explaining the circumstances. Xiao Fengtai, however, remained relentless and had even initiated a unilateral cold war. It just so happened that Jiang Tong was overwhelmed by his studies and part-time jobs, leaving them with only snatched moments for video calls.
“I know—you’re not a beggar.” Xiao Fengtai kept his handsome face set in a stiff mask. “It’s just that if there’s a problem between us that can be easily solved with money, there’s no need to take the long way around.”
In the less than a year since he had met Jiang Tong, he had even learned to use obscure idioms like "taking the long way around."
“This isn't a problem between *us*,” Jiang Tong said, emphasizing the last word.
The youth arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say it? To raise money for medical expenses, you need to take on more part-time jobs. Because of those jobs, the free time you have to spend with me will be drastically reduced—not just time for texting and calling, but finding time to go see a movie together. You’re implying that situations like before, where you just disappear without a word, will keep happening, aren’t you?”
“How is that not a problem between us?” He tried his best to maintain a cold, calm demeanor, but his volume rose unconsciously.
Jiang Tong opened his mouth, but no words came out. He knew Xiao Fengtai was right.
It was a subtle and shameless form of moral coercion—using the name of "family" to force the other party into submission, masking the fact that one side had unilaterally disrupted the rhythm of the relationship.
If their positions were swapped, Jiang Tong would have suppressed any internal unease and accepted the help readily. To challenge the other person so easily felt like branding oneself as unfilial or inconsiderate of one's lover. In the environment Jiang Tong was familiar with, these were accusations an ordinary person could not bear.
It was all because Xiao Fengtai’s Chinese had improved so rapidly that Jiang Tong had forgotten that not long ago, the boy couldn't even distinguish between different grammatical particles, and would argue over the logic of simple metaphors in Tang poetry.
“It’s not that complicated at all.” Xiao Fengtai took advantage of his silence to move straight to his closing argument. “Tell me how much you need, and I’ll transfer it to you. We can go back to how things were.”
Though he pretended to be businesslike, his displeasure overflowed from the corners of his eyes and brows. Even his jawline was tight, showing a hint of the arrogant coldness from when they first met.
Jiang Tong softened his tone. “Kenneth, I appreciate your kindness, but I can’t just accept your money.”
He thought he was placating Xiao Fengtai, but he was only pushing the other’s frustration to a new level.
*Fragile middle-class pride,* Xiao Fengtai thought resentfully. The hesitant push-and-pull during their ambiguous phase, the intentional or unintentional hiding of his family background, the arguments sparked by nothing, the way he insisted on buying an unnecessarily expensive birthday gift even if it meant "slapping his own face to look fat"... and now, when things were clearly so difficult, why was he still unwilling to accept help?
If he truly was a saint of such flawless nobility, why did he still collect a hefty Chinese tutoring fee from him every month?
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it felt, until he finally let out a sharp, angry laugh.
Anger can cloud one's judgment, especially for a teenager falling in love for the first time who had lived the first seventeen years of his life exactly as he pleased.
“In that case, why don't you stop taking the tutoring fees as well?” There was no mirror in front of him, so Xiao Fengtai didn't know that his expression at this moment was exactly like it had been when they first met. Intangible emotions surged against his chest, making him speak recklessly, wanting only to release the suffocating pressure in the most direct and violent way possible.
“We haven't had a proper lesson since September, yet you’ve accepted every cent of that 3,000 SGD hourly fee. You’re clearly enjoying my generous support, yet you act like you’re self-reliant. Teacher Jiang, the baseline of your self-esteem is quite flexible, isn't it?”
Jiang Tong’s expression went blank for a moment, as if he had been slapped across the face.
Xiao Fengtai regretted it almost instantly.
The Chinese he had practiced so diligently fled his mind; for a moment, he couldn't even organize a complete sentence to apologize.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. As he was thinking anxiously, the screen went black. Jiang Tong had hung up.
“I will transfer back the money I shouldn't have taken,” a message arrived. The square characters were arranged without punctuation, making it impossible to discern any emotional fluctuation.
“Let’s end this here.”
***
