Chapter 18 Countdown Zone

Chapter 18: The Countdown Zone

The countdown chimes rang out. Tan Youming stood before the dazzling floor-to-ceiling window, his lips curving into a smile as he extended a hand to Shen Zongnian. "Shen Zongnian."

It was a gesture inviting a handshake.

The bell tolled seven times.

"Happy New Year."

Six times.

Shen Zongnian remained still, and Tan Youming kept his hand outstretched, patiently waiting.

Five times.

No one was more patient with Shen Zongnian than Tan Youming.

Four times.

A corner of Shen Zongnian’s heart began to tremble with the sounds of fireworks and firecrackers.

Three times.

Memories flashed before his eyes like frames.

Two times.

From age twelve to twenty-eight.

"Boom—"

The fireworks reached their peak, illuminating the entire island sky and lighting up Tan Youming's face.

Amid the glow of countless homes, Shen Zongnian finally extended his right hand. "Mm, Happy New Year."

In that moment, the new year truly arrived on the island.

Tan Youming had waited for this. He shook Shen Zongnian’s hand happily and firmly—a gesture that was both formal and casual.

Shen Zongnian understood: it meant, "Here’s to another year of your care."

The Tan family had a tradition of staying up to see the New Year in. As the night wore on, Tan Youming drifted into a hazy sleep. Shen Zongnian glanced at the figure under the covers, walked over, and nudged him. "Tan Youming."

The figure on the bed stirred.

Shen Zongnian frowned. "Go sleep in your own room."

Annoyed, Tan Youming nearly kicked him.

"..." Shen Zongnian looked down at the man sleeping soundly, lost in thought. Finally, he bent down, arranged Tan Youming’s slippers neatly, plugged his phone in, turned off the light, and lay down on the other side of the bed.

He left a clear space between them, but Tan Youming, sensing a vast source of warmth, instinctively tangled his limbs around Shen Zongnian. Shen Zongnian had to push him away, lacing his hands behind his head.

They hadn’t slept in the same bed for years. When Shen Zongnian first arrived as a child, he wouldn’t speak or sleep. Guan Kezhi had asked Tan Youming to keep him company and talk to him.

Tan Youming slept like an octopus, clinging tightly, using Shen Zongnian as his pillow, blanket, and toy.

Whenever Shen Zongnian impatiently shook him awake, Tan Youming would drowsily open his eyes, confused, and press his face against Shen Zongnian’s to comfort him: "Why aren’t you asleep yet? Hurry up, we have school tomorrow."

"..."

Shen Zongnian couldn’t remember when or how these feelings had started. By the time he realized it, they had already spread wildly, like vines.

Before he tasted sweetness and excitement, a crushing sense of doom and restraint descended on him, sudden and catching him off guard.

Throughout the end of his childhood and his long adolescence, Shen Zongnian repeatedly tried to rationalize and prove that it was all an illusion, a mirage. But each attempt only yielded more and more concrete evidence to the contrary.

Amid desperate panic and countless failed attempts to resist, Shen Zongnian gradually understood: there was no other way out. He had to learn to coexist with this fragile delusion, determined to carefully preserve and protect this twisted warmth.

Uncertain how long he could hold onto it or how long he could endure, he closed his eyes, resigned.

Tan Youming turned over, unconsciously snuggling closer to Shen Zongnian, crumpling his pajamas, his warm breath ghosting over Shen Zongnian’s neck.

All his blood and senses rushed to the spot where Tan Youming touched him. Shen Zongnian found it hard to breathe, his pulse racing erratically. The sweet scent seeped into his bones, causing a dull ache.

The sounds of fireworks were loud and distinct. The dark room felt as fragile as a matchbox in a blizzard. Tan Youming always sought warmth from Shen Zongnian’s body, not realizing that he himself was the flame and the light source.

If Shen Zongnian pushed him away, he would be trapped by the storms and noise of the past. If he drew closer, they would both become a fire that could consume everything.

Agony wrapped in joy and warmth, suffering sweetened like honey—this was the night, and every year.

Shen Zongnian bore it silently, from year to year, from past to future.

Tan Youming didn’t know, nor did he care. He slept peacefully, surrounded by the most familiar scent, the safest harbor, pushing boundaries fearlessly.

Shen Zongnian had raised his hand to push him away, but in the end, he only pulled the blanket snug around him again.

Tan Youming seemed disturbed by the firecrackers. Shen Zongnian watched him quietly, hesitated for a moment, then patted him gently through the blanket, just as he had when they were children. Tan Youming’s furrowed brow relaxed again.

With sweet dreams beside him, Shen Zongnian lost track of time, unsure how many years remained.

On the first day of the New Year, Tan Youming was awakened by firecrackers at the foot of the mountain. He found himself alone in the room, grabbed one of Shen Zongnian’s jackets to throw on, and returned to his own room. A shower did little to clear his grogginess. Dazed, he ran into Guan Kezhi in the corridor.

Tan Youming swept his hair back and recognized her. "Morning, Ms. Guan. Happy New Year."

The lucky bamboo in the courtyard thrived vibrantly. Guan Kezhi, weary from staying up late, yawned repeatedly. "Morning, my dear. Gong xi fa cai."

Tan Zhongshan carried a suitcase to the door. "Xiao Zhi, come, have breakfast. The driver will be here at eleven." He then directed Tan Youming, "Youming, fetch your mom a glass of warm water."

Tan Youming jolted awake, dropping the formal address. "Mom, where are you going?"

Tan Youming: "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Guan Kezhi rubbed her temples, a headache brewing. "Didn’t your brother Shan tell you?"

Tan Youming glanced at Tan Zhongshan. "No."

Guan Kezhi nodded. "Then he didn’t say."

"..."

Expressionless, Tan Youming went to get the cup. Shen Zongnian had already poured warm water—two glasses.

One for Guan Kezhi, one for Tan Youming.

Guan Kezhi noticed and smiled. "Thank you, Nian Zai. Gong xi fa cai. Keep being Auntie Guan’s money tree in the new year."

Tan Youming was really at his wit's end with her: "What about Grandma and Grandpa?"

Tan Zhongshan called them over for morning tea: "They've gone back to the countryside. Your second uncle said he got them a really beautiful native pine dog; it needs to run around in the mountains for a couple of days. Grandma couldn’t wait and set off early this morning."

"Oh," Tan Youming scratched his head, "when will they be back?"

Tan Zhongshan glanced at Guan Kezhi. Guan Kezhi took the bowl of porridge he had cooled for her and told her son, "Whenever they feel like coming back."

Tan Youming didn’t ask another word.

The driver arrived soon after. Before leaving, Guan Kezhi gave both her sons red envelopes (lucky money envelopes).

They were quite substantial, containing not just cash but also gold deposit certificates.

Tan Youming didn’t bother counting how much was inside. Shen Zongnian looked up to find him staring at him.

"You still haven’t given me a red envelope this year."

Shen Zongnian had entered the workforce a bit earlier than Tan Youming and had given him a red envelope in his first year of work.

Even after Tan Youming himself became successful, this tradition had continued year after year.

Shen Zongnian started the new year with fresh sarcasm: "You’re this old and still have the nerve to ask me for a red envelope?"

Tan Youming’s nerve was no less remarkable. He replied, puzzled, "Why wouldn’t I have the nerve?"

Receiving red envelopes had nothing to do with age. To him, Shen Zongnian was like Guan Kezhi and Tan Zhongshan—someone he could unabashedly demand things from at any time.

He felt emboldened: "Even when I’m eighty, you’ll still have to give me a red envelope."

Shen Zongnian paused briefly, then nodded expressionlessly: "Your nerve grows with the new year. Good for you."

"...And what about you? Does your sharp tongue sharpen with age? You didn’t prepare a red envelope for me and now you’re mocking me. Are you looking for a fight right at the start of the new year?" Tan Youming was genuinely a bit upset—not that he was greedy for the red envelope itself, but... well, it was still about the red envelope.

Shen Zongnian couldn’t deal with his nonsense: "Go pack your bags. The driver will be here in an hour." No one was staying at the old house; it’d be more convenient to work back at Zuoshideng Road.

Tan Youming hated his bossy and cold attitude the most and immediately rebelled: "I’m not going!"

Shen Zongnian nodded: "Then guard the door here."

Tan Youming returned to his room with a cold expression, gathering some personal items. Suddenly, his hand paused under the pillow.

Shen Zongnian had work messages to attend to on the first day of the new year. While browsing an email from Felipe, someone suddenly rushed into the room and leaped onto his back.

Shen Zongnian stiffened slightly and scolded, "Get down."

Tan Youming’s eyes were bright as he waved a vibrant red envelope in front of him: "Shen Zongnian, when did you put this here?"

Shen Zongnian put his phone back in his pocket: "If you don’t want it, put it back."

"Not a chance."

"Go pack your bags."

Tan Youming was busy examining the black-gold card inside the red envelope. He didn’t lack cards, but this one seemed to be linked to Shen Zongnian’s account—and it was a limited edition co-branded card with the panda conservation program, featuring a panda eating bamboo.

Shen Zongnian had no choice but to pack for him.

With Guan Kezhi and Tan Zhongshan away from Haishi, the task of delivering New Year’s gifts to relatives fell to Tan Youming—a subtle hint of the family leadership role being passed down to him.

Having been doted on by everyone since childhood, Tan Youming was a natural social star.

His second uncle, Tan Qizheng, had achieved some success this year and and was likely to be promoted again in the coming years. Of the two Tan brothers, Tan Zhongshan was cultured, while Tan Qizheng was sharp. After giving a red envelope, he wrapped an arm around his beloved nephew’s shoulder: "You’re a year older now. I’ll keep an eye out for opportunities for you."

This year, Tan Qizheng’s only daughter—Tan Youming’s cousin Tan Zuyi—was set to become engaged to the second son of the Zhong family.

Though the two had grown up together and shared a deep bond, marriage was often a battle of dominance. Only with strong support from her father and brother would a daughter have confidence in her husband’s family.

Though Tan Youming was young, his achievements were already impressive. But in wealthy, established families, they understood well the principle that what goes up must come down.

Tan Youming didn’t care much about arranged meetings or blind dates. He was confident and wouldn't let anyone question his abilities. Even without relying on such tactics, he could still expand Pinghai's success.

He waved a hand dismissively: "I know, Uncle. I’ve got it under control. You focus on Zuyi’s engagement banquet for now. We’ve got more visits to make—no need to see us out."

The Bentley turned out of the villa and back onto the road.

During the Spring Festival, the city was bustling with crowds, traffic, and the ticking sounds of pedestrian countdown signals.

Passing by Bailin Road, they saw a small patch of red leaves—a section they used to pass daily on their way to Yinghua. At some point, a "No Entry" sign had been erected there.

The road they had traveled for over a decade was now blocked. The Bentley made a turn and headed toward a fork in the road.

Even though the car had driven far away, Shen Zongnian could still hear the ticking of the pedestrian countdown signal.

He didn’t realize the countdown was actually coming from inside him.

"Shen Zongnian, where are you going? We’re about to miss it," Tan Youming said, checking the address Chen Wan had sent. "Turn in here."

Guan Kezhi’s gift list wasn’t limited to relatives; it also included a few of Tan Youming’s close childhood friends.

For Zhao Shengge, she prepared snacks and New Year dishes he had enjoyed during visits to the Tan family as a child. For Zhuo Zhixuan, who was less favored in his own family, she sent invitations symbolizing status. Jiang Ying received a collector’s edition New Year painting, Xu Enyi got jewelry...

"Happy New Year." Chen Wan, the newly awarded Bay Area Young Scientist, smiled gently, like a breeze of spring greeting them.

"Happy New Year, my dear Wan," Tan Youming closed the car door and had Shen Zongnian retrieve the gifts from the trunk. "Where’s Zhao Shengge?"

"He’s inside." After a wild New Year’s Eve, the two had just woken up, and Zhao Shengge was still groggy with sleep.

Tan Youming clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

Chen Wan found his reaction amusing and laughed, giving him a light push forward. "Come on, let’s go inside."