Sun Rain Chapter 29

(Part One)

Fu Xuanliao had a dream.

The time was late summer, the place was the sports field.

For the first track meet of his second year of high school, he was reluctantly signed up for the 8,000-meter long-distance run. Driven by the spirit of participation and the self-respect of not wanting to embarrass himself, he gritted his teeth and decided to try to finish the race five minutes before the start.

Physically, he was fit enough. Fu Xuanliao loved sports and often played soccer with his classmates after school. The circumference of a standard 11-a-side soccer field was similar to Third High School’s rubber track—twenty laps was nothing, a piece of cake.

But he forgot about his pre-existing respiratory issues. Fengcheng had seen little rain recently, and thick dust had accumulated on the roads. The wind was strong today, kicking up countless clouds of dust on the flat sports field. By the fifth lap, Fu Xuanliao had been choked no less than five times.

Drinking water did nothing to alleviate the discomfort in his throat and windpipe. His breathing became heavy, he gradually struggled to catch his breath, and his steps began to feel weak and shaky.

Young men always harbor a stubborn refusal to admit defeat, and Fu Xuanliao was no exception.

He knew he probably wouldn’t make it the full twenty laps this time, but he thought he should at least finish the current one.

The finish line of the seventh lap was right in front of him. He could already see the referee’s little red hat when his legs suddenly gave out. His knees hit the ground first, followed by his shoulder and head.

The scene went dark for a moment. When images reappeared, the location had shifted to the Third High School infirmary.

The air here was much cleaner. A narrow single bed was separated from the outer clinic by a white, semi-transparent curtain. On the other side was a window, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy. Fu Xuanliao squinted, catching the tiny motes of dust floating in the air.

It was quiet outside; the doctor seemed to be absent. Fu Xuanliao yawned, which triggered a scraping pain in his respiratory tract. He pounded his chest in a fit of coughing, then simply lay back down, thinking self-deprecatingly that since things were already this way, he might as well sleep a little longer.

Drowsily, he recalled hearing gasps from the stands just before he fell. He wondered if that person was among them.

They should be, he thought. Third High School’s track meet included both junior and senior high, so there was no reason they wouldn’t see him.

Maybe they were already on their way… Fu Xuanliao closed his heavy eyelids and drifted back to sleep.

When he woke up again—or more accurately, when he regained consciousness—Fu Xuanliao was in a state of semi-wakefulness, able to see and hear, but nothing was clear.

Hearing a sound, he struggled to open his eyes. A slender figure appeared behind the white curtain: short hair, not very tall, though that might have been due to the contrast of light and shadow.

As if afraid of being discovered, the person’s footsteps were very light. They stood by the bed for a long time without moving.

Just as Fu Xuanliao was about to drift off again in his muddled state, a hand parted one side of the curtain, cautiously reaching in, and then rested on his forehead.

The back of the hand wasn’t warm; it was even a little cold.

Fu Xuanliao frowned uncomfortably, and the hand quickly withdrew. After a moment, it was replaced by a relatively warmer fingertip, which very lightly touched the scrape on Fu Xuanliao’s temple caused by hitting the ground. It felt like a feather landing on him, slightly ticklish.

Drowsiness intensified. Before his half-closed eyelids blocked out the last sliver of light, Fu Xuanliao vaguely saw a hand—long, fair, and moving gently, as if touching a treasure of supreme value.

When he truly woke from the dream, the image of that hand in his mind was briefly very clear. So much so that Fu Xuanliao sat up in bed, staring for a long time at the hand of the person beside him resting outside the covers, before snapping back to reality and realizing the absurdity of it all.

How could it be Shi Meng?

That day, when he woke up in the infirmary and pulled back the curtain, he saw a bottle of his usual brand of drink on the bedside cabinet, with a piece of paper tucked underneath.

It was a brand only those he often hung out with knew. The paper had a drawing of a track and field, with a person in a school uniform T-shirt running.

A few days later, on Fu Xuanliao’s birthday, he found an A5-sized drawing inside his desk at school. It was a colored and detailed version of the simple sketch he’d received in the infirmary. Who the person was was self-evident.

In fact, Fu Xuanliao had received unsigned drawings back in his first year of high school—a scene of a boy sleeping on a classroom desk.

Since the face wasn’t drawn, Fu Xuanliao initially thought someone had misplaced it. It wasn’t until his birthday the following year that he realized it was meant for him. Then, during Christmas of his third year, he indirectly confirmed the reality of the conversation he’d had on Christmas Eve through the watch Shi Mu was wearing. Finally, when he connected all the events, everything made sense.

He realized that when he started developing feelings for Shi Mu, Shi Mu felt the same way, but was constrained by traditional etiquette and dared not admit it, choosing instead to express his feelings subtly through these methods.

And the silent worry and care in the infirmary, which marked the moment Fu Xuanliao was forced to confront his feelings, remained his most cherished memory.

How could that incident possibly have been Shi Meng?

Fu Xuanliao withdrew his gaze and gave a self-mocking smile.

The last time he had a dream, he woke up in a daze, thinking his memory was confused and he had mistaken the real-life protagonist. It was already absurd enough that Shi Meng personally denied it when he sought confirmation. This time, he didn’t know what nerve had been crossed, but based on a similar hand, he was nearly swayed again.

After getting out of bed and washing up, Fu Xuanliao was changing clothes in the walk-in closet when he received a call from Gao Lecheng.

“The enjoyable weekend is here. Coming to Heting Club?”

“The Shi family is making a move today. I need to go check on things.”

The other side pondered for a moment: “Was that agreed upon yesterday?”

“Yes.” Fu Xuanliao didn’t want to elaborate, changing the subject: “Is there something else?”

“Not really. Just that there’s a guy named Zhang who claims to be your former classmate and wants to meet you.”

“Zhang?” Fu Xuanliao couldn’t recall anyone immediately.

“Yes, Zhang Hao. He said he was your junior.”

That rang a faint bell.

“Oh, him. What does he want?”

“I asked. He said he wants to catch up, but I figure he’s trying to build connections and cozy up to you.”

Since Gao Lecheng had figured it out, Fu Xuanliao saw no need to be polite: “Yes, his family is in the building materials business. He probably wants to take a shortcut.”

“No wonder,” Gao Lecheng said. “But isn’t your company looking for suppliers? If his family is reliable, it wouldn’t hurt to talk.”

Fu Xuanliao naturally understood the logic, but recalling how Zhang Hao had mistaken Shi Meng for Shi Mu at the entrance of Heting Club last time, his mood darkened, filled with an inexplicable irritation.

“We have long-term partners. We don’t need a supplier who suddenly pops up like this,” Fu Xuanliao instructed. “Just tell him I’m busy.”

Gao Lecheng agreed, knowing he was occupied, and hung up after a reminder to “be careful.”

Putting on his suit jacket, Fu Xuanliao walked past the mirror by the door. His peripheral vision caught the shattered pane of glass, and he paused.

He could have walked straight out after leaving the closet, but he was inexplicably drawn back to the bedroom. Standing two or three meters away, he looked at the person still sleeping in the bed.

Shi Meng liked to hug something when he slept, and Fu Xuanliao often served that purpose. Without anything to hold now, he was curled up on his side, clutching the excess duvet, his entire head nearly buried beneath it. Only half of his cool, pale face was visible.

After the intense confrontation last night, the two hadn’t spoken again. They remained silent, and no one bothered to turn on the lights. They simply washed their faces hastily and climbed into bed in the dark.

It was only when he saw the broken mirror just now that Fu Xuanliao belatedly realized Shi Meng might have been injured last night.

Unlike the minor scuffles during lovemaking when vying for dominance, the mirror was shattered, suggesting the injury might not be light.

He lifted his foot, intending to step forward and investigate, but stopped after just half a step.

It felt as if doing so was equivalent to forgetting. The past, already covered in dust, would be buried even deeper by the stirred-up sand until it was completely covered.

Everyone told him he couldn’t forget.

Forgetting was a form of betrayal.

Fu Xuanliao took a deep breath and ultimately did not step forward.

He didn’t dare to look any longer, turning around almost frantically and striding out.

(Part Two)

Shi Meng woke up late again today. Standing in front of the sink, he stared at the person in the mirror for a long time before slowly raising his hand to touch the swollen injury on his temple.

The skin wasn’t broken, and pressing it caused slight pain. This showed that Fu Xuanliao hadn’t used much force yesterday; Shi Meng couldn’t break free simply because he was too exhausted.

Shi Meng numbly found an excuse for Fu Xuanliao, and for himself. After tidying up, he put on a thinner turtleneck shirt and walked out of the bedroom.

The Fu family house was large, more than enough for four people.

One of the empty rooms had been converted into a studio for Shi Meng. Jiang Rong was cleaning that room now. Hearing the bedroom door open, she poked her head out. Seeing Shi Meng dressed so heavily, she asked, “It’s so hot. Why are you wearing so much?”

Shi Meng didn’t want to tell her it was to cover the bruises. Even with the commotion last night, she probably knew what had happened.

“I’m not hot,” Shi Meng replied as he headed toward the kitchen, planning to drink some water before going out.

Before long, Jiang Rong also came to the kitchen and took out a sandwich warming in the oven. “Have some. See how your auntie’s cooking is.”

Shi Meng had no reason to refuse.

When he washed his hands and picked up the sandwich, Jiang Rong noticed the scratches on the back of his hand. She looked startled. “Was that a cat scratch?”

Turning his arm over for a look, Shi Meng said casually, “Just a little scratch.”

“Did you get the rabies vaccine?” Jiang Rong reminded him. “If you were scratched last night, it hasn’t been 24 hours yet. You can still get the shot now.”

So, as soon as Shi Meng finished eating, Jiang Rong urged him to leave. He held his phone, which was running navigation, with the destination set to the Fengcheng Center for Disease Control and Prevention.

“I don’t drive, or I would take you myself.”

Jiang Rong saw him to the door, glanced at his hand, and then turned to look at the room used as the studio, looking quite worried.

“You draw so well,” she said. “We can’t let anything happen to such talented hands.”

On the way, Shi Meng received a call from Sun Yanfeng.

He got straight to the point: “I heard from your mother that you went out to look for the cat last night?”

Shi Meng hummed in affirmation.

A helpless sigh came from the other end: “Ah, I told your mother to call me if she needed anything. I didn’t expect to trouble you.”

“It’s fine,” Shi Meng said.

“Then Mu Mu… I mean the cat, where did you finally find it?”

“In the bushes near the complex.”

Recalling the darkness and the terrible weather last night, Shi Meng still felt the unpleasant sensation of being drenched by the rain.

His hand was scratched then. The cat was hiding in the bushes, startled by the approaching footsteps. When Shi Meng bent down to grab it, it panicked and fled, giving him a fierce scratch with its claws.

“It’s good that you found it,” Sun Yanfeng said. “Next time something like this happens, call me. I promised to look after you and your mother.”

Shi Meng couldn’t recall when Sun Yanfeng had said that, thinking he must have said it to Yang Youlan.

From beginning to end, he had only been an outsider, unable to join in, understanding nothing. From the time he was learning to speak, he was passively forced to accept the fate that came crashing down on him.

But he wasn’t so slow as to fail to notice the unreasonableness of the situation even now.

“So, am I actually your son?” Shi Meng disliked beating around the bush. Once he had a guess, he sought confirmation directly. “Or is Shi Mu your child?”

A new line of thought opened up, and many previously ignored details surfaced one after another, all becoming points of doubt, regardless of their importance.

Setting aside the parts too distant to investigate, Yang Youlan’s attitude last night alone was baffling.

After all, even Jiang Rong, who was unrelated to him, showed him some concern. Why would the mother who raised him treat him with such contempt, as if his life were worthless, less important than a cat?

And he remembered now: yesterday was Shi Mu’s death anniversary. That explained Fu Xuanliao’s irritability.

So what about Yang Youlan? Why was she so abnormal on this day?

She was still hiding Shi Mu’s sketchbooks.

Shi Mu… Mu Mu…

Chewing over these two similar names repeatedly, a massive vortex seemed to open in his mind, pulling Shi Meng into the torrent of the past, forcing him to pull out the thorns embedded in him one by one and scrutinize where things went wrong.

Since Shi Meng could remember, Yang Youlan seemed to have an unusual affection for Shi Mu. When Shi Mu was seriously ill back then, she urged Shi Meng to undergo Bone Marrow Matching, even saying things like, “Please, save him.”

At the time, Shi Meng only thought she felt belated guilt for destroying someone else’s family and was trying to compensate out of a guilty conscience. He never considered it was instinctual.

A mother’s instinctive love for her child.

In truth, Shi Meng didn’t care about these intangible affections and concerns.

He was used to being alone. Since birth, he had walked this cold world by himself, so he was accustomed to the indifference and malice of others. He just muddled through, and thus had no interest in pursuing the reason for being treated this way.

No one would tell him anyway.

Besides, it was too exhausting. Just living, chasing that tiny glimmer of light, left him utterly drained.

So, when he realized that certain things might have been fundamentally misplaced, Shi Meng’s first reaction was panic, followed immediately by avoidance.

He was afraid of being disturbed, afraid of his established understanding being overturned, afraid of unbearable consequences, and completely clueless about how to anticipate or handle the situation.

But he was also serious, stubborn, and impatient. Since he had found a clue, there was no way he could pretend not to know.

Sun Yanfeng hadn’t answered him directly on the phone just now, only telling him not to overthink things, clearly unwilling to reveal the truth.

Shi Meng thought he would have to start with Shi Huaiyi.

After receiving the vaccine shot, and remembering Jiang Rong’s instructions, Shi Meng carefully put away the document stating the time for the next injection and drove to the Group Headquarters building.

He rarely went there. The last time was five years ago when Shi Huaiyi took him on a tour and asked if he wanted to work there someday.

Shi Meng’s answer was naturally no. He only wanted to paint, and he didn’t want Li Bihan to see him as an enemy. Shi Meng had always been clear about his place in that family.

But reflecting now, why would the person who once said, “You must know your place,” suddenly change his attitude and hope he would join the family business?

His heartbeat vibrated dramatically against his eardrums, followed by his eye sockets, his temples, and then his head, finally spreading throughout his entire body.

The road ahead led to the unknown. Every meter closer to the destination felt like a step closer to the truth.

Today was a holiday, and the ground floor of the Group building was sparsely populated. He could hear the echo of his footsteps as he walked in.

Shi Meng didn’t have an employee badge, and the receptionist didn’t recognize him. When he said he was looking for Shi Huaiyi, she first asked if he had an appointment. After receiving a negative answer, she scrutinized him suspiciously, then picked up the phone: “One moment.”

The front desk line usually couldn’t dial directly to the CEO’s office; it went through several transfers. Shi Meng didn’t pay attention to the content of their conversation, only sensitively noticing that the receptionist looked at him a few more times, as if confirming something.

About five minutes later, a man walked out of the elevator area. He had an ordinary appearance, dressed like an office worker. Shi Meng didn’t recognize him.

“Young Master Shi,” the man recognized Shi Meng, though, and smiled respectfully. “CEO Shi is in a meeting and sent me down to escort you.”

Shi Meng followed him toward the stairwell. Several security guards followed behind them.

Like most office buildings, the ground floor of the Shi Group Headquarters was high and spacious, with many doors leading in different directions for various functions.

Passing through the stairwell and entering a long, quiet corridor through a previously closed door, Shi Meng vaguely felt that something was wrong.

“Aren’t we going upstairs?” he asked the man who came to meet him.

“CEO Shi is in a meeting,” the man said. “He asked you to wait down here for a while.”

Shi Meng still found it strange. If he had to wait, why not in a lounge or similar area? Why lead him to the outermost corridor of the building?

Moreover, this corridor led outside, seemingly connecting to the parking lot.

Just then, Shi Meng’s sharp ears caught the familiar sound of a car engine, exactly like the one he heard from the upstairs of the Shi family mansion on many Saturdays.

The sound of car doors opening and closing followed immediately. The moment he saw that tall figure appear at the end of the passage, Shi Meng didn’t stop to think why he was there and ran straight toward him.

In places where Fu Xuanliao was present, Shi Meng instinctively ignored everyone else, thus easily overlooking the hurried footsteps behind him.

The sound of danger approaching.

When he was struck on the back of the head by a hard, club-like object, Shi Meng was just about to call out Fu Xuanliao’s name.

He liked to call him by his name because before he was assigned many identities—before he was Senior, CEO Fu, Shi Mu’s friend, or the Fu family’s only son—he was first and foremost the person Shi Meng loved.

Unfortunately, the faint sound from his throat was replaced by a massive roar. Shi Meng didn’t even have time to turn around and see the attacker’s face before he stumbled two steps forward and uncontrollably collapsed onto the ground.

In the second before consciousness left his body, time stretched out long and slow.

The dizziness made the pain less noticeable. Shi Meng desperately kept his eyes open, looking at the figure at the end of the road.

The person had their back to him. They seemed to sense something, stopping their steps and glancing around.

However, perhaps in a hurry, they didn’t linger for long, lifting their feet and continuing to stride forward until they became a small black dot, swallowed by the blinding white light.

Until they completely left Shi Meng’s world.