Chapter 76: Anomalous Time 42

The snow outside the window was beautiful, like something out of a dream.

The embrace felt just as dreamlike.

Yu Bai buried his face in the other’s shoulder, thinking in a haze that this seemed like a particularly special hug.

Xie Wufang was taller than him, so even though Yu Bai had reached out first, it still felt like he had fallen into the man’s arms.

In truth, ever since Yu Bai had stopped being a child, he hadn’t initiated a hug with anyone in the real world.

But he did it all the time in his dreams.

He had once hugged Doctor Chen more than a hundred times in the endlessly looping timespace.

And just yesterday, he had accidentally hugged Yan Mama.

So in this moment, filled with an indescribable joy, instinct drove the tipsy, drunken man to seek out a warm embrace.

And it was indeed warm.

His slender fingertips landed on the man’s taut back, and when they unintentionally brushed against the scorching heat, they reflexively tightened.

Then, tentatively, they reached out again to touch it.

It was so warm it was almost burning.

Just like the shoulder pressed against his pale cheek.

“…You’re still running a fever,” he mumbled.

The human who had tumbled into the arms of the tall god spoke in a muffled voice before suddenly letting go. He lifted his head, his clear gaze earnestly fixed on the man so close at hand.

Their suddenly converging body heat parted, and the brief embrace came to an end.

Deeply worried, Yu Bai asked softly, “Are you really okay like this?”

Even in the chaotic whirl of his drunken thoughts, he clearly remembered what the man’s normal body temperature felt like.

The ordinary human belatedly grew concerned and began chattering on. “You haven’t fully recovered yet, and I had you make hot chocolate for me. And then I made it snow outside…”

Fine snowflakes danced outside the window. He had longed to have snowball fights in winter since he was little, but suddenly, he didn’t want to see the snow falling anymore.

“I’ve already seen the snow,” Yu Bai said a little anxiously. “You can make it stop now.”

The god, caught off guard by the sudden embrace, was still dazed, his deep eyes flickering. In that moment, he responded on instinct. “But you said this snow was beautiful.”

“It is beautiful.” The drunken man decided not to hide his feelings any longer and spoke frankly. “But I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“I’m afraid there might be side effects,” Yu Bai said. “Like when you suddenly went back to your room to sleep today because you were helping me return to the real world.”

The god’s world was too strange and distant. The frail human knew nothing of the price for each of His actions, not even how much weight his concern should carry.

The powerless human spoke softly. “I don’t know what price you pay for doing these things for me, and I don’t want anything to happen to you… So I’m scared. Really scared.”

He feared those sudden, all-consuming acts of intense devotion that came crashing down.

Because sometimes, the price was a lifetime of heartbreak for the one who was loved.

He spoke so earnestly that the vivid fear in his eyes reflected in those deep, surging waters.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the man said in a low voice, his gaze lowered as he gazed at him. “There won’t be any side effects.”

“Really?”

The drunken man with damp hair strands sighed in faint relief at those words. He tilted his face up to look at him, his tone full of dependence, just like a few minutes ago when he had asked if it would snow.

He confirmed repeatedly. “It really won’t have any bad effects on you?”

“Mm.” Xie Wufang nodded slightly. “On the contrary, it will help me recover faster.”

Yu Bai paused at that, then imagined the world this god had once inhabited—those long, frigid winters—and suddenly thought it made perfect sense. His worries fully eased.

Now he could go back to excitedly watching the snow.

“Then don’t make the snow stop,” he said, his voice brightening with excitement again. “If it snows all night, we can build a snowman tomorrow morning, right?”

Of course, amid his excitement, the drunken man’s heart still held concern for other people.

“—But it can’t snow too heavily or for too long, or it might cause a snow disaster. Though, this timespace is going to end anyway, so maybe it doesn’t matter…”

The young man with bright eyes walked back to the window, picking up the hot chocolate that was now at a more suitable temperature. Amid his tumbling, chaotic thoughts, he muttered on.

His light brown eyes reflected the moonlight of the snowy night. The man behind him responded with his usual “alright,” and after a brief silence, came another question in a slightly hoarse voice.

“Was that a hug?”

“What?” Yu Bai turned to look at him and, realizing what he meant, burst out laughing. “Yeah, it was a hug.”

He had told Xie Wufang that yesterday morning, in front of the golden elevator in another world.

A hug was a uniquely human way to express emotions, and in this country, it was generally something done between people who were close.

Xie Wufang had asked him back then, “Close?”

And he had answered, “Like friends, family… people who are really important to you.”

Now, Yu Bai smiled and told him, “I got so excited seeing the snow that I couldn’t hold back. I really wanted to hug you. You’re someone really important to me.”

Oh, not a someone.

He corrected himself very precisely. “…A really important friend.”

The fleeting embrace had long ended, but that warm aura seemed to linger in the air.

The man with deep, intense eyes heard this and seemed to furrow his brow. He asked gravely, “Would you do that to other friends?”

Other friends?

Yu Bai naturally thought of his best friend and tried to picture the scene. He nearly choked on the hot chocolate in his cup.

“No, no, no.” He shook his head vigorously, blurting out, “I wouldn’t do that to Yan Jing. That would be so weird.”

Whenever the two of them were together, there was hardly ever any tenderness, even when discussing something serious. It always veered inexplicably into ridiculous conversations that left him torn between laughter and tears.

A sudden passionate hug? More like he’d end up punching the guy twice in exasperation.

Yu Bai denied it firmly, but he still ended up mentioning someone else’s name.

The one name he really shouldn’t have.

That gray-blue lake instantly rippled with cold waves it could barely contain.

Yu Bai, turning back to look at him, clearly saw that chill of near-ferocious disgust.

He froze for a moment, then asked softly, “Can you… not hate other people?”

Ever since Xie Wufang had woken up that evening, he had shown strong rejection toward everyone except Yu Bai.

…Especially Yan Jing.

Yu Bai knew it was because Xie Wufang was still sick, so his state was off, not like his usual self.

The sober Yu Bai thought he should understand and tolerate it—after all, he’d be back to normal soon.

But the current Yu Bai wasn’t very sober.

So.

In the kitchen, his bright voice rang out with a touch of petulant complaint.

“When you hate them, it makes me a little unhappy,” Yu Bai said very seriously. “And conversely, if they hated you, I’d be upset too.”

“You’re really important to me, and so are they—Yan Jing, Tian-ge, Uncle Li…”

The drunken man listed these names, murmuring, “Without them, I probably wouldn’t even be in this world anymore.”

The man, who had been listening silently, suddenly spoke. “Then where would you be?”

Off chasing the stars in the sky, of course.

But he didn’t say that out loud. He just said, “Anywhere but here… and we wouldn’t be neighbors.”

“So don’t hate them,” Yu Bai said, looking at him. “If you have to, at least keep it in your heart where I won’t see it, okay?”

It was rare for him to make such a request. His voice was soft, but his eyes shone brightly, the pale light flickering quietly in the dim yellow room.

Just like the childhood scene Li Nanxiao had described over the phone.

—After this summer vacation, I’ll be a little adult. Adults can drink, so can I have a taste of alcohol?

Who could refuse a gaze like that?

The befuddled drunkard received yet another indulgent agreement.

The man who had walked to the snowy window lowered his eyes and said softly, “Alright.”

“Really?!”

Yu Bai believed it immediately. His brows and eyes curved with joy. He didn’t even ask whether the man was agreeing to the first part or the latter—he was too busy expanding the list of “other people.”

“He Xi, Uncle Yuan, Uncle Zhang—they count too,” Yu Bai said. “They all care about you… or respect you.”

Fear probably counted as a form of respect, right?

“Oh, right—Uncle Zhang even looked up the origin of your name in some poetry.”

He suddenly remembered this little detail he’d almost forgotten. His expression lit up like he was about to share a treasure, and he eagerly asked, “Do you know what that poem means?”

Xie Wufang said exactly what he expected. “No.”

“I do!” Yu Bai answered his own question excitedly. “I’ll tell you.”

He didn’t even ask if Xie Wufang remembered the poem, knowing full well that His memory was impeccable.

But he, who had only heard the Old Man say it once, inexplicably committed that poem to deep memory all the same. Afterward, he even went out of his way to look up its meaning.

“Upon first beholding the cycles of the years shift, one feels no weariness from the intoxication of spring.”

Outside the house, snowflakes swirled in a heavy flurry under the bright, clear moonlight, casting a crystalline glow on the man by the window, who smiled with gentle warmth. “Doesn’t that sound beautiful?”

As beautiful as this snow.

After a brief moment of daze, Xie Wufang replied softly, “Very beautiful.”

The drunken fellow, pleased as if he’d offered up a treasure, grinned in satisfaction and prattled on. “Wufang is your name, and it also means ‘beginning,’ so it’s both ‘first time seeing’ and ‘you seeing.’ A nice double meaning, right?”

“If it were spring outside the window, it would fit even better. But it’s summer right now… no, winter?”

Pondering the bizarrely jumbled seasons before him, Yu Bai’s already muddled head from the alcohol grew even foggier.

Was it summer or winter at this moment?

He couldn’t figure it out.

The brown-haired young man by the window let out a yawn, then petulantly declared, “Fine, let’s call it autumn!”

The man beside him watched, a faint smile rippling in his eyes. “Are you sleepy?”

“Very.” Yu Bai nodded honestly, rubbing at his eyes, which were starting to droop. “I want to go to sleep.”

The drowsiness after drinking always came suddenly and overwhelmingly.

Fortunately, he had already taken a bath earlier. He just needed to brush his teeth, and then he could hit the bed.

Before brushing his teeth, though, he’d take two sips of hot chocolate.

One sprinkled with cinnamon powder, the other topped with a dollop of cream—sharing the wealth equally, a sip from each.

Under the gaze of those gray-blue eyes, the deep brown chocolate lapped over pale lips. The man cradling the warm porcelain mug kept his brows and eyes softly lowered, looking ever so obedient.

He even remembered not to waste any.

“I’m not finishing the rest. Put it in the fridge to chill for me,” Yu Bai said. “I can have it as iced chocolate tomorrow.”

He already knew Xie Wufang didn’t like bitter tastes, so he certainly wouldn’t ask him to help polish it off.

“Alright.” Xie Wufang agreed, then paused before asking, “After you drink and pass out, do you forget everything that happened while you were drunk when you wake up?”

“Yeah, you get blackouts.”

Yu Bai answered on reflex, but then sensed something off about the question. He quickly added, “It’s happened a few times before, but not this time. I’m not even drunk right now.”

“…” The man, about to take the mug from him, fell silent for a beat, then replied with a touch of helplessness, “Mm.”

“Why that face!” The drunk immediately looked displeased, suddenly gripping the cup tightly in protest. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

His directness left the honest god unable to respond.

But it also reminded Him of something.

Slender fingertips childishly clung to the curved handle, refusing to let go, while the other hand—longer and stronger—had already grasped the smooth, porcelain-white body of the mug.

Xie Wufang spoke up suddenly.

“Back at the start of this timespace, when we were in the park watching people play Go, it wasn’t because I was interested in the game, was it?”

It was phrased as a question, but his tone held utter certainty.

Yu Bai froze at the words, suddenly feeling a bit shorter in stature. He abruptly let go, admitting a touch sheepishly, “…Right.”

The lie he’d spun earlier was exposed, but as a thick-skinned drunk, he only felt embarrassed for a second.

He even casually explained the real reason to Xie Wufang.

“It was because I wanted to test how strong your learning ability was… I thought playing a board game would be a good way.”

Yu Bai went on, “I originally meant to take you to watch people play Chinese chess, but it turned into learning Go by accident.”

Xie Wufang looked a bit surprised. “I thought it was because you were interested in Go, so you took me to watch.”

“Nope.” Yu Bai decided to come clean. “I don’t like Go at all. I’ve got zero talent for it.”

“Then what do you like?”

The man with the now-empty hands stared at his own blurry reflection on the ceramic mug. After a long moment, he murmured softly, “I don’t know.”

His vibrant childhood had been sealed away, rarely revisited. The years that followed were a aimless drift of indifferent calm, as if he’d abandoned the only unfamiliar deity—renouncing words so vital to human life: interests, dreams, and love.

“I don’t know what I like.” A faint note of loss and uncertainty colored his whisper, quickly masked. “…I’m going to brush my teeth.”

The somewhat disgruntled man bowed his head and started toward the side, the light illuminating his pale nape, lending him an air of fragile delicacy.

With his head down, he heard the man’s low voice by his ear. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Yu Bai replied quickly, his tone lightening again as he smiled in farewell. “You should rest early too. Good night.”

But then a warm touch landed on the slightly tousled crown of his light brown hair.

Yu Bai lifted his eyes in confusion, meeting those unforgettable heterochromatic irises.

A soft emotion swirled in the gray-blue gaze.

The taller man mimicked the way Yu Bai had ruffled the Little Girl’s hair before, gently rubbing his head as well.

Xie Wufang said, “You have a long time ahead. Go find what you like.”

His voice was gentle and assured.

Just like yesterday in the car, with scenery flashing past the window—when the god beside him, possessor of endless time, had suddenly told him: Twenty-two years is short.

—”That’s a very brief span, not enough time to grow into an adult.”

The searing warmth of the palm seeped through his hair, leaving the man who seemed already grown stunned, forgetting to breathe. It was as if he’d returned to the carefree days of childhood, basking in undivided affection.

In the quiet night with fine snow drifting, the black-haired, blue-eyed god looked down at him, responding to the pre-sleep farewell in a warm voice.

“Good night.” For the first time, He softly called his name. “Yu Bai.”