Chapter 4 [End]

In January 2038, Yang Zhou was diagnosed with advanced gastric cancer.

He didn't tell anyone. He quietly took the medical report home and locked it away in the farthest corner of his study.

By March 2038, his condition had increasingly worsened, but his research team had made a significant breakthrough. In late March, he finally decided to set everything aside and travel shortly to the United States for surgery.

There were only two possible outcomes to the surgery: life or death. Yang Zhou could calmly accept either one, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Xu Cheng about it.

His ChengCheng was still so young.

During that time, Yang Zhou often felt like he had already died, so much so that he stared at Xu Cheng's sleeping face every night, terrified that the next moment he'd become invisible.

He was withering away.

Afraid that Xu Cheng would find out, he only dared to get up in the middle of the night to take a shower, so he could quietly hide and dispose of the hair that kept falling out.

Human energy is finite. In his final days, Yang Zhou began to think: if he lost this gamble—if he really didn't survive—what would happen to Xu Cheng?

He lied to Xu Cheng, saying he had to personally travel to the U.S. for a project. Xu Cheng easily believed his lies.

Dressed in soft white cotton pajamas, Xu Cheng squatted on the floor, packing for Yang Zhou. "Take this, and this one too! You need to dress warmer over there. Don't just wear suits all the time—sure, they look good, but they're not warm at all!"

Yang Zhou was wearing black pajamas, which was a couple's pair with Xu Cheng. He leaned against the bedside table, eyes lowered, quietly watching Xu Cheng bustle about.

He was already in poor condition.

"Yang Zhou!" Xu Cheng's mouth was dry from talking. When he looked up and saw that the person in question had actually fallen asleep with his eyes closed, he instantly became angry from embarrassment. "Did you hear that?!"

Yang Zhou opened his eyes, sighed, got out of bed, and pulled Xu Cheng back under the covers. "I heard you, I heard you. You say the same thing every time I go on a business trip—my ears have grown calluses from it."

"This time is different." Xu Cheng lay in his arms, one hand clutching the fabric on Yang Zhou's chest, wrinkling it badly. "This time, you're not taking me with you."

Yang Zhou's heart trembled. "I'll be back soon."

"How soon is 'soon'?" Xu Cheng couldn't accept such a perfunctory answer, so he tilted his head up to press: "One day is fast, two days isn't fast, three days is slow."

Yang Zhou rested his chin on top of Xu Cheng's head. He could feel Xu Cheng's fluffy hair nudging back and forth, as if he were about to write "angry" all over his face. "As soon as I can."

Xu Cheng thought, fine—coming from Yang Zhou, 'as soon as I can' still sounds pretty convincing.

He stopped moving, feeling sorry that Yang Zhou had to get up early the next day. So he turned over and switched off the bedside lamp. "Then let's sleep early tonight."

Only after Xu Cheng's breathing had settled into a steady rhythm did Yang Zhou open his eyes. For the last time, he carefully stared at Xu Cheng's sleeping face in the dark. The blackout curtains in the room were of such good quality that he couldn't actually see anything.

But he could still picture Xu Cheng's face perfectly.

Yang Zhou had always thought of himself as someone not particularly lucky.

His mother died of hemorrhage during childbirth. His father, gravely ill, held on just long enough to take him to his younger sister's home before passing away, so he had to spend the rest of his days on the run.

His aunt frequently beat and scolded him, venting all her anger on him, calling him a jinx who had cursed his entire family.

But then Xu Cheng appeared. Xu Cheng would stand up for him when he was being beaten, he took him in when he was kicked out of the house, he secretly brought him food when he was starving.

Even though they had once been separated, when they saw each other again, the time and love that had passed between them never faded.

That's why he couldn't let go.

How could he possibly accept leaving behind the person who loved him most in this world?

But he had to learn to accept his fate.

So he accepted Chen Jia's proposal and became the first test subject of Project Q. He and his memories were condensed into a tiny chip and implanted into a humanoid robot—

—a robot that was 100% identical to him.

If the surgery succeeded, he would continue to love Xu Cheng for the rest of his life.

If the surgery failed, Q would take his place and use the rest of its existence to keep loving Xu Cheng.

After news of Yang Zhou's death broke, Chen Jia was the first—and only—person who knew the truth and traveled to the United States. She retrieved Yang Zhou's memory chip and, following his final wishes, buried him in a cemetery there.

Then she returned to China and created another Yang Zhou.

A robot—Q—with the exact same appearance and the exact same memories as the deceased Yang Zhou.

Q seamlessly integrated into Xu Cheng's life. Aside from monthly maintenance checks, it had almost no flaws. On the first day of each month, Q would follow its programming and go to Chen Jia's residence to complete the maintenance.

Chen Jia believed this way, she could fool Xu Cheng for a lifetime.

But only Q knew—from the very beginning, Xu Cheng had known.

It was not Yang Zhou.

Xu Cheng eventually found the medical report in the study.

After that, he suffered from severe depression. He began to self-harm and made repeated suicide attempts. After the last failed attempt to slit his wrists, Xu Cheng was diagnosed with dissociative amnesia.

Large doses of medication entered his body—easing his pain, but also eroding his memories, gradually making him forget the very source of his pain.

Xu Cheng gradually got better. He seemed to truly believe that Q was Yang Zhou—as if Yang Zhou had never left.

"I always thought that he had really forgotten everything," the robot Q stood quietly in the corner, its gaze unfocused, calmly recounting what it had felt. "Until one day, I found that he had started taking a lot of sleeping pills. His body wanted to get rid of the pain, so it forced him into self-hypnosis. But his heart couldn't follow. He began taking antidepressants again, randomly, without following any medical advice."

"At that moment," Q's eyes moved and looked at Chen Jia, "I knew I had failed."

Chen Jia remained silent, not saying a word.

Q let out a bitter laugh—on a face identical to Yang Zhou: "He's destroying himself."

"So you deliberately damaged your internal components, using it as an excuse to come see me frequently—just so Xu Cheng would have a reason to leave you," Chen Jia said as she unlocked Q's phone and opened the chat history between it and Xu Cheng. There were only two messages there, both sent by Q to Xu Cheng.

A video and a photo.

"Yes," Q sighed, gazing wistfully at the sunshine outside the window, "I often can't tell who I really am. My body tells me I'm just a humanoid robot. But my memories tell me—I am Yang Zhou."

It withdrew its gaze. Its fingers flexed and curled into a loose fist at its side. "You created me so that Xu Cheng wouldn't get hurt. But now, I've become the very blade that hurts him. Because he knows I'm not Yang Zhou—I'm just a substitute. But inside this substitute are all of Yang Zhou's memories, so he can't and won't leave me. He will never move on from Yang Zhou's death."

Chen Jia listened to Q's words, finding them utterly unbelievable.

Yes, she had indeed created a robot carrying all of Yang Zhou's memories. But a robot was still a robot—it was supposed to follow programmed instructions. Human emotions, especially love, empathy, grief—these were things it should not be able to feel.

Yet the robot standing before her was feeling sorry for a real human being.

Why?

"You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

Q blinked, as if those words suddenly made it realize something. "But I've always loved him."

From the moment it was implanted with Yang Zhou's memory chip, it was bound to love Xu Cheng. It was just that Yang Zhou's love was so full—so overflowing—that even the lifeless robot Q seemed to have been truly endowed with life to love Xu Cheng.

"You don't need me anymore," Q said, closing its eyes. In its mind, it could almost hear the roar of an engine—imagining that sound as Xu Cheng finally gaining his freedom. "Please format me and destroy the memory chip that belongs to Yang Zhou."

Chen Jia looked at it, waiting for its reason.

Robot Q said, "I want to be free too."

Previous ┃ TOC 

---

Translator:

Do you like the story? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Chapter 3

At four in the morning, Xu Cheng woke from a nightmare.

It was pitch-black outside. Even the streetlights were off. The entire building was silent.

There was a faint sound of breathing by his ear—very light—falling on Xu Cheng's cheek like a dragonfly skimming the water, like a kiss.

Xu Cheng's arms were instantly covered in goosebumps. He turned his head abruptly and saw a familiar face.

Yang Zhou was lying on his side, curled up next to him. He looked exhausted, and very quiet.

At that moment, Xu Cheng instinctively reached out to touch his brow and eyes—features he'd been looking at for so many years that he could draw them even with his eyes closed.

What exactly is love?

Xu Cheng wondered.

Love seems to last forever, but it also seems to be fleeting. He and Yang Zhou had held on to love for ten years, only to be defeated by it in an instant. So you see, how unfair it is — one still in love, as if nothing had changed; the other already long gone, love reduced to a distant memory.

Yang Zhou woke up.

He opened his eyes and gazed at Xu Cheng with a gentle, lingering look, until a faint light appeared outside the window.

Xu Cheng was so sleepy he couldn't keep his eyes open.

He could only watch as Yang Zhou got up and left the room.

But Yang Zhou, your leg is injured. Why do you have to walk so fast and in such a hurry?

When Xu Cheng opened his eyes again, he was still the only one in the room.

He bought a ticket for a 10 a.m. flight to America.

He was nineteen when he and Yang Zhou moved into this apartment—young and headstrong, believing that they had a long future together.

Now he was twenty-nine, left only with missing memories and confusion.

The airport was crowded.

Xu Cheng walked alone through the throng, the roar of airplane engines ringing in his ears. He looked up—into a sky so vast it seemed to have no end, and he was just a tiny bird.

"ChengCheng!"

Someone called his name from within the crowd.

His suitcase stopped rolling. Xu Cheng looked back and saw 27-year-old Yang Zhou standing there waving at him.

"May ChengCheng be safe and sound."

Xu Cheng opened his mouth. These words, wrapped in memory, surged into his mind all at once.

Yang Zhou didn't remember his own birthday, so Xu Cheng had picked the day they first met and declared it as Yang Zhou's birthday. He would buy him a cake, set up a surprise, and watch as Yang Zhou closed his eyes to make a wish, then blew out the birthday candles.

"What did you wish for?"

"May ChengCheng be safe and sound."

"Why is it the same every year? Can't you change it?"

"I'll change it next year."

But next year never came.

A crazy thought kept repeating in Xu Cheng's mind—Don't get on that plane to America.

But why?

Xu Cheng blinked; Yang Zhou was gone from the crowd.

The airport screens kept cycling through advertisements. A woman's name caught his eye.

Chen Jia.

A co-founder of the Cheng'an Group.

A woman's face slowly surfaced in his mind. It began to overlap with the woman in the photo and video—until at last, they became one and the same.

The 26-year-old Yang Zhou brought Xu Cheng to his studio for the first time. Back then, the company had only just been founded, and conditions were very simple. "ChengCheng, let me introduce you. This is my business partner, Chen Jia."

Xu Cheng had thought the woman in front of him seemed intelligent and capable. Time proved his judgment right—Yang Zhou and Chen Jia became a powerful team, and everything began to develop rapidly.

Perhaps it wasn't just their careers that were developing, but something between the two of them as well.

Xu Cheng looked up and gazed at the name on the screen, a sudden wave of frustration sweeping over him.

The truth was—he wasn't someone particularly useful.

He had lived his whole life following a predictable path—no bold changes, no unexpected turns. If there was one, it would be coming out with Yang Zhou. That was the only time he'd ever stepped off script.

He had always known he couldn't help Yang Zhou with his career. So he quit his own job and chose to support him in their day-to-day life.

But even that… he hadn't done particularly well.

If anything, it had always been Yang Zhou who took care of him more.

Thinking this, Xu Cheng felt a faint sense of relief.

Because no matter in work or in life, Chen Jia always seemed to do everything better than he could.

The boarding announcement sounded through the terminal.

Xu Cheng pushed down the thousand tangled thoughts in his mind and began walking toward the boarding gate.

Somewhere nearby, people were saying goodbye.

"A man about to turn thirty—you need to take better care of yourself out there."

"What do you mean, about thirty?"

"Of course you're turning thirty. Once the New Year comes, it'll be 2044, and you'll be thirty."

No one came to see him off.

Xu Cheng walked across the jet bridge, boarded the plane, and found his seat by the window. From there, he could see the blue sky outside.

He placed his bag beside him. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting the reflection of a pallid face, like someone gravely ill.

As the plane left the runway and flew into the blue sky, the face disappeared.

Xu Cheng should have said goodbye in his heart. At the very least, here—now—he should have been able to say goodbye to Yang Zhou. But strangely, he couldn't do so, as if the person who was leaving was not him.

In the end, he became a bird.

Xu Cheng truly became like a bird, throwing himself into the embrace of the sky—and from then on, vanished without a trace.

In the year 2050, Cheng'an Group announced a breakthrough:

Their company had made significant progress in the development of humanoid robots, achieving perfect results in the trial phase.

These robots were called Q. They could have memory chips implanted—chips that carried human memories—allowing the dead to live again around those who still needed them.

And the very first person to undergo this trial was Cheng'an Group's original founder—Yang Zhou.

The robot implanted with his memory chip vanished from public view after the successful trial.

No one knew where it had gone.

Previous ┃ TOC ┃ Next

Chapter 2

Yang Zhou was an orphan.

When he was eight, his father brought him to Chengjiawan.

Xu Cheng was only five at the time. From a distance, he saw a tall and a short figure approaching and thought they were beggars.

After that, there was one more person in Chengjiawan—Yang Zhou.

Xu Cheng had been born prematurely. His health had been poor since he came out of the womb, so the Xu family raised him as delicately as a cherished daughter.

He was curious about this unfamiliar older brother.

During mealtime, he couldn't sit still. Holding his small bowl, he stood by the door and saw Yang Zhou barefoot on the gravel, running fast. Not long after, he came back carrying a basket full of pigweed.

When Yang Zhou passed by him, Xu Cheng couldn't help but ask, "Why aren't you wearing shoes?"

Yang Zhou glanced at him but said nothing.

He didn't like talking to anyone.

He would do whatever his aunt told him to do. Even when he was beaten or scolded, he stayed silent, never arguing back.

Xu Cheng was a stubborn child. He was determined to make Yang Zhou talk to him.

Day after day, no one knew when it started, but Xu Cheng became Yang Zhou's little shadow, and the two became inseparable.

Once, they were childhood playmates.

Now, they were family.

In the future, maybe not even friends.

Thinking in a trance, Xu Cheng felt a bit dizzy and lightheaded, probably paying the price for drinking cold water at noon.

Over the years, Yang Zhou's constant reminders had made him fall sick less and less often, and Xu Cheng had almost forgotten he was still a sickly person.

Too lazy to get up and take medicine, he just pulled the blanket from the sofa over himself, buried his head in it, and fell into a deep sleep.

"ChengCheng? ChengCheng?"

Someone gently patted Xu Cheng's arm, calling him softly.

Xu Cheng opened his eyes and saw a familiar face. "Why are you back?"

"Your watch showed an elevated heart rate and body temperature," Yang Zhou said as he picked up a cushion from the sofa and placed it behind Xu Cheng's back. Then he took a thermometer from the drawer of the coffee table. "Open your mouth. Let's check your temperature."

Xu Cheng obediently opened his mouth.

Yang Zhou got up to pour a glass of warm water, then sat beside him, his tone tinged with helplessness. "You drank cold water again."

Xu Cheng knew then that Yang Zhou had already seen the half-finished bottle of cold water in the fridge.

"You have a weak stomach and catch colds easily. Didn't the doctor tell you to avoid cold drinks?" Yang Zhou sighed, pulling Xu Cheng into his arms, resting his chin on Xu Cheng's shoulder, and nuzzling him gently.

Xu Cheng took a sip of warm water, unsure how to respond.

If it had been before, he would have acted spoiled, thrown a tantrum, used any number of tricks to escape Yang Zhou's nagging.

But that was before.

Now, just imagining Yang Zhou being this distressed and coaxing someone else made Xu Cheng feel miserable.

But Yang Zhou misunderstood his silence. "Are you feeling really bad?" he asked, frowning, and turned Xu Cheng to face him. "You do look a little pale."

As he spoke, he took out the thermometer in Xu Cheng's mouth and, seeing it was a low fever, subconsciously let out a breath of relief. "You'll be fine after taking some medicine."

Xu Cheng still didn't speak.

Yang Zhou set the thermometer aside and gently bounced Xu Cheng on his legs. "What's wrong?"

They say it's easy to tell when someone stops loving you. Xu Cheng only felt bitterness—so it was possible to pretend to love someone so convincingly even when you didn't anymore? These small habits, these subtle gestures—Yang Zhou could still perform them perfectly, to the point of flawless routine. No wonder he was the last to notice. No wonder he didn't notice at all.

"Yang Zhou." Xu Cheng coughed softly to force back the tears gathering in his eyes, but the soreness in his nose was impossible to suppress. "I want to ask you something."

"Ask away," Yang Zhou replied casually, his right hand rummaging through the medicine box for fever-reducing tablets and a packet of cold medicine, mixing the powder into the warm water.

Xu Cheng wanted to ask about that video. About that woman.

But when the words reached his lips, they turned into something else. "Do you love me?"

Yang Zhou handed him the medicine. "What nonsense are you thinking about again?"

Xu Cheng smiled bitterly. Yeah… Whenever he got sick, his mind always wandered. But the old Yang Zhou wouldn't blame him for it. He would just stay by his side, whispering "I love you" again and again.

"Drink it and get some rest," Yang Zhou said, handing over the fever meds and the cup, then tugging the blanket up to tuck him in. "Don't set the AC too low. I've got something tonight and won't be coming back."

Why not come back?

Xu Cheng swallowed the bitter pill. The glass in his hand caught the light and scattered it like shards—he didn't ask anything more. "Okay."

The house fell quiet again.

When Yang Zhou left, he even turned off the light in the entryway.

Lying on the sofa, Xu Cheng could hear the cicadas chirping outside.

He couldn't stop himself from remembering—when did it all begin?

Then he remembered. One night, when he got up to go to the bathroom, he saw the bathroom light on—yet Yang Zhou was coming in from the living room. And how it had been so, so long since Yang Zhou had dinner with him at home.

Xu Cheng couldn't remember anything more.

His memory was getting worse and worse, and his insomnia symptoms were becoming more and more frequent. Thinking of this, he sighed and forced himself up to go to Yang Zhou's study, where he found his bottle of melatonin.

He couldn't even remember when he bought it. He'd only taken it a few times before Yang Zhou found out—then hid the pills away.

Xu Cheng fell into a deep, long sleep.

He dreamt of when he was ten years old, of Yang Zhou being beaten senseless by a madman. A broom, a stick, and finally an axe—each blow landing on Yang Zhou's body and his legs, while he himself had been curled up in a corner, arms around his head, his expression numb.

Xu Cheng had turned pale with terror. He'd screamed for help, desperately trying to find an adult, but it was the middle of the busy farming season and everyone was up in the mountains working. He had never run so fast in his life. He remembered the wind roaring in his ears, the burning in his lungs. At last, in the middle of the fields, he found Yang Zhou's aunt.

"You—you need to go back! Yang Zhou is going to be beaten to death by that fool!"

"If he dies, he dies," Yang Zhou's aunt said coldly, tossing the freshly cut pigweed into her basket and bending down to continue cutting. "And stop calling my son a fool."

Her eldest son had suffered a severe bout of fever at the age of five, which left his brain damaged. The children were thoughtless and called him a fool behind his back.

Xu Cheng panicked. He grabbed the basket and ran away. "I'm not lying! If you don't go back now, he's really going to be beaten to death! Your son will be a murderer then!"

"You little brat!" Yang Zhou's aunt chased after him, but couldn't catch up. She could only shout as she ran, "Mentally ill patients don't go to jail for killing someone, so what the hell does it have to do with you, you little bastard!"

She hadn't even given Yang Zhou any medicine afterward.

Xu Cheng had secretly rummaged through his own home to find all kinds of medicine. He didn't know many words, so he relied on reading the instruction labels, piecing together the few words he understood, half-guessing the rest.

The bruises on Yang Zhou's face took a month to fully fade, but the wound on his ankle from the axe left a permanent scar. To this day, anytime he runs a bit too fast, the flaw is noticeable.

This incident spread quickly through Xujiawan, but most people only talked about it—they said their piece and moved on. Sympathy wasn't worth much around there.

Later, Yang Zhou ran away.

He ran out of Xujiawan, and out of Jia City, too.

Xu Cheng grew up. His grades were not outstanding, but he got into university without much trouble. In his sophomore year, he worked part-time at the front desk of a hotel—and there, he met Yang Zhou again.

He had come for a banquet, dressed in a sharp suit, radiating elegance and wealth. There wasn't a trace left of the poor boy from Xujiawan.

Yang Zhou recognized him instantly.

Then, they started living together as a matter of course, just like when they were kids, shadows of each other once more.

Xu Cheng didn't tell his family about this. He knew his parents would never approve. But Yang Zhou had never once minded. To him, Xu Cheng was everything, his very life.

After graduation, Xu Cheng began an internship at Yang Zhou's company.

It was the first time he found out that Yang Zhou worked in tech investment, and the bionic robots developed by his company represented the most advanced level in the country.

Yang Zhou loved him deeply.

Even during his busiest times—traveling between cities with barely three hours of sleep a night—he would still take an hour and a half just to video call Xu Cheng.

He knew Xu Cheng missed him, and he also knew that the hallway light at home was always left on, and that someone was waiting for him to come home.

But dreams always end.

Xu Cheng took out his clothes, folding each piece neatly and placing them into the suitcase. Ten years is neither long nor short, but it's long enough to wear down even the deepest love. He thought about it: In all these years with Yang Zhou, they had hardly ever fought or raised their voices till they were purple in their faces. Now that he is leaving, he should end it with dignity.

So he would wait. Wait for Yang Zhou to come home, so they could say goodbye properly.

Halfway through packing, Xu Cheng's head began to ache again.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, and out of the corner of his eye noticed a newspaper wedged between the wardrobe panels.

On a strange impulse, he reached out and pulled it free. The front page was an ad for Cheng'an Group, and below it was a photo of a humanoid robot—its appearance almost indistinguishable from a real person.

Xu Cheng glanced at the date: March 1st, 2038.

That should be the latest newspaper.

Xu Cheng was amazed that printed newspapers still existed as a method of delivering information. At the same time, he was puzzled—why had Yang Zhou hidden this newspaper in the wardrobe?

He carefully browsed through the content, but the more he read, the more unfamiliar it felt. All of it—names, events, companies—things he had never heard of. Maybe it was because he hadn't gone out much lately. Maybe he just hadn't been paying attention to the world online.

The phone buzzed again.

That person was still messaging him—this time, it was a photo. Yang Zhou, in a suit, walking into a building with the woman at his side.

The numbness Xu Cheng had been wrapped in suddenly cracked as if stabbed by something. He wanted another drink of water.

When the cold water rushed down his throat, he finally snapped out of it and closed the fridge door tiredly. Something was flashing near the floor-to-ceiling window. Xu Cheng walked over and found a strange-looking charging cable. Worried it might be dangerous, he unplugged it and casually tucked it into the drawer under the coffee table.

In the faint light from outside, he noticed a stack of medical reports in the drawer.

Patient Name: Xu Cheng

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Clinical Impression: Dissociative Amnesia

Treatment: Psychotherapy and supportive care to help the patient gradually recover his memory in a safe and stable environment.

Doctor's Advice: Family and friends should offer understanding and patience to avoid putting pressure on the patient.

……

Beneath the diagnostic report, there was a stack of prescription slips.

In addition to the medications prescribed by the doctor, there were several bottles that Xu Cheng had apparently bought himself—Sertraline, Paroxetine... and countless sleeping pills.

But these weren't for amnesia; they were for depression.

Xu Cheng sat frozen on the sofa, his mind blank.

Why couldn't he remember anything? Why couldn't he recall what had made him sick in the first place, or when he'd gone out and purchased all these medications?

He was certain he hadn't lost his memory. At most, he'd just forgotten a few unimportant details. And yes, he had occasional insomnia, but not to the extent that would require treatment for depression.

Then how could all these prescriptions be explained?

His gaze drifted back to the age listed on the report: 25? 25!

When was that? Wasn't he 25 now?

But something didn't add up. He and Yang Zhou have been together for nearly ten years!

Xu Cheng began frantically digging through his memories, but they all felt like glue—thick, messy, impossible to sort out.

Until he suddenly recalled a bouquet of flowers and Yang Zhous face when he confessed his love to him. He had been nineteen at the time. Which meant now, he should be around thirty.

Then why had he always believed he was 25? The blood drained from Xu Cheng's face. Trembling, he stumbled toward Yang Zhou's study.

But the desk—where there was always a calendar—was completely bare.

That bottle of melatonin! Xu Cheng didn't hesitate. He grabbed the bottle and rushed for the door—

Only to stop in his tracks at the threshold.

The entryway was brightly lit.

Xu Cheng slowly looked up toward the ceiling. There, a light was shining overhead.

And then…the door opened from the outside.

"Where are you going?" Yang Zhou was still wearing that crisp, tailored suit. Every strand of his hair was perfectly styled with gel, but for the first time, the expression on his face was no longer gentle.

His eyes bore down on Xu Cheng, the hallway light casting a sharp shadow across his brow. "You've remembered something again, haven't you?"

Xu Cheng's lips trembled, like he was about to drown in his own breath. He slowly lifted the medicine bottle in his hand and said, word by word, "You know this is not melatonin…don't you?"

"Of course." Yang Zhou stepped closer, forcing Xu Cheng back until he was pinned against the door. "It's Fluvoxamine. For treating depression."

The voice-activated light in the hallway clicked off automatically. In the sudden dark, Xu Cheng could hear Yang Zhou breathing right next to his ear, so familiar, yet utterly foreign. The person before him was the one he had loved and trusted the most, yet on such a quiet night, all Xu Cheng felt was panic. "What did I forget?"

"A lot." Yang Zhou's hand pressed against his waist, trailing downward until it found the sharp jut of his hip bone. "But that's alright. If you let me, I'll take care of you in the future."

Xu Cheng shut his eyes. And at last, he remembered. After graduating university, he had a job of his own. Yang Zhou had been incredibly busy back then—busier than now—so busy that sometimes they couldn't see each other for months. Maybe it was during that time that Yang Zhou had already found someone new.

Xu Cheng didn't know whether his past self had ever had any doubts, but now, he didn't want to stay with Yang Zhou for another second. "Let's separate."

"What do you mean, 'separate'?" Yang Zhou didn't move. He didn't even look up. As he spoke, his warm breath fell on Xu Cheng's neck.

Xu Cheng drew in a deep breath. "I mean, I want to break up with you."

The next moment, footsteps echoed in the hallway, the sensor light flicked on, and Yang Zhou also moved.

He let go of Xu Cheng, took a step back, and said as if released from a burden, "Alright."

"You haven't wanted to live with me for a long time, right?" Xu Cheng's tone was calm, his emotions, too. "Yang Zhou, you should've told me sooner. It must've been exhausting pretending to be with me all this time. It wasn't necessary."

Yang Zhou looked at him with complicated eyes. "I'll transfer all my assets to you."

That only made Xu Cheng feel more drained. It was like all the years of love, all the moments they shared, had been reduced to a bunch of numbers.

He nodded, turned to go inside, then paused. "I don't want this house anymore. I'll move out tomorrow."

This was the house he'd saved up to buy together with Yang Zhou. Even though Yang Zhou could've bought ten of them without blinking at the time, Xu Cheng had insisted on paying half.

"Go see a psychiatrist when you can." The elevator door opened and Yang Zhou stepped inside. "As for the house, find an agent to sell it."

Previous ┃ TOC ┃ Next

Chapter 1

Gentle reminder: Click on an ad on my blog to show your appreciation. Yup, it's that simple!

---

There were birds singing outside the window.

Xu Cheng pulled a tie out of the wardrobe and helped Yang Zhou put it on. The two naturally shared a kiss. "Come home early."

"Okay." Yang Zhou brushed the stray hair from Xu Cheng's forehead and straightened the crooked collar of his pajamas. His expression and movements were both familiar and natural.

The front door closed. Xu Cheng, barefoot, walked silently to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and watched that familiar black Porsche drive farther and farther away.

The phone on the table vibrated twice, and Xu Cheng knew—the person he had arranged was already tailing that Porsche.

That's right. He suspected his husband was cheating on him.

The moment this thought appeared, Xu Cheng felt almost immediately ashamed for doubting him.

Two months ago, Yang Zhou suddenly said he had to go on a business trip. What was originally a one-week trip was postponed multiple times and eventually stretched into a full month. At first, Xu Cheng didn't think much of it.

But then Yang Zhou began going on frequent business trips, became unpredictable about when he got off work, and sometimes didn't come home at all, claiming he had to work overnight. Xu Cheng even found a woman's lipstick and a silk scarf in the pocket of Yang Zhou's suit.

Such intimate items finally made Xu Cheng wary.

But he didn't ask anything. He didn't say a word. He knew how much Yang Zhou loved him. He was afraid that once he voiced his suspicions, the damage would be irreversible.

Xu Cheng walked into the living room, still barefoot, and made his way to the fridge. He took out a bottle of cold water and drank most of it in one gulp. As the icy water went down, his reason slowly returned, and he began to feel a bit ridiculous. How could he have such thoughts? Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding, or maybe Yang Zhou had just been careless for a moment.

He needed to calm down—and then go to the kitchen to prepare lunch for Yang Zhou.

He and Yang Zhou had known each other since they were kids. They grew up together, and during college, they made their relationship official. They had now lived together for ten years. Xu Cheng was certain that in those ten years, he and Yang Zhou had been very much in sync, both physically and emotionally.

He felt happy and secure.

And he firmly believed that Yang Zhou did too.

Now, to doubt him because of some unfounded suspicions—it was truly unfair. Thinking this, Xu Cheng put the remaining half bottle of cold water back into the fridge. Even though he knew Yang Zhou would see it when he got back, he didn't secretly refill it out of guilt.

He needed these small, ordinary actions to give himself a sense of security.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of food. Toast had been placed neatly on a porcelain plate, already spread with strawberry jam.

Yang Zhou had left it for him—he knew Xu Cheng had low blood sugar and needed something to eat after waking up.

The toast was still warm, and the strawberry jam was fragrant and sweet. Xu Cheng took a bite, holding the rest between his lips. He glanced at a cookbook and immediately knew what he wanted to cook today, so he leaned against the sink and planned to finish the toast in his mouth first.

Just then, his phone rang at an inopportune moment. Xu Cheng pulled out a box of shrimp and two packs of beef from the fridge, never once glancing toward the living room.

He blanched the beef to remove the gamey smell, bent down to prepare the shrimp, and got the side dishes ready.

An hour had passed.

The beef bubbled as it simmered in the pot, and the braised shrimp was just finished. The phone in the living room rang again. Xu Cheng couldn't ignore it anymore, so he put down his chopsticks and walked to the living room with brisk steps.

He wasn't nervous about the unknown, because nothing was more certain than the answer already in his heart. That's why, when he clicked on the video, he could still clearly recall the slight smile at the corner of his lips at that moment.

The woman in the video was a stranger, but Xu Cheng was all too familiar with the man standing opposite her. They were standing in front of a residential building, with the woman's arms wrapped around Yang Zhou's back and her face on his chest.

Such an intimate pose.

Xu Cheng was stunned, almost unable to look away.

He couldn't quite tell if it was anger or confusion he felt—perhaps more than anything, he was at a loss. He had seen many unfaithful men and women, and he understood how long a lifetime could be, but he never imagined that person would be Yang Zhou.

Turns out, he and Yang Zhou were experiencing the ten-year itch^[1].

The alarm in the kitchen went off. Xu Cheng snapped out of it and, without even locking his phone screen, rushed to the kitchen to turn off the stove. The aroma of the beef stew had already filled the whole kitchen.

But Xu Cheng couldn't bring himself to look at that video again. He let the phone go dark on its own as it finished playing.

Just like always, he packed the meal neatly, sliced the fruit, and placed everything carefully into a thermal lunch bag. Then he went to the bedroom and changed into a fresh set of clothes.

There was still half an hour before Yang Zhou's lunch break.

Xu Cheng left the house and took the subway to Yang Zhou's company.

The CEO's office was on the top floor. Xu Cheng swiped his card and entered the elevator. As the doors opened, he was met with Yang Zhou's eyes.

Seeing him, Yang Zhou hesitated.

But Xu Cheng spoke first. "Something going on?"

"A project hit a snag. I need to make a quick trip to Hong Kong City," Yang Zhou replied as he stepped into the elevator, casually pulling Xu Cheng in with him. "I just finished a meeting and didn't get a chance to tell you yet."

Xu Cheng frowned. "But you haven't had lunch."

"I'll grab something on the plane," Yang Zhou said, taking a small step back and placing his right hand on Xu Cheng's waist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be back soon."

Xu Cheng was silent for a few seconds. "Want me to help you pack?"

"No need," Yang Zhou said, withdrawing his hand. "Someone over there will take care of it."

The elevator soon arrived at the basement level. The driver brought the car around and Yang Zhou motioned for Xu Cheng to get in.

"I'll drop you home first."

Xu Cheng didn't move. "You go ahead. I'll grab a taxi myself."

Maybe because it was urgent, Yang Zhou - uncharacteristically - didn't insist. He simply leaned down, pressed a kiss to Xu Cheng's forehead, and told him, "Wait for me at home."

Just as the car door was closing, Xu Cheng couldn't hold it in any longer and finally spoke, "Yang Zhou, I have something I need to ask you."

Yang Zhou saw his lips move but couldn't make out the words, so he rolled down the window. "What?"

"Nothing," Xu Cheng said, taking a deep breath. He didn't want to burden him at a time like this. "We'll talk when you get back."

The Porsche soon pulled out of the underground garage, leaving only Xu Cheng standing where he was, holding a white thermal lunch box in his hand.

Yang Zhou was always busy, often away on business trips. Every time, he would let Xu Cheng know a few days in advance and promise exactly when he'd be back—never vague, never careless. Xu Cheng had packed his luggage countless times, taken him to the airport even more. Yang Zhou had never left him alone in an underground parking lot like he just did.

Xu Cheng wasn't the unreasonable type, but once he started thinking about the little routines he'd grown used to, it was easy to notice things were different.

It was only now that Xu Cheng realized—Yang Zhou had changed a lot.

He took the elevator back up to the first floor. As he walked out the front doors of the office building, he tossed the lunchbox in his hand into a trash bin.

The house was quiet, with a light on in the entryway.

Xu Cheng locked the door behind him. The air still carried the scent of cooked food. Only then did he remember he hadn't had lunch yet. So he walked into the kitchen, brought the leftover dishes to the table, and sat down. But once seated, he found he no longer had the appetite to eat.

Even now, he didn't feel anything like anger. It was more like a dazed sense of disconnection.

What did normal couples do when one of them cheated?

With that thought, Xu Cheng picked up his phone and opened a search engine.

First, he would need to prepare a divorce agreement—one that both parties had to sign. Xu Cheng thought it over slowly for a few seconds. It shouldn't be difficult, he figured. After all, for Yang Zhou, it really couldn't be better if he brought up the matter first.

Then the two of them would need to bring their identification and marriage certificate to the marriage registration office.

Xu Cheng's thoughts paused. He and Yang Zhou didn't have a marriage certificate—they were homosexuals, and same-sex marriage was not legally recognized or protected.

So their 'divorce' would just be a matter of saying it out loud.

There were no assets entangled, no children to consider. Once the words were said, everything could be cut off—clean and complete.

Xu Cheng smiled self-deprecatingly, stood up, dumped the untouched food into the trash, placed the dishes into the dishwasher, and pressed the start button.

His whole person seemed completely beaten.

In the living room, the lights were dimmed low and the television was playing a breaking news report.

"On June 13, 2038, the bionic robot developed by Cheng'an Group entered the trial phase and is expected to be officially put into use within ten years. This robot uses an implanted chip model to link data with memory..."

Xu Cheng curled up on the sofa, feeling feverish. Even the news on the TV began to blur, overlapping with fragments of memory.

He saw a pair of feet. The black soles of the feet were connected to thin calves, and above them were tattered shorts full of holes and old clothes salvaged from somewhere. The owner of those feet quickly crossed the river stepping over jagged river stones. The water reached his chest, yet he moved like a raft gliding over the surface—swift, light, and effortless. In just a few strides, he reached the opposite riverbank.

"Xu Cheng! If you don't come over, I'm leaving." Yang Zhou called out, but didn't move. His feet, smudged with riverbed silt, were still planted firmly on the stones.

The river water rose past Xu Cheng's calves and he took a step back. "I'm scared."

Yang Zhou didn't ask; he didn't need to. As if picking up on some invisible signal, he waded back across the water and crouched down in front of Xu Cheng. "I'll carry you over."

Xu Cheng lay on Yang Zhou's bony back, his chest pressing against the boy's protruding shoulder blades, the sharp edges digging in with a dull ache. He thought of his father's broad back, so he reached out and patted Yang Zhou's shoulder. "You're so thin."

Sweat beaded on Yang Zhou's forehead and slipped down along his brow bone into his eyes, but he didn't blink. "You're not heavy either."

Xu Cheng bit his lip. Just as the rising smoke from cooking fires in the village came into view, he asked Yang Zhou to put him down. "Will you come find me later?"

"No." Yang Zhou straightened up, wrung out the wet legs of his pants forcefully, and lifted his head to meet Xu Cheng's eyes. "There's still a lot of work to do."

Xu Cheng pouted. "Your work will never be finished, but I only have one birthday a year."

"Alright, alright," Yang Zhou sighed in surrender, "I'll come."

He lied. As Xu Cheng stepped through the doorway of his home, he heard insults and the sound of beatings from the house next door. That's how he knew—Yang Zhou wouldn't be coming today.

After dinner, the family gathered around the stove for warmth. Mother Xu added a few lumps of coal to the fire and sighed softly, "That boy is really pitiful."

Xu Cheng said nothing. He thought of the birthday cake he'd hidden away. The moon outside was full, so round and bright it lit up the stone path as if it had been polished to a shine—each step kicked up a trail of flowing moonlight.

Xu Cheng couldn't sleep. He quietly stood at the top of the stairs, where there was a window.

Yang Zhou whispered his name. "Xu Cheng!"

Xu Cheng was startled and poked half his head out, just in time to see Yang Zhou hiding behind a haystack. His face was swollen, his lips bruised, and his outstretched arm had purple marks.

Xu Cheng knew he had been beaten.

"Does it hurt?" He didn't ask why Yang Zhou had been beaten, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

"It doesn't hurt." Yang Zhou smiled, rubbed his hand across Xu Cheng's face, and pulled it back. "Happy birthday!" He held out his hand again, a keychain in his palm—a tiny ceramic pony.

Xu Cheng pressed his finger to his lips. "Shh, wait for me." Yang Zhou placed the tiny pony on the windowsill and stood atop the haystack, looking up and waiting.

Xu Cheng appeared shortly after, holding a paper cup. Inside was a slightly deformed birthday cake. On top of the cake was a piece of chocolate molded into the words "Happy Birthday."

Yang Zhou blinked, carefully took the birthday cake from Xu Cheng, but didn't eat it right away. He looked up at Xu Cheng's pointed chin and asked, "Did you make a wish?"

"No," Xu Cheng looked down at him, and amused by his silly expression, he teased, "I have so many wishes, I might never finish making them all!"

"You can borrow my birthday too to make a wish," Yang Zhou said, his gaze lifting to meet Xu Cheng's lips curved like a crescent moon. He couldn't help but smile back.

The night breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and the stone path was aglow in the clear moonlight. Yang Zhou huddled in the haystack, talking to Xu Cheng, until they heard Mother Xu's voice calling from the house.

"ChengCheng! Where are you? It's the middle of the night! Why aren't you in bed?!"

Xu Cheng jumped in surprise, not daring to stay any longer. "Remember to cover yourself with the straw and don't catch a cold. I'll come see you tomorrow!"

---

[1] 十年之痒. same as seven-year itch, just a different number.

TOC ┃ Next