Chapter 118: So I’m Still Just a “Friend”

Chapter 118 So It’s Still Just “Friends” After All

The next morning, when he woke up, Lin Haoda’s eyes were still swollen. Guan Junshan accompanied him to the buffet restaurant and asked a server for a clean hot towel.

Lin Haoda was displeased, staring at his profile, and asked, “How come you’re completely fine?”

Guan Junshan curved the corner of his mouth, turned his head to look at him, and said, “Why would I have anything to be fine about?”

Lin Haoda pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, picked up the hot towel, closed his eyes, and buried his face in it, muttering under his breath, “That’s why I hate watching romantic tragedies before bed.”

Guan Junshan lowered his gaze, his eyes falling on his full lips, his thoughts drifting for a moment before he laughed. “Then what kind of movies do you like watching before bed? Horror films?”

This wasn’t just a random guess. Lin Haoda had been caught before, hiding at home watching one, scared so badly he dropped the remote under the bed, too afraid to even pause and grab it.

Thanks to the warm compress, the soreness had eased quite a bit. Lin Haoda heard the laughter, secretly opened one eye, adjusted his angle to spot Guan Junshan’s hand resting on the table, and, taking advantage of no one paying attention, reached over and touched the back of his hand.

Of course, in Lin Haoda’s view, this was clearly meant as a scolding, blaming Guan Junshan for talking nonsense and always exposing his shortcomings. “What’s wrong with that?” Lin Haoda folded the cooled towel and placed it back on the small plate, his striking black-and-white eyes glaring, as if in warning. “Stop laughing.”

After saying that, he withdrew his hand to fiddle with his plate, but Guan Junshan’s fingers followed, wrapping around his wrist without explanation. “Then how about I keep you company tonight?”

No one openly holds hands at the breakfast table. Lin Haoda instinctively struggled a little, not with much force, and Guan Junshan let him go. Not long after, a waiter approached with a tray to serve their meal.

Once in the car, Lin Haoda was still bothered by Guan Junshan’s attitude and couldn’t help but correct him. “Horror movies aren’t just for sensory thrills, you know. Lots of them have touching stories too.”

Guan Junshan hummed in agreement, pulled down his seatbelt, and clicked it into place, turning his head. “You’ll end up crying again before bed, and your eyes will still be swollen tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not that easy to make cry.” Lin Haoda stubbornly insisted, turning his head vaguely to look out the window, and decided to strip Guan Junshan of his movie-watching companion privileges. “Then I won’t watch anymore. I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

Guan Junshan started the car, raised a hand to touch his seatbelt buckle, confirming it was locked, before replying, “Alright. I’ll sleep in the room next to yours.”

Lin Haoda remembered that before they left, someone had indeed come to ring the doorbell. He had been washing his face at the time, and it was Guan Junshan who answered the door. They probably stood in the hallway talking for a few minutes. By the time he came out, it was already over. He had thought it was just Guan Junshan ordering room service again.

The car drove out of the hotel’s parking garage. Guan Junshan noticed he wasn’t speaking and took the initiative to say, “I booked the suite next door. Someone will move the luggage over in a bit.”

Lin Haoda stared at the scenery outside the window and let out a soft sigh. Guan Junshan asked what was wrong. Lin Haoda turned to look at him and asked, “Then are we still watching a movie together tonight or not?”

It had snowed all night, only stopping in the early hours. There weren’t many cars on the road, but Guan Junshan drove steadily. Fortunately, the sun came out in the latter half of the journey, and the snow on the road began to melt.

About a kilometer from the hospital, at the side of the road, while waiting at a red light, Lin Haoda spotted a flower shop and insisted on getting out to buy a bouquet to bring into the ward. Guan Junshan parked the car at the curb and accompanied him out of the car. Lin Haoda was a bit worried, looking up and scanning for security cameras, afraid of getting a parking ticket.

Seeing his worried expression, Guan Junshan couldn’t help but smile, reassuring him it was just a temporary stop and they probably wouldn’t be unlucky enough to get caught.

Lin Haoda immediately objected. Even though he had rarely driven abroad, he insisted, “No, you wait in the car. I’m afraid you’ll get caught on camera and it’ll end up online as embarrassing history.”

Guan Junshan asked, “Who still cares whether I have embarrassing history or not?”

Lin Haoda thought seriously for a moment, then said with certainty, “Your image still has some commercial value, at least for now.”

Guan Junshan actually wanted to correct Lin Haoda. Ever since he admitted on camera to loving a man, all his commercial value had hit rock bottom. Some competitors had even used unsavory methods to smear his private life in gossip tabloids, and anonymous hate mail was shoved into the studio’s mailbox. But after a moment’s consideration, he ultimately decided not to tell him any of this.

Lin Haoda put on his scarf and hat, pushed the door open, and walked toward the shop.

Guan Junshan sat in the driver’s seat waiting. The engine was still running, the taillights glowing. Cars kept passing by. The light at the intersection cycled three times, the numbers counting down and looping again, but Lin Haoda still hadn’t come out.

If he had a driver, Guan Junshan might not have had to wait like this. He would have gotten out and gone into the shop to look for him ages ago. This was also the first time he felt a clear regret over something so trivial.

The car’s heater was set a bit high. Guan Junshan lowered the window and looked toward the roadside scenery. At this point, they were already far from the city center; tall buildings were few and far between, replaced by low, scattered houses nestled at the foot of the mountain.

The recovery hospital where Wu Manzhen was staying was just a few hundred meters away in a straight line. Guan Junshan looked into the distance and could easily see the hospital roof hidden among the dense trees, painted in white and sky blue, its pointed part resembling the top of a church.

The first time he came, it was raining. This Western European city rarely saw rain. When he got out of the car, raindrops fell along the edge of the umbrella, splashing and wetting his trouser legs and shoe tips.

Guan Junshan thought the driver had taken a wrong turn and they’d accidentally ended up at some church, but he was puzzled that he saw no tourists or worshippers. It wasn’t until the blonde nurse at the front desk came out and asked him if he was a relative of Mrs. Wu.

Guan Junshan walked from the parking lot through the back garden, passing the meticulously trimmed ornamental trees and the relief fountain along the way. He quietly reaffirmed his decision in his mind, thinking that one day when Wu Manzhen woke up, he could take her downstairs and slowly walk along this internal scenic path to help her relax.

But until now, Wu Manzhen hadn’t woken up even once. Guan Junshan had become a full-time jet-setter, even buying a flight pass because his flight destinations always included one reserved city—but not for the well-known natural scenery and stunning views, the endless snowy mountains, or relaxing vacations. Those things had nothing to do with him anymore.

His journeys had become bleak. A fourteen-hour flight felt like a recurring curse, naturally inducing resistance and avoidance. Yet every morning or night before departure, he couldn’t help but reflect and blame himself for being too selfish, too willful. But in the face of Wu Manzhen, suffering from her illness, his self-blame was useless, and his pain was also useless.

Somehow thinking of all this, Guan Junshan withdrew his gaze, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. He rubbed his fingertips and suddenly wanted to light a cigarette. Just as he reached to open the glove compartment, he heard a sound from outside the car.

The wind chime at the flower shop door rang. Lin Haoda came out holding a bouquet, looked up toward the car, and from a distance, smiled at Guan Junshan inside the car.

In the sunlight, his light-colored coat looked like melting ice. The snow on the ground made his face appear even whiter, highlighting his striking features. With a faint smile, he seemed like an elf that didn’t belong here, appearing only after the snowfall.

Lin Haoda walked over quickly, opened the car door, and got in. The bouquet in his arms was a pale-colored arrangement wrapped in some transparent plastic, neatly tied at the bottom with a ribbon.

He needed to buckle his seatbelt, so he handed the flowers to Guan Junshan, but his eyes stayed on the bouquet. He asked naturally, “Your mother likes magnolias, right?”

Guan Junshan nodded, hummed in confirmation, as if surprised. “You still remember?”

Lin Haoda glanced at him with some smugness, said “Of course,” then took the flowers back, holding them in his arms. “Didn’t I give her a small bag of magnolia seeds back then?”

“I still remember that day it was pouring rain. We were driving on the highway, and I felt like the rain was going to drown us,” Lin Haoda said with a smile, his gaze growing distant, as if sinking into memory. “But you were in a rush to catch your flight, so there was no choice but to urge the driver to go faster, even faster.”

Guan Junshan leaned back in his seat, silent for a long time, then said softly, “Don’t do things like that anymore.”

Lin Haoda dragged out his words, saying “I know,” and sighed, as if blaming Guan Junshan for being too unsympathetic. But soon he remembered something else and asked him, “What happened to those seeds? Were they planted in your garden later?”

Guan Junshan answered honestly, “They were planted. My mother liked them a lot.”

Lin Haoda’s eyes lit up, and he wanted to ask for more details.

Guan Junshan hadn’t been back to the hillside villa in Hong Kong for a long time. Afraid of disappointing Lin Haoda, he simply replied, “They should be growing well. The gardener hasn’t called.”

Lin Haoda easily set a goal for himself, saying that the next time he had a vacation, he definitely wanted to go see them in person, and he insisted that Guan Junshan accompany him and be responsible for hosting him.

“You can come whenever you want.” Guan Junshan smiled after hearing this, then gently corrected him, “I’ve been waiting all along.”

Lin Haoda rolled his eyes and asked, “Since when? Why didn’t I know?” Then he tried to criticize him: “You should be more proactive, you know. Inviting friends over and that kind of thing—you ought to say something early, like ‘I’ve been waiting for you for so long; would you do me the honor of coming to my place for a visit?’ or something like that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Guan Junshan turned his head and looked at him seriously. “It’s just that, from the sound of it, shouldn’t I have a little more self-respect? Instead of begging you to come over?”

Lin Haoda shook his head and said in a rather profound tone, “President Guan, you don’t understand.”

Guan Junshan displayed good personal qualities and humbly said, “I’m all ears, Manager Lin.”

Lin Haoda cleared his throat and told him, “A true friend must give unlimited tolerance, unconditional acceptance, and show absolute sincerity while looking forward to his arrival.”

Guan Junshan listened, his lips curving slightly. He looked at him for a few seconds and asked, “Is that so?”

“Of course.” Lin Haoda thought for a moment and added, “Besides, your house is so big. I’m afraid I’ll get lost just walking around casually, and that would be really tiring too.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that.” Guan Junshan responded smoothly, sounding nothing like the wealthy young master of a sprawling mansion that Lin Haoda described. He promised sincerely, “I will consider improving all the things you mentioned.”

Lin Haoda nodded and expressed his approval for this “friend” of his. “That’s more like it.”

“But there’s one thing I really want to know.” Guan Junshan broke into a full smile. A beam of sunlight shifted its angle slightly, passing through the glass and illuminating his face, setting off his handsome features, his eyes jet-black, his lips faintly tinted. “So when that day comes, you still intend to come as a ‘friend’?”

Under those conditions, he couldn’t do everything Lin Haoda had asked. So he apologized sincerely: “If it’s just as a friend, I’m afraid I can’t treat him with the same level of care you described.”