Fu Xuanliao was not good at remembering things, and he was even more reluctant to waste his brain cells on people who were insignificant.
Therefore, when faced with Zhang Hao's unbridled attempts to get close and flatter him, who claimed to be his junior, he only felt resistance and annoyance.
But Zhang Hao was incredibly thick-skinned. He didn't seem to realize that Fu Xuanliao didn't want to waste time talking to him. After being rejected when he suggested a small gathering at Heting, he offered to treat Fu Xuanliao to dinner. When rejected again, he suggested sitting nearby. When rejected a third time, he still had a backup plan. He pointed to the smoking area under the steps next to him and said, "Shall we go there and chat for a while? Five minutes will be fine. It won't take up too much of your time, senior."
Seeing that he couldn't avoid it this time, Fu Xuanliao thought he might as well take this opportunity to make things clear to the kid to avoid trouble later.
Upon reaching the smoking area, Fu Xuanliao refused the cigarette offered to him. Zhang Hao then slapped his forehead, saying, "It's my fault. I didn't even ask beforehand. It turns out my senior isn't a smoker."
Fu Xuanliao was too lazy to explain further and went straight to the point: "What are you doing here?"
Besides being thick-skinned, Zhang Hao was also incredibly talkative; once he started talking, he wouldn't stop. In just three minutes, Fu Xuanliao had learned everything about him: his family structure, his profession, his hobbies, and even that he had come to the hospital that day to bring food to his mother, who had fallen down the stairs and broken her leg.
“My mom is picky and only eats crayfish from this restaurant.” Zhang Hao held up the insulated food container in his hand. “The doctor told me not to eat anything too spicy while I was in the hospital, so she asked me to bring some later. I even prepared disposable gloves. I peeled the crayfish myself and fed her one by one. It should be fine if she eats a little less.”
This display of "filial piety" impressed Fu Xuanliao, who patiently listened to his family's situation and was surprised to find that he wasn't as unreliable as he had imagined. At least he was a legitimate businessman and showed enough sincerity.
After their conversation, the two exchanged phone numbers. Zhang Hao said, "My family has a large factory in the development zone, and all the building materials we produce meet national standards. We welcome you to visit and provide guidance."
Fu Xuanliao thought for a moment and said, "It's not feasible for the next two months. Let's reschedule when we have time."
Zhang Hao expressed his understanding: "I heard from Brother Gao that Young Master Shi is in the hospital." He then added somewhat awkwardly, "Last time I was blind and almost mistook him for someone you were keeping as a mistress..."
The last two words were omitted, and they were probably not a respectable description.
However, it's normal for someone like Zhang Hao's family, who hovers on the fringes of Fengcheng's top social circles, to be unaware of the situation. Fu Xuanliao originally planned to tell him that he was the one being kept by the Second Young Master Shi, but considering that Shi Meng hadn't been found yet, he wasn't in the mood to say more and said goodbye before leaving.
Having achieved his goal of befriending Fu Xuanliao, Zhang Hao happily drove her to the parking lot, not forgetting to flatter her along the way: "You two have such a good relationship. It's truly enviable that your campus romance has lasted this long."
Fu Xuanliao stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing slightly: "What campus romance?"
"You and Young Master Shi, isn't that right? I even bumped into him in your classroom back then, stuffing things into your desk."
As Zhang Hao spoke, he nudged Fu Xuanliao with his elbow and teased, "I understand the romance between young lovers. Speaking of which, I think he slipped you a drawing, right? It looked like just a thin piece of paper."
Upon hearing that something was being stuffed into the tabletop, Fu Xuanliao was stunned: "Are you sure... it's him?"
“Yes, the second young master of the Shi family is called Shi Mu, right? I could never mistake his face. I saw him at the entrance of Heting last time. He looked just like this a few years ago, and he was cold and didn’t like to talk.” Zhang Hao raised his eyebrows and said, “Later, I heard that you came out as gay, and then it dawned on me that you two were together back then!”
Late at night, Fu Xuanliao drove aimlessly around the streets.
He received a lot of information in a very short time, and each and every piece of information overturned his preconceived notions. Even if he was very clear-headed, it would be difficult for him to immediately sort them out according to their importance and urgency, and then organize them in a clear and organized manner.
My mind is a mess, a jumbled mess of things about Shi Meng: his background, his fate, his obsession, the wounds he suffered, and... our past interactions.
Looking back now, Fu Xuanliao realized that none of the simple sketches he received back then were signed. But according to Shi Mu's drawing habits, even if it was just a quick sketch, he would leave the character "Mu" in the lower right corner of the paper.
Zhang Hao knew very little about the Shi family, only that they had two young masters. He matched faces with names based on his own guesses, which led him to repeatedly confuse the two. However, visual memory is far more reliable than hearsay. Since faces cannot be faked, the person he described who went to his classroom and stuffed something into his desk must be Shi Meng.
Having figured this out, Fu Xuanliao couldn't help but fall into even deeper confusion.
Why did Shi Meng, who had almost no interaction with me back then, send me a painting?
Did Shi Meng see me running on the playground and sleeping on the table in the painting?
Was Christmas eight years ago also a time of confusion? Why did he deny it when I questioned him and asked for confirmation?
Is there something else that I've been... misunderstanding all along?
After the false sense of wakefulness caused by frequent stimulation, extreme drowsiness follows the headache.
Having not slept for several nights in a row, Fu Xuanliao rested his head on the steering wheel in the warm car and unconsciously closed his eyes for a while.
He wasn't sure if he was really asleep; he only saw the constantly changing images before his eyes and heard a cacophony of sounds around him.
He first saw eight-year-old Shi Meng hiding under the table, his thin body curled up in a ball. When he got closer, the person under the table looked up and he realized that the person had a pair of round eyes and a harmless smile. This face was clearly Shi Mu.
He saw himself walking on the school playground, with people around him kicking a soccer ball and chatting as they walked. It should have been a scene about Shi Mu, but when he turned his head and met their gaze, he found that it was a pair of slightly upturned eyes belonging to Shi Meng.
Shi Meng told him that his dream was to become a painter and asked if he wanted to be his personal photographer.
Shi Meng would always secretly follow him, take down the gifts he tied to the top of the Christmas tree, see the watch inside, and smile slightly on the night of the first snow.
In this chaotic timeline, even the person who accompanied him to the amusement park back in high school has become Shi Meng.
Shi Meng wouldn't stand him up. They ate ice cream together, rode roller coasters together, and shouted each other's names at the highest point.
He also caught Shi Meng sneaking into his classroom to watch him take a nap. He held Shi Meng's slender wrist in his hand. Shi Meng, who always had a cold face, had unusually flushed cheeks. When asked why he was there, he looked away and remained silent.
...
I was awakened by the phone ringing at 2:30 a.m.
Seeing that it was Jiang Rong calling, he assumed it was a message from Shi Meng. As soon as he answered, Fu Xuanliao asked, "Has Shi Meng gone back yet?"
Jiang Rong paused for a moment on the other end of the phone, then sighed, "No, he didn't come back."
Fu Xuanliao was still reeling from the earth-shattering shock and the dream he had just experienced. He silently restrained himself, parked the car next to a commercial plaza, slumped his shoulders, and rubbed his face hard a few times.
When he looked up and saw the scene before him, Fu Xuanliao's heart softened instantly.
Just a few months ago, Fu Xuanliao received the roasted chestnuts that Shi Meng had bought for him in line here. The two of them shared an umbrella and stood out perfectly among countless couples.
They went to the amusement park, ate ice cream together, rode roller coasters... Only now does Fu Xuanliao truly understand that what they felt wasn't cold possessiveness, but rather a desire to create memories that belonged to them because they liked each other.
They went on a holiday in the countryside after the snow had cleared. Shi Meng stood in the middle of the fountain with an umbrella, looking up at the sky, her smile as pure as a mushroom unaware of human suffering.
"How heartbroken must you be to run away from the hospital?" Jiang Rong said on the phone. "Go find him and bring him home."
Thinking back to a few days ago, when Fu Xuanliao called home and told him to "call me when Shi Meng gets home," Jiang Rong felt sad but was afraid of upsetting him, so she only reminded him to be careful on the road and didn't say anything more.
Fu Xuanliao gave a low "hmm" in agreement.
But where did the mushrooms go?
He was injured, had no umbrella, and it was raining outside. Where could he possibly run to?
After starting the car again, Fu Xuanliao decided to calm himself down and go home first.
I've been busy these past few days and haven't had time to prepare a change of clothes for Shi Meng.
Searching aimlessly is like looking for a needle in a haystack; it's better to leave it to professionals. Maybe they'll find it before dawn.
Everyone has their own role to play, and what he needs to do now is to prepare and take good care of the injured little mushroom.
When Shi Meng returned, Fu Xuanliao thought that he shouldn't rush to ask him about the past.
He must have his reasons for not wanting to talk about it. As long as he comes back safely, that's enough. We still have plenty of time to clear up the misunderstanding and find a normal way of getting along.
Conversely, if he had grown up in love, he certainly wouldn't have developed such an extremely stubborn personality. The past cannot be undone; it's not too late to make up for what he lacked before.
After all, he never asked for much. A short Saturday, an ill-fitting bracelet, or a casual mention of mushrooms were enough to make him beam with joy.
Having convinced himself to calm down, Fu Xuanliao went down to the underground parking lot, slowly reversed the car, and parked it in the designated parking space.
As he was about to get out of the car, the rearview mirrors automatically folded in. Fu Xuanliao glanced at them out of the corner of his eye and thought he saw a figure flash by. But when he looked again, the figure was gone. He shook his head, thinking he was hallucinating because he hadn't slept for a long time.
As he opened the car door and got out, a pillar next to him blocked his view. So when someone crawled out from the side and pressed a sharp object against his lower back, Fu Xuanliao's first thought was—he had been careless.
He never expected to be ambushed in such a heavily monitored place, and he also never expected that the fatigue from the past few days would affect his reaction speed. Under normal circumstances, the attacker would not have had a chance to pull out a knife.
In fact, Fu Xuanliao still has a chance to turn the tables, because he sensed that the person behind him didn't have much strength, and the knife pressed against him didn't have the heart to stab him.
The person behind him was breathing heavily and trembling, as if he had been ill for a long time or had suffered a serious injury.
Realizing who had attacked him, Fu Xuanliao stood motionless, but his heart was filled with turmoil.
Then I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that it was good that I found him and that he was alright.
Just as he was about to ask "How are you?", the person behind him spoke first.
"Fu Xuanliao".
The moment those three words reached his ears, Fu Xuanliao was jolted awake, so anxious he almost turned around.
The person behind him didn't give him a chance, and continued, "I'm used to it, used to having you by my side."
As if recounting someone else's story, the light voice had almost no inflection, but Fu Xuanliao could hear the helplessness and dejection in it.
"Fu Xuanliao," Shi Meng called his name for the last time, "Give me a little more time, okay?"
This reminded Fu Xuanliao of a winter evening last year when he took Shi Meng back to her home. Instead of going in, Shi Meng stood at the door and asked to go out together next Saturday, using a conciliatory "Okay?"
But at the time he was eager to escape and did not agree, and they never had such good times again.
For the first time in five years, Fu Xuanliao did not resist Shi Meng's coercion, allowing him to hold a knife to his waist in the dark, lead him to the back seat of the car, and then tie his hands tightly in front of him with hemp rope.
The driver was a man of few words. They sped along for dozens of kilometers in silence, arriving at the coast closest to Maple City just as dawn was breaking.
The fare was paid with three hundred-yuan bills from Fu Xuanliao's suit pocket, which were now draped over Shi Meng's shoulders. Fu Xuanliao remembered there were two more bills inside, which Shi Meng had likely used to buy a knife and rope.
The rain stopped, and the morning was calm with cool water. Several early-rising fishing boats hoisted their sails and headed toward the reddening horizon.
Fu Xuanliao was placed on the dock to wait. He saw Shi Meng talking to an old man on the shore, pointing to a small fishing boat moored on the shore, and handing the old man a set of commemorative coins that looked quite valuable.
After the old man came over to help loosen the mooring rope on the bollard, Shi Meng turned back to Fu Xuanliao and said, "Let's go up."
Fu Xuanliao hadn't heard that Shi Mengti knew how to sail, but he still went aboard.
He wanted to tell Shi Meng, "I won't run away if you don't tie me up," but seeing Shi Meng's frequent stares, he gave up.
They've been at odds for years, and he's never gone along with him. This time, it's better to listen to him.
Shi Meng was seriously injured and could not walk steadily on the wooden plank to board the ship. Fu Xuanliao raised his two bound arms to help him, and he did not refuse.
Once on board, he ignored Fu Xuanliao, walked to the engine, and pressed the start button.
The oil and water pressure readings on the instrument panel changed, and the ship began to move with a rumbling sound.
Looking out the front window, Shi Meng squinted at the boundless sea, his eyes stinging from the shimmering light.
His hands were wrapped in thick bandages, his lips were bloodless, and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent in the morning light. He should be lying in a hospital bed, not sitting in this dilapidated fishing boat.
But he has no intention of turning back.
Because the ship was carrying his most precious treasure, they were slowly leaving the dock and heading into the depths of the sea.
To say a final goodbye.
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