APR 52

The bathroom door closed, and soon after, Zhong Su heard the sound of water coming from inside. Through the frosted glass, Chen Huan’s tall, straight figure was faintly outlined, broad shoulders and back, a lean waist, the muscles of his arms bulging. He could even see water droplets sliding down the tense line of his spine, eventually disappearing deep into the curve of his waist.

After showering, Chen Huan was much more casual, only loosely wrapping a towel around his waist as he stepped out. The tattoo on his neck was now fully exposed to the air, dark golden vines eerily sprawling across his neck, shimmering with a subtle hue under the light.

Unfamiliar.

A body he had already seen, even embraced many times, so familiar it couldn’t be more familiar, now appeared exceptionally strange because of this dark golden tattoo.

Zhong Su stared at him for a moment, then pointed to the corresponding spot on his own neck and asked, “Chen Huan, why did you get this tattoo?”

His fingertip pressed against his slender, pale neck, the red mole on his wrist glaringly vivid against the dazzling white skin.

Chen Huan lifted his eyes listlessly, saw his gesture, and pulled a faint, unreadable smile. “If you have the time, you should focus on remembering the location of that shop before tomorrow morning. I don’t like wasting time on pointless trips.”

…Fine, he shouldn’t have been curious.

“Consider me meddling. If you don’t want to say, forget it.” Zhong Su fell silent, lay down on the bed, and turned off the bedside lamp on his side.

Chen Huan didn’t go to bed immediately. Instead, he sat in the corner armchair and lit a cigarette, holding it between his teeth. He idly played with the lighter, opening and closing the metal cap, producing faint clicking sounds. His gaze drifted vaguely toward Zhong Su, as if contemplating something.

Zhong Su pretended not to notice the scrutinizing gaze, pulled the blanket up higher, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep.

Outside the window, wind and rain beat against the doors and windows. The room maintained a strange and delicate balance, like an arrow drawn taut on a bowstring, a restless unease faintly stirring in the air.

“Ah… faster! Faster…” A woman’s panting suddenly came from the next room, shattering the balance. Her cries trembled at the end, like pain, yet also like ecstasy pushed to the extreme, piercing straight through the silence of the room.

Zhong Su paused, turned toward Chen Huan’s direction. The man remained seated calmly in the darkness, his expression unperturbed, as if completely unaffected by the noise next door. The fingers holding the cigarette moved slightly, leisurely flicking ash into the ashtray.

As if the commotion next door wasn’t enough, after a while, it escalated further. A heavy, raspy male voice and a shrill, almost breaking female voice overlapped, growing louder and louder, shouting “darling” and “baby” in a chaotic mix. Amidst it all, the creaking of a wooden bed was particularly distinct and urgent, pounding against the wall again and again.

Zhong Su felt as if the atmosphere in his own room had been infected by this scene, growing heated and filled with a suggestive air.

The walls of this hotel had almost no soundproofing at all.

Irritated, Zhong Su turned over again, enduring it for as long as he could. Finally, he threw off the blanket, put on his bathrobe, and went to knock on the door of the next room, his voice cold enough to freeze. “People inside, that’s enough! It’s the middle of the night. If you’re not sleeping, others still need to.”

The door seemed to instantly hit a mute button, followed by the rustling sound of sheets rubbing together and a hushed, scolding whisper, “You damn ghost, it’s all your fault—so loud that someone came knocking,” “It’s because you’re too tempting. Come here, let me kiss those lips again.” The sounds of their activities noticeably quieted down.

After confirming the couple wouldn’t make any more noise, Zhong Su returned to the room he shared with Chen Huan.

The room’s lighting remained dim, with Chen Huan tilting his head to gaze out the window.

Outside was the deep night, illuminated only by the lights from a few cargo ships on the distant sea. The ships swayed gently on the undulating waves, calmly sailing toward Yan Port.

A gray shadow fell across Chen Huan’s face, inexplicably carrying a hint of sternness.

After the earlier commotion, Zhong Su’s drowsiness had mostly dissipated.

Unable to sleep, he turned on the light, pulled up a chair, and sat opposite Chen Huan, getting straight to the point: “Earlier in the car, you mentioned you tried looking for Xiao Zhong Ge’s family. What did you mean by that?”

He watched Chen Huan intently, the dim light shimmering in the other’s dark eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of any revealing emotion. “Those so-called family members meant nothing to Xiao Zhong Ge. What were you trying to accomplish by looking for them?”

To be honest, Zhong Su held no lingering thoughts about the couple who had abandoned him. People who had never appeared in his life, he had long considered them dead.

He had never confided in Chen Huan about “not caring about them,” so he couldn’t fathom why the other had gone to such lengths to find them.

Chen Huan rubbed the Bone Chain between his fingers, the smooth white beads rolling back and forth. After a long silence, Zhong Su thought he wouldn’t get an answer, but Chen Huan spoke calmly: “It’s simple. I just wanted to see what kind of life they were living after abandoning Su Er.”

A faint smile curled at the corner of his lips. “I thought they were living lavishly, but they weren’t. The man spiraled into self-destruction after the divorce, living worse than a dog. The woman married a somewhat wealthy new husband, but she died of lung cancer over a decade ago.”

Chen Huan continued, “It was a good thing Su Er didn’t stay with them and came to me instead. Those selfish fools didn’t want him, treating him as a burden to discard. But I wanted him.”

As he spoke, Chen Huan pressed down on the Bone Chain around his wrist, as if caressing the memory of that handsome young man who always seemed cold, distant, and difficult to please.

He felt no guilt whatsoever for secretly keeping Zhong Su’s ashes, believing it was only natural.

Zhong Su watched this scene, his chest gripped by an indescribable emotion.

It was only at this moment that he truly realized: Chen Huan really did like him. This near-obsessive affection had persisted even seven years after his death.

Although he had heard the words “I like you” from Chen Huan at the filming site that day, it was only now that those words carried real weight, pressing heavily on his heart.

【…How much do I like him?】

You can’t imagine, nor can you guess, unless you hear it with your own ears, see it with your own eyes—

【Very much, very much. More than the wear of eternity, more than anything.】

But this sentiment was too heavy. He had no psychological preparation for it and could never accept it.

Zhong Su suddenly stood up, lowering his gaze. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to find that shop. But whether you want to reminisce or stay—”

Love or not, I can’t guarantee you’ll get anything useful.

Zhong Su didn’t look at Chen Huan’s expression again, turned off the light, and went back to sleep.

In the darkness came the faint sound of Chen Huan fiddling with the Bone Chain. The sound lasted for a long time, finely twisted into a thread, like some kind of obsession too deep to sever, stretching on endlessly.

Zhong Su’s heart rose and fell with the sound. He didn’t know how much time had passed when, half-asleep, he felt the mattress beside him sink. Chen Huan lifted a corner of the blanket and lay down.

The other’s slightly higher body temperature was as usual, seemingly transmitted through the air to Zhong Su, enveloping him, then silently burning him.

The driver A Wei had slept roughly in the car seat all night. The next morning, he still came early, knocking on the door with a set of clean clothes, saying, “Mr. Chen, your clothes, washed and ironed in advance.” He had called early to have someone bring clothes over from the villa.

Chen Huan took the clothes, pinched the collar to confirm the shirt was inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed A Wei’s gaze lingering on the young man’s face on the bed, his brows hesitantly furrowed, looking as if he wanted to say something but held back.

Chen Huan: “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Ah, yes,” A Wei was startled, quickly straightening his attitude, “Mr. Chen, you asked me to buy a set of clothes this morning, is it for that… that person?”

“So?”

“Because it was too early, I ran through several streets but couldn’t find any clothing stores open, so I… had someone bring an extra set of clean new clothes from the villa.” A Wei braced himself under his boss’s cold gaze.

He had no other choice. Unable to magically produce a new set of clothes, and not wanting to be fired for incompetence, he could only boldly gamble with his boss’s clothes.

Chen Huan turned back, glanced at Zhong Su. Zhong Su’s eyes were tightly closed, a bit of scattered light falling on his brows and lashes, a few stray strands of hair at the top of his head sticking up disobediently. He was clearly sound asleep, with no intention of waking up.

He withdrew his gaze, his tone calm: “So the other set is in the car now? Bring it up too.”

“Alright.”

A Wei let out a long sigh of relief. After getting Chen Huan’s permission, he quickly brought another set of clothes, along with new shoes, to the room.

Zhong Su woke up to the rustling sound of someone changing clothes.

He opened his eyes and saw Chen Huan putting on a dark gray shirt. The shirt slid down his shoulders and back, the man’s features appearing particularly deep in the backlight, as handsome and distant as the rising sun.

…

Before Zhong Su could speak, Chen Huan noticed the movement from the bed and turned to look at him: “Your clothes are over there by the chair. Put them on when you wake up; we’re leaving.”

He tilted his chin toward the armchair by the bed.

“For me?” Zhong Su instinctively looked in the direction he indicated, surprised to find a set of new clothes indeed draped over the chair.

“Thanks.” Chen Huan was rarely less aggressive this time, so Zhong Su didn’t waste words. He got out of bed barefoot, picked up the clothes, and went into the bathroom.

The clothes were dry and tidy, the fabric bearing a few fresh creases, smelling of a special starch-washed scent, stuffy and not particularly pleasant.

Zhong Su quickly changed into the clothes, noticing the top was a size too big and the pants were a bit loose. But in this situation, having clean clothes to wear was good enough; there was nothing to complain about.

He folded his sleeves several times, adjusted his trousers, and finished washing up before stepping out.

Chen Huan seemed genuinely concerned about that storefront. He checked out of the hotel room and, without even having breakfast, insisted on continuing the search.

The rain that had fallen all night finally ceased. The dark clouds dispersed, and sunlight broke through, illuminating every street in Shenguang City with clarity. With ample light, Zhong Su felt much more confident in navigating.

Under his guidance, the car circled the commercial street a few more times and smoothly located No. 147 Linzhou Road, which had been impossible to find the night before.