One

It's pouring here, and there's thunder too

There's yogurt in the fridge, remember to eat some after your workout

Any social engagements these past few days? Drink less, the stomach medicine is in the second drawer of the nightstand on the right

You're asleep? Then I'll rest too, good night

After sending them, he waited ten minutes. No reply. Xu Yan rubbed his eyes—he was dead tired. This stretch on the business trip had dragged on, the contract negotiations draining every last reserve. Back at the hotel, he'd collapsed onto the bed with his back aching, his whole body feeling like it had been taken apart and reassembled wrong. Dizzy and heavy, he couldn't even lift a finger. All he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep himself into oblivion.

Just as he was about to drift off, the light blurred. Xu Yan's lashes fluttered a few times, then closed. Coincidentally, at that exact moment, his phone rang—because it was right by his ear, the sound was especially loud. Xu Yan flinched hard, groped for his phone, squinted at the pinned chat, and saw the unread count was '1.' He didn't need to tap in, because Shen Zhi had only replied with an 'mm.'

You couldn't even tell which message Shen Zhi's 'mm' was responding to—the rain one? The yogurt one? The drink less one? The good night one? No way to know. Just 'mm,' like stamping Xu Yan's daily one-sided chat with 'read.' Xu Yan stared blankly at that 'mm,' didn't tap in, didn't lock the screen, just held the phone and kept looking. Suddenly he really wanted to tell Shen Zhi: I'm so tired, I missed you so much these past few days, I want to come home soon.

But forget it—he couldn't send it. Shen Zhi probably wouldn't bother with his negativity; comforting words were out of the question; he'd probably just find it annoying. There'd be no response. Asking for disappointment. Xu Yan knew this perfectly well.

But he still tapped into the chat, scrolled up—a sea of green. Lots of green, and long. Very little white, and short—mm, oh, got it, no time, no need, busy, whatever. This kind of chat history, posted online, would look like a textbook case of a backup and a simp's self-improvement guide. Post it and netizens would pile up hundreds of floors just to scold you awake. And the OP of these kinds of posts is usually so frustratingly hopeless, going back and forth with 'but I really like him,' 'I really can't let go' and other lovesick lines, in the end only the netizens die of frustration.

But Xu Yan's situation was a bit special—he'd been with Shen Zhi for four years, and they'd been living together for two.

The kind of special situation where netizens would just give up on him outright.

His eyes stung a little. Xu Yan turned off his phone, stared blankly at the chandelier for a while, looking like he'd died, then suddenly laughed again—tomorrow he was going home. Tomorrow was Shen Zhi's birthday.

Shen Zhi had once told Xu Yan, when Xu Yan gave him gifts and bought cake, that he didn't celebrate birthdays. Xu Yan remembered, so he planned to go home and cook a few dishes, the two of them eat together. If Shen Zhi had social engagements in the evening, he'd make him a late-night snack. For this meal, Xu Yan had specifically changed his flight—one day earlier than planned—and as soon as work wrapped up, he rushed back, just in time for dinner.

Xu Yan wasn't someone who cared about formality. He just wanted to participate in some of Shen Zhi's special moments, however he could, to remind himself he still had a place there. Though it sounded annoying, deeper down it was more pathetic—after all these years together, he had to rely on things like this just to feel relevant.

After leaving the airport, figuring there probably wasn't any fresh produce at home, Xu Yan had the driver detour to the supermarket. He bought a pile of vegetables and daily necessities, plus his business trip luggage, carrying them in his hands like a refugee. After getting out of the car, Xu Yan struggled to push open the gate, walked in, rounded that white magnolia tree, and saw the living room blazing with light, the floor-to-ceiling windows undrawn, several people sitting on the sofa—all of them the opposite of him.

If he weren't standing at his own front door, Xu Yan would have mistaken the inside for some banquet hall. Everyone smiling and radiant, holding wine glasses with an elegant, unaffected air, the clinking of glasses between them a complete picture of upper-class elites mingling.

Even a simple gathering would have been fine, but the cake and gift boxes on the coffee table were too conspicuous. Shen Zhi's 'I'm not interested in celebrating birthdays' and his faint smile, particularly dazzling under the lights, made Xu Yan, standing in the dark cold weather, feel a kind of blankness. He and those people inside the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to live in two different worlds.

Xu Yan had never felt he wasn't worthy of Shen Zhi. He felt he and Shen Zhi were at most on different wavelengths, the feelings unequal—these things he'd always understood. But now, all the gaps and differences had become real images, right before his eyes, illuminated clearly by the lights, magnified countless times.

He tipped his head back and exhaled, then walked toward the front door. Afraid the vegetables in his hands would get crushed, Xu Yan set his travel bag on the ground, freed one hand to unlock, and pulled the door open. The moment the living room went quiet, Xu Yan had the illusion of falling into some melodramatic TV drama—the glorious young master hosting a gathering with his rich friends, the door opens, and the shabby wife suddenly appears, vegetables in hand.

'There are guests.' Xu Yan smiled. 'Sorry to interrupt.'

In Shen Zhi's furrowed brow, Xu Yan suddenly felt utterly exhausted. He'd been on a business trip for days, busy with work, switched to the most packed flight, went to the supermarket to buy this and that, rushed back nonstop—only to crash into a gathering he wasn't even worthy of having a name in.

Xu Yan set the shopping bag in the entryway. 'It's fine, you all continue.' He turned and closed the door, picked up his luggage, leaned against the wall on the other side, pulled out a cigarette, bit it between his lips, and lit it. He could already picture the scene in the living room now—a group of well-bred young masters and ladies who couldn't say anything, could only exchange glances, then someone would raise a glass and break the silence.

Before long, Shen Zhi opened the door and came out. The front door was ajar, a streak of golden warm light spilling out. Shen Zhi's face was half-lit. Xu Yan turned his head to glance at him. 'It's cold outside, don't come out dressed so lightly.'

'What kind of tantrum are you throwing?' The shirt hem swayed slightly in the night wind. Shen Zhi's gaze was heavy, his expression cold. 'You're the one who came back without telling anyone, and now you're putting on a face.'

Before he could even open his mouth to say anything, he was hit with a barrage of questions. All the words stuck in his throat. Xu Yan looked at Shen Zhi and suddenly felt everything had become unspeakable. This was their home, and yet coming home required advance notice.

After a silence, Xu Yan looked away, crushed the cigarette butt under his foot, and said lightly: 'No, I was afraid you'd find me annoying. I'll wait outside.'

Actually, Shen Zhi seemed a bit drunk. He stepped over the travel bag on the ground, stood in front of Xu Yan, looked down at him, and said in a low voice: 'Why do you always do whatever you want, however you want?'

Xu Yan was questioned by him until he was dazed, half-convinced he really was that kind of person who threw tantrums in public without thinking about the consequences.

'I'm just like this, you know it too.' Xu Yan smiled self-deprecatingly. 'Don't waste your breath on me here, go back and entertain your friends, it's cold outside.' As he said this, he also straightened Shen Zhi's collar for him. Shen Zhi lowered his eyes and saw his red-cold hand back.

Xu Yan forgot how long he actually waited outside. It wasn't long, really—the gathering clearly ended early. But it was absurd. He stood like an outsider at his own front door in the cold wind, waiting for a gathering to end. He could have gone in, gone upstairs, stayed in the room, but he didn't want to. He didn't know why. He didn't want to take a single step inside.

After the guests dispersed, one of them politely said as they brushed past Xu Yan: 'Shen Zhi is drunk, please take care of him.'

'Of course.' Xu Yan smiled, picked up his luggage, and went in. Shen Zhi was indeed drunk, slumped on the sofa, his long lashes drooping, watching Xu Yan with an expressionless face holding a garbage bag, packing up everything on the coffee table—finished and unfinished, expensive wine and glasses, cake and desserts—every last bit, and throwing it all outside.

'Go upstairs to sleep.' Xu Yan bent down to untie Shen Zhi's tie. 'Don't sit here.'

Shen Zhi raised his alcohol-reddened eyes, reached out, and held Xu Yan's hand that was untying his tie. His palm was very hot. When it covered Xu Yan's cold hand back, for an instant Xu Yan felt nothing at all.

'Am I pretty cheap?' Xu Yan leaned close to Shen Zhi, staring into his eyes, unsure whether he was asking Shen Zhi or himself. 'Do you think, no matter how you treat me, I won't leave?'

Shen Zhi clearly was no longer conscious enough to understand what he was saying. He only knew Xu Yan was close, so he tilted his chin up and pressed against the other's somewhat cool lips. Xu Yan wasn't pathetic enough to be moved by a drunk's kiss. He broke free of Shen Zhi's hand, trying to straighten up, but Shen Zhi pressed down on his nape and kissed him deeper.

Xu Yan resignedly bent his knee against Shen Zhi's leg, kept his eyes open, and cooperated through a long, alcohol-tinged kiss.

After it ended, Shen Zhi just panted, his fingertip gently stroking Xu Yan's nape, saying nothing.

Forget it.

Xu Yan pressed his forehead against Shen Zhi's and said softly: 'Happy birthday.'