—

Lan Qiuchen walked into the hospital room carrying the brain MRI and brain CT reports. Tang Yunyan stood up from her chair. Shen Zhi, in the hospital bed, half-opened his eyes, then closed them again.

"If this keeps up and damages your prefrontal cortex, you won't be able to practice law anymore." Lan Qiuchen tossed the reports beside Shen Zhi's pillow. "You only get one head. If there's irreversible damage, you'll regret it when it's too late to do anything about it."

Shen Zhi reached for the documents and looked them over. He lifted his eyes and asked, "When can I leave?"

Lan Qiuchen was so furious with him she couldn't get a word out. She dropped a "weigh it yourself" and left the room. Tang Yunyan turned to look at Shen Zhi. After a long moment, she said, "I've never heard you talk about it."

Shen Zhi looked so normal—composed, polite, outstandingly capable—that Tang Yunyan couldn't associate 'depression,' 'anxiety,' or 'hallucinations' with him. Even though she knew perfectly well that some mental illnesses don't show on the surface, because the person in question was Shen Zhi, she still found it impossible to believe. Just as when she and the security guard had arrived and seen Shen Zhi curled up in the car, trembling, sweat pouring off him, she had nearly cried out.

"It's not something worth sharing." Shen Zhi said. "It's already moderate. Lan Qiuchen just overreacted. It's nothing."

"Does Xu Yan know?"

Hearing that name, Shen Zhi's heart skipped for an instant. He adjusted his breathing, took a breath, and answered, "No."

What would happen if Xu Yan found out? Shen Zhi didn't dare imagine it. Xu Yan might be even less willing to see him than he was now, more resistant to him. What Xu Yan wanted was a normal, healthy relationship. Unfortunately, he didn't have that to give—not before, and certainly not now.

So Shen Zhi suddenly understood that Xu Yan had truly been wise. What Xu Yan had given up wasn't just a painful relationship—he had also given up an abnormal, sick partner. They really weren't suited for each other. His existence would only cause Xu Yan harm, suffering, torment. Xu Yan's choice to start an entirely new life wasn't wrong at all. It was perfectly rational. It was taking responsibility for his own life.

If he really loved Xu Yan, he should stay far away from him—not press closer step by step, foolishly trying to start over.

That was how it was.

Shen Zhi felt his mind was still sound enough. He could finally see things clearly, could straighten out the logic—before he caused Xu Yan any further real harm. Fortunately, it wasn't too late.

Looking at his pale face, Tang Yunyan felt a lump in her throat. From the time Xu Yan had confessed to Shen Zhi back in university, up to now, she had a general sense of the whole arc, but looking back, she truly couldn't summarize how these two people had ended up here.

Xu Yan didn't know any of this—not because Shen Zhi hadn't had the chance to tell him, but because Shen Zhi had never intended to.

The IV drip was nearly empty. Shen Zhi reached over and pressed the call button. He said to Tang Yunyan, "Sorry for taking up your time today. I'll be discharged in a bit and drive you back to the Company."

At that moment, Tang Yunyan completely empathized with Lan Qiuchen's state of mind—that frustrated, teeth-gritting contradiction and gloom, wanting to blame Shen Zhi but not having the heart to be hard on him.

On the way back, Shen Zhi drove steadily. Tang Yunyan's gaze spent most of its time fixed on the medical adhesive plaster on the back of his hand. Neither of them was the overly talkative type, but they were never this silent either—and yet Tang Yunyan genuinely couldn't find a word to say.

"Drive carefully, take it slow, and remember to go back to the Hospital on time." After Tang Yunyan finished speaking and received a nod of acknowledgment from Shen Zhi, she closed the car door and stood watching him drive away.

Back at the office, Xu Yan and his assistant were standing by the workstation looking at a computer. When Tang Yunyan came in, Xu Yan looked up: "A shoot got slotted in for tonight. Sorry for the trouble—can you help me put together a few outfits?"

Compared to the drowsy exhaustion of the morning, Tang Yunyan thought Xu Yan looked more tired now—a kind of emotional low.

She walked over. "Sure."

It took a little time to finalize the looks. A few assistants came over to gather up the clothes and accessories. Xu Yan said, "Thanks for the work. I'm going to have to pull an all-nighter today. I'll order some coffee in a bit—want one?"

"I'll skip it." Tang Yunyan said.

"You went out this morning? You were gone the whole afternoon. I thought you weren't coming back to the Company today."

"Mm. Went to the Hospital."

"What happened?" Xu Yan turned to look at her. "Not feeling well?"

Tang Yunyan met his gaze calmly. "A friend of mine wasn't feeling well." She pressed her lips together, and in the end hardened her heart enough to say the name. "Shen Zhi is in the hospital."

She saw clearly that Xu Yan's pupils dilated a fraction, and then his whole body straightened unconsciously. His head turned slightly left and right a few times, as if searching for something, looking a little at a loss. At last Xu Yan's gaze came back, and he asked, "What happened to him?"

"I'm not sure, but it doesn't sound like anything minor." Tang Yunyan said. "But he said he had things to do, pulled out the needle, and discharged himself. He's on his way back now."

"I remember tomorrow afternoon you're going over there for a photography exhibition. If you have time, you could stop by to see him." Tang Yunyan turned back to the computer and let out a very soft sigh. "Of course, if you feel it's unnecessary, if you don't care at all, then don't go."

She said, "So you don't give him any hope."

Xu Yan didn't answer. He knew Tang Yunyan was not the sort of person to exaggerate. He tried repeatedly in his mind to recall what had been off about his conversation with Shen Zhi that morning, but the only thing he could use as a thread was those last few seconds—the way Shen Zhi had nearly lost his footing, and the way his eyes had dodged Xu Yan's gaze.

After pulling an all-nighter, Xu Yan didn't wrap up until five in the morning. He got home too exhausted to keep his eyes open, showered, and fell into bed. By all rights he should have slept soundly, but he didn't. That sleep was uneasy—he had scattered, fragmentary dreams. The wide university track, a basketball bouncing on the court, dappled tree shadows and a ground full of fallen leaves, a face blurred behind a viewfinder—only those eyes were clear, ink-black, looking over.

He and those eyes gazed at each other for a long time. Shen Zhi's eyes.

What are you trying to say. Xu Yan wanted to ask him. He felt that Shen Zhi had something to say, but Shen Zhi stayed silent the whole time.

"If you won't say it, forget it." Xu Yan closed his eyes.

"Help me..."

A low, hoarse, anguished voice. Xu Yan's eyes snapped open—but he was no longer in the dream.

Xu Yan sat up in bed, head bowed, staring blankly at his hair falling forward. Yesterday he had said such harsh things, and at the root of it, his resolve simply wasn't firm enough. His heart softened a little, only to be forced stiff again—bound up high, tightened, suspended in midair. Back and forth like that. It was too much to bear.

If he really could look at Shen Zhi and feel nothing, if his heart could truly be still, he wouldn't have needed to threaten with going abroad again.

It sounded resolute, but on closer thought one could see how much guilt, wavering, and contradiction it contained.

It was already noon. After lunch he had to go to the photography exhibition. Xu Yan stared blankly for a while, then got up to wash.

Before leaving, he received a delivery notification. Xu Yan went downstairs to the parcel locker. He wasn't sure what it was. Once in the car, he opened the small delivery box. Inside the bubble wrap, at the very center, was a stack of DSLR memory cards and a few USB drives.

Xu Yan stared at those things, dumbfounded. Years ago, when he had first broken up with Shen Zhi, he had asked Shen Zhi to mail them over, but Shen Zhi had said he couldn't find them. And now, today, they had arrived in his hands without any warning.

He glanced at the sender's address. It was Shen Zhi's Residential Area.

Xu Yan leaned back against the seat. He wanted to ask—why didn't you send them before? Did it take you three years to find them? What does it mean, sending them now?

He also wanted to ask—why are you back in the hospital again?

It had been too long since he'd come to this city. After the photography exhibition ended, Xu Yan had dinner with a friend. The friend, beaming, showed him adorable photos of his two-year-old daughter. As Xu Yan looked through them, he thought of Ye Xuan, who was pregnant too, and felt glad.

After the meal they sat and talked for a long time. By the time they left the restaurant it was already past ten. Xu Yan said goodbye to his friend and got in the car. This area was very familiar to him—it was the largest commercial district closest to Shen Zhi's home. At the end of the street, turn right, cross a bridge, drive a few more miles, and there was a Park; around the Park was Shen Zhi's Residential Area.

Xu Yan used to go out for late-night snacks, and whenever he drove onto the bridge he would always roll down the window, feel the evening breeze, watch the lights, listen to the ships' horns. More than once he had thought—if only Shen Zhi could come out with him to buy things, the view was so lovely, they could see it together.

Driving along the main road to the end, then turning right, Xu Yan looked ahead. Straight ahead was the Cross River Bridge; the right lane led to the expressway. If he wanted to go home, he should change lanes onto the expressway, then get on the highway.

Xu Yan gripped the steering wheel. Ahead, on the bridge, the lights blazed. Countless streams of traffic merged, flowing toward the far end of the bridge.

He should have changed lanes onto the expressway by now, but Xu Yan still hadn't put on his turn signal. The blue sign at the fork was conspicuous, its white lettering reflecting the light, indicating straight ahead or right. It drew closer, and the point where he had to change lanes drew closer too.

Seven meters left.

"Shen Zhi is in the hospital."

Six meters left.

"I'm not sure, but it doesn't sound like anything minor."

Five meters.

"I remember tomorrow afternoon you're going over there for the photography exhibition. If you have time, you could stop by to see him."

Four meters.

"Of course, if you feel it's unnecessary, if you don't care at all, then don't go."

Three meters.

"So you don't give him any hope."

Two meters.

"Help me..."

Xu Yan's heart gave a heavy thump. He drew a deep breath, held his lane straight, and drove toward the bridge.

The view from the bridge was unchanged. Xu Yan felt a little dazed. After coming off the bridge and driving past the Park, the car was stopped at the Residential Area Entrance. A guard came over and knocked on the window. Xu Yan doubted he'd be allowed in, but the guard studied him for a few seconds and smiled. "Mr. Xu?"

Xu Yan realized the guard hadn't changed, and couldn't help marveling at his memory. He nodded. "It's been a long time."

He was asked to get out of the car for facial recognition—it went through. Shen Zhi had never had his information deleted. He could still come and go from the Residential Area freely.

The car rolled slowly to a stop by the roadside. Xu Yan turned to look at the house. Inside was completely dark. He didn't know whether Shen Zhi was home.

Xu Yan got out of the car and pushed open the gate. The white magnolia was taller than before. He walked up to the front door. The sensor light came on. Xu Yan stared at the electronic lock, raised his hand, and pressed the pad of his index finger to it. A few beeps, and the door opened.

The light from outside illuminated the entryway, and faintly lit up other parts of the living room, but on the whole it was still hard to make things out. Yet Xu Yan had a strange feeling—gathering toward him from every corner of the house, like reaching vines, coiling around his ankles.