Chapter 18

Chapter 18

1

For the first time, this narrow, long road stretched wide and bright beneath the sun.

Golden sunlight illuminated the path, still damp from the lingering drizzle, as if a splendid, warm carpet had been unfurled.

Inside the car, Pei Chang adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothed out the wrinkles on his clothes, then ran his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair.

But his salt-and-pepper strands were strikingly conspicuous, impossible to conceal no matter how he tried.

He pressed his lips together, slowly lowered his hand, and looked down, gently stroking the pure gardenias nestled in his arms.

A moment later, he lifted his chin, straightened his posture, opened the car door, and stepped out, walking toward the sun-drenched path, flowers in hand.

From a distance, his tall and handsome figure appeared like a vibrant, living painting.

He stood before the door, meticulously smoothing down his loose strands of hair. The sunlight behind him followed, casting its glow upon the heavy door.

With a soft creak, he pushed the door open, but before he could step inside, a pair of pale, slender hands tightly wrapped around his waist.

Pei Chang rose on his toes, enveloped by a tall, towering figure.

Pure white petals scattered everywhere, like dancing snowflakes.

—

"Qin Yihe."

He whispered the name softly.

The arms around his waist tightened abruptly, almost crushing his bones.

Yet, from this pain, Pei Chang tasted an exquisite, bone-deep sweetness.

He buried his face in the other's chest, clutching the flowers. Their fresh fragrance washed away all the bitterness in his mouth.

"Qin Yihe."

He called his name, a smile blooming on his face, even as tears began to fall unconsciously, a sweet, shattered glass piercing his heart.

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang, cutting off the sunlight that had tried to penetrate the entrance. Only scattered, dappled golden threads now lay upon the dim floor.

Two vastly different shadows merged into one.

Pure gardenia petals lay strewn across the ground, blooming with an extreme, almost decadent beauty in this autumn.

In the profound stillness, Pei Chang slowly raised his hand and parted the thick hair.

His hand trembled, his breath caught in his throat, and countless tiny needles once again pierced through his organs, making his throat ache with a bloody, metallic sting.

A cold, large hand grasped his, guiding it to touch that gaunt face.

Pei Chang’s eyes remained fixed on that face, never wavering, even when the pain became unbearable.

He masochistically reveled in this pain—a pain that couldn't be released, left to fester within his body.

It was a pain so intense, so thorough, so excruciating that he would gladly embrace it even in death.

He raised his fingertips, tracing the elegant, slender brows, then the gentle, affectionate eyes, followed by the high-bridged nose, the soft lips…

The same.

Just like before.

Just as gentle and sunny, refined and handsome.

Just as pure and innocent.

Just as clean and beautiful.

Pei Chang’s eyes clouded with pure adoration, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if he had returned to that sunny, tree-lined summer of the past.

The hand covering Pei Chang’s tightened around his.

The tall, gaunt, strange-looking figure pressed its face against Pei Chang’s palm, its eyes overflowing with a torrent of grief.

He didn't want Pei Chang to forget him.

Yet he was terrified that Pei Chang might remember him.

Now, this fear became like the dirt of a living burial, entering his nose, drilling into his eyes, flooding his mouth.

He couldn’t speak, see, or hear, only a suffocating sensation making him struggle for slivers of air, desperately hoping someone would save him.

The pure, innocent adoration in Pei Chang’s eyes pierced his heart like a thousand arrows.

He was about to be killed.

Just then, the pure white gardenias were presented to him—direct and passionate.

The immaculate, spotless petals dazzled his eyes.

He stared blankly at the glimmering light in Pei Chang’s eyes, slowly reached out, and clumsily took the flowers offered to him.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

His heart pounded like a drum.

Once again, Pei Chang had revived him.

Holding the pure gardenias, he lowered his head to inhale their scent and slowly curved into a smile.

Just as innocent and beautiful as before.

Pei Chang rose on his toes and kissed his lips.

—

This was the most peaceful sleep Pei Chang had experienced in his conscious memory.

The accumulated ailments in his body seemed to dissipate along with his whitening hair and the blood he coughed up. He curled up like a child, no longer lying stiff and straight like a corpse.

In his dreams, he returned to the past again, but it was no longer a shattered illusion.

He stood in the dappled light of the library, a gentle breeze lifting the thin curtains by the window. The book he wanted to reach for was taken by another hand. Across the bookshelf, his eyes met a pair of gentle, bright ones.

"You like natural geography too?"

The boy's voice was as clear and pleasant as a babbling spring.

The wind outside brushed past his temples, lightly stirring his heart, leaving behind a soft ripple.

"Yeah."

He watched as those eyes curved into crescents at his response.

"I like it too."

Hearing this, he smiled.

The other's eyes flickered slightly; the young heart, easily stirred, rippled outward, leaving behind a tender shyness.

"My name is Qin Yihe."

"Pei Chang."

Their eyes met, an indescribable palpitation lifting the veil of innocence, leaving behind a heartfelt emotion.

It was a beautiful dream.

A hand gently brushed over Pei Chang's relaxed brows in his sleep, tenderly combing through his white hair.

That leaf, carried by a free wind, was placed over Pei Chang's heart.

—

Pei Chang seemed to have caught up on all the sleep he had missed before. He slept for a full day and night, waking at seven the next morning.

He lay in the other's arms, back in the secluded attic.

The dim, gloomy light around was illuminated by the glow streaming through the small window.

He opened his mouth, speaking hoarsely, "There's a rainbow."

Hearing his voice, the arms holding him shifted slightly. Long hair brushed against Pei Chang's face as the face hidden behind the strands turned toward the window.

The distant mountains were bathed in the platinum light of the rising sun, with orange clouds, pale purple mist, and verdant peaks blending together—not quite a rainbow, but more beautiful than one.

It was beautiful.

More beautiful than a splashed oil painting.

Pei Chang grasped the thick, dry long hair, slowly winding it around his fingers.

He felt so light, as if he might float away. If he didn't hold on tight, he feared he might fly out the window.

"Qin Yihe."

He was human. His name was Qin Yihe.

The one called looked down at him, his pale, gaunt face hidden behind strands of hair, only a sharp chin visible.

Pei Chang tightened his grip on the hair and pulled down. The figure bending over immediately lowered itself. Pei Chang lifted his chin and kissed those cold lips.

The figure whose hair he held paused briefly, then raised a hand to cup his face, kissing him more intensely and desperately.

That inhumanly long tongue slipped deftly into his mouth, almost reaching his throat, with a desire that seemed to want to devour him!

The deep kiss left no room for breath, tangled relentlessly, as if to say:

—If only he could chew him up and swallow him whole!

Pei Chang tilted his head back, the mole on his neck moving with his Adam's apple. The slick, wet sounds mixed with his heated, rapid gasps, as thrilling as if he were about to be consumed.

His lips were scraped by sharp teeth, blood mingling with silvery threads, stretching into long strands.

Pei Chang's cheeks flushed, his breath rough and heavy, nearly suffocating in this intensely passionate kiss!

Finally, just as Pei Chang was about to pass out, the long, wet tongue slowly withdrew from his mouth, hooking away the lingering blood from his lips amid his frantic gasps, allowing fresh air to flood his bursting lungs.

Pei Chang gasped for breath, opening his slightly damp eyes. Their gazes met, and in an instant, the urgent, tight kiss drew them together like opposing magnetic poles, like a key deep in a lock, entwining inseparably once more!

Pei Chang's heart was sinking, succumbing, drowning in warm water, his very soul trembling!

If only he could be eaten!

—

Entering the hospital room, Pei Chang glanced at Grandpa Pei leaning against the headboard and locked the door behind him.

He took out a cigarette, looked up at the monitor in the corner, and smashed it with a vase from the table.

The loud crash sent fragments flying, scattering among withered flowers on the floor.

He crossed his legs and sat in a chair, leisurely lighting the cigarette.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Grandpa Pei covered his mouth with a handkerchief, coughing up mouthfuls of blood.

Calmly, the other put away the bloodstained handkerchief, turned his head, and looked Pei Chang up and down. Noting Pei Chang's white hair, his gaze paused briefly before shifting to the bite mark on Pei Chang's lower lip, redder than a ripe cherry.

"It seems you haven't made much progress."

Grandpa Pei's expression was faint, tinged with disappointment.

Someone who could be so easily broken by emotion was a failure.

Pei Chang exhaled a puff of smoke, his voice hoarse. "You're so meticulous, you should know what I want to hear."

"If you don't say it, how would I know what you want to hear."

Grandpa Pei began coughing again, blood spilling beyond what his hands could contain.

Pei Chang's eyes drifted vaguely over the dissipating smoke, recalling what Zheng Yuqin had said to him many years ago.

—"Qin Yihe is just a rootless duckweed, a shadow that needs light to exist. For love, he's willing to foolishly and madly give everything!"

Back then, Zheng Yuqin's young, sharp face was full of edge, his gaze filled with mockery and resentment.

The companion who had grown up relying on each other had fallen in love with someone like Pei Chang—someone he shouldn't have loved.

So those feet that should have forged ahead came to a halt, a hopeful future ended at its peak.

Qin Yihe vanished on a sunny summer day, at the tail end of the cicadas' song, vanished like a bubble.

No one knew where he had gone.

But they all genuinely believed—or maybe hoped—that he had truly given up this pure yet fragile, illusory love for the sake of his own future, taken the money, and left for good.

Even though pinning such a "materialistic" label on Qin Yihe was an insult to him and a sting to themselves.

It was still more comforting than facing an unbearable outcome.

Yet this thorn had been driven deep, sinking further with the passage of time, too painful to think about or touch—any movement would cause excruciating pain.

He pressed down on his trembling hand and asked emotionlessly, "Was he deceived, or coerced?"