The black car sped through the enveloping darkness of the night.
Brilliant neon lights from the skyscrapers on either side occasionally pierced the layered gaps in the sycamore trees, scattering across the windshield—bright for a second, then dark again.
Wen Chaosheng forced down the churning nausea in his stomach and dredged up the past he’d committed to memory, reviewing it once more. He tilted his head against the car window, not daring to look at Xi Zhui behind the wheel—
What was supposed to be five or six months had blinked by into five or six years.
Anyone who went through something like this would think he was nothing but a thorough deceiver.
“…”
Over these years, Wen Chaosheng had countless times relived the past in his dreams, sinking into every little detail, only to wake at the end in despair over the helplessness and cruelty of reality.
He had imagined their reunion more times than he could count, but he never once pictured himself losing all reason tonight, blurting out that absurd demand:
“Stay with me for one night.”
“The way you think—get in bed with me.”
Even more unexpected was that Xi Zhui had agreed to it, just like that, and brought him along in the car.
All along the drive, Wen Chaosheng drifted in a haze between reality and memory. He didn’t want to ask about their destination. He would have preferred if the road never ended.
Until the car pulled into the garage of a standalone house, and that emotionless form of address reached his ears once more: “Director Wen.”
“If you’ve sobered up now and regret it, you can just walk out.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng gradually came back to himself, meeting Xi Zhui’s deep, almost coldly ruthless eyes. His already overburdened heart clenched instantly.
He had always been a lightweight—two or three beers could knock him flat, and when drunk, he’d grow bolder than usual, only to black out completely upon waking.
Back in the restaurant’s private room, he’d had less than two glasses of champagne.
To Xi Zhui, that earth-shattering “get in bed” line must have seemed like just another bout of drunken recklessness.
Wen Chaosheng swallowed against his clogged throat. “I’m not drunk. And I don’t regret it.”
Over the years, he’d occasionally used alcohol to numb himself, and his tolerance had improved a bit. He no longer blacked out entirely anymore.
“…”
The dim car interior shrouded Xi Zhui’s face, hiding the dark probing in his eyes.
An excruciating silence stretched for several seconds.
Wen Chaosheng didn’t dare move, waiting for Xi Zhui to give the word.
“Get out. Follow me.”
In the end, Xi Zhui opened his door first and headed toward the side entrance of the garage.
Wen Chaosheng stared at his retreating back, the bone-deep terror from years of nightmares surging up. He hurried out of the car to catch up but then carefully kept a single step’s distance once he did.
The garage was on the basement level.
Xi Zhui led Wen Chaosheng straight into the elevator.
Wen Chaosheng kept his gaze lowered, his eyes unconsciously fixing on Xi Zhui’s hand, a flicker of longing passing through them.
He wanted so badly to hold that hand.
His fingertips twitched, but he lacked the courage—and the time.
The elevator stopped on the second floor.
Xi Zhui stepped out, turned left, and opened one of the doors. “This bathroom’s yours. There’s a bathrobe in the cabinet.”
The instruction was simple and straightforward, carrying no extra emotion.
Wen Chaosheng clenched his teeth and managed a meek response. “Okay.”
Xi Zhui offered no further instructions. Instead, he turned and entered the adjacent bedroom, shutting the door with cold finality.
The sound of the door slamming made Wen Chaosheng’s eardrums buzz. Confirming that Xi Zhui wasn’t coming back out, he quickly slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower first thing.
Whoosh—
The powerful rush of water echoed through the room, loud enough to drown out anything unusual.
His body’s discomfort had reached its peak; he couldn’t endure another second.
Wen Chaosheng could no longer hold back the reflexive urge to vomit. He bent over, knelt in front of the toilet, and retched until the world spun.
He hadn’t eaten much to begin with, so his stomach was empty. No matter how hard he heaved, all that came up was a stream of bile and acid. By the end, his face had gone deathly pale.
“…”
Afraid of wasting time, Wen Chaosheng didn’t dare rest.
He dragged his limp body upright, rinsed his mouth, showered, and obediently fetched the bathrobe from the cabinet. Surprisingly, the size fit him reasonably well.
Steam filled the bathroom, turning the corners of Wen Chaosheng’s eyes red.
He eyed the clothes he’d changed out of, hesitated for two seconds, then fished a divided packet of pills from his pants pocket. He tore it open swiftly and slipped the tablet under his tongue.
The familiar bitterness spread, but Wen Chaosheng felt nothing toward it. He just stared into the mirror, adjusting his breathing over and over, even slapping his pale cheeks to force some fake color into them.
Wen Chaosheng didn’t want Xi Zhui to notice anything off. He wanted to appear “normal” in front of him.
He didn’t know how much time passed before the unlocked bathroom door was suddenly pushed open from outside. Then came a click—the lights went out.
Wen Chaosheng’s reaction was sluggish; before he could look up, a figure loomed behind him, pinning him forcefully against the vanity with all its strength.
—Hiss.
The thin bathrobe offered no cushion at all against the hard edge of the counter. A sharp, awkward pain jolted through him.
Wen Chaosheng bit back a grunt of pain.
Faint light filtered in from the hallway outside, and through the mirror in front of him, he barely made out the stern face behind his own.
Xi Zhui watched him through the mirror too, any worry from before his intrusion already vanished.
Now, those deep brown eyes held an unyielding scrutiny, as if determined to see right through the man in his grasp. “You’ve been in here half the day—are you planning to hide like a turtle in its shell and chicken out?”
Slightly hot breath sprayed against his neck, and Wen Chaosheng flinched sensitively. “I’m not.”
His heart pounded fiercely again. He tried to wriggle free from Xi Zhui’s hold, but the moment he moved, the arms around him tightened.
“Good. Because it’s not six years ago anymore. I don’t have time to waste indulging Director Wen.”
“…”
One sentence dragged Wen Chaosheng back to harsh reality.
He lowered his eyes, hiding his unease and sorrow as best he could, and said in the calmest tone possible, “I’m done showering. You can start however you want.”
Xi Zhui let out a mocking huff. “Is that so? However I want?”
He gripped Wen Chaosheng’s jaw with one hand, forcing his head up. “Director Wen’s gained a lot more experience since six years ago. Not even a hint of shame doing this now.”
Wen Chaosheng opened his mouth but no words came.
Their gazes locked in the mirror, like a silent tug-of-war.
Xi Zhui stared intently at the man’s expression in the glass. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but the words slipped out anyway. “These years—have you been alone, or with others?”
Wen Chaosheng went mute, unsure how to respond.
That guilty, tacit admission pierced like a thorn, shattering Xi Zhui’s calm facade. His eyes turned icy in an instant, and he didn’t even give Wen Chaosheng a chance to explain. He leaned down and bit hard.
“Ah!”
His nape was caught viciously between teeth, bitten and tugged with savage, devouring aggression.
Wen Chaosheng’s body trembled uncontrollably. He wanted to pull away but even more to hold on. “Don’t.”
Xi Zhui ignored him, seizing his vulnerability faster.
His palm burned hot, but his tone stayed deliberately cold. “No lube in the house— that fine for Director Wen too?”
Wen Chaosheng had already forgotten he was the one who’d initiated this “deal,” the one who should be enjoying the service. “No need… You… you can do whatever you want…”
Xi Zhui’s breathing grew heavier. He yanked with one hand.
In the next second, Wen Chaosheng’s bathrobe loosened and fell to the floor.
…
……
The humid heat in the bathroom didn’t dissipate; if anything, it intensified, soaking into Wen Chaosheng’s fragile nerves. He didn’t know when he’d been carried out.
By the time he registered it, he was already sprawled on the bed.
A familiar warmth emanated from the soft bedding—the kind of indescribable comfort that flooded his entire body in an instant.
Wen Chaosheng’s nose stung. He wanted to turn and gaze at that long-cherished face, but the moment he stirred, Xi Zhui stopped him.
“Don’t turn around!”
“…”
The man before him was far too thin compared to six years ago. Those protruding shoulder blades pressed painfully against his chest.
Xi Zhui didn’t want to betray his emotions face-to-face, so he lied through his teeth. “I don’t want to see your face.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng froze, his blood turning to ice. So he was despised to the point where even his face was unwelcome?
Fine.
He silently buried his face back in the sheets, tears soaking a dark patch without a sound.
The antidepressant he’d taken not long ago finally kicked in.
Wen Chaosheng’s thoughts grew muddled, his taut emotions finally bursting their banks. Silent tears turned to quiet sobs, aggrieved and pitiable.
“Xi Zhui… Xi Zhui…”
“…”
Xi Zhui’s resolve crumbled bit by bit. In the end, he pulled him close, facing him to soothe. “Don’t cry.”
As he spoke, his thumb brushed unconsciously over the tear-streaked face—so very gentle.
In his daze, Wen Chaosheng felt like he’d gone back six years. His tear-blurred eyes fixed greedily on that face, tracing from brow to nose to lips—
He wanted a kiss so badly.
But it was always Xi Zhui who initiated them.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng lacked the courage to ask for one. Instead, that hurtful phrase echoed in his mind. Self-aware, he turned his head and buried his face in Xi Zhui’s neck, hugging him tightly in silence.
It was okay.
It didn’t hurt at all.
If he hated this face, he’d just hide it away.
“…”
The storm surged with tidal ferocity, and Wen Chaosheng felt himself split brutally in two—
One part stubbornly mired in the past, craving the tenderness he’d once known.
The other, painfully in reality’s grip, still desperately trying to hold onto this one night.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng trembled without cease, his muddled mind unable to form a sound.
Don’t go.
Just don’t go.
As long as he didn’t abandon him like in the dreams, as long as he could have this one night—even death would be fine.
……
The night deepened, the window half-open.
Xi Zhui leaned against the windowsill, his eyes fixed sideways on Wen Chaosheng on the bed. The other man had already wrapped himself in the blanket and fallen into a deep sleep, exposing only a slender length of pale, fragile arm.
It resembled exquisite white porcelain tucked away in the darkness, liable to shatter at the slightest touch.
Xi Zhui stared intently, losing himself in the sight without realizing it. Only when a searing heat stung his fingertip did he wrench his gaze away, looking down at the cigarette clenched between his fingers—now burned down to nothing.
He had lit it to steady his nerves, but in the end, he hadn’t taken a single puff.
Irritated, Xi Zhui pinched it out and tossed it into the trash can.
He walked back to the bedside and dragged over a nearby chair before sitting down.
Nearly six years had passed. Xi Zhui had journeyed from initial confusion and bewilderment to stubbornly digging for information; from the raw unwillingness of their breakup to the numb despair of realizing he’d truly been abandoned.
There had been a time when he believed he could gradually let go of this relationship. Yet every time he revisited those memories, the ashes reignited.
They never burned bright, but they never fully extinguished either.
Day after day, they seared away at his pride and his soul.
From the moment he learned Wen Chaosheng had returned to the country to film, to reaching out to Jian Jinzhao right away to arrange a meetup, to everything that had unfolded tonight—Xi Zhui couldn’t pinpoint exactly what emotions had driven him to face this man.
He wanted to hate him, yet his heart still softened.
He wanted to play it cool and detached, yet he couldn’t rein in his feelings.
He wanted to give in to impulse, lash out, and then discard him without mercy—yet deep down, he couldn’t bear to let go.
“…”
Xi Zhui sat there rigidly, his eyes drinking in the sight over and over, desperately trying to fill the hollow ache that had grown in his heart over the years.
He swallowed against his parched throat. In the unseen darkness of the night, he shed every last pretense, his voice trembling in a way he himself didn’t notice. “Wen Chaosheng.”
You’ve finally come back.
