Chapter 91: Gift

Chapter 91: The Gift

"Chef Zhao, a few packages arrived this afternoon. You were busy, so I received them for you." Pang Ze walked into the kitchen carrying two boxes.

"Thanks." Zhao Yu dried his hands and glanced at the senders on the boxes.

One was from Zhuang Shubai, sent locally—a seasonal wool coat, with a greeting written on the back of the card. Even though they hadn't been in touch for a long time, Zhuang Shubai still took time out of his busy schedule to pick out a birthday gift for him. Zhao Yu's rejection hadn't bred resentment in him; that inherent grace and dignity meant they could still be friends.

The other was an international package from Los Angeles, containing a Los Angeles Dodgers baseball cap and memorabilia from Meng Qi. Zhao Yu had heard him mention going to a Dodgers home game with the girl he had a crush on—seems he's really into it lately. That kid was straightforward like that: whatever he liked most, he'd give it to me.

Zhao Yu packed everything into his bag and checked the time—it was already past eight. He told Cao Xu he was leaving early to see the piano shop owner he'd scheduled a meeting with, then headed somewhere else.

When he arrived at the neighborhood where Chen Xitong lived, he felt conflicted. He didn't go upstairs, instead calling Chen Xitong directly.

"I'm downstairs at your building." With that, he hung up.

Whether Chen Xitong came down or not, he'd wait only ten minutes, then leave.

A few minutes later, a figure hurried out of the building. Seeing Zhao Yu from a distance, he stopped abruptly, seeming a bit timid.

Zhao Yu walked over and stopped in front of him. He pulled a receipt from his pocket and shoved it into his hand. "I received your gift. This is a gift in return."

He turned to leave, but Chen Xitong froze, instinctively grabbing his sleeve. Zhao Yu stopped, but Chen Xitong didn't know what to say.

Zhao Yu had made it clear he didn't want to see him. He'd apologized too many times—the words felt hollow now. But what else could he say?

Zhao Yu's demeanor was still cold, but not as hopeless as last time, as if the gift in return had added a bit of warmth. Chen Xitong looked down at the receipt in his hand—it was from a piano shop, ordering a piano.

He'd just sold his piano, deciding he'd never play again. Because the life that let him enjoy the piano was bought with his brother's sacrifice. Every time he pictured himself in the spotlight while his brother was stuck in the mud, he couldn't play a single song.

Over the years, Chen Xitong had thought about reaching out to Zhao Yu, but in the end, he never did. He knew the one Zhao Lianfeng took was the unlucky one, and he was grateful it wasn't him.

That relief had now turned against him, doubling his guilt into a knot he couldn't untie. Only by punishing himself—giving up the piano—could his heavy heart find some relief.

But Zhao Yu had given him another piano, shattering the resolve he'd made through gritted teeth.

Zhao Yu pulled his hand away. Though he didn't turn back, he said, "Don't do something you'll regret."

As he was about to leave, Chen Xitong couldn't help asking, "What if I already did?"

Zhao Yu didn't answer. He waved, got in the car, and disappeared into the shadows under the trees.

The receipt felt like it was burning in Chen Xitong's hand. This was the first gift Zhao Yu had given him since they were kids. The paper felt heavy, as if it carried a regret he was supposed to understand.

...

Zhao Yu got home at 11:50. The day was almost over.

He hadn't thought this day was important at first—it was everyone else remembering it and sending wishes that made it feel special.

He changed his shoes and went in, then noticed the navy blue trench coat on the rack. The faint dry-cleaning scent had faded, but he still hadn't found the right time to return it.

He wouldn't reach out to Gu Hansheng on his own, and he couldn't see him anyway. Maybe today would be no different. He couldn't put his feelings into words—they were complicated, hard to explain.

Before showering, he checked the time one last time: 11:59. He turned toward the bathroom.

Just then, the doorbell rang—several times in a row, urgent and persistent. Zhao Yu paused, turned, and walked to the door. The moment he opened it, he heard the last birthday wish of the day.

Gu Hansheng stood at the door, out of breath, sweat soaking the hair on the back of his neck. The moment Zhao Yu opened the door, he managed to say it just before midnight: "Happy birthday!"

The gate arm at the community entrance had broken, with several cars backed up. He'd gotten out and run in, and when the elevator didn't come, he sprinted up four flights of stairs, making it to Zhao Yu just before the day ended.

In Gu Hansheng's hand was a business license for "Lin's Kitchen" and a gift agreement.

"A birthday gift for you. Hope you like it." Gu Hansheng said.

Zhao Yu stared blankly at the name on the license. In Chinese, it meant "Little Lin Restaurant"—the name of the Chinese restaurant Guo Lin had run, and the address was the original one.

"Wasn't that a burger place now? How did you..." Zhao Yu looked again in disbelief.

"I bought it," Gu Hansheng said. "The restaurant will be renovated to look exactly like it did before. I had Meng Qi check the design plans—it'll be identical."

He pulled out another sheet—a blueprint that looked almost exactly like Guo Lin's restaurant from every angle.

Zhao Yu took the paper and looked at the renderings—like an old photo pulling him back to the past, flooding his mind with memories.

That place that held his most beautiful memories—torn apart and transformed—had been resurrected and given back to him.

Seeing Zhao Yu stay silent, Gu Hansheng's confidence started to waver.

Gu Hansheng had thought about many gifts—a car, a watch, even an apartment with a river view—but in the end, he chose the most complicated one.

Over a week ago, he'd gone to LA and negotiated with the burger shop owner several times before making a deal. Then he'd gotten old photos of Little Lin Restaurant from Meng Qi, had a designer recreate the original look, and contacted manufacturers who could make custom tables, chairs, and tableware at a one-to-one scale...

He now understood how much Guo Lin meant to Zhao Yu and thought he might like this gift. For that "might," he'd rushed around, wanting to make it as perfect as possible.

Of course, these were just his assumptions. He wasn't sure if Zhao Yu would actually like it, which made the silence nerve-wracking.

Zhao Yu traced the blueprint with his fingers, head bowed so Gu Hansheng couldn't see his face.

Time quietly ticked past midnight. The last minute of his birthday had passed when he suddenly said, "Come in and sit."

Gu Hansheng's hand gripping the agreement tightened, then relaxed. His heart, which had just slowed from running, began pounding again at those words.

Zhao Yu kept his head down, almost pressing against Gu Hansheng's shoulder. Gu Hansheng could feel Zhao Yu's gradually lengthening hair brush against his neck. He said to come in, but didn't move himself.

Gu Hansheng raised his hand, tentatively touching the back of Zhao Yu's head. Hair slipped through his fingers. Feeling no resistance, he slowly drew his arms in.

Every time Gu Hansheng wanted to get close, he remembered Zhao Yu saying no hugs, so he only dared to reach out when Zhao Yu approached first. His touch was careful, until he finally held him properly in his arms.

The softest part of Zhao Yu's heart felt like it was being gently kneaded, producing a subtle ache. He had thought about opening another restaurant someday—using the name Little Lin Restaurant, using Aunt Guo's menu—but he never imagined Gu Hansheng would buy that place back.

Gu Hansheng seemed to truly understand his heart. At some point, he'd reached the deepest part of it, using delicate methods to pry open the defenses Zhao Yu had built.

Feeling Gu Hansheng's embrace tighten, Zhao Yu hesitated for a long time before asking, "Do you really love me?"

Gu Hansheng said, "I love you."

So Zhao Yu lifted his head, and after a few seconds of hesitation, finally leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Gu Hansheng's mouth, then shifted slightly and kissed him properly.

Invited in, Gu Hansheng crossed the threshold, closed the door behind him, and pinned Zhao Yu against the entryway to kiss him.

As if afraid Zhao Yu might change his mind, Gu Hansheng's kisses were light, tentative, so cautious it didn't seem like him. Until Zhao Yu parted his lips, as if tired of the teasing, pulled him closer by the collar, and parted his teeth.

A spark ignited Gu Hansheng's desire. A hug was no longer enough; kissing wasn't enough either. He still hadn't gotten a clear answer, the identity he wanted. So the heart that had just been satisfied by the kiss grew hollow again.

He greedily absorbed Zhao Yu's warmth and scent, trying to confirm through this that Zhao Yu still loved him.

In the scuffle, someone accidentally hit the switch, and the lights in the room went out instantly. Startled by the sudden darkness, Zhao Yu froze for a moment, and Gu Hansheng almost immediately looked up, fumbling along the wall for the switch.

Because Zhao Yu had once struggled in the dark, Gu Hansheng had started to worry that the pitch-black environment might trigger his traumatic memories, and was even more nervous than Zhao Yu was.

"This is my home, I won't be afraid." Zhao Yu raised his hand and turned off the lights again, whispering in his ear, "Let's do it."

Turning off the lights was because he felt a bit embarrassed, but at this point, what reason was there left to kill the mood?

Gu Hansheng wrapped an arm around Zhao Yu's waist and moved into the bathroom. The sound of running water washed over the floor, bringing with it a rising steam that instantly dispelled the chill from having just stripped off their clothes.

The shower soaked Gu Hansheng's hair, strands clinging to his face. His dark eyes, hazy with moisture, looked at Zhao Yu, the heat in them making Zhao Yu's ears burn, and his body began to lose control amidst the rolling waves of warmth.

The man seemed to be restraining his urge to devour, the forceful moves barely starting before turning soft and slow again.

Zhao Yu muttered a curse and grabbed his hair: "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"No." Gu Hansheng's voice was low and hoarse, coaxing as he asked, "How do you like me to do it? Like this?"

Zhao Yu wanted to curse at him, but the words died in his throat, turning into something else entirely.