Blinding high beams tore through the darkness, while the screech of brakes shattered the silence.
Crash!
Lin Zao dashed to the first-floor garage. He bent down, gripped the bottom of the garage roller door with both hands, gritted his teeth, and flung it upward with every ounce of strength.
The gate swung open.
A massive, jet-black heavy-duty pickup truck charged in like a savage beast, roaring with a foul wind and bloody rain in its wake.
The high beams swept over Lin Zao’s clear, bright eyes, and the gust whipped up the hair falling across his forehead.
Far from dodging, Lin Zao ran forward a couple of steps and waved vigorously at the truck.
“Brother Cheng, over here!”
The man in the driver’s seat had clearly spotted him. With one hand steady on the wheel, he expertly adjusted the lights, shifted gears, slowed down, and turned—in one fluid motion.
The pickup executed a perfect drift and came to a smooth stop right in front of Lin Zao, less than an arm’s length away.
It was the ideal distance. The door could open without hitting him, making it easy for either of them to get in or out.
Pure muscle memory.
The behemoth returned to its lair, submitting humbly before its beloved.
Lin Zao rushed forward and tapped lightly on the window glass, his eyes curving into happy crescents. “Brother Cheng? Brother Cheng!”
“You’re finally back. Little Bao and I missed you so much. We were just watching the DV footage you shot. I was thinking I’d sleep and wake up to find you home—and here you really are.”
“Are you hungry? It’s Lantern Festival today. By ancient tradition, we’re supposed to eat tangyuan. It hasn’t struck midnight yet, so come on down. I’ll boil some for you.”
As he spoke, Lin Zao reached for the door handle.
“Fu Cheng, stop playing it cool. Get out here.”
“Do I need to invite you? Brother Cheng, please step out?”
“Husband, please step out!”
But…
The door was locked. It wouldn’t budge.
Lin Zao kept chattering away excitedly, yet there was no response at all from inside the truck.
He lifted his head and peered in, puzzled.
The window was fully raised, covered in anti-glare tint. He couldn’t make out a thing inside.
Instinct told Lin Zao something was wrong. His hand slowly released the door handle, and his voice steadied.
“Fu Cheng, why aren’t you saying anything? Get out here—don’t scare me!”
Inside the pickup truck, out of Lin Zao’s sight—
The tall man slumped against the driver’s seat, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
He wore the same black tank top from the DV footage. His shoulders and chest were still broad, his arms still thick with muscle.
But on this frigid winter night, beads of sweat rolled down his buzzed scalp, his forehead, and his shoulders.
And on his right arm hung three long gashes—not like knife cuts or slashes, but the deep scratches of some wild beast’s claws.
He seemed to be enduring something with all his might, locked in a desperate struggle against it.
Fu Cheng clenched his jaw, silent and motionless.
Not until Lin Zao grew truly frantic outside.
He slapped at the window and shouted, “Fu Cheng, is that you?”
“Don’t scare me—say something! What happened? Open the door!”
“You… are you Fu Cheng? Who the hell are you? Why are you in my husband’s truck? Where’s my husband? What did you do with him?”
“Not talking, huh? I’m gonna smash this window! You just wait!”
Lin Zao issued his threats while turning to hunt for a suitable weapon.
The next instant, the window lowered a few centimeters, and a voice utterly familiar to Lin Zao emanated from inside.
“Little Zao, it’s me.”
The man was breathing heavily. Those four short words came out low and raspy, as if they’d drained every last bit of his strength.
Lin Zao’s eyes lit up. He hurried back over.
The glass had descended only three centimeters, and the truck’s chassis sat high off the ground.
Lin Zao went up on his tiptoes but still couldn’t see inside.
Hearing that familiar voice was enough to put his mind at ease, though.
“Fu Cheng! You scared me to death. I thought some bad guy hurt you and stole your truck!”
“I’m fine.” The man forced himself upright against the seat. “Nothing wrong.”
“I was calling you nonstop. Why didn’t you answer?”
“I…” Fu Cheng hesitated. “We hadn’t matched the code yet.”
“The code? Oh.” Lin Zao remembered.
These were special times. For safety’s sake, Fu Cheng had taken only the truck keys when he left.
He hadn’t brought a single house key, just in case they were lost and picked up by the wrong person.
They’d agreed: When Fu Cheng returned, Lin Zao would open the gate—but only after confirming his identity with the code.
Lin Zao had been too excited to recall it at first.
He looked up. “Okay, what’s my name?”
“Little Zao.” Fu Cheng managed a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. “Little Sweet Jujube.”
“My full name.”
“Lin Zao.”
“Our son’s name? Nickname this time.”
“Lin Xiaobao.”
“Mm.” Lin Zao nodded. “That’s you, all right. Come on out.”
“I…” Fu Cheng paused again. “Drive in first.”
“Got it.”
Lin Zao stepped back to give him room.
Leaning against the seatback, Fu Cheng had spoken just a couple of sentences to Lin Zao, but already color was returning to his ashen face, light to his dull eyes.
He let out a long breath, gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and was about to turn the key when he felt the wound on his right arm flare up.
He bit down hard, choking back a muffled groan of pain and swallowing it.
His wife and son were waiting at home.
He’d driven thousands of kilometers to get back.
Now he was right at the doorstep. A mere few hundred meters—he could make it.
Fu Cheng ground his molars and reached over with his left hand to claw viciously at the wound on his arm.
The scabbed gashes split open again, blood pouring freely.
Fu Cheng snatched the pink towel from the passenger seat and wiped away the mess haphazardly.
Lin Zao had washed it clean and folded it neatly, leaving it there for wiping off rain, condensation, or the occasional splash of milk tea on the seats. Now—
It served to staunch his wound.
Lin Zao waited nearby. Seeing no movement for a long moment, he started forward.
The next second, Fu Cheng dropped the towel, fired up the engine, and shifted into gear.
The pickup rolled steadily forward into the garage.
Lin Zao pressed his lips together, forcing down the unease gnawing at him. Once the truck was fully inside, he scurried over and pulled the roller door shut.
He could tell Fu Cheng was hiding something from him.
Maybe he was hurt. Or starving.
Whatever it was, lock the door first—safety above all.
On the other side, the truck came to a stop.
Fu Cheng exhaled in relief and slumped against the seatback, his hand resting on the door handle.
His rational mind screamed at him not to get out. Don’t get out.
But his emotions…
Click.
The door he’d locked himself was now unlocked by his own hand.
Fu Cheng grabbed the towel again to wipe away the sweat and grime from his body, then pulled on a brand-new black coat.
Now it wouldn’t show.
Now he could go see his wife and son.
Fu Cheng pushed open the door and stepped out quietly.
Lin Zao had his back to him, squatting in front of the roller door and fiddling with it intently.
“This lock always sticks. Brother Cheng, come take a look—is it secured now…”
Before he could finish, Fu Cheng walked up and wrapped his arms around Lin Zao from behind, lifting him right off the ground.
Lin Zao showed no surprise, made no attempt to struggle. Instead, he turned cooperatively, threw his arms around Fu Cheng’s shoulders and back, and buried his face in the man’s broad chest, rubbing back and forth.
Like a kitten washing its face.
“Brother Cheng, why were you gone so long this time?”
“Where’d you go? How’s it out there?”
“We’ve still got plenty of food stocked at home. If I ration it carefully, it’ll last a good while. So don’t head out again for a bit, okay? Little Bao and I get a little scared alone.”
Fu Cheng said nothing, only tightened his arms around Lin Zao’s waist.
Lin Zao tilted his head up to gaze at him earnestly, blinking his eyes. “Hm?”
Fu Cheng ducked his head instead, avoiding the gaze, and rested it on Lin Zao’s shoulder.
His face and breath carried an unnatural chill. The moment they made contact, Lin Zao shivered.
“Hiss—”
Fu Cheng lowered his eyes, gaze sliding past Lin Zao’s waist to land on his bare feet.
His voice came out hoarse. “Why no shoes?”
Only then did Lin Zao snap to awareness.
He clung to Fu Cheng’s neck, hopped up, and planted his bare feet on the man’s boots.
Fu Cheng got the picture. He cupped his broad palms under Lin Zao’s waist to steady him.
Hanging off Fu Cheng, Lin Zao grinned broadly, utterly fearless as he looked up.
“Forgot.”
“Still in my pajamas.”
“Forgot that too.”
Fu Cheng instinctively started to shrug off his coat to drape over him. He’d undone one button when something made him stop.
No. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
Lin Zao watched him, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Fu Cheng loosened his hold a bit. “Go upstairs and put on shoes and a coat.”
But Lin Zao was eyeing his clothes, head cocked curiously. “Were you wearing that when you left? Do you even own it? I don’t remember buying you this one.”
Fu Cheng kept a straight face. “The other got dirty out there. Bought a new one.”
“Yeah?” Lin Zao reached out familiarly to feel the collar. “How much? Let me check the fabric…”
Before he could say more, Fu Cheng caught his hand.
In the next breath, Fu Cheng scooped up his legs and hoisted him fully into his arms.
“Go get dressed.”
“These pajamas are plenty warm. I’m not cold.”
“Go.”
The family’s self-built house had three stories.
The first floor housed Fu Cheng’s auto repair shop and garage.
The second held the living room, kitchen, and dining area. The bedrooms were on the third.
Fu Cheng carried Lin Zao all the way up to the third floor.
He paused at the stairwell landing, holding Lin Zao steady with one arm while reaching into the shoe cabinet with the other to pull out a pair of cotton shoes. He set them on the floor.
Lin Zao slipped them on, but Fu Cheng didn’t carry him farther inside. Instead, he gave Lin Zao’s backside a pat. “Go in and put on my military coat.”
Lin Zao found it increasingly strange. He held his arms out to Fu Cheng, looking puzzled. “You carried me all the way here—gonna stop now and not come inside?”
“I—” Fu Cheng averted his gaze and murmured, “I’m dirty. Won’t go in.”
