How could a Puppy-like Boy Ever Have Any Bad Intentions? - Chapter 8

Fu Xingran’s arms were braced against the shoe cabinet on either side of Su Lixu. His fingertips, pressed against the cabinet door, were still trembling from fear. He gazed down intensely at Su Lixu, his eyes moist and reddened.

“I woke up and didn’t see you. I thought you didn’t want me anymore, like you didn’t want me last time.”

Su Lixu looked at Fu Xingran’s anxious, agitated state. The young man radiated an intense aura of abandonment, a hallmark symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder. Coupled with that so-called “white lie,” Su Lixu felt a wave of heavy distress in his heart knowing that after he left, Fu Xingran had attempted suicide because he couldn’t accept it.

With what kind of heart is he approaching me now? Su Lixu wondered.

“Brother, just hold me.” Seeing that Su Lixu wasn’t responding, a flicker of something dark passed through Fu Xingran’s eyes, though it vanished in an instant. He reached out and tugged gently at the hem of Su Lixu’s shirt, trying to pull the man’s attention back to him.

That small tug felt as if something were plucking at Su Lixu’s heartstrings. He met Fu Xingran’s watery gaze. This tall young man was genuinely falling apart just because he hadn’t seen him for a few minutes.

Sighing helplessly, Su Lixu stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Fu Xingran’s waist. He held him, lightly patting his back to soothe him. “Am I not right here in front of you now?”

Su Lixu’s voice echoed in the foyer, gentle and comforting like polished jade. The rhythmic patting on Fu Xingran’s back stirred the unmentionable secrets buried deep within the young man’s heart.

Fu Xingran leaned into the embrace. Hidden from Su Lixu’s sight, his eyes flashed with excitement. He rested his chin on Su Lixu’s shoulder, his face nearly pressed against the man’s cheek. He feigned a low, dejected tone. “But just now, I couldn’t see you.”

This man was too gentle; Fu Xingran felt he couldn’t take it. The accidental brush of their cool cheeks made him feel like he was losing control again.

Su Lixu was amused by such childishness. “So, you’re angry?”

“A little.” Fu Xingran held him tighter, utterly addicted to this physical intimacy. He wanted more, much more. Even though his behavior was hypocritical—he was playing on Su Lixu’s sympathy—he didn’t care.

“Then what will it take for you to stop being angry?”

Fu Xingran’s eyes brightened, but he checked himself. He couldn’t afford to scare his “Brother.” He had to take it slow; he couldn’t be too greedy yet. “I just want you to hold me.”

Su Lixu felt a pang of sadness. As a psychologist, he knew that overcoming this type of personality disorder required an immense amount of time and effort. He should have been better by now. Perhaps I should have been more persistent back then, he thought.

But there were no “ifs” in reality. All he could do now was ensure he didn’t leave behind more regrets by giving up on a child who should have made great progress. Fu Xingran’s request was so simple it made Su Lixu’s heart ache.

“Alright. I’ll hold you.”

After they embraced for a while in the hallway, Fu Xingran spoke up again. “Brother, I feel a bit dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” Su Lixu touched Fu Xingran’s cheek with the back of his hand and felt his forehead. He realized the boy’s body temperature was quite high. “Go back to the room and lie down. I’ll get the thermometer and check your temperature.”

Is his constitution really this weak? Su Lixu wondered. He’s grown like an ox, yet a little rain gives him a fever.

As Su Lixu turned to get the first-aid kit, Fu Xingran grabbed him from behind. “I’ll go with you.” He refused to let go, resting his head on Su Lixu’s shoulder and nuzzling him, acting as if he intended to follow him everywhere like a shadow.

Su Lixu felt a tickle on his neck and tilted his head away. He laughed helplessly. “You little spoiled brat. If you get a girlfriend later, are you going to compete with her to see who can act more pampered?”

“I love you, Brother.”

When Su Lixu felt something soft brush against the back of his neck, his expression shifted slightly, but he didn’t dwell on it. He assumed it was an accident. “You’ll understand when you have someone you truly like. The ‘love’ I’m talking about isn’t the affection between friends or family.”

Fu Xingran didn’t reply.

In the living room, Su Lixu pulled Fu Xingran down onto the sofa while he sat on the other side. He leaned over to pull the first-aid kit from the cabinet under the coffee table, fished out a mercury thermometer, and gave it a shake.

“I know it’s romance. The ‘love’ I meant is romance.”

Su Lixu’s hand paused for a second. He looked up at Fu Xingran, then, as if thinking of something else, he reached over to pull down the boy’s collar and slid the thermometer inside. “Lift your arm.”

Fu Xingran’s body trembled at the touch of the cool hand. He suppressed his physical reaction and raised his arm.

“Keep it tight. Ten minutes.” Su Lixu withdrew his hand and stood up to leave.

“Brother!” Fu Xingran grabbed him quickly. “I’m serious. I know what romance is. It’s missing you every second I can’t see you.”

He suddenly realized he might be being too obvious. No, I’ll scare him, he thought. The atmosphere grew noticeably quiet. Just as Fu Xingran was beginning to feel apprehensive, Su Lixu flicked him on the forehead.

“Little brat.” Su Lixu laughed dismissively. “Sit still. I’m going to make you some ginger tea.”

Fu Xingran clutched his forehead and watched Su Lixu walk toward the kitchen with a brooding gaze. What ‘little brat’? I’m not a child anymore. But then he smiled to himself. This man was truly… too innocent.

The rain grew heavier with no sign of letting up. Fu Xingran really did have a fever—38°C, not high, but enough to worry about.

Since Su Lixu lived alone, his study was integrated into the bedroom, separated only by a half-wall and an artistic archway. Su Lixu waited for Fu Xingran to fall asleep after taking his medicine, then walked over to the desk by the window to work on his case files.

As a university counselor, he still saw many students. He would record the more unique cases. His previous research focused on clinical psychology, while now he focused more on counseling two very different fields. Tonight, he wanted to pull up old cases for comparison.

He inserted a USB drive. There were many folders for personality disorders, each named with a personal touch. The first one he saw was: Bipolar Disorder—The Strange and Humorous Mr. Lawrence.

He typed a keyword into the search bar: Crybaby.

Immediately, a folder appeared: Borderline Personality Disorder—Crybaby Fu Xingran.

Su Lixu smiled at the name. Four years ago, he could blame the tears on age, but now this guy was twenty. He was tall, handsome, and usually looked like a sunny boy, yet he still acted spoiled and cried just like he did as a child. Curiously, it didn’t feel out of place to Su Lixu. He wondered if he was viewing Fu Xingran through a filtered lens. He didn’t find it annoying; he had seen far stranger people in his career.

He opened the file. It contained Fu Xingran’s personal info, family background, and observations from his father and Su Lixu himself: Prone to tantrums; loves to cry; must get whatever he wants by any means, including extreme behavior like suicide if denied; extremely picky eater with anorexic tendencies; avoids people but doesn’t reject them; proud, egoistic, and hates the world.

Fu Xingran’s BPD was distinct from Bipolar Disorder. He didn’t have obvious depression; his emotions were direct. If he was happy, it was clear; if he was unhappy, he threw a tantrum. Back then, Fu Xingran knew he was sick and needed a doctor, so he didn’t resist.

But now, as he grew older, his thoughts were more complex. His pride made him resist the fact that he was still ill. From Fu Xingran’s perspective—unaware of his father’s lie—Su Lixu had betrayed his trust.

Yet, Fu Xingran hadn’t questioned him. He had lingered around him for days, holding back before revealing his identity, and he hadn’t even gotten angry that Su Lixu didn’t recognize him. After reuniting, he was just as clingy as before, as if they had never been apart.

Su Lixu understood his own side of the story—he had left because treatment was interrupted. But Fu Xingran should have harbored some resentment. Why was he so enthusiastic and clingy instead? Why did he have such a strong abandonment reaction the moment Su Lixu stepped away?

His phone buzzed. He picked it up and saw the name “He Shi.” He slid to answer.

“Lixu, are you free?” The voice belonged to an old classmate who was now a graduate supervisor in the Psychology Department.

“Yes, what’s up?”

“I have to vent. Have you heard of the undergraduate mentorship program? I only have one student assigned to me, but I don’t understand why they gave me a dual-degree student. Psychology is complex. Even if I want to train him, can a student like that truly grasp the theory? I haven’t even seen the guy yet.”

Su Lixu laughed. “You’re taking undergrads now? Is psychology his major or minor?”

“Minor. He’s from the Art Department—the one you’re teaching. He’s a sophomore.”

Su Lixu paused. “A sophomore?”

He Shi seemed to remember something. “Wait, aren’t you teaching the Art sophomores that Mental Health course? Have you heard the name Fu Xingran?”

Su Lixu glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed. “I have.”

This guy took psychology as a minor?

“Do you know how many of my classes he’s skipped? He even skipped my major course today! So many students would kill for my class, and he just throws it away. If this keeps up, I’m telling the department I can’t take him.”

Su Lixu frowned. Didn’t the boy tell him he had no classes this afternoon? He had skipped? Hearing that He Shi wanted to drop him, Su Lixu instinctively blurted out, “Maybe you should reconsider. He’s actually quite bright.”

Thunder rumbled.

Suddenly, there was movement from the bed.

“…Brother, the thunder. I’m scared.”

Before Su Lixu could turn around, his shoulders were gripped violently from behind. The force was so great his phone nearly flew out of his hand. Fu Xingran buried his face in the crook of Su Lixu’s neck. “Brother, you said you’d sleep with me. Why aren’t you with me now? Who are you calling? Do I know them?”

Hidden from view, Fu Xingran glared at the phone screen. Who is calling my Brother? A friend? A man or a woman? He was annoyed. Why was someone calling Su Lixu when he should be focused on him?

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Su Lixu didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t exactly tell his friend, “I’m talking to your student about why you shouldn’t kick him out.”

Then, Fu Xingran snatched the phone away and hung up without a word. Su Lixu’s brow knit together.

Fu Xingran spun Su Lixu’s chair around and knelt before him. He looked up. “Brother, who was that?”

Su Lixu looked silently at the young man. Fu Xingran didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong with his actions.

When Su Lixu didn’t answer, Fu Xingran grew even more anxious. “Is it your—”

Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Is Doctor Su in a relationship? What about me?

“It was your psychology supervisor, He Shi. He told me you’ve been skipping class.”

Fu Xingran froze. He saw Su Lixu’s expression—the warmth was gone, replaced by a sternness he hadn’t seen since they reunited. “Brother…” He reached out for Su Lixu’s hand.

“Also, you just hung up my phone for no reason. Do you realize what you’re doing?” Su Lixu inconspicuously pulled his hand away.

He was no longer Fu Xingran’s doctor, so he couldn’t explicitly set clinical boundaries, but he had to remain firm. Indulgence and compromise would only prevent Fu Xingran from recognizing his own problems.

“I… I was just worried you were talking to a lover.”

Su Lixu sighed. “And if I was? Does that give you the right to hang up my phone? Xingran, you’re not a child anymore. You need to learn—”

Before he could finish, Fu Xingran stood up. He leaned over, hands braced on the desk, effectively pinning Su Lixu in the chair. The shadow cast by his large frame carried an undeniable, forceful intensity.

“No,” Fu Xingran said through gritted teeth. He stared at Su Lixu, his eyes red. “You aren’t allowed to like anyone else.”

Su Lixu looked up at Fu Xingran, who looked as if he were on the verge of tears. “And why not?”

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