The safety passageway’s motion-sensor lights had long since broken, leaving only a faint, gloomy light filtering through a small window in the corner. The air hung heavy with turbid dust motes, thick enough to stifle the breath.
“Wen Chaosheng! You’d better explain yourself right now!”
For the first time, Wen Chunshen fixed his son with an utterly stern gaze. “What exactly did Chang Ming mean by those words just now? Xi Zhui is your boyfriend?”
Song Xuelan stood by Wen Chaosheng’s side and patted his back gently. “Old Wen, don’t be so serious. It might just be a misunderstanding. Chang Ming only just woke up—his mind’s probably still foggy. Besides, Shengsheng and Xiao Zhui have always been close…”
“Don’t make excuses for him!”
Wen Chunshen cut off his wife’s soft words, his burning gaze boring into Wen Chaosheng’s face as if it might scorch right through it. “Let him explain it himself, black and white!”
“The fact that even an outsider like Chang Ming could say something like that makes it even more suspicious! Wen Chaosheng, what’s really going on between you and Xi Zhui?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s breath caught, words dying on his lips.
Wen Chunshen pressed immediately. “Don’t even think about lying to me! I know you inside and out!”
Wen Chaosheng had never been good at lying, especially not in front of his close parents. It showed on his face every time.
In this situation, there was no hiding it anymore.
“Yes, it’s exactly what you heard.”
Wen Chaosheng closed his eyes in resignation, as if awaiting some inevitable verdict. “Xiao Zhui and I… we’re dating.”
Song Xuelan’s comforting hand on his back froze. Incredulous, she murmured, “Shengsheng, what did you say?”
“You… you…”
Wen Chunshen trembled with fury for the first time at his own son’s hands. He hurled the thermos box clutched in his grip straight at him, bellowing, “Wen Chaosheng, looks like you’ve really made something of yourself!”
Clang!
The thermos struck Wen Chaosheng’s leg before clattering to the floor. The lovingly prepared meal—infused with paternal care—turned in an instant into a dust-mingled mess of garbage.
After so many years of marriage, it was the first time Song Xuelan had seen her husband so enraged that he resorted to violence. She hurried forward to intervene. “Old Wen, let’s talk this out! Don’t scare the boy!”
“Scare him? I’m about ready to drop dead from anger!” Wen Chunshen’s pointing finger shook at Wen Chaosheng. “Wen Chaosheng, what’s gotten into you? Huh?”
“Don’t you know what kind of relationship our family has with the Xi Family? How dare you two fool around like this!”
He dug relentlessly. “Tell me—who started this relationship? You or Xi Zhui? How long has it been going on?!”
“…”
Pain flickered in Wen Chaosheng’s downcast eyes. In a low voice, he shouldered all the blame. “It was me. Back in high school, I realized my orientation.”
“I’d been secretly in love with Xi Zhui for a long time. I invited him to shoot Contour myself, and we spent more time together in Gannan after that.”
“By the time we got to Berlin, it just… happened. We confessed our feelings naturally. It’s been almost a year and a half.”
No point hiding it now—better to come clean.
“…”
Song Xuelan held her husband back while struggling to process the revelation herself.
Suddenly, it all clicked: Wen Chaosheng’s excessive attention to Xi Zhui in the past, their constant togetherness at the start of the year, even that morning phone call Xi Zhui had answered—
Those overlooked details now had clear answers. The two boys were actually dating!
Song Xuelan had thought herself open-minded, but when “same-sex love” struck her own son, she realized she couldn’t accept it calmly after all.
A thousand words clogged her throat, finally spilling out as denial. “Shengsheng, this isn’t right.”
Wen Chunshen and Xi Quxin were like brothers; she and Shen Ruo were close confidantes. The two families had always treated each other’s children like godchildren!
The Xi and Wen families were lifelong allies, steeped in traditional values. And both boys were only sons.
For them to sneak around behind the elders and relatives? Even if the parents could accept it, what about the older generation?
Like Elder Xi—he’d always been eager for Xi Zhui to marry and have kids!
United as husband and wife, Wen Chunshen had thought of it too. “Now I get it. After graduation, Xi Zhui ditched the family business to become an actor. That was because of you, wasn’t it?”
“Wen Chaosheng, you know how much Elder Xi longs for Xi Zhui to settle down and start a family, right? Huh?”
“Have you considered? He has a heart condition. If word of your relationship reaches his ears and something irreversible happens—what then? What are you two going to do?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng had no retort.
The harsh reality he’d most dreaded facing was now laid bare by his parents.
The more Wen Chunshen thought, the more absurd it seemed. He couldn’t accept his son being gay. “Wen Chaosheng, I’m telling you—I won’t allow you to date Xi Zhui! You two have to break up!”
Wen Chaosheng’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. For once, the obedient son refused. “I won’t break up with Xi Zhui.”
—Slap!
In a fit of rage, a palm struck Wen Chaosheng’s cheek.
Song Xuelan couldn’t stop it in time. She cried out, “Old Wen! What are you doing? Even if the boy’s wrong, you can’t hit him!”
Wen Chunshen instantly regretted his overreaction.
But in the heat of the moment, pride kept him from backing down or softening. “You won’t break up? Fine—then listen up.”
“Wen Chaosheng, I absolutely forbid you and Xi Zhui! If you go against me, I, Wen Chunshen, will never recognize you as my son!”
Wen Chunshen flung down those resolute words and stormed out, face dark.
Song Xuelan wanted to chase after him, but her gaze fell on Wen Chaosheng’s reddened cheek, rooting her in place. “Shengsheng, does it hurt? Your dad… he lost his head in anger…”
“Mom.”
Wen Chaosheng turned his head away from her comfort, choking back sobs. “I want to be alone for a bit.”
Song Xuelan sighed helplessly and let her hand drop slowly. “Shengsheng, I’ve always supported whatever you do, but this thing with Xi Zhui—your dad and I agree.”
“It can’t happen. You two aren’t right for each other. It has to end.”
“…”
“You don’t want the families to end up at odds over your feelings, do you? Better to rip off the band-aid now than drag it out.”
She left it there, then asked, “Besides, what about Chang Ming? You need to prioritize. Cool off with your dad first.”
With that, she cleaned up the mess on the floor and left.
The safety passageway door swung slowly shut, the rusty iron emitting a grating, intermittent screech.
Wen Chaosheng stood motionless, eyes vacant. The numb pain in his cheek had already seeped into his heart.
His parents’ opposition was fiercer and more absolute than he’d imagined, leaving not a shred of hope.
His head throbbed. Powerlessly, he slumped onto the stairs, curling into a trembling ball in a futile search for warmth.
“…”
Xi Zhui.
He wanted Xi Zhui so badly.
On impulse, Wen Chaosheng fished out his phone from his pocket, ready to call regardless of the time difference.
But as if fate itself intervened, his phone—down to its last sliver of battery—popped up a shutdown warning. Before he could hit dial on the WeChat call, the screen went black.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng stared blankly at his reflection in the dark screen: haggard, wretched. For a moment, it felt like glimpsing his future.
Just as dim and lightless, forever.
…
Wen Chaosheng lingered alone in the passageway for a long time, until he’d barely tamped down the pain. Only then did he return to the single room.
Chang Ming had been resettled in bed by the medical staff and given a sedative. His eyes were closed, seemingly in deep sleep.
Wen Chaosheng tiptoed in and had just sat down when the man on the bed weakly opened his eyes.
“…”
“…”
Their gazes met, silence stretching between them.
Chang Ming’s expression was calm, as if he’d shaken off his earlier frenzy. The look he gave Wen Chaosheng brimmed even with apology.
“Brother Wen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng froze.
“I know I said the wrong things. I’m sorry.” Chang Ming’s eyes reddened instantly, his face pitiful and worn. “Why did this have to happen to me? Why am I so cursed?”
He covered his face with his hands, trying to shut out reality. “I… I just can’t accept this version of myself. I don’t know what to do…”
The doctor had said Chang Ming’s right leg nerves were badly damaged. Even avoiding amputation didn’t mean full recovery.
Watching Chang Ming’s hands clench tighter, Wen Chaosheng quickly reached out to stop him. “Chang Ming, don’t get worked up. Careful with the IV.”
He apologized in turn. “You don’t need to say sorry to me. The crew failed to protect you properly, and as director, I misjudged. I bear responsibility here.”
Wen Chaosheng still remembered that conversation with Xi Zhui on horseback while shooting Contour—
“If anyone on set gets hurt, I’ll take responsibility.”
“Wen Chaosheng, you’re already a great director.”
Now the accident had happened. The harm was done.
The deep-seated sense of duty etched into his bones, the righteousness he’d held since childhood—they wouldn’t let him run. “Chang Ming, I’ll take care of you until you recover.”
He could stay with Chang Ming through discharge, get him a custom prosthetic, accompany rehab and relearning to walk, even pull strings for a new job within his abilities.
Even more, he was willing to shoulder the living expenses for the Chang family mother and son for the next few years.
Chang Ming heard Wen Chaosheng’s personal promise and gripped his hand even tighter. “Brother Wen, really?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng wasn’t used to such physical contact and instinctively tried to pull away.
Chang Ming clenched harder, persistently pressing, “Brother Wen! You’ll really stay here with me?”
Wen Chaosheng nodded. “Yes.”
But he still found an excuse to free his palm. “I’ll get you some warm water. Lie still and don’t move around.”
“Mm.”
Chang Ming stared unblinkingly at Wen Chaosheng’s retreating figure.
The instant the other turned his back, a flash of madness gleamed in his eyes for just a second before quickly reverting to pitiful vulnerability.
…
The next afternoon, Chang Ming’s mother, Chang Xiaomei, rushed to the hospital. The plain, elderly woman took one look at her son’s missing left leg and burst into uncontrollable sobs.
With no one else to vent on, she unleashed all her anguish on the “director.”
Faced with the onslaught of accusations, Wen Chaosheng had nowhere to hide in the ward. He could only apologize repeatedly until the groggily awakening Chang Ming finally halted the one-sided tirade.
Three more days passed like this.
Wen Chunshen, still fuming, never returned to the hospital or met with Wen Chaosheng again. Instead, Song Xuelan spoke to him once more over the phone.
Her message was much the same: resolve the matter with Chang Ming first, then end things with Xi Zhui.
But Chang Ming’s emotions swung wildly. He fiercely resisted letting outsiders see his missing left leg and especially rejected professional caregivers.
Wen Chaosheng had no bandwidth to persuade his parents. He poured most of his energy into Chang Ming and, out of sheer helplessness, even coordinated shift schedules with Chang Xiaomei to take turns looking after him.
Tonight was Chang Xiaomei’s turn to stay with Chang Ming.
Wen Chaosheng returned alone to the small inn near the hospital and took a haphazard shower, alternating between cold and lukewarm water.
