Chapter 110: You Can Throw It Away Again

Chapter 110 You Can Throw It Away Again

During the few days of his overseas business trip, for no reason at all, Guan Junshan always had trouble sleeping.

At first, he thought it was still jet lag—his eyes closed, but his body instinctively resisted. Even though the curtains were drawn and the eye mask was on, he still felt light seeping in through the cracks. Guan Junshan tossed and turned in bed, helpless, so he turned on the light and got up.

He called room service to order a bottle of red wine. It was medium-alcohol, smooth on the palate. One glass was enough, but to help himself fall asleep, he forced down a second one.

Yang Yue, staying in the room next door, heard the doorbell in the middle of the night and called his internal line to see how he was doing. Guan Junshan had already drunk the wine and was leaning on the sofa, trying to summon drowsiness, his voice slurred as he admitted the truth.

Even the wine didn't help, so all that was left was pills. Yang Yue suggested he take a sleeping pill or melatonin as usual, but Guan Junshan refused. He had two important events the next day that couldn't afford any mistakes. In his previous treatment cycles, his body had become increasingly less sensitive to such medications. If he took too much for the sake of effectiveness, he would be groggy and sluggish the next day.

Morning came quickly. Guan Junshan, who hadn't slept all night, looked in poor condition. Fortunately, there was a makeup artist, so he could still face all kinds of cameras smoothly. Before leaving the hotel, he deliberately stopped by the front desk to ask them to change the fragrance in his room. The current scent was too strong, making him suspect it was related to his insomnia.

The hotel took VIPs like him very seriously. They replaced the fragrance with a floral one so faint it had almost no scent, and aired out his room completely.

After barely getting through a day's work, Guan Junshan's mental state was already very poor. His eyes were unfocused, and he almost fell asleep in the car several times on the way back, but it never quite worked. Back at the hotel, it was the same story. When he showered and lay down in bed, everything around him was quiet, comfortable, and soft, with only the faint smell of detergent in his nose. Yet he still couldn't fall asleep, even though he was utterly exhausted.

There was champagne in the ice bucket, delivered that evening. Whenever he couldn't sleep, Guan Junshan usually drank hard liquor. With no hard liquor available, champagne could at least fool himself a little.

After meeting Lin Haoda again, his sleep problems gradually improved, surprising even his doctor, who suggested he try stopping the medication.

Now, for no reason at all, he was back to square one.

Guan Junshan tossed and turned on the hotel's king-sized bed several times before finally sitting up and taking off his eye mask. His eyes were bloodshot as he walked to the living room.

His phone was on the coffee table, fully charged. Guan Junshan sat on the sofa, casually unlocked it, and checked a few work emails. Unable to hold back, he switched to his messages and opened the pinned contact, staring blankly for a while.

He scrolled through the whole thread with that number. It was very short—he had never received a reply, only his own one-sided attempts to reach out.

This business trip was a last-minute decision. Originally, someone else from the company was scheduled, and the itinerary had already been set. But every day, Guan Junshan stayed in the office, finished his work, and still felt like he had too much time on his hands, making his heart feel empty. As soon as he had a moment to spare, he would start overthinking.

Might as well take the trip himself. For him, it would kill time and there was nothing to lose.

When he boarded the plane, he hesitated about sending a text to tell him that he was going on a short business trip—that it wasn't that he wasn't coming to see him, or that he'd lost interest. For him, he would always have endless patience.

But then he remembered that cold face, those words of refusal—"You don't have to do this for me."

Only a dim floor lamp was on in the living room. Guan Junshan, in his pajamas, sat with his arms crossed, leaning back on the sofa, like a resentful ghost waiting for a wife who never came back. He lightly pressed his tongue against his teeth, thinking dazedly: Who was the one being relentless? Who made him suffer from insomnia and unable to quit drinking, only to question himself over and over in the dead of night?

Around six o'clock, the sky gradually turned a pale crab-shell blue. Guan Junshan put on his coat and went downstairs alone, leaving the hotel.

The streetlights were still on, and there were almost no cars or pedestrians on the road. It felt as if the world had frozen, and he was like a wandering soul, drifting into an unknown alley, following the broken cobblestone path toward the sunrise.

The only shop he found open was a small handmade fragrance shop.

He had already forgotten how he felt when he walked in. He only remembered the wind chime jingling happily. The shop owner was an elderly man with a white beard, glasses slid down to the tip of his nose, who looked up from behind his lenses and said in French, "Welcome."

Guan Junshan walked in. The cramped space was filled with a distinctive scent, but it wasn't harsh, nor was it a cluttered mix of smells. It made him pause without thinking.

While browsing the shelves, he suddenly recalled hearing from his doctor that some essential oils also had calming and sleep-aiding effects. So he asked the shop owner if he could recommend some suitable oils.

The shop owner glanced at him and simply said to let him smell and choose—it's not about whether a scent is suitable, just whether you like it.

Since it was still early and Guan Junshan felt no trace of sleep, he moved closer to the shelves. The handmade essential oils came in small bottles—very light in color, faint in smell, leaving little impression. If a breeze came by, they would probably disappear instantly.

He browsed but couldn't find the one he truly liked. Just as he was about to give up, his shoulder accidentally bumped the shelf as he turned. The smallest bottle of essential oil at the edge wobbled and nearly fell over.

Guan Junshan caught it, but a few drops still splashed out of the cap onto his hand. He instinctively lowered his head to smell it, and almost immediately thought of Lin Haoda.

It was a very light scent—it reminded Guan Junshan of the first time he met Lin Haoda in Hong Kong. Back then, he had found it cloying and sweet, like a mousse ice cream—not something you'd dislike, but not something you'd like either.

The fragrance in his hand was slightly more subtle than he remembered, and of course, not exactly the same. But unlike other scents he had encountered, it was very pure, with no extra, layered aroma.

It was like Lin Haoda: seemingly simple enough to be read at a glance, yet when it lingered, it revealed a completely different character, making it hard for Guan Junshan to resist digging deeper.

He didn't really know much about fragrances. But growing up, he had attended too many lavish, high-class events and smelled too many different scents on too many people. He inevitably picked up various scents—some ambitious, some desirous, some cheap and messy. It wasn't until later that he gradually understood: he didn't have a specific favorite; he just hated anything impure.

He didn't really know if the essential oil would help with sleep. Still, he paid for the bottle. After returning to the hotel, he mixed it into the humidifier. Guan Junshan lay down fully clothed and slept better than he had since arriving.

The night before returning to China, he found his way back to the shop and bought a car fragrance of the same scent.

The text explaining things or letting him know was never sent in the end. But the extra weight in his luggage from Lin Haoda constantly reminded him that it was all a joke.

Even Guan Junshan often felt helpless, thinking that the scent that best suited Lin Haoda would be oxygen—not too thick, not too thin, needing to surround him just right at all times to highlight his uniqueness and importance.

The city center at night was dazzling, lights flowing like rivers of splendor.

Guan Junshan parked the car, and a server led them to a private room. The space wasn't big, divided by hanging curtains that cast hazy, shadowy silhouettes.

The food had already been served by the time they sat down. Lin Haoda wiped his hands with a wet wipe and was about to serve himself a bowl of millet porridge when he looked up and found a ready-made bowl pushed over to him.

It was warm, slightly steaming, but not hot enough to burn his tongue. Lin Haoda took a small sip and remembered to thank him: "It tastes good. Thank you."

It was what he had said: a meal was just a meal, no need to hide or avoid it—it meant nothing.

Guan Junshan smiled faintly, poured him more tea, and brought up proactively: "I heard from Tong Dong that you usually just buy bread to get by, or some unnutritious fast food."

Lin Haoda set down his spoon slightly and denied softly: "That's an exaggeration."

Guan Junshan propped his chin on one hand, staring at him with interest, and gave a soft "Oh," his tone lifting slightly at the end.

He switched to a different pair of chopsticks, picked up a piece of the snow-white fish belly, and placed it on the porcelain plate in front of Lin Haoda. "I think so too. You're so thin, no matter how much you eat, your cheeks are always sunken."

His words carried a natural intimacy, as if no tiny detail of Lin Haoda's body could escape his notice. Lin Haoda couldn't think of a rebuttal, so he just bowed his head and ate slowly, pretending to be silent.

"This place is close to your company—you can walk or take one subway stop." After so much groundwork, Guan Junshan finally revealed his true intention. From somewhere, he produced a card, pushing it toward Lin Haoda with his index finger. "It's run by a friend of mine. If you ever want anything to eat, just call ahead."

Lin Haoda sat across from him, silent for a moment before saying, "You don't have to do this."

Whether it was a refusal or a suggestion was unclear. But since Guan Junshan had been rejected in the same tone before and was prepared, he curled his fingers slightly and tapped lightly on the table. "Don't have to do what? If you're refusing, you should say it more clearly."

Lin Haoda took a deep breath, looked up at him, his lashes trembling slightly: "Guan Junshan, we can't keep going like this."

Stuck in this endless tug-of-war game.

"You said it yourself—it's just a meal. It doesn't mean anything." Lin Haoda reminded him softly. "After we finish, can we just stop here?"

His lips parted as if there was another word on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

Guan Junshan guessed easily and said firmly: "No. You want to settle everything, but I don't."

"One meal isn't enough. I have ten, fifty, a hundred meals." Guan Junshan smiled at him with parted lips. "It doesn't matter this time. There will always be a next time, and the time after that."

"Do you think my business became so big by accident?" Guan Junshan slowed down his speech, word by word. "Because I never give up easily."

"When you still loved me, I missed too much. Since that's the case," he paused, then continued, "Now it's my turn to wait. Wait for you to be willing to change your heart."

Lin Haoda was truly cornered by him and bit his lip gently. "What if that day never comes?"

"Fine." Guan Junshan's tone also grew calm, his attitude firm. "No matter what, as long as you want."

"Before, you asked me whether it was possessiveness or genuine affection I felt for you," he paused for two seconds, pulled out his wallet from the inner pocket of his suit, lowered his gaze, unfolded it, and extracted something. "I gave you my answer."

That thin photograph was held between his fingertips, pressed it lightly onto the table. "Hao Da, I don't want your sympathy or your pity anymore. I just want you to think it through."

Lin Haoda's gaze followed and landed on it.

"Someone like me—if we could start over, would you still be willing to fall in love with me?"

That photograph had been both shown to the public and kept close on his person. Lin Haoda could hardly tell how much of his sincerity was genuine and how much was just a deep affection acted out for the camera.

Lin Haoda suddenly moved, reached out, and snatched the photograph. "It was never supposed to be here."

Holding it by one corner, he raised his hand as if to throw it into the trash can at his feet.

"Of course." Guan Junshan stared at him calmly. "You can throw it away again."

"But about you, about us—I have many more photos and memories."

His gaze slowly fell to Lin Haoda's hand, to the photo of two people embracing with blue sky and snow-capped mountains behind them.

"The love and affection I can have were never that much to begin with." Guan Junshan slowly lowered his face, gave a self-deprecating smile, and said quietly, "For me, this is all I have."

A long silence fell. Suddenly, the chair scraped against the floor with a soft sound.

Guan Junshan stood up, he slipped his hand into his pocket, touched the metal lighter casing, hesitated, and said in a low voice, "I... I'll step outside for a bit."

Lin Haoda was sitting on the second floor, by the bay window, and watched the tall, long-legged Guan Junshan quickly head downstairs and walk toward the open courtyard.

A faint wisp of smoke rose upward, scattered by the wind, revealing a face that was hard to see in the mist.

Guan Junshan stood upright under the streetlamp, holding a cigarette between his fingertips. He had only taken a few puffs, letting most of it burn on its own. A long ash formed; he flicked it and it fell in a shower, all landing on the toes of his shoes. When it had almost burned out, he stubbed it out beside the trash can.

It was unclear when the rain had suddenly started.

Guan Junshan walked back into the private room, his hair and jacket bearing traces of moisture, glistening with moisture under the lights. "It's raining." He stared fixedly at Lin Haoda for two seconds before forcing a slight, casual smile. "Come on, I'll take you home."