【Winter Night and Old Dreams】
Winter arrives quietly in southern France. There are no bitter winds or blankets of snow like in the north, only continuous rain and a sudden drop in temperature. The damp, cold air permeates every pore, carrying a uniquely sticky, Mediterranean chill.
The fire in the cabin's fireplace burned constantly, the dry wood crackling and its orange-red flames casting flickering shadows on the walls, dispelling the dampness and gloom outside. The air was filled with the faint aroma of burning pine, mixed with the warm mist of something simmering in the kitchen.
Shao Wei became a little sleepy.
Perhaps it was the weather, or perhaps it was the damaged glands that were more prone to fatigue in the damp and cold season. He would often wrap himself in a thick wool blanket and curl up on the sofa by the fireplace, reading a book. As he read, his head would droop, and his breathing would become even and long.
Si Qi would put down what he was doing - sometimes dealing with some remote investment documents (he was not completely out of the financial market, but his methods were more secretive and free), sometimes researching new recipes - and walk over, carefully tuck the blanket that had slipped off him, gently take the book from his hand, and then gently brush away the soft hair on his forehead.
Shao Wei sleeps very deeply, but sometimes not peacefully.
One late night with the sound of drizzling rain, Si Qi was awakened by the subtle, suppressed sobbing of the person next to him.
The embers in the fireplace, still lingering, provided a feeble light source. He saw Shao Wei frowning in his sleep, beads of cold sweat oozing from his forehead. His lips moved silently, as if resisting something. His body trembled slightly, and his fingers unconsciously clutched the sheets beneath him.
I had a nightmare again.
Since the beginning of winter, Shao Wei has occasionally felt this way. It's not like the violent struggles of the past, but more like a feeling of sinking underwater, silently suffocating.
Si Qi's heart tightened immediately. He didn't wake him immediately, but simply turned sideways, reached out, and gently stroked his back over and over again, slowly releasing the gentle sandalwood pheromone, wrapping him up like the finest veil.
"Don't be afraid... I'm here..." He repeated in a low voice, his voice sounding particularly low and gentle in the quiet rainy night.
Under his comfort, Shao Wei's tense body gradually relaxed, his fingers clutching the sheets loosening their grip. Although his breathing was still a little rapid, it was no longer as painful. He simply curled up deeper, like a small animal seeking protection, unconsciously leaning towards the source of Si Qi's warmth.
Si Qi held him in his arms, let his cold feet rest on his calves to warm them, and gently rested his chin on the top of his head, patiently waiting for the aftermath of this nightmare to pass.
Raindrops hit the window frame, making a monotonous but reassuring sound.
After a long time, Shao Wei's breathing finally calmed down completely. But he did not wake up, but seemed to emerge from a cold deep dive and fall into a deeper, warm sleep.
Si Qi, however, was no longer sleepy. In the dim light of the fireplace, he looked at the peaceful sleeping face of the person in his arms, his fingertips lightly tracing the slightly furrowed brow, the straight bridge of his nose, and finally landing on the pale lips that always seemed a little pale.
Those shadows of the past may have never really gone away, but are only temporarily covered up by the sunshine and daily warmth of southern France. On this damp and cold winter night, they slip out silently again and entangle the sleeping people.
Si Qi lowered his head and gently kissed Shao Wei's slightly cold forehead, his heart filled with endless tenderness and a heavy sense of responsibility. What he wanted to do was to create enough warmth, enough to completely dispel the chill.
The next day, when Shao Wei woke up, he seemed to have no memory of the nightmare he had last night. He just looked a little tired and quieter than usual.
Si Qi didn't mention it, but simply prepared a warmer breakfast for him—hot milk with honey and toasted bread. He also got an old-fashioned brass hot water bottle from somewhere, filled it with hot water, wrapped it in soft flannel, and stuffed it into Shao Wei's arms.
Shao Wei sat by the fireplace, holding a warm hot water bottle, looking at the continuous rain outside the window. His ice-blue eyes were a little empty, and no one knew what he was thinking.
Si Qi finished dealing with a few emails and looked up to see Shao Wei like this. His heart tightened slightly. He walked over, squatted beside the sofa, and took Shao Wei's slightly cold hand. "What do you want to do today? Do you want to watch a movie? Or should I read to you?"
Shao Wei slowly turned his head, his eyes fixed on his face. After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke softly, "...I want to hear about your childhood."
Si Qi was stunned. Childhood memories? Those altered, implanted, hard-to-determine memories?
Shao Wei seemed to see through his doubts and added, "Really? Anything you remember is fine."
His eyes were calm, yet they held a subtle inquiry and... desire. A desire to understand a fragment of each other's true origins, even if it was just a tiny bit.
Si Qi's heart felt like it had been gently touched. He held Shao Wei's hand tightly, searching hard in the wasteland of memory shrouded in artificial fog. Those blurred, suppressed images, those images that belonged to him rather than being instilled into him...
"...It seems... once," Si Qi frowned, trying to recall, speaking slowly, "It wasn't a wooden house, it was a very white room... The ceiling was very high... I seemed to have fallen from a very high bed, it hurt a lot... But I didn't cry..."
Shao Wei looked at him quietly, his eyes focused.
"Then..." Si Qi's eyes lit up slightly, "It seemed like someone ran over... He was very small... A little shorter than me... He seemed very anxious and wanted to pull me up, but he couldn't... Later... He seemed to sit down next to me, and didn't cry, just stayed with me..."
The fragments of memory were blurry and jumpy, like faded old film. But he vaguely remembered the feeling: the pain of falling, and the fear of being punished. But the little figure sitting next to him, that silent companionship, seemed to dispel some of his fear.
"That person..." Shao Wei's voice was very soft, with a barely perceptible tremor, "...was it me?"
Si Qi raised his head and looked into Shao Wei's icy blue eyes. His reflection was clearly reflected in them, along with a hint of cautious anticipation. He nodded vigorously, his tone extremely certain: "It was you. I remember... you were wearing the same white dress, but the sleeves were a little long, covering the backs of your hands."
Shao Wei's eyelashes trembled violently, then slowly drooped. He stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace, and remained silent for a long time. He simply turned around and held Si Qi's hand tighter.
At that moment, no further words were needed. It was as if a bond from the distant past, forcibly severed, had been reconnected by this warm fire, through the hazy fragments of memory.
In the days that followed, Si Qi began to consciously dig out those deeply buried fragments of true memory. Sometimes after lunch, sometimes before bed, he would intermittently tell them to Shao Wei.
Some memories are good: secretly sharing a piece of nutritional paste with a strange taste; a very brief hand pull in a blind spot of the surveillance; a researcher who was in a good mood and secretly showed them the colorful pictures in the picture book.
Some are not so good: the cold instruments, the glaring lights, the heart-wrenching despair of separation but the inability to cry out.
Shao Wei always listened quietly and rarely interrupted. Only occasionally, when Si Qi was feeling down because of recalling bad memories, he would reach out and gently touch his arm, or hand him a glass of warm water.
Very occasionally, after he finished speaking, he would add one or two very brief words or images, as if some hidden fragments had been evoked by him.
"...It's very cold." Once, after Si Qi mentioned a low-temperature tolerance test, Shao Wei suddenly said this very softly, and his body trembled almost imperceptibly.
Si Qi immediately hugged him in his arms, wrapped him tightly in a blanket, and rubbed his chin against the top of his head: "You won't be cold anymore. I promise."
The fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, and the room was warm.
The jigsaw puzzle of memory slowly and painstakingly fits together, a process that may unravel old scars, but each return of fragments is like pulling a long-lost star back into orbit. What they share is no longer just the present and the future, but also the past that was taken away and is now being recovered bit by bit.
On a rare sunny day, the sun dispelled the days' gloom. Si Qi took Shao Wei to town to do some shopping. On the way back, they passed an old record store. A record player in the doorway was hoarsely playing an old song with a melodious melody but a touch of sadness.
Shao Wei slowed down his pace and stood outside the store, listening quietly. The sunlight shone on his face, and his eyes were a little dazed, as if he could see far away through the music.
Si Qi stood beside him without disturbing him.
After the song ended, Shao Wei slowly came back to his senses and said softly, "...I think I've heard it before."
"Do you like it?" Si Qi asked, "Should we buy this record?"
Shao Wei shook his head: "No need." He paused and added, "Just a little familiar."
Some memories may not require an entity; it is enough to just know that they once existed.
In the evening, Si Qi was preparing dinner in the kitchen, while Shao Wei was sitting on the carpet in the living room, holding a hot water bottle, staring at the fire in the fireplace in a daze.
When Si Qi brought out the cooked hot soup, he found a blank sketchbook spread out in front of Shao Wei, with a charcoal pencil in his hand, unconsciously scribbling on the paper.
Si Qi walked over with light steps.
There were some messy lines on the paper, and you could vaguely make out the outline of a room, a high ceiling, cold instruments... and two blurry little figures holding hands.
Si Qi's heart seemed to be gently grasped by something.
Shao Wei didn't seem to realize what he was drawing until Si Qi's shadow loomed over him. He suddenly came back to his senses, looked at the graffiti on the paper, was stunned for a moment, and then subconsciously wanted to close the notebook.
But Si Qi held his hand.
The two of them stared at each other in silence, the firelight from the fireplace dancing in Shao Wei's icy blue eyes.
After a long while, Siqi picked up the charcoal pencil and clumsily drew a crooked, small sun in the corner of the paper, next to the two small figures. Then, he wrote a date next to it - the day they left the sanatorium and truly gained freedom.
Shao Wei looked at the ugly sun and the date and was silent for a long time.
Then he raised his hand and lightly touched the rough sun pattern with his fingertips.
Outside the window, the winter rain came quietly again, knocking on the roof and window frames.
But inside the house, the fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, and the aroma of food filled the air with warmth.
Those cold old dreams may still visit me on an unexpected night.
But when I wake up in the morning, there is always a warm hug and hot soup.
And the sun they draw together, no matter how clumsy it is, will eventually rise and illuminate the way forward.
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