(superior)
Fu Xuanliao had a dream.
It was late summer, and the location was the playground.
In his first sports meet as a second-year high school student, he was forced to sign up for the 8,000-meter race. With the spirit of participation and the pride of not losing face, he gritted his teeth and decided to finish the race five minutes before the start.
In fact, he had enough stamina. Fu Xuanliao loved sports and often played football with his classmates in his spare time. The circumference of a standard 11-a-side football field was about the same as the rubber track at No. 3 Middle School, so twenty laps was a piece of cake.
But he forgot about the long-standing respiratory problems he had. Fengcheng had been experiencing little rain lately, and a thick layer of dust had accumulated on the roads. Today, the wind was strong, and countless grains of dust were kicked up on the open track. By the fifth lap, Fu Xuanliao had been choked by the dust at least five times.
Drinking water did not alleviate the discomfort in his throat and trachea. His breathing became heavy, and he gradually became breathless. His steps also began to falter.
Young people always have a stubborn streak that refuses to admit defeat, and Fu Xuanliao is no exception.
He knew he probably wouldn't be able to complete twenty laps this time, but he was thinking of at least finishing this one.
With the finish line of the seventh lap in sight, and he could even see the little red hat on the referee's head, his legs suddenly went weak, his knees hitting the ground first, followed by his shoulders and head.
The screen went dark for a moment, then the image reappeared, and the location had shifted to the infirmary of No. 3 Middle School.
The air here is much cleaner. A narrow single bed is separated from the outside clinic by a white, semi-transparent curtain. On the other side is a window, and sunlight shines in through the gaps in the trees. Fu Xuanliao squinted, trying to catch the tiny dust particles floating in the air.
There was no sound outside; the doctor didn't seem to be there. Fu Xuanliao yawned, which triggered a sharp pain in his respiratory tract. He pounded his chest and coughed a few times. He simply lay back down, thinking resignedly that since things were already like this, he might as well sleep a little longer.
In a daze, he remembered hearing gasps from the audience before he fell, wondering if that person was among them.
There should be. The sports meet at No. 3 Middle School is held together by junior and senior high school students, so there's no reason he wouldn't see it.
Maybe they're already on their way... Fu Xuanliao closed his heavy eyelids and fell asleep again.
When he woke up again—or more accurately, when he regained consciousness—Fu Xuanliao was in a state of semi-consciousness, able to see and hear, but not clearly.
Hearing the noise, he opened his eyes with difficulty. A slender figure appeared behind the white curtain. The figure had short hair and was not tall, though it was possible that the difference in light and shadow made it appear shorter.
As if afraid of being discovered, the person's footsteps were very light, and they stood by the bed for a long time without making a move.
Just as Fu Xuanliao was drifting off to sleep again, a hand parted one side of the curtains, cautiously peered in, and then landed on his forehead.
The back of my hand didn't feel warm; it was even a bit cold.
Fu Xuanliao frowned uncomfortably, and the hand hurriedly moved away. After a while, the hand replaced it with the relatively warmer fingertips and gently touched the wound on Fu Xuanliao's forehead caused by hitting the ground. It felt like a feather landing on his skin, a little itchy.
As drowsiness deepened, before his half-closed eyelids lost the last ray of light, Fu Xuanliao vaguely saw a hand, slender and fair, moving gently, as if touching an incomparably precious treasure.
When he truly woke up from the dream, the image of that hand in his mind became briefly very clear, so much so that Fu Xuanliao sat on the bed staring at the hand of the person next to him outside the blanket for a long time before suddenly waking up and realizing how absurd it was.
How could it be Shi Meng?
He woke up in the infirmary that day, lifted the curtain, and saw a bottle of beverage on the bedside table with a piece of paper underneath.
The beverage was his usual brand, known only to those who frequently hung out with him. The paper depicted a playground and running track, with a person in a school uniform short-sleeved shirt running.
A few days later, it was Fu Xuanliao's birthday. When he arrived at school in the morning, he found an A5-sized drawing in his desk. It was a colored and detailed version of the simple sketch he had received at the infirmary. It was obvious who the person in the drawing was.
In fact, when Fu Xuanliao was in the first year of high school, he received an unsigned drawing. It depicted a boy sleeping on a desk in the classroom.
Because his face wasn't painted on, Fu Xuanliao initially thought someone had misplaced it. It wasn't until his birthday the following year that he realized it was a gift for him. Then, during his senior year of high school, he indirectly confirmed the existence of their Christmas Eve chat by looking at the watch on Shi Mu's wrist. Finally, when all the events were connected, everything made sense.
It seems that when he fell for Shi Mu, Shi Mu also had feelings for him, but she was bound by traditional etiquette and dared not admit it, so she could only express her feelings in a subtle way through these methods.
The silent concern and care in the infirmary that prompted Fu Xuanliao to confront his feelings was the most precious memory in his heart.
How could Shi Meng have done this?
Fu Xuanliao withdrew his gaze and gave a self-deprecating smile.
Last time, I also had a dream. When I woke up, I was confused and thought I had misremembered the protagonist in reality. It was already absurd enough that Shi Meng himself denied it after I asked for confirmation. This time, I don't know what got into me. Based on a similar hand, I almost wavered again.
After getting out of bed and washing up, Fu Xuanliao received a call from Gao Lecheng while changing clothes in the dressing room.
"It's a lovely weekend, how about coming to Heting?"
"The Shi family is making a move today, I have to go check it out."
After a moment's hesitation, the person on the other end asked, "We made plans yesterday?"
"Hmm." Fu Xuanliao didn't want to elaborate on this, and instead asked, "Is there something you need?"
"It's nothing, it's just that someone surnamed Zhang claims to be your classmate and wants to meet you."
"Surname Zhang?" Fu Xuanliao couldn't recall for a moment.
"Yes, his name is Zhang Hao, and he said he's your junior."
That's when I started to remember it.
"What does he want with me?"
“I asked him, and he said he wanted to catch up with you, probably trying to build a relationship with you and get closer to you.”
Gao Lecheng saw through it, so Fu Xuanliao didn't need to hold back: "Well, his family is in the building materials business, maybe he's trying to take a shortcut."
“No wonder,” Gao Lecheng said. “But isn’t your company looking for suppliers? If they’re reliable, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to them.”
Fu Xuanliao naturally understood the reasoning, but when he recalled the time at the entrance of Heting, when Zhang Hao caught Shi Meng and called him Shi Mu, he felt gloomy and inexplicably irritable.
“We have long-term partners here, we don’t need a supplier who suddenly appears out of nowhere,” Fu Xuanliao instructed. “Just tell him I’m busy.”
Gao Lecheng agreed, knowing he was busy, and reminded him to "be careful in everything" before hanging up.
As Fu Xuanliao put on his suit jacket and walked out, he passed the mirror by the door and caught a glimpse of the broken piece of mirror out of the corner of his eye, and paused for a moment.
He could have gone straight out of the dressing room, but for some inexplicable reason, he returned to the bedroom and, from two or three meters away, looked at the person still sleeping on the bed.
Shi Meng likes to hug something when he sleeps, and Fu Xuanliao often serves as that thing. Now that he has nothing to hug, he curls up on his side, pulling the extra blanket into his arms, burying almost his entire head under it, with only half of his pale face visible.
After their big argument last night, the two of them didn't speak to each other again. They were so silent that no one turned on the light. They quickly washed their faces and climbed into bed in the dark.
It was only when Fu Xuanliao saw the broken mirror that he belatedly realized that Shi Meng might have been injured last night.
Unlike the playful squabbles during sex, a broken mirror could mean serious injury.
He lifted his foot, wanting to go forward and investigate, but stopped after only half a step.
It's as if doing so is equivalent to forgetting, and the dusty past will be buried deeper by the sandstorm until it is completely covered.
Everyone told him he couldn't forget.
Forgetting is a form of betrayal.
Fu Xuanliao took a deep breath but ultimately did not step forward.
He didn't dare to look at it again, and almost hastily turned around and strode out.
(Down)
Shi Meng woke up late again today. Standing in front of the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time before slowly raising her hand to touch the red and swollen wound on her forehead.
There was no broken skin, but it was slightly painful to press, which shows that Fu Xuanliao did not use much force yesterday and could not break free simply because he was too tired.
Shi Meng numbly made an excuse for Fu Xuanliao and herself, tidied up, put on a thin turtleneck sweater, and walked out of the bedroom.
The Fu family's house is quite large, more than enough to house four people.
One of the empty rooms was set aside as a studio for Shi Meng. Jiang Rong was cleaning that room when she heard the door open and peeked out. Seeing Shi Meng dressed warmly, she asked, "Why are you wearing so much in this hot weather?"
Shi Meng didn't want to tell her that it was to cover up the pinch marks. Even though there was such a commotion last night, she might already know what had happened.
"I'm not hot."
As Shi Meng answered, she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water before leaving.
A short while later, Jiang Rong also came to the kitchen and took out the sandwiches that were warming in the oven: "Have some, try your aunt's cooking."
Shi Meng had no reason to refuse.
When Jiang Rong noticed the scratches on the back of her hand after she washed her hands and picked up the sandwich, she asked in surprise, "Was this scratched by a cat?"
Shi Meng glanced at his arm and said dismissively, "Just for a moment."
"Have you been vaccinated?" Jiang Rong reminded her. "If you were arrested last night, it hasn't been 24 hours yet, so it's not too late to get vaccinated now."
So Shi Meng had just finished eating when Jiang Rong urged him to go out. He was holding his phone with navigation on, and his destination was Fengcheng Disease Prevention and Control Center.
"I can't drive, otherwise I would have taken you there."
Jiang Rong saw him to the door, glanced at his hand, then turned to look at the room that served as his studio, looking quite worried.
"What a beautiful drawing!" she said. "You mustn't let anything happen to such skillful hands."
On the way, Shi Meng received a call from Sun Yanfeng.
He cut to the chase: "I heard from your mother that you went out to look for the cat last night?"
Shi Meng hummed in agreement.
A helpless sigh came from the other end: "Sigh, I told your mother to contact me if she needed anything, but I didn't expect to bother you again."
"It's nothing," Shi Meng said.
"That Mumu... I mean, where was that cat finally found?"
"In the bushes near the residential area."
Thinking back to the darkness and terrible weather last night, Shi Meng still felt a damp, uncomfortable feeling, as if she had been drenched in rain.
That's when my hand was scratched. The cat was hiding in the bushes and was startled by the approaching footsteps. When Shi Meng bent down to catch it, it ran away in a panic and slashed hard with its claws.
"It's good that you found her," Sun Yanfeng said. "Next time something like this happens, call the teacher. I promised to take care of you and your son."
Shi Meng couldn't recall when Sun Yanfeng had said those words, but he thought it might have been directed at Yang Youlan.
From beginning to end, he was just an outsider, unable to join in, and knew nothing. Even when he was just learning to speak, he had to passively accept the fate that came crashing down on him.
But he's not so oblivious as to not notice the absurdity of it even now.
"So, am I actually your son?" Shi Meng disliked beating around the bush and sought confirmation directly after making a guess. "Or is Shi Mu your child?"
New ideas were opened up, and many previously overlooked details emerged one after another, becoming points of doubt regardless of their importance or urgency.
Regardless of the details that are difficult to investigate, Yang Youlan's attitude last night alone is enough to make people puzzled.
After all, even Jiang Rong, who was not related to him, could still show him some care. How could his mother, who raised him with her own hands, treat him so lightly, as if his life were worthless and not as important as a cat?
Moreover, he remembered that yesterday was the anniversary of Shi Mu's death, which explained Fu Xuanliao's irritability.
So what about Yang Youlan? Why was she behaving so strangely on this day?
She also keeps Shi Mu's sketchbook.
Shi Mu... Mu Mu... Mu Mu...
As he repeatedly pondered these two similar names, a huge vortex seemed to appear in his mind, sweeping Shi Meng into the torrent of the past, forcing him to pull out the thorns stuck in his body one by one, and to investigate exactly where he went wrong.
From the time Shi Meng could remember, Yang Youlan seemed to have an unusual affection for Shi Mu. When Shi Mu was seriously ill, she urged Shi Meng to get a bone marrow match, and even said things like, "Please, please save him."
At the time, Shi Meng thought it was just her belated guilt for breaking up someone else's family, a pang of conscience wanting to make amends, but she never considered that it was out of instinct.
A mother's instinctive love for her child.
In fact, Shi Meng didn't care about these vague expressions of love and care.
He was used to being alone, having walked alone in this cold world since birth, so much so that he became accustomed to the indifference and malice of others, taking things as they came and having no interest in investigating the reasons for being treated this way.
Anyway, no one will tell him.
Moreover, it was too tiring. Just living and chasing after that tiny glimmer of light exhausted him.
So when Shi Meng realized that something might be fundamentally wrong, her first reaction was fear, followed by avoidance.
He was afraid of being disturbed, afraid of having his established beliefs overturned, afraid of unbearable consequences, and had no clue how to anticipate and deal with the situation.
But he was also serious, stubborn, and impatient. Now that he had discovered the clues, he was determined not to pretend he knew nothing.
Sun Yanfeng didn't give him a direct answer on the phone just now, only telling him not to overthink things, which clearly showed that she was unwilling to tell him the truth.
Shi Meng thought that the only way to get to Shi Huaiyi was to start with him.
After receiving the vaccine, remembering Jiang Rong's instructions, Shi Meng carefully kept the receipt indicating the next injection date and drove to the group's headquarters building.
He rarely goes to that place. The last time was five years ago when Huaiyi took him there to visit and asked him if he wanted to work there in the future.
Shi Meng's answer was naturally no; he only wanted to paint and didn't want Li Bihan to think of him as an enemy. Shi Meng had always been clear about his position in this family.
But looking back now, why did the person who said "You must know your place" suddenly change his attitude and want him to join the family business?
My heart was pounding so hard it was vibrating my eardrums, then my eye sockets, temples, then my head, and finally it spread throughout my entire body.
The road ahead leads to the unknown, and every meter closer to the destination feels like getting one step closer to the truth.
Today is a day off, and the first floor of the group building is sparsely populated; you can hear the echo of your footsteps as you walk in.
Shi Meng didn't have a work ID, and the receptionist didn't recognize him either. When she heard that he was looking for Shi Huaiyi, she first asked if he had an appointment. After receiving a negative answer, she looked him up and down suspiciously, and then picked up the phone: "Wait a moment."
The front desk line usually doesn't go directly to the president's office; it goes through several intermediaries. Shi Meng wasn't paying attention to their conversation, but he noticed the receptionist on the phone glancing at him a few more times, as if confirming something.
About five minutes later, a man walked out of the elevator. He was of average appearance and dressed like an office worker. Shi Meng had no recollection of him.
“Young Master Shi.” He recognized Shi Meng and said respectfully with a smile, “President Shi is in a meeting and sent me down to meet you.”
Shi Meng followed him toward the stairwell, followed by several men who looked like security guards.
Like most office buildings, the Shih family headquarters building has a high and spacious first floor with many doors leading in different directions and serving different functions.
Passing through the stairwell and through a previously closed door into a long, quiet corridor, Shi Meng vaguely sensed that something was amiss.
"Aren't you going upstairs?" he asked the man who came to meet him.
"Mr. Shi is in a meeting," the man said. "Please wait downstairs for a moment."
Shi Meng still found it strange. If they were going to wait, why didn't they do it in a lounge or something, instead of leading him to the outermost corridor of the building?
Furthermore, this walkway leads outdoors, and it appears to connect to the parking lot at the other end.
Just then, Shi Meng heard a familiar car engine sound, exactly the same as the one he had heard on many Saturdays from upstairs in the Shi family mansion.
Immediately following was the sound of the car door opening and closing. The moment he saw the tall figure appear at the end of the passage, Shi Meng didn't have time to think about why he was there and ran straight forward.
Where Fu Xuanliao was, Shi Meng instinctively ignored everyone else, thus easily overlooking the hurried footsteps behind him.
The sound of danger approaching.
When Shi Meng was struck on the back of the head by a hard, rod-like object, he was about to call out Fu Xuanliao's name.
He preferred to call him by his name because before he was given many identities—senior, CEO Fu, Shi Mu's friend, and the only son of the Fu family—he was first and foremost the person Shi Meng loved.
Unfortunately, the faint sound emanating from his throat was replaced by a tremendous roar. Before Shi Meng could even turn around and see the attacker's face, he staggered forward two steps and fell uncontrollably to the ground.
In the second before consciousness leaves the body, time is stretched out very slowly.
The dizziness made the pain less noticeable, and Shi Meng desperately opened her eyes wide, looking at the figure at the end of the road.
The man had his back to him, and as if sensing something, he stopped and looked to both sides.
However, perhaps because he was in a hurry, he did not linger for long before taking another step and continuing to stride forward until he became a tiny black dot, swallowed up by the blinding white light.
Until he completely left the world of Shi Meng.
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