Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"Did you just have a nightmare or something?"

Shen Ling mumbled sleepily, reaching out to touch his brow, pressing twice on the crease as if trying to smooth it away.

Huo Yanshen caught his wandering fingers and pressed a soft kiss to them. "No, baby. Go back to sleep."

Shen Ling let out a soft "mm," half-awake now but still dizzy. This had been happening a lot since he got pregnant—his mind floating in and out, and all he wanted was to press closer to Huo Yanshen.

"Can't sleep?" Shen Ling asked.

"Mm."

"Then I'll stay up with you."

Huo Yanshen looked down at him. By the time Shen Ling said he'd stay up with him, his eyes were already closed. He said he'd keep him company, but his body was already sliding back into sleep.

Huo Yanshen stayed on his side, his palm resting on Shen Ling's back, stroking him soothingly. Shen Ling went completely soft in his arms, sleeping like a warm little pig.

After about ten minutes, Huo Yanshen confirmed he was sound asleep before carefully sliding his arm out from under him. Shen Ling let out a whimper in his sleep, and Huo Yanshen grabbed a body pillow from beside the bed, pressing it into Shen Ling's arms. Only then did Shen Ling settle down.

Huo Yanshen sat up, turned the bedside lamp down to its lowest setting, and picked up the laptop from the nightstand, opening it.

He opened the backend page of the Starry Sky Reunion Search platform first, sent a message to customer service through the site's internal messaging, and the reply came back quickly—probably from whoever was on duty.

Huo Yanshen quickly scanned the content. The gist of what the person in charge said was clear: they'd cross-referenced Haishi's household registration system, social security records, property registrations, and DMV, but found no records matching "Meng Yuan."

The platform's backend data showed that Meng Yuan had never registered an account on the site, nor had she ever responded to any of the search notices aimed at her.

The last paragraph of the email read: "Mr. Huo, if Ms. Meng Yuan really is living in Haishi, she might be using a different identity. But based on what we have now, the chances of finding her are slim. We'll keep looking, but we'd suggest you not get your hopes up."

Huo Yanshen frowned, read the email again, then closed the laptop.

He picked up his phone and dialed Wen Pei's number.

The person on the other end picked up with a yawn. "...Do you know what time it is?"

"How's that thing I asked you to look into going?"

Wen Pei sat up in bed. "Meng Yuan, right? I had my dad's people run a check. In Haishi, there were three people named Meng Yuan in the right age range. I checked all of them—none of them are her."

Huo Yanshen let him talk.

"I think she might not be going by Meng Yuan anymore," Wen Pei said. "If she changed her identity after leaving Xuncheng, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack. You know the connections my family has here—we've checked everything we could. If she were really in Haishi, there's no way there'd be no trace at all."

Huo Yanshen said, "Alright. Keep digging."

Wen Pei grunted in acknowledgment, then his tone shifted. "Oh, by the way, that thing you asked me to look into last time—Shen Guoliang—I'm still working on it."

"Go on."

"Shen Guoliang's been on a lucky streak lately. He's won the lottery several times in a row—total's at least a few million. He's feeling pretty full of himself. Now that he's got money, he's gotten cocky—hired a bunch of bodyguards, and he's surprisingly on guard. My guys can't get as close anymore, but don't worry, I'm still digging."

"Keep at it," Huo Yanshen said, his fingers tightening on the phone. "I want to know every single thing he does."

"Got it," Wen Pei said. "Anything else? If not, I'm going back to sleep—I've got surgery tomorrow."

Huo Yanshen hung up.

He set the phone down and looked at Shen Ling's sleeping profile. Ever since Shen Ling came back, he always slept so peacefully, curling up into a tight ball—a posture that showed just how insecure he felt.

The Shen Ling from his past life hadn't been like that.

In his memory of the past life, Shen Ling, in those first few months, had burned like a crackling little flame—causing chaos, being completely unreasonable, but radiating vibrant, pulsing life from head to toe.

Huo Yanshen reached out, his fingertip gently pinching Shen Ling's cheek. He'd been eating well lately, and there was finally a bit of meat on his face. Huo Yanshen pinched twice, and Shen Ling frowned in his sleep, letting out a soft whimper through his nose.

Huo Yanshen quickly let go, afraid that if he woke him, it would take forever for him to fall back asleep.

He pulled back the covers and lay down beside Shen Ling, sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him close.

Sensing the familiar embrace in his sleep, Shen Ling instinctively burrowed into his arms, curling up into a position that was perfectly enveloped.

Huo Yanshen buried his face in the nape of Shen Ling's neck and closed his eyes.

It took him a long time to fall asleep, and when he finally did, he sank into a gray, hazy dream.

...

Huo Yanshen sat in the back seat, laptop open on his knees, reviewing the merger proposal for tomorrow's board meeting.

On the radio, the traffic station's female host cheerfully reminded listeners to watch out for heavy rain, saying that tomorrow would bring the biggest rainstorm of the summer.

Huo Yanshen closed his laptop, glanced at the dessert bag beside him, and told the driver, "Go straight home."

The driver frowned at the navigation. "Mr. Huo, the route from the east side to the west side—there's a section closed due to an accident."

"Take a detour," Huo Yanshen said.

He remembered how Shen Ling had said he'd come along when he left, only to immediately fall into a deep sleep. If he didn't bring back the dessert before Shen Ling woke up, the kid would probably throw a tantrum.

The corner of Huo Yanshen's mouth twitched, and he lowered his head to continue reviewing the reports.

As the car turned onto the mountain road on the outskirts, the rain suddenly intensified. Fat raindrops hammered against the roof. The driver slowed to thirty kilometers per hour, both hands gripping the steering wheel, leaning forward and squinting to make out the road ahead.

The mountain road was narrow—cliff face on the left, and on the right, a slope dropping dozens of meters down to a murky mountain stream whose water level was rising rapidly in the downpour.

A yellow warning sign stood by the roadside: "Landslide-prone area—use caution in rain." Beside the sign, muddy gullies carved by the rain ran with turbid yellow water flowing downhill.

"Mr. Huo, this road isn't safe..." the driver frowned, glancing at the mountainside to the left.

Huo Yanshen frowned. "Back out first."

Before he could finish, a dull, thunderous roar came from above.

The sound was more terrifying than thunder—a heavy, splintering crack.

The driver slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. A wave of black mud mixed with rocks cascaded down from the left mountainside, instantly swallowing half the road.

The car was flipped sideways by a tremendous force. Huo Yanshen's temple slammed hard against the window glass. Warm liquid trickled down from his hairline, and his ears rang with a deafening buzz.

The car rolled twice before crashing into the creek bed at the bottom of the slope, roof-down, four wheels spinning uselessly in the rain.

Huo Yanshen was pinned between the deformed seat and the roof. His consciousness flickered out for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes again, his mouth was full of the taste of rust. His left leg was trapped in the gap between the center console and the seat—he couldn't move it—and a sharp pain stabbed through his ribs.

The driver lay slumped over the steering wheel, motionless. The airbag had deployed, its white surface splattered with dark red blood.

A strange, sharp pain crept up from his calf.

Huo Yanshen looked down. Several thin black insects were crawling through the gap in the deformed car door—their nest had likely been destroyed by the torrential rain, and they'd drifted down with the muddy water, slipped into the cabin, and latched onto his leg.

One of them had already bitten through his suit pants and was burrowing deeper into the bite. The area around it swelled rapidly, an ugly bruise-like discoloration spreading across his skin.

The pain was nothing like a broken bone—it felt like someone was threading a red-hot wire through his veins, driving it upward. He clenched his jaw, veins bulging in his forehead, cold sweat and rain mingling as they streamed down his face. His vision began to blur, clear one moment, doubling the next.

Huo Yanshen should do something—stop the bleeding, bandage the wound, or find a way to crawl out of this overturned car.

But because of the venom, his mind was already slipping beyond his control.

Unbidden, hallucinatory images surfaced in his mind, one after another.

Shen Ling was lying at the edge of the bed, his chin resting on Huo Yanshen's knee, looking up at him with that entitled stubbornness in his tone. "Husband, I want macarons. Go buy them yourself."

Huo Yanshen tried to open his mouth to answer, but all that came up his throat was a warm, metallic-sweet taste that seeped from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and into the mud.

Shen Ling stood on the front steps, still wearing his oversized white shirt, waiting from afternoon until night. The dessert shop's lights flickered off, the traffic on the road gradually dwindled, and still he stood there, his eyes fixed on the mouth of the alley.

"He stood me up again..." Shen Ling's lips quivered. "He promised me he'd come..."

Huo Yanshen wanted to tell him to go back in, to tell him no, that's not it—I didn't lie to you, I bought them, they're on the way—but his voice wouldn't come out.

All he could do was lie in the mud and broken glass, using his left arm to push himself forward, inch by inch.

The wound on the back of his neck where the insect had bitten him scraped against gravel and glass shards as he dragged himself forward, the torn flesh tearing wider, blood seeping out and mixing with rain and mud, leaving a long, thin reddish trail behind him.

His lower body had gone completely numb, dragging uselessly behind him. The fabric of his suit pants had worn through on the ground, revealing the raw, bloody mess of his calf beneath.

But Huo Yanshen didn't stop. He gritted his teeth, digging his nails into the mud, using the strength of his left arm to pull his body forward, bit by bit.

His phone should be up ahead. When the car rolled, he'd felt something slip out of his pocket—that should be it.

If he could just reach the phone, he could call Shen Ling and tell him not to wait anymore. This was an accident. Shen Ling would understand.

Shen Ling was quick to throw tantrums, but every time, all Huo Yanshen had to do was coax him a little, and Shen Ling would forgive him. His baby was such a good boy.

Suddenly, Huo Yanshen's fingers brushed against something solid.

It was the paper bag from the dessert shop, fastened with a white ribbon bow. The bag was soaked through with muddy water, its color turned a dirty grayish-blue, the ribbon caked with mud and grass clippings.

The macaron box inside had probably shattered—the bag's shape was crushed and sagging, pink cream seeping through the seams, dripping to the ground, mingling with the rain.

Huo Yanshen's fingers closed around the bag's handle.

He remembered what Shen Ling said yesterday—that he always sent someone else, that it made him feel like he didn't matter.

No, that wasn't true. He cared. He'd driven across half the city to buy them himself, detoured around the flooded overpass, only to be buried by a mudslide on this deserted mountain road.

And still, he hadn't made it.

The bag crumpled in his grip. Huo Yanshen felt something warm burning in his eyes, mixing with the rain on his face—impossible to tell if it was tears or blood.

Huo Yanshen lay on the mud-soaked ground, the back of his head resting on broken glass and gravel, eyes open, staring up at the lightning-lit sky. Rain pelted his face, hitting his open eyes.

The venom surged up, washing over him. Huo Yanshen's hand slowly released the bag's handle, his consciousness receding like an ebbing tide.

At the very end, he heard the faint wail of rescue sirens in the distance, cutting through the storm and thunder, drawing nearer, then fading, growing muffled.

Baby, I'm sorry. I broke my promise again.

...

Huo Yanshen struggled in his sleep, unable to wake. Another scene surfaced before his eyes.

The air smelled of disinfectant, mixed with that particular chill unique to hospital hallways.

Huo Yanshen stood at the end of the hallway, looking at a window up ahead—the death certificate processing window next to the payment counter.

He looked down at his hands. His palms were translucent; he could see the floor through them.

Shen Ling sat on a plastic chair before the window.

He was wearing an oversized black jacket, the sleeves swallowing most of his hands, only a few pale fingers visible. His hair had grown longer—he probably hadn't had the heart to get it cut during this time—the ends scattered across his shoulders, a bit messy, a few strands stuck to his cheeks, glued there by dried tear stains.

His face was far thinner than in Huo Yanshen's memory. His cheekbones jutted out sharply, his eye sockets deeply sunken. His naturally fair skin had drained of almost all color.

But his expression was calm, his eyes simply fixed on the scrolling display above the window, his gaze completely unfocused.

Beside him stood a doctor in a white coat and a staff member in a suit—likely from the funeral home.

"Mr. Shen, the death certificate needs a family member's signature to confirm. Please sign here."

The staff member slid a form in front of Shen Ling. It was covered in dense, standardized text, with a blank space for a signature at the bottom, a black pen placed beside it.

Shen Ling looked down at the paper. He reached out, picked it up, and read it carefully from top to bottom.

He placed the paper down. "My husband is not dead."

The staff member and the doctor exchanged a look.

The doctor bent down and said, "Mr. Shen, I know this is very hard for you to accept, but Mr. Huo's body is already at the funeral home. You confirmed it yourself before. This signature is just part of the process. Once you sign, we'll handle the rest for you..."

Shen Ling repeated, "He's not dead."

"He talked to me last night," Shen Ling's voice grew urgent. "He said he'd come home early. He said he'd buy me macarons. He promised me. He wouldn't be late a second time. Don't jinx him. Don't—!"

He suddenly stood up, the chair screeching harshly against the floor as it slid back.

He stepped back twice, his back hitting the cold wall hard. "He just hasn't come back yet. If I sign this, how do I explain it to him when he returns? What, that I signed his death certificate?"

Shen Ling finally broke down and cried.

He slid down the wall, slumping to the floor, burying his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking violently, his whole body curling into a tiny ball.

"I won't sign... I won't sign this... My husband is coming back... He said he'd bring me sweets..."

Huo Yanshen crouched down, reaching out to steady him.

The moment his fingers touched Shen Ling's shoulder, the feeling slipped away. His hand passed through Shen Ling, unable to touch anything.

He knelt in front of Shen Ling, cupping his face with his translucent hands, trying to wipe away those tears. His fingertips passed through Shen Ling's skin, again and again, leaving nothing in their wake.

"Baby." Huo Yanshen's voice trembled as he pressed his face close to Shen Ling's bowed head. "Baby, don't cry. Look at me. I'm right here. Look at me, baby—"

But Shen Ling couldn't hear him. He clutched his knees, his whole body trembling violently.

"Come back... Husband, come back... I don't want anything else anymore... I won't throw fits anymore. Just come back, please..."

Huo Yanshen knelt before him, reaching out to cup his face, but his hands passed through empty air. He pressed his lips forward, trying to kiss away the tears on Shen Ling's face, but the tears streaming down Shen Ling's trembling face slipped through his lips, splattering drop by drop onto the floor tiles.

"Baby."

"I'm here."

"Look at me."

It was useless. Broken sobs spilled from Shen Ling's throat, like an abandoned kitten curled up in a cardboard box, crying with all its might, yet never getting a response.

The wound on his lip split open again, blood and tears mingling as they ran down.

Shen Ling's crying gradually faded, his body swayed twice before he crumpled to the floor. A nurse called for help, and someone hoisted him up and carried him toward the observation room.

Huo Yanshen watched him being carried away, limp and lifeless, his lips pale, drained of all color.

In this world, there was no him—only Shen Ling was left. He had left him an inheritance, shares, and a house, everything money could buy, but he had left him all alone in this world.

Huo Yanshen's eyes flew open.

The bedroom ceiling hung silently overhead, veins throbbing in his temples, the back of his pajamas soaked with cold sweat.

The person in his arms shifted.

Shen Ling, startled awake by Huo Yanshen's body suddenly tensing, groggily lifted his head from Huo Yanshen's chest, eyelids still half-closed. He rubbed his eyes, and after seeing Huo Yanshen's face, his brow furrowed.

"Honey, you said you didn't have nightmares."

Huo Yanshen's breathing hadn't fully evened out yet. He looked down at Shen Ling. "I didn't."

Shen Ling wasn't buying it.

He squirmed around next to Huo Yanshen, first crawling up until he was face-to-face with him, so he could see Huo Yanshen's entire face.

Suddenly, Shen Ling reached out, both hands going to Huo Yanshen's face, palms pressing against his cheeks, fingertips pinching the corners of his mouth and pushing them up gently.

"Smile," Shen Ling said.

Huo Yanshen stared at him expressionlessly, mouth pushed up, looking like a cardboard cutout forced to pose.

Shen Ling stared at him for two seconds, couldn't help laughing first, then leaned in to get a serious look at his eyes.

"You're so lying."

After saying that, his expression turned a bit serious.

So Huo Yanshen could have nightmares too, huh. He'd always thought this man was bulletproof and immune to everything, but it turned out he could be jolted awake in the middle of the night as well.

Shen Ling suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of responsibility settle onto his shoulders.

He was Huo Yanshen's wife, and a wife should comfort her husband when he has a nightmare.

Shen Ling pushed himself up, scooted toward the headboard, sat up straight, and opened his arms.

"Come here," he said, patting his own shoulder with a particularly mature air, "give me a hug."

Huo Yanshen looked at him, his gaze deep.

Shen Ling waited for a while, but Huo Yanshen didn't pounce into his arms and burst into tears. He felt his comfort hadn't gotten the response it deserved, and was a bit miffed.

So Shen Ling leaned forward on his own, wrapping his arms around Huo Yanshen's neck.

"Honey, don't be scared. Dreams aren't real."

Huo Yanshen was pressed against Shen Ling's shoulder, and Shen Ling's skin carried a faint scent—the fragrance-free lotion typical of pregnancy skincare, mixed with his own clean, warm scent.

That smell was a world apart from the disinfectant and stale tears in his dream.

He raised his hand and slowly wrapped it around Shen Ling's waist, and said solemnly, "Baby, I've been so bad to you."

Shen Ling: "?"

"How have you been bad to me?" Shen Ling tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "Did you not pull the blanket over me in the middle of the night?"

But Huo Yanshen lowered his head, took Shen Ling's hand, and slowly lifted it to his own face.

"Baby, hit me," Huo Yanshen said.

Shen Ling nearly thought he was still dreaming.

He stared blankly at Huo Yanshen—his eyes were serious, carrying a stubbornness he'd never seen before. This wasn't a joke.

Oh no, his husband had been scared stupid by the nightmare.

Shen Ling's tongue started tying itself in knots. "Honey, don't scare me. What did you dream about? Tell me..."

Huo Yanshen didn't speak, just stared at him. The emotion in those dark eyes was too intense; Shen Ling didn't dare meet his gaze, so he dropped his eyes to his own fingers, staring at his fingernails, ears burning.

He remembered Dr. Song Zhengqing telling him: sometimes your husband's emotions need an outlet too. As his partner, you can try to comfort him. You're not just on the receiving end of his kindness—you can be kind to him too.

Now he felt Dr. Song's homework was too hard.

Shen Ling gave himself a mental pep talk, straightened his back, and tried to look steady and reliable. "Alright, you said so. Then... I'll hit you. I'm really going to hit you?"

Shen Ling bit his lower lip and raised his hand—Huo Yanshen had already let go, and now the ball was in his court.

He lifted his palm and lightly patted Huo Yanshen's face.

Softer than swatting a mosquito.

After doing it, he immediately pulled his hand back, guiltily stuffing it under the blanket, eyes darting away, not daring to look at Huo Yanshen.

"...I hit you," he whispered, "no payback."

Huo Yanshen looked at Shen Ling. He had every right to lose his temper, throw pillows, list all his faults, yet when Huo Yanshen said "hit me," he only managed a gentle brush against his face.

He reached out, pulled Shen Ling out from under the blanket, and wrapped him—blanket and all—in his arms.

"Honey, you're so weird today," Shen Ling's voice came out muffled from his neck.

Huo Yanshen lowered his head, captured Shen Ling's lips, and kissed him.

This kiss was completely different from his usual restrained, brief touches—fierce and heavy, as if he wanted to devour Shen Ling whole.

Shen Ling was caught off guard, eyes still open, his mind like a pot of boiling water, bubbling and steaming, unable to think of anything.

It was a long time before Huo Yanshen let him go, and Shen Ling took a good while to find his voice again, mumbling, "Honey... next time you have a nightmare, can you not freak me out like that?"

"Mhm."

"So what exactly did you dream about?"

Huo Yanshen pulled the blanket up over him, and said calmly, "Dreamed you weren't sleeping well."

Shen Ling pouted a little in his arms, knowing Huo Yanshen was brushing him off.

Fine, if he didn't want to say it, then he wouldn't. Everyone's got their little secrets, right?

*

That night, Shen Ling slept great.

Maybe it was because Huo Yanshen had finally shown a bit of vulnerability in front of him, giving him some unrealistic ideas.

In his dream, he wore a coat like a cape, striding along with the wind, a crown from who-knows-where perched crookedly on his head.

Huo Yanshen stood by the sofa, wearing his same old dark gray loungewear, holding a tray in his hands.

Shen Ling strode over, stood on his tiptoes, and reached up to pat Huo Yanshen on the head.

"Little Huo, are the snacks ready for today?"

In his dream, Huo Yanshen played along perfectly, lowering his head slightly and holding the tray out to him, filled with the spicy strips and frozen treats he usually wouldn't let Shen Ling eat.

Shen Ling munched happily as he went on, "I shall sleep in, skip breakfast, and skip that damn therapy. Little Huo, what do you think of this decree?"

Huo Yanshen didn't say anything.

"If you don't say anything, I'll take that as a yes." Shen Ling quickly added, "Alright, it's unanimous."

He turned around, spreading his arms wide toward the empty living room, "From now on, this house is mine. I'll get up whenever I want, eat whatever I want..."

In the dream, he was ecstatic, standing in front of the coffee table laughing his head off, and as he laughed, he started talking in his sleep, "The King, I am the King... hehehe..."

In reality, Shen Ling buried his face in the pillow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, mumbling vaguely, "Little Huo... bring me my treats..."

He felt someone nudging him.

"Baby, it's morning."

Shen Ling rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Shen Ling."

Shen Ling curled into a ball under the blanket, his voice muffled, "...I can't hear you."

Huo Yanshen stood by the bed, already washed up and dressed, holding a cup of warm water and pills, looking down at the lump of blanket on the bed.

His mental state was much better than last night; he was back to being the calm, efficient Huo Yanshen who had everything under control.

Huo Yanshen reached out and pulled the blanket down to Shen Ling's chin. Shen Ling's eyes were squeezed shut, his lashes fluttering—clearly awake but pretending to sleep.

"Your Majesty," Huo Yanshen called, his tone steady, "time to get up."

"How dare you wake the King early," Shen Ling mumbled from under the blanket, "arrest him."

Huo Yanshen raised an eyebrow slightly.

He sat up, scooping Shen Ling up, blanket and all, and propped him against the headboard.

Shen Ling whined, "No, the King isn't holding court..."

Huo Yanshen ignored his protests, turning to pour a glass of warm water and lining up the prenatal vitamins and folic acid neatly on the nightstand.

Huo Yanshen bent down and lifted a corner of the blanket, "Baby, I'm counting to three."

A muffled groan came from under the blanket.

"One."

Shen Ling's eyelids fluttered.

"Two."

Shen Ling reluctantly opened his eyes a crack, and what came into view was Huo Yanshen sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a cup of water, with the pills neatly arranged on the nightstand—the exact same scene that played out every morning.

Shen Ling's eyes slowly shifted from dazed to utterly hopeless.

His King dream was shattered—no cape, no crown, no Huo Yanshen hanging on his every word.

Wahhh.

Fate, you're such a liar.

"If you space out any longer, your food's gonna get cold." Huo Yanshen scooped Shen Ling up from the bed, let him lean against his chest, and brought the pill to his lips.

Shen Ling lowered his head to take it, took two sips of water from the glass in Huo Yanshen's hand, swallowed with a frown, then stuck out his tongue to show him it was down.

Shen Ling was sitting cross-legged on the window seat cushion, being dragged by Huo Yanshen into doing Baduanjin, when his phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand.

Huo Yanshen gestured for him to finish this set before checking, but Shen Ling, taking advantage of him turning to grab a towel, reached over and swiped the screen open anyway.

The caller ID said Shen Shao.

He answered, and the background noise on the other end was chaotic—shouting, the sharp shattering of things being thrown, like someone had just been running frantically.

"Bro... bro, can you... help me... money, and... that, Dad... Dad's lost it..." His voice was drowned out by a deafening pounding on the door, like someone was furiously hammering on the thin wooden bedroom door with their fists.

"He beat all of us!"