Chapter 20

Stalking—how novel. When had Shen Zhi ever been on the receiving end of such mockery? His expression visibly stiffened for a moment. After a pause, he suddenly reached out and took Xu Yan's phone, saying: 'Xu Yan, let's talk.'

'Shen Zhi, give me my phone back.' Xu Yan opened his mouth in the exact same tone and cadence as Shen Zhi. He didn't want to talk about anything. Talking meant dissection, meant exposure—he'd once foolishly laid his whole heart bare for Shen Zhi to see. Years had passed, some thrown away, some trampled, some wasted, some ignored, shoved back and forth through the mud several times. Xu Yan had finally learned shame, learned to fear the pain. Now he wanted to take it all back. Even if only scraps remained, he wanted to take it all back completely, never to embarrass himself again.

He didn't want to guess why Shen Zhi had followed him either—any guess would just be a mess of broken pieces. Xu Yan had been doused with too many buckets of cold water by reality. Though he still hadn't learned to swim, at least he could put a life preserver on himself. Life was what mattered. He only had one heart—better to take a little less damage if he could.

Shen Zhi locked the phone screen, his hand dropping to his side, showing no intention of returning it to Xu Yan. He suddenly said: 'I'm not getting engaged.'

'Of course you're not getting engaged.' Because Tang Yunyan was back, and you were going to choose your true love. Xu Yan smiled indifferently. 'But what's that got to do with me? Do you want to see me weeping with gratitude or ecstatic with joy? Give me a hundred thousand and I'll perform it for you.'

His manner was utterly baffling—seemingly uncaring, unattentive, even with a smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes were cold. Shen Zhi suddenly felt his chest hollow out for a few seconds, as if something was sinking, draining away, but he couldn't grasp it. Because he couldn't grasp it, he couldn't determine what it was.

'Don't look at me like that.' Xu Yan clicked his tongue, words running off the rails. 'You know, Scorpios are all pretty heartless—we can only talk money if we can't talk feelings.'

'Aren't you a Virgo?' Shen Zhi looked at him and said, like a good student rationally correcting a wrong answer.

That answer was completely unexpected—like a few seconds of Tom and Jerry suddenly spliced into a science documentary. Xu Yan was stunned—Shen Zhi actually knew what star sign he was. But he had no mind to dwell on it now. Xu Yan said: 'My rising sign is Scorpio, okay?' He held out his hand to Shen Zhi. 'Give me my phone back.'

'Xu Yan.' Shen Zhi called him again, brow slightly furrowed, seemingly at a loss for what to do with this unfamiliar hedgehog-like version of him—spines on all sides, curled up tight, wary and stubborn—when had Xu Yan ever been like this? For the past several years he'd given off love without asking anything in return, as if it would never run out. Now it had vanished without a trace, and looking back, it had happened in the span of a single night.

'Shen Zhi.' Xu Yan replied again in the same grave tone. 'If you can give me one reason for following me here today, I'll consider talking with you.'

His guess was right on the money—Shen Zhi couldn't say it.

The words 'I just wanted to see you' slammed against his teeth several times but still wouldn't come out. Shen Zhi couldn't explain it himself—why, the moment he left the Company, he'd been possessed, driving straight here, hanging up over a dozen calls from his mother along the way. He vaguely remembered Meng Yuwan telling him two days ago to keep dinner free tonight, and his assistant had reminded him too, but what exactly it was, he had no recollection at all. For the first time in over twenty years, he was forgetting things like this—and it was happening in this month-plus since Xu Yan left, as if everything had been thrown into disarray, all order lost.

Xu Yan smiled slightly: 'Can't say it? Then I'll say it for you.'

'Because you're not willing to accept it—not willing to accept that the person who'd clung to you for years got there first and said it was over. And you're not used to it. You remembered the little good I did you, and then felt you weren't used to not having me be good to you. That's all.' Xu Yan said, 'I admit, if you want to enjoy the blessings of having both, you absolutely have the capital for it. But sorry, I'm not playing along. You drove over an hour to get here—don't waste your time on me. It's completely unnecessary.'

'I don't know what I have to say to make you believe it—we're really over. I won't bother you anymore, won't cling to you. Who you get engaged to or marry is none of my business.' Xu Yan felt his heart hanging in a precarious position. If he softened even half a second now, it would shatter—so he could only be hard to the end. He took a breath and said, 'If you want my life, I can hand it to you without blinking—past, present, future, always like that. But Shen Zhi, I really don't like you anymore.'

He knew Shen Zhi had heard him clearly, but he still looked into his eyes and repeated: 'Did you hear me, Shen Zhi? I don't like you anymore.'

A break should be clean—whether it was the little unwillingness in Shen Zhi's heart, or his own years of accumulated, worthless love. Xu Yan had long harbored the intent to cut it off with one clean slice, but maybe because he'd groveled too deeply into Shen Zhi's heart before, simply saying it was over wasn't enough to convince him. He had to say something absolute to make his stance clear... then so be it.

It was so quiet around them, yet it made one suspect a storm was about to break—the rustling sound of raindrops hitting the ground reached his ears—a physiological response like tinnitus. Shen Zhi's fingers flinched, as if they were the only part of his whole body that could move right now. After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse: 'I'm not unwilling to accept it.'

'You are.' Xu Yan said with certainty. 'Otherwise give me a reason.'

Shen Zhi's lashes moved slightly, and he turned his eyes away a little—a gesture of avoidance. A bitterness rose on the tip of Xu Yan's tongue. He laughed lightly: 'Shen Zhi, admit it. You just can't get past it, because I was the one who said we'd split up first.'

Not wanting to linger any longer, Xu Yan reached for his phone, his fingertips brushing Shen Zhi's hand—very cold. Xu Yan remembered that whenever the weather turned cold, Shen Zhi's hands were always freezing when he got into bed. Xu Yan would take his hand under the covers and hold it against his chest, ridiculously announcing, 'Master, your hand warmer is online!' and Shen Zhi would tell him to shut up and sleep, stop talking.

Perhaps there had been happy moments, but if only one side was making them, they were too thin. Xu Yan had once believed that love was enough to fill a belly, but later he discovered that one-sided love couldn't fill anyone's belly—it caused drought directly. You died of thirst before you died of hunger.

Their love was like a wilderness—from beginning to end, only Xu Yan was working to irrigate it, comforting himself with the occasional mirage.

But a wilderness was a wilderness. One person alone could never turn it into an oasis. No sunlight, no nutrients—even if you spread vast stretches of vegetation across it, it would only be waiting to wither.

That feeling of watching fresh life slowly wither away before your eyes was really too awful, too helpless.

Xu Yan had just gotten his phone back when it rang. He glanced at Shen Zhi, answered the call, and turned to leave: 'Hello, Ji Huai.'

'I'm working tomorrow, so evening. Book a table first, I'll come get you after work.' He walked toward the elevator as he talked, not looking back. His eyes just felt a little sore and swollen. Xu Yan blinked—vision clear, everything OK.

Shen Zhi got home two hours later. The house was just as he'd seen every night for the past month-plus—pitch dark. He didn't turn on the lights, stood in the entryway and changed his shoes—no need to worry about putting on the wrong ones, because only one pair of slippers was left there. Shen Zhi felt his way upstairs in the dark, accidentally kicking the stairs midway and stumbling forward. He gripped the handrail to steady himself, head bowed, stood still in place for a few seconds, then continued up.

The sound of the light switch was crisp and a little jarring. Shen Zhi stood in the bedroom doorway, not knowing what he was looking at, only feeling that this room was really clean—clean as if no one had ever lived in it. White walls, gray sheets, black cabinet. Only the Little Crocodile on the bed was a discordant dark green, placed right on Xu Yan's pillow.

Walking into the walk-in closet, Shen Zhi pulled open the cabinet door that belonged to Xu Yan. Inside, all sorts of sweatshirts, sweaters, and jackets hung neatly, emitting a very faint, soft scent of laundry detergent. Every time he smelled this scent, the image of Xu Yan hanging laundry, taking it in, folding it would appear before his eyes—quiet, focused, relaxed... He used to not understand why Xu Yan could be so patient and happy doing housework. Now he seemed to suddenly understand—because of what Xu Yan had said to him: if you want my life, I can hand it to you without blinking—past, present, future, always like that.

Because Xu Yan loved him, he put his heart into everything he did, no matter how trivial the thing.

Then what else had he said? Shen Zhi seemed to only now come back to himself, only now realize what he'd heard two hours ago.

—Shen Zhi, I really don't like you anymore. I don't like you anymore.

How could those words have come out of Xu Yan's mouth—that was the feeling of disbelief. Shen Zhi had subconsciously blocked it out at the time, answering with the inconsequential 'I'm not unwilling to accept it,' but that wasn't the point. The point was, Xu Yan said he didn't like him anymore.

So that earlier 'we're over'—that was what it meant. It really meant it was over.

He'd set out with that kind of feeling back then, wanting to give it a try with Xu Yan. What had he actually figured out in the end? Did it mean anything?

His chest was completely hollow now, a severe sense of falling, something sinking to the bottom. Shen Zhi's throat bobbed, he frowned, and only after a long while managed a breath. He turned to look at the closet doorway—beyond the blocked line of sight, there was a house this big, and Xu Yan would never appear in it again.

His phone rang. Shen Zhi slowly reached for it, picked up. Meng Yuwan's voice was low, cold, and severe: 'Shen Zhi, do you know how many calls I made to you? I told you long ago that tonight's dinner was important. Is it that you don't take my words to heart, or that your assistant is incompetent and didn't remind you?'

'Forgot.' Shen Zhi's gaze went vacant as he answered.

Meng Yuwan didn't notice her son's low, hoarse voice, her tone carrying a few degrees of uncontrollable fury: 'Forgot? What on earth have you been thinking this whole time? Getting yourself all tangled up over a man, your mind drifting off to who knows where. Come back tomorrow after work. We're going to have a proper talk.'

She hung up quickly, seemingly not caring about Shen Zhi's answer.

Shen Zhi looked down at his phone screen, then sat down in front of Xu Yan's closet, head slightly bowed, the tips of his hair brushing against the sleeve of Xu Yan's clothes, the familiar faint fragrance slowly enveloping him. He remembered how he'd once come home late because of Company business, and while getting clothes had been so tired he'd fallen asleep leaning against the walk-in closet, only to wake up and find Xu Yan holding him. The two of them sat on the carpet, Xu Yan touching his face, then touching his hair, smiling but revealing a kind of heartache, asking: 'Shall I heat you a cup of milk in a bit?'

Too exhausted, Shen Zhi leaned against him, closed his eyes, and nodded. He'd never had much concept of home, but in that moment, he seemed to have gotten from Xu Yan a feeling he'd never experienced before. Xu Yan's expression, gaze, tone at the time briefly and truly constructed a small, full world—like an amusement park—that was everything he'd ever given only to Shen Zhi.

And looking back now, that feeling wasn't brief either. It had always been there; Shen Zhi had only ever noticed it when his mind was most relaxed, most vulnerable.

Now he'd been kicked out. The amusement park had collapsed into a cold, silent ruin, and all that blew in was the wintry wind of the wilderness.