Chapter 116: So It Was Just My Wishful Thinking

Chapter 116: So I Was Just Flattering Myself

Having misjudged the temperature, Lin Haoda was wearing only a thin jacket. Standing in the wind and snow for so long, his lips were almost numb with cold, and when he smiled, his teeth chattered uncontrollably—yet he still smiled.

Guan Junshan gripped his shoulders tightly, felt his icy fingers, then reached up to brush the light snow from the top of his head.

Lin Haoda’s eyelashes trembled slightly, his eyes bright and fixed on him. “After I left the airport, I went to the hospital first.” Guan Junshan watched him sniffle, his nose red from cold, then added in a stubborn tone, “But I didn’t find you there. The staff almost mistook me for some weirdo.”

Guan Junshan was a little taken aback and told him, “I came back this afternoon. Had some company matters to handle.”

Lin Haoda lowered his eyes and nodded. “But luckily, I catch on fast.” He sounded almost smug, praising himself.

Guan Junshan recalled the weird message asking where he was now, nodded in agreement, saying, “You always have been,” then gently tightened his hold on Lin Haoda’s hand.

The snow was falling a bit heavier now, and there was no need for them to keep talking on the street. Guan Junshan reached for the suitcase and asked if he wanted to go back to the hotel first.

Lin Haoda had initially wanted to insist on visiting his mother at the hospital, but after more than ten hours on a long-haul flight, he was exhausted and thirsty. His exposed skin had lost all feeling, and he desperately needed to get back to a warm, comfortable place to rest and recharge.

As they passed through the hotel lobby, Lin Haoda instinctively headed toward the front desk, but Guan Junshan reached out and stopped him. “No rush.”

Lin Haoda watched as he pushed the suitcase into the elevator and swiped the key card. There was no one else inside. The elevator doors paused for a few dozen seconds before slowly closing. Guan Junshan raised a hand to block them and gave Lin Haoda a look, gesturing for him to come in.

Lin Haoda hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. After a brief pause, he seemed to gather his courage and emphasized, “President Guan, I’m here this time, and… I still want two rooms.”

Guan Junshan smiled at that, reached up and grasped the back of his neck, giving it a light squeeze. “Lin Haoda.”

Lin Haoda kept his head down, silent. He touched Guan Junshan’s fingers and gave a light push, but the next second, Guan Junshan caught his hand in his own and said slowly, with a smile, “What are you worrying about? Let’s go to my room first. I’ll order you something to eat.”

The room was warm with adequate heating. Guan Junshan called room service, and the meal arrived quickly. The food was decent, not as bad as he thought.

Guan Junshan wasn’t hungry. He sat with his arms crossed on the other end of the sofa, watching Lin Haoda like a guardian keeping an eye on a misbehaving child who refused to eat on time. Lin Haoda blinked and patted the spot beside him, generously inviting him over. “Come sit, President Guan.”

Guan Junshan didn’t answer. His eyes swept over the food on the coffee table, then he asked without preamble, “How long was the flight?”

“About ten hours.” Lin Haoda feigned surprise and tried to change the subject. “How come you didn’t take this flight last time? I checked—there’s only one direct flight every day.”

Guan Junshan’s tone was flat. “Eat quickly.” He glanced at his watch, then asked, as though he already knew, “When I called you last night, you were already at the airport, weren’t you?”

Lin Haoda had a piece of bread stuffed in his mouth. He averted his gaze and mumbled vaguely, “Seems like it.”

What “seems like”? Guan Junshan knew better. “Where were you hiding when you answered the call?”

He laughed lightly, one hand resting on his knee. “Do I have to guess that too?”

Lin Haoda rubbed the tip of his nose and cleared his throat, feeling guilty but still defiant. “Nothing to guess. It’s just the airport—what else could it be?”

Guan Junshan leaned forward to pick up his coffee, blew on it, and said in a gentle tone, though his words were far from gentle, “You sure are clever.”

After they finished eating, someone came in to clear the dishes. Guan Junshan stood up and began walking toward the door.

“Wait.” Lin Haoda, who had been watching the door, walked over and asked, “Where are you going?”

“To get another room downstairs.” Guan Junshan rested one hand on the door handle and met his gaze, his tone even. “You stay here tonight. Good night.”

“Who said I wanted to say goodnight?” Lin Haoda was genuinely angry now. He grabbed Guan Junshan’s arm and pulled him back. “I haven’t even gone to see your mother at the hospital yet.”

“It’s snowing. The roads will be bad tonight.” Guan Junshan took a tip out of his pocket and signaled for the waiter to leave first. “Besides, you’ve been on a plane all day. You need to rest.”

Lin Haoda opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find a good reason. With a note of grievance, he said, “You know I flew all this way to see you.”

Guan Junshan looked down at him, silent for a moment, then spoke very slowly. “Lin Haoda, I never asked you to come.”

The air conditioning vent above them let out a strange noise. The night was still, and beyond the door, only the muffled sound of a cart rolling over the hallway carpet could be heard.

Lin Haoda suddenly laughed. He let go and stepped back, a hint of self-mockery in his voice. “Oh, so I was just flattering myself.”

Guan Junshan’s face was expressionless as he put his hands back into his coat pockets. “Don’t read too much into it.”

Lin Haoda had been so happy at first, full of excitement as he landed and drove dozens of kilometers back and forth from the suburban hospital to the city center, wanting to surprise him and make Guan Junshan feel a little sense of support in this distant foreign land. He had even deliberately avoided thinking about what his identity or position was, why he had come all this way, on a one-sided impulse, to endure hunger and cold.

But he never expected to hear that. Lin Haoda struggled to suppress the hurt and grievance in his chest, turned back to the sofa, put on his coat and scarf again, and went to grab his suitcase from the corner.

Guan Junshan stood at the door, silent, watching him.

Hadn’t he said he was leaving? Why was he standing there playing statue blocking the way? Lin Haoda dragged his suitcase stumbling toward the door, his face cold. “Please move.”

Guan Junshan didn’t budge. He reached out and pressed down on the suitcase handle, not buying it. “Where are you going at this hour?”

“The airport. Home.” Lin Haoda answered coldly. “I can walk myself.”

Guan Junshan seemed almost amused by him. He grabbed Lin Haoda’s wrist. “Lin Haoda, solving problems isn’t about pitching a fit.”

“I’m not pitching a fit.” Lin Haoda shot back. “So what are you angry about?”

Guan Junshan let go and slowly exhaled. A corner of the ceiling light fell, casting the sharp, defined lines of his face into shadow.

When he was silent like this, his presence was still intimidating. But Lin Haoda’s patience had limits, and what frustrated him most was that, at this point, he couldn’t read Guan Junshan’s thoughts at all.

He wouldn’t tell him that his mother was in the hospital, wouldn’t reveal a single trace of his helplessness or anxiety. Even now that Lin Haoda was right here, standing in front of him, he still put on this distant, standoffish act.

Lin Haoda thought, maybe he had misread everything from the start. The affection and care Guan Junshan talked about had always been limited. Any closeness or concern that was too intimate wouldn’t be allowed—just like back when they first fell in love, when Guan Junshan was the kind of person who could separate marriage and love and give them to different people.

Once he realized that, the grievance in his heart quickly faded, like a thin layer of mist that, once the wind blew, scattered away, whether it was meant to or not.

Since he couldn’t get an answer no matter how he asked, Lin Haoda felt no reason to keep pestering. He was still going to leave. He adjusted the angle of his suitcase wheels and decided to bypass Guan Junshan to reach the door handle.

The moment he raised his hand, Guan Junshan’s expression changed. His eyes turned cold, like shards of ice. His tightly pressed lips moved, but no sound came out.

Before Lin Haoda could react, Guan Junshan had already grabbed his hand first—hard enough to hurt. He pinned him against the door with both arms, then kicked the suitcase farther away.

Now Lin Haoda was truly furious. He pushed him a couple of times and snapped, “You’re angry for no reason, and now you won’t even let me leave. Guan Junshan, can’t you be reasonable?!”

Guan Junshan’s hands pressed firmly on his shoulders and waist, his face inches away, staring into Lin Haoda’s eyes. The air between them grew warm and intimate, making all of Lin Haoda’s accusations and anger seem thin and ridiculous, and making things spiral out of control.

As if the heartless person Lin Haoda was accusing wasn’t him at all, Guan Junshan’s expression actually showed a hint of pain and confusion. He took a deep breath, hesitated, and spoke in a tone that admitted yet dared not admit, “It’s not… anger. I’m scared.”

Lin Haoda quieted down, his chest heaving slightly.

Guan Junshan’s voice was very low, carrying a trace of reluctance and dejection as he looked at his face.

“Hao Da, I was afraid that I missed you so much, that the pain was so real, that I was hallucinating. That the person standing here now isn’t you…”

“And I was even more afraid that someone talked you into coming here, that you were softhearted, and that’s why you flew all the way to me.”