Sun Rain Chapter 53

Shi Meng hadn’t expected Fu Xuanliao to overhear his conversation with Jiang Xue just now. Frowning, he said, “You were eavesdropping.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was listening openly,” Fu Xuanliao said, spreading his hands. “I just arrived, and you two were walking out.”

“What are you doing here?” Shi Meng asked.

If he remembered correctly, before they parted last time, he had told Fu Xuanliao that there was only one way to achieve “revival.”

And that task was fundamentally impossible to accomplish.

Sure enough, Fu Xuanliao showed no intention of bringing up that matter. Instead, he pointed toward the sky: “To look at the stars.”

Almost instinctively, Shi Meng lifted his head and looked up at the sky.

Just then, Fu Xuanliao, who had walked right up to him, grabbed one of his wrists, lifted it, and quickly fastened something heavy onto it.

Snapping back to reality, Shi Meng quickly pulled his hand back. He looked down and saw a bracelet that seemed somewhat familiar.

It was familiar because of the clear, beautiful sapphire. Yet, he couldn’t be certain, because the original gem, which had been the size of a pigeon egg, had been broken into several pieces, strung together by a silver chain. The overly ornate design had been replaced by a subtle, everyday style, making it suitable for regular wear.

Because of this, the single dazzling gem looked scattered, arranged like constellations around his wrist. The faint, twinkling light made Shi Meng momentarily stunned, as if he truly were seeing stars.

In his daze, he heard Fu Xuanliao’s voice close by.

“Happy Birthday.”

Fu Xuanliao raised his arm, holding his palm suspended above Shi Meng’s head, forming a gesture meant to shield him from the wind and rain.

“I hope that for every birthday from now on, Little Mushroom won’t get caught in the rain.”

Shi Meng refused to admit he was a mushroom.

Even though he had once desperately wanted to know why Fu Xuanliao had given him the nickname “Mushroom,” and wanted to see what he looked like in Fu Xuanliao’s drawings.

He also didn’t believe Fu Xuanliao could restore that painting to its original state; after all, even Shi Meng himself couldn’t do that.

Yet, Fu Xuanliao stubbornly followed him into the house, brazenly claiming he was starving and would eat anything, which actually confirmed Shi Meng’s suspicions.

Although Shi Meng failed to keep him out this time, he decided not to acknowledge him, figuring Fu Xuanliao would leave when he got bored.

After entering the house, Shi Meng walked straight to the kitchen, disposed of the leftover dinner scraps, and put the used pots, bowls, and utensils into the dishwasher.

While boiling water, he remembered the bracelet was still on his wrist. After washing his hands, Shi Meng took it off as he walked out, intending to return it. He looked up and saw Fu Xuanliao slumped over the table, eyes tightly closed. Walking closer, he could faintly hear slow, even breathing.

He had actually fallen asleep.

Shi Meng was momentarily conflicted. Logic told him he should wake the man up and kick him out, but another voice in his mind urged him, Look how pathetic he is, he’s so exhausted he fell asleep. Just let him rest for a while.

Perhaps drowsiness was contagious; in the brief moment of hesitation, Shi Meng actually started feeling sleepy too.

Unlike his somewhat volatile temper, Fu Xuanliao was a good sleeper. When lying down, he slept straight until dawn. When slumped over, his face was always turned to the left, and his long legs were relaxed and spread beneath the table, exactly the same posture he used when napping at his school desk.

The only difference was that his features now carried a hint of weariness, holding an indelible knot of melancholy.

Who had caused the once carefree and cheerful man to become moody and melancholic?

As he pondered this, his consciousness and vision gradually blurred, but the images in his memory slowly sharpened until they overlapped with the scene before him.

Unconsciously, Shi Meng reached out, just as he had done many years ago in the afternoon classroom.

Fortunately, his sanity remained. The second before his fingers made contact, Shi Meng snapped back from his reverie, his fingertips trembling violently as he quickly withdrew his hand.

He stood up almost frantically and ran upstairs without looking back.

When Fu Xuanliao woke up, the day was already bright.

The aftereffects of sleeping slumped over the table all night became apparent the moment he opened his eyes. His entire spine was stiff from maintaining the same position for so long; moving felt like forcibly turning a rusted gear, causing him to grimace in pain, almost bringing him to tears.

His body was also terribly weak from prolonged hunger. The simple act of standing up made Fu Xuanliao sway several times; if he hadn’t had the table to lean on, he might have collapsed onto the floor.

The only thing worth being happy about was that Shi Meng hadn’t taken advantage of his deep sleep to toss him outside like garbage.

To ensure his survival needs were met, Fu Xuanliao instinctively went to the kitchen for food. He casually scooped a piece of leftover cake from last night into his mouth, just as he heard movement at the door—Shi Meng, who had been hanging laundry in the yard, had returned.

Hurriedly swallowing the cake, Fu Xuanliao raised the cream-covered spoon and, rather undignifiedly, greeted Shi Meng with a “Good morning.” Shi Meng looked at him, then glanced at the cake on the counter, ignored him, and turned to leave.

Having grown accustomed to being ignored these past few days, Fu Xuanliao wasn’t discouraged in the slightest. Seeing Shi Meng finish his tasks and sit down in front of his easel, Fu Xuanliao, now fed and rested, moved closer and pulled up a stool beside him.

He remembered Shi Meng disliked being watched while painting, so he positioned himself sideways to the easel. However, his mouth couldn’t stay quiet. One moment he was asking Shi Meng if he wanted to know where he had been for the past few days, the next he was complaining that the convenience store owner nearby took advantage of strangers. Last time, he had bought a few daily necessities, and only after checking the receipt did he realize several items had been scanned twice when he wasn’t looking, costing him a lot of extra money.

“Now that everyone knows about me stealing, won’t they have even more reason to bully me in the future?”

Fu Xuanliao said this, tilting his head to glance at Shi Meng.

Shi Meng still looked completely uninterested, dipping his brush into the palette. His focused expression made Fu Xuanliao suspect he hadn’t heard a word.

Pulling his lips into a helpless smile, Fu Xuanliao dared not object to the current peaceful mode of interaction.

Bored, he looked at the gift boxes piled by the door. Feeling relieved, he then asked Shi Meng, “Now you have a good teacher, helpful friends, and loving family. All you lack is a lover.”

“See, can I try to compete for that position?”

Less than a day after making that audacious statement, Fu Xuanliao ran into someone else coveting the same position right outside the door.

Pan Jiawei had been busy all week. Since he had no classes on Friday afternoon, he took an early bus home. After dropping off his things, he went next door to find Shi Meng.

He encountered an obstacle: a Land Rover parked by the side of the road honked twice at him. He walked around it, but the car honked twice more, and the headlights flashed on, blinding him.

Having no choice, Pan Jiawei opened the passenger door, got in, and sighed, asking, “What do you want, big brother?”

Fu Xuanliao rested one hand on the steering wheel and propped the other elbow on the door frame. He smiled without warmth and said, “Nothing much, just wanted to chat.”

Pan Jiawei scoffed dismissively, “Who wants to chat with you?”

Despite his words, his body honestly remained in the car.

Pan Jiawei stated he only had five minutes, then cheekily asked what Fu Xuanliao did for a living. Fu Xuanliao vaguely replied that he worked. Pan Jiawei immediately gloated, “Got fired, didn’t you? No wonder you’re so free.”

He then asked if the car was comfortable to sleep in. Fu Xuanliao said it was fine. Pan Jiawei retorted, “How comfortable can it be compared to a bed?”

He even recommended Fu Xuanliao find a job nearby: “At the end of this street, turn left, go past two intersections, and on the right is a nightclub rich women love. With your looks and physique, you might even become the top host.”

Despite such provocation, Fu Xuanliao didn’t get angry. Instead, he leaned back, listening with a beaming smile, adopting a posture that seemed to say, “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

Being young, Pan Jiawei quickly lost patience after a few exchanges and couldn’t help but start probing.

“You’re not actually in that line of work, are you?” he asked tentatively. “I heard before that you were forced into… something.”

The moment he asked this, Fu Xuanliao understood. Clearly, Shi Meng had told him this, likely intending for Pan Jiawei to give up.

However, judging by the situation, the young man was quite resilient and still dared to harbor desires.

“That’s right, the coercion turned into genuine affection,” Fu Xuanliao said, playing along. “Now I can’t leave him, and he can’t leave me.”

Pan Jiawei was first shocked, then found it ridiculous: “Come on, I don’t see how he can’t leave you.”

Fu Xuanliao slowly asked, “So, you want to steal my lover?”

“That’s not stealing, that’s fair competition.”

“Oh,” Fu Xuanliao nodded knowingly. “Fair.”

As he spoke, he reached up and pressed the door lock, then slammed the accelerator to start the car.

Amidst the roar of the engine, Pan Jiawei watched his actions, twisted around, found the door wouldn’t open, and immediately panicked.

“What are you doing, what are you doing? Don’t mess around!… Stop, stop, stop! Where are you taking me?”

The car shot forward rapidly for a short distance before slamming to a stop. The inertia sent Pan Jiawei pitching forward violently, only to be thrown back hard.

Finally settling down, he focused his eyes and saw a concrete wall right in front of them. Pan Jiawei was so terrified his legs turned to jelly. He stammered, “A-a-are you crazy?”

Fu Xuanliao remained composed, but the words he spoke were chilling.

“If he wanted me dead, I’d crash into it right now.”

Fu Xuanliao shed his casual demeanor, radiating a murderous intensity. His eyes held a domineering, self-righteous unreasonableness.

Although he didn’t like bullying children, still…

Turning his face to look at the person frozen in the passenger seat, Fu Xuanliao asked, “What about you? Do you dare?”

“Now, do you still think this is fair?”

When this outrageous act of “jealous rivalry” reached Shi Meng’s ears, it naturally caused quite a stir.

That evening, in the living room, Shi Meng looked coldly at Fu Xuanliao, who had knocked on the door under the pretense of begging for a meal: “Have you caused enough trouble?”

Fu Xuanliao looked back at him and said, “Not yet.”

“Why did you scare him?”

“To make him realize the difficulty and retreat.”

“Who wants you dead?”

“I don’t want to die,” Fu Xuanliao admitted. “But I want you to know that you died for me once, and I can do the same for you.”

A sense of powerlessness swept over him again. Shi Meng felt exhausted: “What exactly do you want?”

How much further do you want me to hide, and how far do you want me to retreat?

With almost no hesitation, Fu Xuanliao said, “I want to get back together with you.”

As if stung by the last two words of the sentence, Shi Meng countered, “Get back together? Were we ever together?”

“Of course. Before, we were always together.”

Shi Meng couldn’t help but laugh: “Your so-called ‘being together’ means me using schemes to tie you down while you reluctantly fulfilled a contract?”

“No.”

Fu Xuanliao wanted to say that wasn’t it—that he was initially unwilling due to misunderstanding, and later resisted fiercely because he was afraid of falling completely. Their entanglement was mutual, and their love was mutual. How could a mere contract overshadow a relationship where both parties were in love?

But it was too late to say any of this now. It was so late that mentioning the word “love” only earned him cold laughter and sarcasm.

Too late to start, impossible to return. Nothing he did could salvage the situation. Only now did Fu Xuanliao truly understand what it felt like to be pushed to the brink.

He took a deep breath, pulled out the original contract he had obtained from Shi Huaiyi, and placed it in front of Shi Meng.

“This contract shall take effect from the date of signing and may not be terminated without the permission of either party.”

Fu Xuanliao read one of the clauses regarding precautions to Shi Meng, then stated his position as one of the parties: “I do not agree, so the contract remains in effect.”

Only then did Shi Meng realize that Fu Xuanliao had disappeared for days, exhausting himself, all for the sake of this document.

An indescribable absurdity washed over him, like walking into a massive labyrinth where roads lay everywhere, yet none seemed to lead to the exit.

Shi Meng refused to retreat, lowering his head in stubborn resistance: “I don’t want it. Leave.”

He didn’t hold out for long before Fu Xuanliao gently pinched his chin, lifting his gaze to look at another item in his hand.

It was a piece of paper, unfolded into a painting. The lines were crude, and the color coordination was far from skillful, yet the style was distinct. If the painting The Flame still existed, placing it next to this one might lead people to believe they were by the same artist, or that one was a deliberate imitation or copy.

Although the subjects of the paintings were different—one depicted fire, this one depicted rain—the torrential rain extinguished a raging wildfire. What should have been an instinctive struggle for dominance saw the seemingly aggressive fire voluntarily quiet its roar, allowing the rain to put it out, to surround it, willingly and without complaint.

If The Flame represented desire, then the painting before him spoke of submission.

Shi Meng didn’t want to interpret the painting’s meaning, but Fu Xuanliao was too blunt and direct, using every action to interpret the promise he had made.

“Didn’t you say that if I could restore it to its original state, it would be fine?” Fu Xuanliao said. “What you gave me cannot be restored, but what I give you, the control is in my hands.”

The implication was—Now, I am giving my heart to you.

Yet, love and hate were essentially a zero-sum game; the offense and victory of one side inevitably resulted in the defeat and loss of the other.

Hearing a sound in his heart, like a loose component giving way, Shi Meng snatched the painting from Fu Xuanliao’s hand, picked up the lighter from the windowsill, and flicked the flint wheel, allowing the flame to devour the thin paper, destroying it as quickly as possible.

Everything happened too fast. The brightly colored painting instantly turned into a pile of ash. Fu Xuanliao stared at the scene, his mouth agape, seemingly stunned.

Shi Meng, however, felt a sense of relief.

Even if the reenactment of history no longer held the same power, and even if it didn’t bring Shi Meng satisfaction, it at least offered a moment of relief, like escaping from certain doom.

“I don’t need compensation, I don’t want anything,” Shi Meng declared, rubbing a pinch of residual ash between his fingers. “It’s gone now. You can leave.”

He thought this should be enough; there was no reason for Fu Xuanliao to continue arguing illogically. Unexpectedly, the next second, Fu Xuanliao suddenly strode forward, yanked Shi Meng’s arm, and with a forceful shove, pinned him against the wall.

Before he could react, scorching breath accompanied an overwhelming kiss that landed on Shi Meng’s cheek, the corner of his lips, and the rim of his ear, which had turned red without him noticing.

In moments like this, their evenly matched relationship always devolved into unilateral suppression. While pressing against Shi Meng’s soft lips, Fu Xuanliao effortlessly restrained both of Shi Meng’s wrists with one hand, conveniently pinning them above his head. He then leaned in, deepening the kiss relentlessly.

They hadn’t been intimate for so long that the sudden contact of skin was like thunder and lightning, the energy immense enough to instantly awaken memories of countless nights spent entwined, never feeling satisfied.

The long-absent yet overly familiar entanglement of lips and teeth was prolonged and thorough, as if rushing to make up for all the missing days at once. All senses gave way to greed, and both men instinctively closed their eyes.

It was like being trapped in a swamp; the more he struggled, the tighter he was bound. Shi Meng strained his nerves, clinging to the thin thread of clarity amidst the chaos, finally finding a chance to open his teeth and bite down hard.

The moment the taste of blood spread, accompanied by a sharp gasp of pain, the physical restraint shifted into a visual one. Fu Xuanliao, slightly hunched, looked down at the person who had just bitten him, panting heavily—a rough breathing that could have been excitement or anger.

No, there was no anger.

Shi Meng saw that in those deep eyes he had painted so many times, besides dense nostalgia, there was only overflowing obsession.

It was like a wild beast long caged, whose suppressed nature had finally been released. He was roaring, running wildly and almost fanatically in the open expanse of freedom.

“I won’t leave.” Fu Xuanliao’s gaze and breath were equally fervent. “I know you don’t want me to go.”

If his previous judgments had been mere speculation, this time was a certainty derived from past experience.

Faced with his aggressive advance, Shi Meng could have remained indifferent and coldly resistant, as before. But Shi Meng chose to snatch and destroy the painting, which was proof that he still cared.

Finally receiving positive feedback in this grueling tug-of-war, Fu Xuanliao impatiently yanked his left collar loose, pulling it down to his chest to show Shi Meng the mark engraved on his skin.

It was still that rain.

Shi Meng slowly widened his eyes, watching the painting that had just been destroyed come alive, imprinted on a spot connected to his heartbeat, seeped into his flesh and muscle, a place that could never be erased as long as he lived.

His lips parted. After a long moment, Shi Meng whispered tremulously, “You’re insane…”

Seeing that he finally reacted, Fu Xuanliao let out a breath.

“Yes, I’m insane. Before, you were the crazy one; now it’s my turn,” Fu Xuanliao smiled. “See? Aren’t we a perfect match?”

First, you obsessively forced me into this; now, I obsessively insist on winning you back. That’s what you call fair.

He released Shi Meng’s wrists, took one of his hands, and pressed the soft palm precisely against his own heaving chest.

“I am giving you a heart that has been fully restored. Now, it’s your turn to fulfill your promise.”