Back at my place, the things that had been thrown on the ground were no longer in their original positions.
When the door opened, Meow Meow was playing with chestnut shells on the ground with her paws. When she saw the person behind her, she turned around and ran upstairs as if she had seen a ghost.
Shi Meng's attention was entirely on the box, and he went over to pick it up. The already limp rose stems had been trampled by the cat and couldn't stand upright, and the chestnut shells were covered in dust. He picked them up and blew on them.
After tidying everything up, he remembered someone behind him. His hands paused for a moment, and he awkwardly closed the lid. He turned around, trying to slip away again with his old trick.
When Fu Xuanliao grabbed his arm, he thought he was going to be trapped again and forced to interrogate him against his will. However, Fu Xuanliao simply led him to the bathroom door.
"Take a hot shower first." Fu Xuanliao squeezed his cold fingertips. "I'll cook you something delicious."
Shi Meng maintained a tight grip on the last line of defense, and took the opportunity to escape under the pretext of taking a bath.
The enclosed space is filled with steam, giving those inside a hazy, unreal feeling.
Everything that has happened today is too bizarre to count.
So bizarrely that he couldn't react in time, he felt lost in his dream and raised his hand to touch his chest. He felt the raised scar on his ribcage after the surgery, and only after confirming that he was still himself and that his heartbeat was still regular did he calm down.
After washing up and opening the door, Fu Xuanliao was still there, as expected. A few buttons on his shirt were undone, and he was looking down at the fresh cigarette burns on his chest, seemingly pondering how to deal with them, his expression slightly troubled.
Hearing the noise, she quickly pulled her clothes back together, as if afraid of startling Shi Meng, and turned to ask him, "Are you done washing? Do you want something to eat?"
No one knew better than Shi Meng what food was available at home.
Therefore, when Shi Meng saw that Fu Xuanliao completely ignored the pile of cooked food in the refrigerator and the leftover fried rice from last night, and chose to defrost chicken wings and make two dishes with strange ingredients, she pursed her lips and was speechless for a moment.
Fu Xuanliao pushed the plate in front of him: "Try it, cola chicken wings."
Sugar would have sufficed, but he insisted on emptying a whole bottle of carbonated beverage.
Then he pushed another plate forward: "Potato chips and chicken wings, salty and crispy."
He had breadcrumbs in the kitchen, but he insisted on crushing a whole bag of puffed food, not minding the trouble.
Perhaps knowing that his intentions were too obvious, and that he was doing something awkward like using someone else's flowers to present to Buddha, Fu Xuanliao braced himself and said, "Two kinds...take your pick."
Shi Meng never goes against her own stomach; she picked up a piece, took a bite, and found it surprisingly delicious.
“I learned it from my mom.” Fu Xuanliao read his micro-expression and said enthusiastically, “If you like it, I’ll make it for you often in the future.”
Shi Meng didn't say anything and silently finished the chicken wing.
After the meal, Fu Xuanliao handed over a glass of water and asked, "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"Let's go see the art exhibition," Shi Meng said.
"I'll be with you..."
"I made an appointment with someone," Shi Meng interjected before Fu Xuanliao could finish speaking. "The snacks were also bought for him."
Fu Xuanliao immediately became a little agitated: "He has ulterior motives towards you..."
"And what about you?" Shi Meng asked. "Don't you have any?"
"Of course not, I just like it..."
This time, Fu Xuanliao shut up himself, because he remembered the series of disasters caused by that 10% stake, which resembled a rear-end collision.
However, Shi Meng saw through his tricks and mastered his routines, seizing the initiative before he could react.
"You like me?" Shi Meng's smile was cold, shattering the little bit of warmth she had managed to muster. "How come I remember you saying that you could never like me?"
As if struck on the head by a bell, with a buzzing sound, Fu Xuanliao suddenly realized the reason why Shi Meng did not believe him, or rather, the crux of the problem.
Time waits for no one. He jumped up and chased after Shi Meng upstairs. Just before the bedroom door was about to close, he braced himself against the door with one hand and grabbed the person who was running faster than a rabbit with the other, using his height and strength to trap the person in front of his arms.
"I'm sorry," he said to Shi Meng. "I'm sorry, I never knew... that was you."
The chill of the winter night brought in from outside seemed to linger, and Shi Meng shivered as soon as he touched something warm.
She tried to push with both hands and twist her body, but she couldn't break free; there was a wall behind her. Shi Meng bit her lip, her emotions, which had finally calmed down, surged up again.
"You didn't know in the first place." Although he had said it before, Shi Meng couldn't help but repeat, "You don't know anything."
The weak voice softened Fu Xuanliao's heart, followed by a lingering bitterness.
As he walked in, he remembered that the blue cardboard box filled with old items was the one he had used to wrap gifts on Christmas Eve nine years ago.
The gift hanging on the Christmas tree was for Shi Mu. In the end, Shi Mu took the watch inside, but Shi Meng picked up the useless wrapping box that had been thrown in the trash and has kept it to this day.
Fu Xuanliao hated his past self, and also hated himself for not pursuing the matter further when he had already suspected something.
He kept repeating "I'm sorry," leaning forward to touch Shi Meng's cheek and ear, conveying his apology and warmth.
"Now I know, I know." Fu Xuanliao's voice trembled involuntarily, for the missed opportunities that had stirred his heart, and even more so for his own blindness and lack of discernment. "I know it's you, I like you, I love you."
The more he expressed himself, the more Shi Meng felt a fear that he could not hide from. It was as if a tree he had planted in his heart for decades had been uprooted, and what lay beneath it was rotten mud that had irrigated his humility and despair with every drop.
With both hands on Fu Xuanliao's shoulders, Shi Meng pushed him away with all her might, then widened her eyes as if trying to see into his heart with her own eyes.
"Look carefully at who I am." Since there's no way to avoid it, then let's meet it head-on. Shi Meng casually tore open a wound. "I'm not your Mu..."
“You are Shi Meng.” Without hesitation, Fu Xuanliao fixed his gaze on the person in front of him and said his name, “You are Shi Meng, my darling… my little mushroom.”
The still pool of water in his eyes suddenly churned. Shi Meng opened his mouth, stunned as if speechless, and after a long while, he said in a hoarse voice, "But you said I'm not worthy."
Another tear appeared, and blood gushed out.
The fact that Shi Meng repeated these piercing and hurtful words verbatim made Fu Xuanliao feel more directly and clearly how much of a scoundrel he had been in the past.
This cannot be simply summarized as "malicious" or "excessive," nor can it be easily absolved by the word "misunderstanding." It was a sharp knife that pierced through his thin chest from front to back, adding another fatal wound to his already riddled heart.
The knife is stuck too deep, it can't be pulled out, and the bleeding can't be stopped. The only thing to do is to hold him and let the knife stab into my heart as well.
Fu Xuanliao then grabbed Shi Meng's arm, pulled him towards himself, and held him firmly in his arms.
"I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy at all."
The knife finally pierced through Fu Xuanliao as well. But it wasn't enough, far from enough; what he owed Shi Meng was far more than just this.
He was completely lost and frantically tried to come up with ideas for himself, "I should pay you back, but how should I pay you back..."
Shi Meng chuckled with a sigh, as if he also felt that he was difficult to please and stubborn, refusing to listen to or believe anything no matter how much he was persuaded.
"Are you thinking, 'This guy is such a pain, if only he had died there...'"
His body jolted violently, and Fu Xuanliao shouted sharply, "No!"
He took a few quick breaths, as if terrified that the hypothetical scenario had come true: "You're not a problem at all, not a problem at all. You barely survived, it's my fault."
“You didn’t harm me.” Shi Meng’s voice was unusually calm. “I chose this path myself. You also said that my life and death have nothing to do with you.”
It was as if he had been dragged back to that rainy evening, the French windows were wet with rain, and the chill seeped into his body. Fu Xuanliao watched as he received a call from Shi Meng, thinking that the other party was playing some kind of threatening trick again, and pressed the hang-up button without hesitation.
As the rain stopped, Fu Xuanliao reached out, trying to snatch the cell phone that could still contact Shi Meng.
But there's no going back; the past and the hurt are both irreversible.
Having just escaped from painful memories, he was dragged into a vortex of guilt mixed with inexplicable hatred. Fu Xuanliao spoke incoherently and uncontrollably: "No, it has something to do with me... You live, you live well, I'm the one who should die."
Shi Meng probably wouldn't believe that when he said such absurd things to others, he was truly prepared to die at any moment.
He didn't see it as a sacrifice, but at most an exchange.
An equal exchange is all that matters, as long as Shi Meng feels good and can laugh from the bottom of his heart.
Thinking he had finally found an effective way to repay the debt, and with the belief that he would give anything, Fu Xuanliao took a deep breath, released the arms that had been holding him captive for so long, and gritted his teeth as he stepped back.
"If you want me dead, then I'll go..."
I couldn't escape; my wrist was grabbed.
It was touched by a hand that was slightly damp, yet cold and even trembling.
"Who told you to die?" Shi Meng asked.
The voice was very low, making it impossible for Fu Xuanliao to discern its meaning—whether it was sarcasm or a genuine reluctance to let him go.
So Shi Meng switched to a more direct method, wrapping his other hand around him and restraining him together, ordering, "You are not allowed to go."
The long-lost domineering tone startled Fu Xuanliao, who thought the old Shi Meng had returned.
Shi Meng, the one who would use every method to keep him from escaping, who would demand that he could only look at her, who would be domineering and unreasonable yet extremely adorable... and who would love him more than her own life, has returned.
Fu Xuanliao was the one who didn't believe it.
He turned around in a daze, and when he saw Shi Meng staring straight into his eyes, his heart felt like a feather blown high in the sky by the wind, drifting aimlessly before slowly settling down.
Before, no matter what he did, Shi Meng had always avoided it, but only now is he truly willing to face himself.
Shi Meng said, "You're not allowed to go," but his eyes, though wide open, showed little ferocity. The shimmering water within them was a hidden torrent of water about to burst forth from beneath the calm surface.
Precariously, her eyes finally gave way, letting two large tears slip down her cheeks.
This is the first time Fu Xuanliao saw it and burst into tears.
Fu Xuanliao felt a sharp pain in his heart almost reflexively. He wanted to tell him not to cry, wanted to reach out and wipe his tears, and even wanted to say that if he didn't want him to go, he wouldn't go for now... With so many things to do, he ultimately decided to apologize first.
"I……"
He wanted to say, "I was wrong, don't cry," but he only managed to utter one word before his lips were sealed by a soft kiss.
Shi Meng's hands had somehow moved to Fu Xuanliao's collar, pulling hard on both sides of the shirt and forcing him to lower his head, while she herself leaned forward to block him.
It was as if they were forced into a corner and had no other choice but to use this method to make him swallow all his nonsense.
Everything is driven by instinct; the body acts before the brain even issues a command.
An instinctive attraction, an instinctive fascination, an instinctive craving for warmth... and an instinctive desire for him to live, that's all.
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