Chapter 73 Side Story 5

Chapter 73 Extra 5

Late at night.

Shen Gali supported Nan Liujing to the bed and helped him sit down, then was about to blow-dry his hair.

The hairdryer gave a single whir before Nan Liujing took it and turned it off. He quickly towel-dried his hair and said to Shen Gali, "It's late. Go back to your room and sleep."

Looking at his still-damp hair, Shen Gali replied, "You'll catch a cold if you go to sleep with wet hair."

"Doesn't matter," Nan Liujing said. He used his hands to help his legs onto the bed, covered himself with the blanket, and leaned against the headboard. Dimming the bedside lamp, he casually picked up a book and flipped it open, seemingly not intending to sleep.

"It's midnight, aren't you sleeping?" Shen Gali asked.

"Can't sleep. Even if I manage to, I'll have nightmares all night." Nan Liujing wasn't exaggerating. It wasn't so much nightmares as his dreams endlessly replaying the tragic endings. Every time he woke from those dreams, he felt a strong sense of loss, making him listless during the day and unable to focus on work. In the end, he simply tossed the company to his dad and took time off to recuperate.

Shen Gali didn't plan to leave either. He leaned back into the sofa by the bed and, after hesitating for a long time, asked, "I heard you got sick. What exactly is it? The doctors can't figure it out?"

Nan Liujing's gaze remained fixed on the lines of the book, his tone still nonchalant. "It's a sickness of the heart. I missed you so much I got sick."

Shen Gali rolled his eyes. "If you joke around again, I'm leaving."

Though Nan Liujing had just told him to go rest, hearing that he might leave made him blurt out without thinking, "Don't go."

Shen Gali had only said it casually anyway. His hand had already instinctively reached for his phone to search for the original text of a fairy tale.

When he was first hospitalized for a heart condition as a child, he had been just like Nan Liujing—unable to fall asleep, jolted awake by nightmares even when he did fall asleep. Though the doctors repeatedly stressed that family shouldn't disturb him too much, as long as his mother stayed by his side and read him fairy tales, he'd fall asleep quickly and sleep through the night without dreams.

Maybe because being sick makes you feel uneasy inside, if there's no one around to accompany you at such times, you feel a loneliness like you're the only one left in the world, making it even harder to sleep well.

Probably, Nan Liujing felt the same.

Shen Gali cleared his throat. "If you can't sleep, I'll tell you a story. I promised I'd help you fall asleep."

Nan Liujing looked up from his book, his lips, still damp, curved into a beautiful smile.

He closed the book, set it aside, and lay down. "What story are you going to tell me?"

"Snow White." Shen Gali hadn't deliberately searched for anything else; the first result when he typed "fairy tale" was Snow White.

The words "Snow White" made Nan Liujing laugh outright.

The last time he'd heard the story of Snow White was in kindergarten. He remembered feeling uneasy after the teacher told it, thinking it was a creepy story about a pervert taking advantage of a vulnerable girl.

But times were different. Perhaps in that era, it could be considered a romantic and perfect love story.

"Go ahead, I'm all ears." Nan Liujing's eyes fluttered shut.

Shen Gali read the story verbatim: "It was the middle of winter, and the snowflakes were falling like feathers from the sky. A queen sat at her palace window, sewing for her daughter..."

As Shen Gali read, his brows furrowed.

He scrolled down, turned seven or eight pages, and still didn't see the end.

This is way too long. How annoying. Did he really have to read all ten thousand words?

He patiently read a few more lines, but the more he read, the more his head grew fuzzy, and drowsiness crept in.

By the fourth line, he couldn't stop himself from yawning, his eyes, red and tired, showed clear exhaustion.

In the end, he summed it up briefly: “Snow White wandered through the forest, had many adventures, and finally lived happily ever after with the prince…”

His voice trailed off, the final word barely a whisper.

Nan Liujing slowly opened his eyes, bewildered.

That’s it?

He glanced at Shen Gali, who sat slumped in his chair, phone in hand, head tilted back, eyes peacefully closed.

Soon, soft, rhythmic breathing filled the air.

Nan Liujing couldn’t believe it. Who tells a story to lull someone else to sleep—only to fall asleep first?

While Shen Gali slept, Nan Liujing studied him closely for the first time—from his hair down to his toes.

In the social circles Nan Liujing moved in, most wealthy men married beautiful women to improve their children’s genetics. Even if they lacked natural advantages, diligence and diet could compensate. So he’d seen countless men in that world with striking looks or refined manners.

But Shen Gali—whose father was unknown and who hailed from an ordinary family—seemed uniquely blessed by fate. Every part of him, right down to his finger joints, was exquisitely delicate and handsome. His skin resembled fresh snow—clear, fair, translucent—blue veins faintly visible on the backs of his hands. Even disregarding finer details, his face alone could make one’s heart skip a beat.

Perhaps because he’d suffered illness since childhood—enduring pain incomprehensible to most—there lingered a fragile, vulnerable quality about his beauty, like thin glass that bears smudges at the lightest touch.

Knowing it was wrong, Nan Liujing still reached out, gently grasping Shen Gali’s hand, which hung limply over the edge of the sofa.

He gazed deeply at Shen Gali’s face, then, after a long silence, whispered softly:

“What I said about being lovesick for you—I meant it.”

Ever since that chance encounter with Shen Gali at the hotel that night, Nan Liujing had kept having the same dream:

He stood in the snow, tracing the characters “Shen Gali” with his foot—each stroke slicing across his heart like a wound. Perhaps only this way could he etch the name indelibly into his memory.

But when he looked up, no one stood before him—only heavy snow, whipped by the night wind, falling silently, burying his still-warm footprints.

He jolted awake, eyes burning, pillow damp with tears.

From then on, the dream repeated itself every night—until he could no longer sleep, until he lost his appetite entirely.

Though the dream lasted only a fleeting scene, he felt as though he’d lived a thousand lifetimes with this person. The cruelest part? In all those lifetimes, he could recall no detail.

It felt less like memory—and more like guilt, as if he’d utterly failed someone.

So he asked Assistant Lin for the address of Shen Gali’s flower shop. And when he saw the room overflowing with pink roses, an unfamiliar scene suddenly flashed in his mind:

He held a large bouquet of dew-kissed pink roses, calling out awkwardly, stiffly, from behind—wishing Shen Gali a “happy graduation.”

The vision was so vivid that Nan Liujing, an avowed atheist, began to wonder whether past lives truly existed.

Over the past few days, he’d eaten little and grown thinner. His mother, seeing him suffer, asked what was wrong. He simply replied:

“Maybe… I want that boy.”

To a mother, nothing mattered more than her son’s physical and mental well-being. She could accept Shen Gali regardless of background. But Nan Feng might not. Nan Feng had already proposed a marriage alliance with another major conglomerate to expand Huanhai Group. The old man was stubborn—once he made up his mind, not even a team of oxen could change it. So Nan Liujing staged this charade with his mother.

Before Nan Feng could agree or object, the other conglomerate, upon hearing of Nan Liujing’s “strange illness,” swiftly withdrew, saying they needed to “reconsider” the marriage proposal.

“Reconsider” usually meant no chance—and so the matter quietly dissolved.

Nan Liujing gently rubbed Shen Gali’s slender fingertips—and felt drowsiness creeping over him, too.

He kept reassuring himself that the person was right beside him and wouldn't go anywhere. As he thought, his fingers threaded through Shen Gali's, clenching his hand tightly, reluctant to let go.

Drowsiness washed over him, and Shen Gali's face gradually became blurry.

Nan Liujing fought off sleep to take one last look at his face, committing it to memory, then smiled faintly and slowly closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

Nan Feng stayed at the company until dawn and returned home with great reluctance.

He didn't want to face this son. Should he just scrap this account and start over?

Still, despite that, he went into Nan Liujing's room to take a look after returning home.

Outside the window, the shadows of redwood trees were dappled, cast by moonlight onto the bedside.

Nan Feng thought his son would certainly be unable to sleep again at this hour, but upon entering, he saw him lying prone on the bed, stubbornly holding the hand of an unfamiliar boy, breathing rhythmically in deep sleep. Even though the door made a loud noise, he didn't wake up.

He was sleeping very peacefully.

Nan Feng was stunned for a while, then finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He tiptoed to the bedside, helped Nan Liujing cover himself with the blanket, and then glanced at the unfamiliar boy sleeping on the sofa.

But after seeing his features clearly, his heart raced and his eyes widened.

Nan Feng cried out: "Mom!!!"

He thought he was hallucinating, so he rubbed his eyes vigorously and looked again.

The boy's face was seventy or eighty percent like his mother's. In those days, his mother was a renowned beauty throughout the region. Unfortunately, she wasn't born in good times. During the three-year drought, people were dying of starvation. So that he could have enough to eat, his mother took him to the back mountain to dig tree roots, but was unfortunately bitten by a venomous snake and passed away.

Later, his father took him away from their hometown to make a living in a big city. Through sheer tenacity, they carved out a place for themselves. Now there wasn't a single thing on land, in the sea, or in the sky that he couldn't eat, but his mother remains forever in that impoverished famine era.

Fifty years had passed, and his mother didn't even leave a photograph. Her image in his memory gradually faded. But after seeing this strange young man, memories of his mother came flooding back. His mother, who could barely walk, carried him on her back, trudging alone through rugged mountain paths, humming out-of-tune folk songs, shouldering all the hardships alone.

Nan Feng's sorrow welled up; the memories crushed his remaining composure. He finally collapsed weakly at Shen Gali's feet, extended his aged hand with trembling fingers to hold Shen Gali's other hand, and let out a wail from the depths of his soul:

"Mommy, Fengfeng misses you so much..."

Awakened by the noise, Shen Gali looked up and saw an old man over fifty holding his hand and calling him "Mom."

Shen Gali: ???

Disgust.jpg

*

The next day.

"Marriage! It must happen!" Nan Feng slapped the table, personally sealing the marriage between Shen Gali and Nan Liujing, whom he had only met a few times.

Shen Gali & Nan Liujing: ?

Mrs. Jiang thought her husband had lost his mind and advised, "The two children have only met a few times; they don't know each other well enough. Isn't it too hasty to make them get married right away?"

Nan Feng showed his bullheadedness: "Fate is predestined. Ever since, uh, ever since Mr. Shen entered our home, Liu Jing's health has been getting better day by day, and his chronic insomnia has greatly improved. You don't know how soundly he slept last night. Could there be anyone more suitable for Liu Jing than Mr. Shen in this world?"

Mrs. Jiang: "I think we should let them spend more time together and get to know each other before considering the next step."

Nan Feng slapped the table again: "Listen to me! They must get married, and that's final!"

Nan Liujing & Mrs. Jiang: Mission accomplished √

Nan Feng looked at Shen Gali, his tone unusually gentle:

"But on this matter, we still need to hear Mr. Shen's opinion. But I'm not bragging to you, for an old man like me. Our Liu Jing, as you've seen, has looks that are one in a million. In terms of work ability, I've never seen anyone better than him. He's also a graduate of a top school, knows everything under the sun, is deeply affectionate and devoted. You won't regret being with him."

Shen Gali: ...

And he says he's not bragging. Typical businessman—he could sell ice to an Eskimo.

Nan Liujing couldn't bear it anymore: "Dad, don't be so ridiculous. Even a shotgun wedding wouldn't be this rushed. At least give Shen Gali some time to think. Marriage is no joke."

Nan Feng glanced at him: "If it's so serious, then why have you been holding his hand this whole time?"

Nan Liujing quickly let go of Shen Gali's hand, cleared his throat in embarrassment, and said seriously, "Don't mind what my dad says. What's your thought? I want to know."

Nan Feng interjected: "They must get married, and that's final!"

Mrs. Jiang reached out and covered his mouth with one hand, warning him with her eyes to shut up.

Shen Gali knew that dreams and reality shouldn't be mixed up. He really liked the Nan Liujing in his dreams, but who knew if there were differences between reality and dreams.

He wanted to say, how about spending some time together to see if they were compatible before making the next move.

But getting to know someone was too much hassle. Perhaps—

"Maybe I should confess first and see if he's sincere?"

Nan Liujing was stunned for a moment. After a long while, he lightly pressed his thin lips, his lips beautifully shaped.

Then he slowly said:

"Before confessing, I want to ask you: do you know what would happen if the moon disappeared?"

Shen Gali's eyes gradually widened in shock.

He remembered. He knew.

Nan Feng interjected, with a look of frustration: "He wants you to confess, and you're talking about the moon?"

This time, neither of them spoke again, only exchanging a knowing smile.

The moment their eyes met, their souls merged as one in that moment.

This was their ultimate and silent confession, one that outsiders could not understand.