The car was parked along Palm Avenue just outside the campus gates, beneath a row of tall palms that swayed faintly in the evening breeze. The sky had already begun to dim into a soft lavender, and the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Zhuang Yi located his silver-gray Volvo without difficulty. He walked ahead, unlocked it with a soft beep, walked around to open the passenger door for Xun Yuming.
As Xun Yuming climbed in carefully with his backpack still on, Zhuang Yi explained, as though continuing a conversation that had never properly started, "The Golden Bears are UC Berkeley's football team. The Red Tide Storms are from the University of Alabama."
He settled into the driver's seat and started the engine.
"Berkeley's team is strong," he continued, merging smoothly into traffic. "But Alabama is one of the strongest programs in the country. Eleven national championships. More than thirty bowl wins. Statistically, people don't think the Golden Bears stand much of a chance. On top of that, Berkeley's team and our school's Red Shirts have always been rivals. So a lot of students refuse to cheer for them on principle."
The explanation was thorough, logical, and entirely lost on Xun Yuming.
He blinked behind his glasses, nodding faintly even though he understood almost none of it. Since he couldn't follow the hierarchy of teams and rivalries, he decided not to ask further. Instead, he quietly opened his backpack.
"Can I eat?" he asked politely, already taking out his dinner.
"Of course." Zhuang Yi glanced at him briefly before focusing back on the road. "I'm getting the car washed tomorrow anyway. Eat whatever you like. I don't mind if it gets messy. There's water in the trunk too if you need it."
"I'll drink milk," Xun Yuming replied seriously.
From his bag, he took out a large bottle of whole milk, punctured the seal, and inserted a straw with solemn concentration.
"My grandfather says I have to drink milk every night. More calcium means I'll grow taller."
Zhuang Yi's eyes flicked toward him again. He took in the slightly undersized frame, the earnest expression, the way the oversized backpack seemed almost as large as his torso.
He thought silently: Drinking milk every day doesn't seem to be working.
But he didn't say it.
Instead, he simply drove.
Forty minutes later, they reached Berkeley.
The campus atmosphere was already charged with energy. Students moved in clusters, some wearing school colors, some carrying flags. From a distance, the stadium lights glowed against the darkening sky like a beacon.
Xun Yuming stepped out of the car with his backpack still strapped securely to both shoulders. Ahead of them, a group of young men were already gathered near the entrance, laughing loudly.
Zhuang Yi walked over and greeted them naturally, slipping into their circle with practiced ease. He pointed back toward Xun Yuming.
"This is my friend, Xun Yuming. He's coming with us."
A white man with a small braid and hands stuffed casually into his pockets looked Xun Yuming up and down with amused curiosity.
"Hey, where'd this kid come from?" he laughed. "Is he your little brother?"
Xun Yuming felt his heartbeat spike instantly. He was not accustomed to being introduced to groups like this. Still, he forced himself to step forward.
"Hello," he said carefully. "I'm Zhuang Yi's classmate. Not his younger brother."
His accent was noticeable but clear.
Zhuang Yi added lightly, "He's a child prodigy. Started university at fifteen."
A collective whistle erupted from the group.
"Damn."
"Fifteen?"
"That's insane."
The praise came loudly and without restraint. Xun Yuming's ears turned bright red almost immediately. He didn't know where to look. He could only mumble a few stiff "Thank you"s in return.
Zhuang Yi leaned slightly closer and asked under his breath, "How are you? Happy?"
Xun Yuming adjusted his glasses and answered with forced composure, "It's… alright."
One must not be arrogant or complacent.
After everyone gathered, they split into cars and drove toward the stadium.
Even before kickoff, the stadium grounds were overflowing. People crowded the entrances; parking was scarce. The atmosphere hummed with anticipation. Music blared from speakers, and chants rolled across the stands in waves.
Fortunately, as a new member of the Red team, Zhuang Yi had access to a VIP box connected directly to the players' area. It was quieter inside, with cushioned seating and a clear view of the field below.
Xun Yuming followed him in, eyes wide but expression restrained.
From outside, the crowd's noise seeped through like distant thunder.
Zhuang Yi guided him to a seat and then walked over to the bar area.
"What would you like to drink?" he asked casually. "Juice, soda, coffee… alcohol?"
Xun Yuming shook his head immediately. "No, no. I just drank milk. I'm not thirsty."
Zhuang Yi smiled faintly.
"What about food? Fries? Fried chicken? Hot dogs? Ice cream?"
"It's really not necessary," Xun Yuming replied quickly, embarrassed. They had only just become friends. He didn't want to appear like he was freeloading.
Unfortunately, the others were far less restrained.
One of them returned carrying armfuls of snacks, fried chicken buckets, fries, nachos, soda, and dropped them onto the table with enthusiasm.
"Eat up, kid!" he laughed, clapping Xun Yuming's shoulder. "Don't be shy!"
Xun Yuming found himself trapped between two equally uncomfortable options: refusing would seem ungrateful; accepting felt presumptuous.
So he ate.
While Zhuang Yi and his friends shouted and cheered at the field, rising to their feet with every near touchdown, Xun Yuming sat quietly to the side, diligently consuming snack after snack. He told himself not to waste food. That would be rude.
By halftime, his stomach felt like it had been inflated with air.
Zhuang Yi, noticing he'd gone unusually quiet, stepped over during a break.
"How long have you been starving?" he asked. "Didn't you eat a sandwich earlier?"
Xun Yuming tried to respond, but a hiccup escaped instead.
"I think… I ate too much."
His face had gone pale. Cold sweat gathered faintly at his temples. The fried chicken sat heavy in his stomach, rolling dangerously upward.
"Are you alright?" Zhuang Yi's expression sharpened immediately.
Before Xun Yuming could answer properly, the second half whistle blew outside, followed by a deafening cheer from the stadium.
"Zhuang! Hurry!" someone shouted from the stands.
But Zhuang Yi didn't move.
Xun Yuming leaned against the sofa weakly. "It's fine… go watch…"
Then he bent forward abruptly, clutching his abdomen.
That was enough.
Zhuang Yi grabbed his car keys.
"We're leaving."
"I..."
"No arguing."
He half-supported, half-dragged Xun Yuming out of the box.
Outside, the night had deepened into full darkness. The game was still underway, so the surrounding streets were nearly empty.
Zhuang Yi drove quickly but steadily toward the nearest hospital.
At first, it had just been bloating. Now, sharp pain twisted across Xun Yuming's stomach in waves. He slumped in the seat, breathing shallowly.
Zhuang Yi reached over at a red light and pressed his hand to Xun Yuming's forehead.
Not hot.
That eased him slightly, but not enough.
He parked directly outside the emergency entrance and got out before the car had fully settled. Opening the passenger door, he lifted Xun Yuming into his arms without hesitation and ran toward the emergency room.
A nurse hurried over and directed them to a bed.
"I don't want to be hospitalized," Xun Yuming mumbled weakly, attempting to sit up.
"You're sick," Zhuang Yi said firmly but gently, pressing his shoulders down. "Let the doctor check you."
"I… my insurance… expired…" he murmured.
So that was the issue.
Zhuang Yi's expression softened.
He leaned close to his ear. "Don't worry about that. Get treated first. I have money."
The nurse pulled him away to draw blood. Two vials. Then imaging. Tests followed one after another.
Finally, the diagnosis: acute gastroenteritis.
When Zhuang Yi returned from completing paperwork, Xun Yuming was lying in a rest room bed, IV drip flowing slowly into his arm.
"You scared me," Zhuang Yi said, closing the door behind him and sitting beside the bed. "You must have eaten too much oily food."
Xun Yuming turned his head slightly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I made you miss the game."
If I'd stayed in the dorm, none of this would have happened.
"There are games every year," Zhuang Yi said calmly, pouring warm water into a cup. He reached over and gently patted his head. "You can watch anytime. It's good that you're fine. Just don't eat that much next time."
Xun Yuming took a few careful sips of water and pouted faintly.
"How was I supposed to know Americans eat like that?" he complained weakly. "The fried chicken portions are too big."
Zhuang Yi couldn't help laughing softly.
In the sterile quiet of the hospital room, with the IV dripping steadily and the roar of the stadium far away in memory, their first outing as "friends" ended not with a touchdown...
...but with fried chicken, a hospital bill, and someone staying.