【Homecoming and Fireworks】
Time flowed quietly under the sunshine and monsoon of southern France, like the peaceful, winding river at the doorstep, neither hurried nor slow, yet never stopping. In the blink of an eye, they had already spent two years in this small town.
The cottage gradually began to feel like a true home. A small, handmade wooden sign, engraved with the couple's initials, hung crookedly on the door. The yard had a few more pots of herbs that Shao Wei had experimented with. Basil, rosemary, and mint grew freely in the sun, emitting a fresh scent that Siqi would occasionally pick to garnish dishes. In the shade of the old olive tree stood a somewhat bulky wooden table and two chairs. Siqi had learned how to make them from an old carpenter in town; the craftsmanship was crude, but the furniture was exceptionally strong.
Siqi had almost completely integrated into local life. He could chat with his neighbors in French, speaking a slightly more fluent, though accented, language. He knew which bakery had the crispiest croissants and which butcher's sausages were the most generous. He still helped out at the vineyards in Old Gennot, but it was no longer a study trip, but more of a habitual outing and companionship. His complexion was a healthy honey-hued hue, and the once harsh and anxious expression between his brows was replaced by a calm and peaceful expression. Only when he looked at Shao Wei did his deep eyes reveal undisguised tenderness and focus.
Shao Wei's transformation was more subtle, yet no less profound. He remained quiet, but the sense of alienation that enveloped him, as if separated from the world by a thin layer of glass, had completely dissipated. On sunny afternoons, he would sit in the courtyard with his sketchbook, sketching swaying olive branches or the occasional bird flying across the sky. His brushstrokes, initially chaotic and hesitant, gradually became steady and fluid. The administrator of the town's small library, an elderly woman who always wore reading glasses, had come to know this quiet and beautiful young Oriental man and would reserve some newly arrived art albums for him.
Life is as peaceful as a repetitive yet never boring pastoral poem.
Until one seemingly ordinary evening.
Si Qi returned from the town's newly opened cheese shop, carrying a piece of goat cheese that was said to have a unique flavor. He pushed open the gate, only to find Shao Wei standing at the doorway, not in the yard or by the window as usual, holding a thick airmail envelope with a domestic postmark, looking down at it with a startled expression.
Si Qi's heart subconsciously tightened, and he walked over quickly: "What's wrong? Who sent it?"
Shao Wei raised his head and handed him the envelope, his voice calm, "Lawyer. Some follow-up procedures for the Si family require your final signature and confirmation."
Si Qi took the envelope, pulled out the documents inside, and quickly scanned them. These were the legal documents he had entrusted his lawyer to handle, regarding the final division of the Si Group's equity and its complete severance. The process had reached the final step, requiring only his signature to take effect. From then on, he would no longer have any legal connection to that vast, cold-blooded business empire, nor to the Si family it represented.
He had already prepared himself mentally, even a little impatient. But at this moment, looking at these official documents, an indescribable complex emotion quietly filled his heart - not reluctance, but more like a final review and farewell to the past.
He raised his head and looked at Shao Wei, trying to read something from his face. Shao Wei's expression had returned to his usual calm, but a very faint, elusive emotion seemed to pass through the depths of his ice-blue eyes.
"Come in, it's cold outside." Si Qi put his arm around his shoulders and led him into the house.
At the dinner table, both of them were silent. Si Qi carefully spread goat cheese on a toasted slice of bread and handed it to Shao Wei. Shao Wei took it, nibbling at it, his gaze drifting off.
"You..." Si Qi hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, "Do you feel... a pity?"
Shao Wei stopped chewing and looked up at him with a hint of doubt in his eyes.
"I mean," Si Qi gestured, trying to explain clearly, "those things... wealth, status... originally, you should have a part of them." Although Shao Wei never cared about them, and might even have hated them, Si Qi always felt that it was he who brought Shao Wei away from that cold but materially affluent environment and brought him to this foreign town to live a nearly secluded and simple life.
Shao Wei listened quietly, lowered his head, looked at the half-eaten piece of bread in his hand, and remained silent for a long time.
Just when Si Qi thought he wouldn't answer, he suddenly spoke softly. His voice was calm, but like a stone thrown into a deep pool, it stirred up waves in Si Qi's heart:
"You're not there."
Si Qi's hand holding the dinner knife suddenly stopped and he looked up in surprise.
Shao Wei didn't look at him. He just continued to look at the bread, as if stating a simple fact: "There was only 'Mrs. Smith' there." He paused and added two words, "Fake."
There was no Si Qi who would clumsily make coffee for him, who would stay awake all night because of his nightmares, or who would be as happy as a child when he said "I like it". There was only a cold marriage, a "husband" who always kept the study door closed to him, and a shadow named "Si" who was always wandering outside.
Si Qi's heart felt like it was struck hard by these words. A bitterness and pity surged up instantly, making his throat constrict. He put down his knife, reached out, and tightly grasped Shao Wei's slightly cool hand that had been placed on the table.
"It's great here." Shao Wei raised his eyes at this moment. His icy blue eyes were clear and reflected Si Qi's moved face. "Cheese," he pointed to the plate, "is not bad either."
Si Qi looked at him and suddenly laughed softly, his laughter filled with relief and immense happiness. He shook Shao Wei's hand vigorously: "Well, this place is great."
The past is no longer important. What matters is the present, the hand we hold at this moment, and the destination we choose together.
The next day, Si Qi signed his name on the documents, a name that was completely cut off from the past. He stuffed the documents back into the envelope and prepared to mail them the next day.
Having resolved a matter, he was in a good mood and decided to cook a big meal that evening. He dug out the recipe that Shao Wei had occasionally used to eat with his chopsticks and began to prepare it with great enthusiasm.
Shao Wei was sent to the yard to pick some fresh basil and tomatoes.
As the sun sets and the sky darkens, the tempting aroma of food wafts from the cottage, blending with the fresh scent of the grass and trees in the yard.
Si Qi was "fighting" with a fish in the kitchen that was trying to jump off the chopping board when he suddenly heard a slight, suppressed cough coming from the yard.
He immediately put down what he was holding, wiped his hands, and walked quickly to the door.
Shao Wei was crouching beside the herb garden, his back to him, a few freshly picked, bright red tomatoes in his hand. His shoulders moved slightly, and he coughed intermittently, not violently, but seemingly unable to stop.
"What's wrong?" Si Qi's heart tightened. He took a few steps over, squatted down and held his shoulders. "Did you catch a cold?"
Shao Wei shook his head and wanted to speak, but was interrupted by another coughing fit, and the corners of his eyes turned red due to physiological factors.
Si Qi patted his back gently, his brow furrowed. Although Shao Wei's health had improved significantly, his foundation was still weaker than that of an average person, and he was particularly prone to minor ailments during the changing seasons. He couldn't help but start to worry, "Did he stand at the door for too long last evening? Or did he kick off the covers last night? Should we call a doctor?"
There was an unconscious anxiety in his tone, and his pheromones fluctuated slightly.
Shao Wei finally stopped coughing and looked up. His icy blue eyes were misted with moisture from the coughing, appearing slightly damp. He looked at Si Qi's worried face, took a deep breath, and then said softly, "It's okay. It might be... the tomato hair."
It was just choked by the fine hairs on the tomato plant.
Si Qi was stunned for a moment, then relaxed. However, the fear and shadow about Shao Wei's health, which had been evoked by the document and his own overreaction last night, had not completely dissipated. He continued to squat there, holding Shao Wei's shoulders, his eyes carefully tracing his face, as if to confirm that he was truly alright.
Shao Wei let him watch, looking back quietly. The afterglow of the setting sun cast a soft halo behind him, and the red tomato in his hand was bright and juicy.
After a while, Shao Wei suddenly blinked very lightly, looked at Si Qi, and said something in an almost calm tone that completely stunned Si Qi:
"Don't be afraid." "I won't break."
Si Qi's pupils dilated slightly, and his heart felt like it was struck by these words, aching and softening, with an indescribable warmth welling up. It turned out that Shao Wei had noticed all those subtle signs of excessive nervousness that he hadn't even fully realized.
He wasn't trying to comfort Si Qi, but rather stating a fact—he was no longer the fragile object that needed to be carefully protected in a sterile room. He was here, with them, truly alive, coughing, sweating, and stained with dirt and tomato fluff.
Si Qi looked at Shao Wei's calm yet resolute eyes and suddenly smiled, a smile filled with relief, self-mockery, and even more love. He reached out, not to check Shao Wei's forehead, but to gently pick away a bit of grass from the end of his hair, then took the plump tomatoes from his hand.
"Yeah," he nodded, his voice returning to its usual calmness. "I know. I'll make you tomato fish soup tonight, with plenty of pepper to keep the cold away."
Shao Wei's mouth curved upwards almost imperceptibly, and he stood up: "Okay."
The two walked back to the kitchen. Si Qi put on his apron again and took care of the fish, which had finally given up struggling. Shao Wei stood by the sink, quietly washing tomatoes and basil.
The kitchen was filled with the aroma of cooking food and warm steam. The soup in the pot was bubbling. Outside the window, the last bit of sunset light completely sank behind the mountains, and night fell, and the stars began to appear.
Si Qi occasionally looked back and saw the silhouette of Shao Wei concentrating on washing vegetables. The warm yellow light fell on him, soft and peaceful.
At this moment, the daily necessities of life.
Si Qi suddenly felt that the signed document was not only the end of the past, but also the final confirmation of the plain warmth of the present.
There is no intrigue of the Si family, no cold snowy nights of Kyoto, and no pale lights of the laboratory.
Here there is only the sunshine of southern France, the smoke from the small town, the wild herbs growing in the yard, and the person beside him who has finally learned to tell him, "Don't be afraid, I won't break."
This is the place they finally found after wandering for half their lives, and it is also the home they built with their own hands.
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