Sun Rain Chapter 36
byPerhaps fearing he might actually hurt him, the knife Shi Meng bought hadn’t been sharpened and wasn’t very sharp.
It took Fu Xuanliao a great deal of effort just to saw through one strand of the hemp rope, leaving his chest and back slick with sweat.
Just as he was about to use his arm strength to break free from the loosening restraints, a piece of paper was suddenly held up less than ten centimeters from his eyes.
Fu Xuanliao quickly gripped the blade back into his palm, enduring the pain as he looked over—it was a simple black and white sketch. Because it was drawn with the less dominant left hand, the lines were uneven and rough, but he could still make out the background: a sports field, with a short-sleeved teenager running on the track.
His heart rate suddenly spiked, pounding heavily against his eardrums. Fu Xuanliao slowly widened his eyes, confirming that every line on the drawing nearly overlapped with the one he received in the infirmary during his second year of high school; even the perspective was identical.
He would forever remember the feeling of that hand touching his forehead, the tenderness of being cherished and cared for.
He had always thought it was Shi Mu.
A chaotic mess exploded in his mind. Vaguely hearing Shi Meng ask, “Does it look good?” Fu Xuanliao shifted his gaze to Shi Meng, taking several deep, difficult breaths before speaking: “…Was it you?”
Though phrased as a question, Fu Xuanliao was slowly, one by one, affirming it in his heart—
It was you who visited me in the infirmary, it was you who came to my classroom during lunch break, it was you who slipped drawings into my desk every birthday, and that Christmas Eve, which I mistook as a mutual exchange of feelings, was also you.
Shi Meng didn’t answer. He expressionlessly put the drawing away, then looked up at the sky before getting up and walking toward the outside of the cockpit.
Fu Xuanliao followed him out.
The ropes on his hands were loose, and he quickly untied them and tossed them onto the deck. When Shi Meng looked back and saw this, he didn’t seem surprised; instead, he smiled as if it was exactly what he expected.
The fishing boat’s deck had no railings. Shi Meng walked to the very edge, his body swaying with the boat. Fu Xuanliao feared he might fall into the water and tried to rush forward to grab him, but Shi Meng, with his back to the sea, commanded: “Don’t come closer!”
Fu Xuanliao was caught between a rock and a hard place. He had no choice but to stay put and try to calm Shi Meng down.
He was both angry and anxious, unable to stop himself from asking from two or three meters away, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
When I started doubting my memory and asked you to confirm, why didn’t you say anything?
Since five years ago, Fu Xuanliao had been prejudiced, believing that Shi Meng was pathologically possessive of him, always trying to snatch whatever Shi Mu had. Even when he later realized Shi Meng’s feelings weren’t entirely possessive, he simply assumed Shi Meng had grown accustomed to the dependence and mistaken it for love.
He feared this love, which should never have blossomed, would disrupt his thoughts and affect his judgment, so he hardened his heart and pulled away. Now, without warning, he was being told—you were wrong, the reality is different; Shi Meng’s affection for you was genuine.
A complex mix of emotions intertwined, each one enough to plunge Fu Xuanliao into self-doubt.
But reality didn’t give him time to think.
Shi Meng stood at the bow. In contrast to his skin, his pupils were an all-knowing, inky black.
He said, “If I told you, would you have believed me?”
Fate had pointed him down the worst possible path, and at every fork, he had chosen the worst option. He had borne too many unwarranted accusations; in a situation where he was attacked from all sides, earning anyone’s trust was a luxury.
Fu Xuanliao hastily said, “I would, I would believe you.”
Shi Meng paused, then curled his lips into a smile: “Believe me? Then you wouldn’t believe Shi Mu anymore?”
This time, it was Fu Xuanliao’s turn to freeze.
That was right. When he raised the question back then, he hadn’t wanted Shi Meng to give an affirmative answer. He wanted Shi Meng to deny it, so he could tell himself it truly was Shi Mu, tell himself he hadn’t misremembered, thereby protecting his precarious promises and beliefs.
He had promised never to forget Shi Mu. First, he treated this promise as a moral yardstick, and then he turned it into a prison confining himself. He dared not take a single step outside, afraid of being accused of breaking his promise, afraid that even a half-step deviation would become evidence of betrayal.
He feared his cherished beliefs being overturned, and even more, he feared Shi Meng’s intrusion disturbing his heart.
So he erected defenses, using careless words to fend off every approaching truth. He seemed incredibly brave, but in reality, he was utterly cowardly.
Facing his inner self for the first time was like dropping all defenses, tearing away the protective skin covering a fragile core. Fu Xuanliao was shocked, his thoughts momentarily scattered. His lips trembled a few times, but before he could say anything, Shi Meng spoke again: “I’ll give you one chance.”
Shi Meng pointed toward the sea: “You can go with that ship.”
Following the direction of his finger, Fu Xuanliao saw a large vessel slowly sailing past. A signal could call it over.
“What about you?” Fu Xuanliao asked.
“I’m not leaving,” Shi Meng replied.
With almost no hesitation, Fu Xuanliao shook his head: “Then I’m not leaving either.”
Shi Meng tugged at the corner of his mouth: “Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw you into the sea to feed the fish?”
“You won’t,” Fu Xuanliao stated with certainty.
The smile froze on Shi Meng’s lips. He turned around, facing the ship that was countless times larger than the one they were on, looking lost, as if he didn’t know how to handle this sudden trust.
He had never trusted him before.
“It’s okay,” Shi Meng comforted himself. “It’s okay, I only need a little time.”
In a world reduced to just the two of them, Fu Xuanliao and Shi Meng sat opposite each other, feeling the sea breeze and listening to the sound of waves hitting the hull.
Shi Meng leaned against the empty bait box, recalling how, not long ago, he had feigned illness to trick Fu Xuanliao into returning. Fu Xuanliao had rushed back in a panic, and seeing him refuse medicine and treatment, had angrily demanded if he “wanted to die here.”
Later, he took the medicine, and under the guise of “repaying the favor,” he flirtatiously asked Fu Xuanliao if he wanted to have sex. Fu Xuanliao refused with a dark expression, and Shi Meng, furious, told him to leave if he wouldn’t do it. But when Fu Xuanliao actually stood up to go, he anxiously lunged at him, forbidding him to leave.
The result, of course, was that Fu Xuanliao stayed, his tone a mix of amusement and helplessness: “You’re the one who asked me to come, and you’re the one telling me to leave. If I actually left, you’d go crazy again.”
At the time, those words sounded somewhat sweet to Shi Meng, but now, thinking back, only a chill remained.
He truly is a lunatic—Shi Meng, looking at his past self from an outsider’s perspective, reached an objective conclusion.
He thought, no wonder Fu Xuanliao wanted to run.
But why wouldn’t Fu Xuanliao run now?
Their eyes met. Shi Meng couldn’t decipher what Fu Xuanliao, sitting not far away, was thinking. Not wanting Fu Xuanliao to extract any information from his gaze, he quickly looked away, turning back to the vast ocean.
In truth, Fu Xuanliao wasn’t thinking about anything, or rather, he hadn’t figured anything out.
His entire being felt hollowed out. As the things he firmly believed in shattered, all his emotions, whether anger or annoyance, lost their anchor. He felt like he had been tossed high into the air and then gently dropped, becoming a small, aimless boat on the sea.
And the words he had used to hurt Shi Meng were like physical objects scattered around, becoming obstacles preventing him from moving forward and finding the root of the problem.
Before yesterday, he had been completely oblivious to everything Shi Meng had suffered, and the tragic consequences weren’t entirely his doing. But could that truly be an excuse? If he hadn’t evaded the truth and had chosen to face it earlier, would things have not escalated to this point?
This point… what point was that?
Snapping back to reality, the sky had darkened. The sun, which had been high above, was now sinking westward, already half-swallowed by the horizon. Fu Xuanliao saw Shi Meng stand up and walk toward the stern, and he quickly followed.
At the stern, there was a ladder leading to the lower storage hold, and a rope hung beside it.
Shi Meng pulled the rope, hoisting up a drawing board, about half a person’s height, wrapped in thick layers of paper.
Fearing he might strain the injury to his ribs, Fu Xuanliao tried several times to step forward and help, but Shi Meng vigilantly sidestepped him.
It wasn’t until Shi Meng held the drawing board in his arms that Fu Xuanliao began to realize the true purpose of bringing him here.
Shi Meng backed up with the painting, standing right at the edge of the stern, and warned him: “Don’t come closer, or I’ll take it with me and…”
“I won’t come closer!” Fu Xuanliao immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I won’t come closer, just don’t back up any further, please don’t.”
Shi Meng stopped where he was, then bent down and, with two quick rips, tore open the cardboard wrapping the painting.
His gaze fell upon the painting titled “Flame,” the one he had yearned for for so many years and could never obtain. Fu Xuanliao’s pupils constricted. He held his breath, tracing every inch of it.
It was so beautiful, radiating heat and vitality through the hazy rain and mist. Once his sight was drawn to such surging light and color, he couldn’t look away.
But it was about to be extinguished.
In the evening, the waves on the sea began to churn violently, wetting the deck.
The wind also picked up. Shi Meng’s slender body stood exposed, looking as if he could be swept away by a sudden gust.
Fu Xuanliao reached out but dared not grab him. He feared that forceful restraint would only increase the danger, and he felt powerless to soothe him.
Because Shi Meng was very quiet, an almost absolute silence, signaling that everything was proceeding according to his plan.
“This painting is so well done,” Fu Xuanliao tried to appeal to his sense of attachment. “It would be such a waste to destroy it.”
Shi Meng seemed not to understand: “Who said I was going to destroy it?”
His fingertip slowly slid across the vibrant oil paint on the canvas. He said, “I’m just making it disappear.”
Disappear from this world.
The word “disappear,” compared to “destroy,” made Fu Xuanliao’s heart clench even tighter, like a knife appearing out of thin air, striking a vital spot and catching him completely off guard.
Fear comes from the unknown, and this unknown was likely something he couldn’t bear. Therefore, before Fu Xuanliao even realized what he was about to lose, he was already dominated by fear.
He pleaded desperately: “I know you’re angry, you’re sad… It’s not too late. I’ll be with you, and we’ll take back everything that should have been yours, okay?”
He used a tone of supplication, hoping Shi Meng would listen, would change his mind.
He was just afraid Shi Meng would be blown away by the wind.
In truth, Shi Meng had also been afraid, similarly because the fear stemmed from the unknown.
Turning his head to look at the sea surface, which was gradually sinking into darkness, Shi Meng wondered why he wasn’t afraid at all now.
He used to be unable to let go, spending the first half of his life desperately trying to clutch what he wanted in his hand.
Now he had let go. No longer afraid of loss, fear had become the most useless emotion.
“We still have five years and two months,” Fu Xuanliao’s state was nearing desperation due to Shi Meng’s repeated cold refusals. “Our contract still has five years and two months, Shi Meng, don’t…”
Shi Meng found this ironic. He thought, this contract is truly a useful thing. Before, I used it to bind you, and now you’re using it to restrain me.
I was willing to be bound before, but what if I’m not willing anymore?
Shi Meng bent down and pulled a stack of papers from the clasp behind the picture frame. Under Fu Xuanliao’s horrified gaze, he tossed them into the sky.
The papers were too light. The sea breeze scattered them instantly, flying too fast—so fast that Fu Xuanliao only managed to catch one sheet.
It was the last page of the contract, bearing the names of Party A and Party B. Perhaps due to dampness, Shi Meng’s name was already blurred, almost illegible.
The knife plunged into his heart was pulled out, and the sand-like substance inside spilled out uncontrollably.
Fu Xuanliao seemed to know it was irreversible. His grip loosened, and he looked at Shi Meng in a final, dying struggle: “Then forget the contract… Let’s go home. I’ll take you home, okay?”
Hearing the word “home,” Shi Meng showed a minuscule reaction.
But it lasted only a brief second. He turned his back, facing the silent, sunless sea, confronting the boundless darkness, and pulled a lighter from his suit pocket.
He was as calm as if he were about to light a cigarette.
He warned aloud, “Don’t come closer.”
But in his heart, he thought, how warm a place home is.
“If you come closer—”
Why didn’t you do it sooner, when I could still wait?
“I’ll jump down with it.”
Rather than letting me see the sun only to watch it set, I would prefer never to have owned it at all.
The moment the flame leaped up, Shi Meng’s eyes felt scorched. The long-lost pain caused his eyes to redden, and his smile became pale and desolate.
Fu Xuanliao, who ultimately failed to stop any of it, felt dizzy and nearly collapsed to his knees. He opened his mouth but couldn’t make a sound, watching with bloodshot eyes as the warm flame devoured the cold canvas.
The twisting firelight danced menacingly in his pupils. He finally understood Shi Meng’s purpose—to let him know the truth he had missed, and then watch it disappear before his eyes.
It was like creating a beautiful, illusory dream for him, only to destroy it with his own hands.
The second he received the genuine affection, that tenderness and hope hidden within a reckless love would be dramatically buried in the sea, ceasing to exist forever.