Sun Rain Chapter 55
byPutting the items that had fallen on the floor back into the box, Shi Meng rushed over and snatched it away before Fu Xuanliao could close the lid.
“Who told you to touch my things?” Shi Meng hugged the box, turning his body sideways in a transparent attempt to hide it. “You’re not allowed to look, leave.”
But Fu Xuanliao had already seen them, clearly and distinctly seeing the care and joy Shi Meng had never voiced.
“I won’t leave,” Fu Xuanliao said. “If I leave, you’ll be sad again.”
The sound of a string snapping in his mind made Shi Meng’s entire body stiffen, leaving him standing rooted to the spot as if his soul had left his body.
He knew. He knew everything.
The contents of that box were like a sword, smashing open his shell. His meager dignity shattered on the floor, and any further denial would only seem utterly ridiculous now.
“Leave…” Freeing one hand to brace himself against the doorframe, Shi Meng stepped aside to clear a path. “I told you to leave, go!”
Fu Xuanliao had never seen Shi Meng react so violently. His lips were trembling, and the knuckles of the hand gripping the doorframe were white.
Yet Fu Xuanliao still said, “I won’t leave.”
He hadn’t fully recovered from the shock either, only knowing that if he left now, he would lose any chance of turning the situation around.
He said, almost grinding his teeth, “Unless you tell me why you’ve been hiding these things.”
Shi Meng didn’t want to say it. Even though his weakness had been exposed, the answer was already clear without asking.
“These were originally mine,” Shi Meng gasped. “…I wasn’t hiding them.”
“Then why won’t you let me see?” Fu Xuanliao reached out to him. “Hand it over.”
It is said that karma is inescapable. Last time, Shi Meng seized on Fu Xuanliao’s impulsive slip of the tongue to turn the tables; this time, Fu Xuanliao was following suit, counterattacking.
Fu Xuanliao stepped forward, making a move to grab the box. Shi Meng hugged it and spun around, running downstairs to the windowsill, where he picked up a lighter and held it high.
Shi Meng faced the pursuing Fu Xuanliao, displaying a clear threat: “Don’t come closer. If you take another step, I’ll…”
“Burn it?” Fu Xuanliao had long since seen through his intentions and stated with certainty, “You can’t bear to.”
He was willing to destroy The Flame, yet he kept these things until now. It was clearly because he couldn’t part with them.
Because The Flame represented Shi Meng’s love for Fu Xuanliao, while these items were the warmth Fu Xuanliao had once given him.
Shi Meng was accustomed to treating himself harshly, even hurting himself to repel others—a classic case of incurring eight hundred losses to defeat an enemy by a thousand.
The three words “can’t bear to” were like ruthlessly ripping away the last layer of covering. Shi Meng’s eyes lost focus, and he said blankly, “They were all things you didn’t want. I just kept a little bit… just a little bit.”
Even this little bit, you can’t tolerate, and you want to take it back?
The choked sound in his voice made Fu Xuanliao’s heart tremble violently. Only now did he realize that no matter how difficult or painful the process of winning him back was, it was nowhere near as agonizing as watching Shi Meng suffer.
“I won’t take them away,” Fu Xuanliao quickly raised both hands to show his sincerity. “Not only will I not take them, but I will give you much more, and better, than this in the future.”
Since their reunion, everything Shi Meng had done was aimed at resistance. To avoid a major confrontation, he had even restrained his temper.
However, the more suppressed it was, the sharper and more complete the eventual outburst.
Shi Meng went from mumbling “I don’t want it” to shouting recklessly, “No! I said I don’t want it!”
He retreated, stepping on his scattered self-respect, each step emitting a crisp, shattering sound, as if telling him—you have no secrets left before Fu Xuanliao.
His feigned nonchalance was exposed, and his hiding, dodging, and desperate denial were precisely the evidence of how much he cared.
As his beliefs collapsed, raising countless ashes and dust, Shi Meng, cornered and with nowhere to turn, couldn’t afford to wait for death. He also couldn’t allow himself to meet Fu Xuanliao’s fervent eyes.
If I give him hope, what about me? What was the point of all that past suffering and heartbreak?
His fingers slowly loosened, dropping the box filled with decaying memories onto the floor. Just before he reached the brink of collapse, Shi Meng pushed the door open and ran out.
The winter in Xuncheng was a few degrees colder than in Fengcheng, especially when the sun was hidden by drifting clouds and the wind decided to join the fun.
But Shi Meng didn’t feel cold. He was unusually hot all over, and a surge of energy within him urged him to walk quickly.
He walked east along the road, kept walking, and when he ran out of road, he turned a corner and continued. He passed familiar shops facing the street, cut through the bustling farmers market, and arrived at a street flashing with neon lights as dusk settled.
He didn’t know how long he had walked, only that the scenery before him kept changing, from quiet to noisy, from day to darkness, until he witnessed one lamp after another lighting up.
He was like a wandering spirit in this world, coldly observing everything that was happening. Sometimes noisy and chaotic, sometimes still as water, no matter how varied the changes, they made no difference to him. They were all sheer cliffs, and a single misstep would send him plummeting into eternal damnation.
Perhaps he was already standing at the bottom of the cliff, and this death struggle was merely self-proclaimed cleverness.
He could only walk, keep moving forward, even without a destination or direction, because the moment he stopped, those thoughts that threatened to drive him mad would instantly occupy his mind.
He also didn’t look back, because he knew without looking that the person was following behind him.
Gazing at the clock tower in the distance, Shi Meng thought vaguely, if I turn into a ghost, then he must be the grim reaper coming to arrest me. When the two hands of different sizes overlap, he will take me to the eighteenth level of hell.
That would be fine. Their beginning was wrong anyway. He wasn’t qualified to run away; he could only choose to continue the entanglement, tirelessly, relentlessly.
As night fell, the wind picked up.
Shi Meng chose a road heading north. The biting wind lifted his slightly longer hair, revealing a smooth forehead and pupils reflecting the lamplight.
The heat faded, and coolness seeped into his pores and skin. As if sensing his chill, the person following less than five meters behind him quickly stepped forward and draped the coat he had just taken off over Shi Meng’s shoulders.
Shi Meng swung his arm to push it away, adding a cold, “Don’t follow me.”
Fu Xuanliao naturally wouldn’t listen. As stubborn as the former Shi Meng was, the current Fu Xuanliao was just as willful.
He knew Shi Meng was agitated and needed time alone, but he couldn’t let him run off. He had to watch him, no matter what, to prevent him from harming himself.
In reality, where did Shi Meng find the strength to harm himself? He had walked such a long distance simply to vent his restless anxiety, which had nowhere to go.
Now that the anxiety had scattered with the wind, an unnamed emptiness washed over him. Shi Meng stopped, looked around, and realized that at some point he had left the bizarre and bustling downtown area and entered another quiet region.
Unlike where he lived, this area was near the industrial park on the outskirts of the city. The factories, in their rest period, only had a few night watch lights on, flickering dimly amidst large, dense patches of trees.
A 24-hour convenience store across the street was the most conspicuous presence. Shi Meng glanced back at the road he had taken, his peripheral vision barely pausing on the person a few meters away, before he lifted his foot, crossed the road, pushed open the convenience store door, and walked inside.
After walking for so long, practically traversing mountains and rivers, he was starving.
Shi Meng took a cup of instant noodles from the shelf. As he paid, he saw the person queuing behind him placing similar instant food next to the register, but he deliberately looked away.
The indoor and outdoor temperatures were starkly different. While waiting for the noodles to steep after pouring in the boiling water, Shi Meng rubbed his frozen, red hands, regretting not bringing his gloves.
But he had left in such a hurry. Forget gloves, if his phone hadn’t already been in his pocket, he might not even be able to afford instant noodles now.
Thinking this, Shi Meng felt a sense of relief.
He still hadn’t allowed himself to think about the other person, perhaps because he was too preoccupied, or perhaps because he was afraid of revealing anything more.
Even though the other person had witnessed all his facets, including his sophistry and desperate resistance.
Somehow, those three minutes felt longer than the several hours of walking. It wasn’t until Shi Meng tore open the paper lid of the instant noodles and found a sausage and a marinated egg inside that his thoughts abruptly stalled.
When his mind caught up, Shi Meng couldn’t recall when Fu Xuanliao had managed to slip in the extra ingredients, just as he couldn’t recall exactly when he had started to accept his care so naturally.
The things Fu Xuanliao had given him were only that little bit, and yet far more than just that little bit.
He had carried him out of the darkness, allowed him to see something as beautiful as sunshine in this gray world, and given his life a different meaning.
Shi Meng had once asked himself, was it really that much?
The reason he avoided the answer was precisely because the answer was affirmative and singular—yes, it was that much.
Therefore, everything he did ultimately pursued the same goal—
In the past, keeping Fu Xuanliao tied to his side was to continue possessing him.
Now, pushing him away was out of fear that he couldn’t hold onto him, that it wouldn’t last, and that he would have to watch him walk away after having gained him.
Better never to have possessed him at all.
The meal was simple, yet it brought warmth to his stomach and made the blood flow smoothly through his body.
After disposing of the trash, Shi Meng walked back to the counter and asked for a pack of cigarettes.
Perhaps because he hadn’t smoked in a long time, his movements were clumsy as he tore open the packaging. Shi Meng was used to holding a cigarette with his right hand, but his injured right hand lacked dexterity and accuracy. After finally managing to pull out a cigarette and hold it between his index and middle fingers, he checked his pocket—no lighter.
He heard Fu Xuanliao say, “Wait for me,” followed by receding footsteps and the sound of the glass door opening and closing. Shi Meng turned his head and saw him standing in front of the counter through the glass window, a long, solitary profile.
Shi Meng’s eyesight was good, so he could see the wound on the corner of Fu Xuanliao’s mouth where he had bitten himself, now covered by a dark red scab, giving him a pitiful, bullied look.
Shi Meng knew he wasn’t faking pity. He was genuinely prepared to suffer the so-called “equal measure” of pain from Shi Meng, displaying a terrifying level of perseverance.
When Fu Xuanliao returned with a purchased lighter, cupping the flame with his hand to light Shi Meng’s cigarette, Shi Meng held the cigarette, staring at the glowing tip for a moment before bringing it to his lips.
He took a slow drag, but still coughed from the unfamiliar sensation.
He couldn’t recall why he suddenly wanted a cigarette, but he remembered who he quit smoking for. He raised his head and looked at the person standing with him in the cold winter night wind.
Fu Xuanliao was also looking at him, with a gaze that was obsessive, almost greedy.
Shi Meng was stunned at first, then suddenly pulled at the corner of his mouth and smiled.
“Oh, I see,” he said. “You still want to sleep with me.”
Shi Meng was numb at the moment, perhaps because the sky was too dark, the wind too cold, or because he had just faced a desperate self-confession.
This level of teasing was nothing more than a tickle to the battle-hardened Fu Xuanliao.
“Yes, I do,” Fu Xuanliao admitted candidly. “I wanted it before, I want it now, and I will continue to want it in the future.”
This answer exceeded Shi Meng’s expectations. He was momentarily embarrassed and annoyed, but feeling it would be a waste not to use the leverage, he said, “That proves that between you and me, there is only the most primitive physical attachment.”
In other words, all other feelings were illusions generated by that.
Fu Xuanliao disagreed, posing a question: “Then why did you keep those things? Just because of physical attachment?”
Shi Meng choked, not expecting the topic to circle back.
He began to desperately fabricate lies: “When I moved, they got mixed in with the luggage. I forgot to throw them away.”
“Is that so?”
“…Mm.”
“Shi Meng,” Fu Xuanliao suddenly called his name. “Look up, look at me.”
Shi Meng refused to look up, but the warm, strong hand gripped his chin, turning his face to meet his.
Shi Meng had no choice but to close his eyes.
Then, he heard Fu Xuanliao call him again in a very close, soft voice, sighing as he asked, “Shi Meng, is it really that hard to admit you still love me?”
The voice was deep, containing fatigue, pain, and a heavy sorrow that threatened to crush a person.
It was a sense of powerlessness, and it was the first time in all these days that Fu Xuanliao had shown negative emotions in front of him.
Shi Meng couldn’t see it, so he pretended not to hear clearly, until he smelled a strange burning odor and was forced to open his eyes.
Since taking off his coat earlier on the road to offer it to Shi Meng, Fu Xuanliao hadn’t put it back on, even after being rejected, instead keeping it draped over his arm.
Therefore, he was only wearing a thin shirt. Shi Meng’s hand, unconsciously pressed against his chest, caused the still-lit cigarette tip to burn through the fabric, directly into his chest.
It was too late to move. The cigarette tip burned a charred hole in the shirt, and a wisp of black smoke rose. The hole was deep, clearly having burned through the skin to the flesh. It was foreseeable that in the near future, it would heal into a round, dark red scar.
Irreversible, like a tattoo—a mark that would never fade as long as he lived.
Shi Meng’s heart rate soared and his breathing stopped at the sight, but the person who was burned looked completely unconcerned, or perhaps too slow to cry out, only slightly furrowing his brow from the physical discomfort.
Seeing Shi Meng speechless with shock, Fu Xuanliao stepped forward and gripped Shi Meng’s wrist, preventing him from moving again: “Be careful not to burn your hand.”
It lacked persuasiveness, however, because there were already two cigarette scars on his hand, which Shi Meng had noticed when he first arrived in Xuncheng.
Shi Meng’s final death struggle showed signs of crumbling at this very moment.
“Aren’t you afraid?” He felt the weight of his entire body sliding down, a withered collapse. “Have you forgotten what I did?”
As Shi Meng spoke, he thought how strange it was that these words were finally coming from him. He should have been scared away long ago. He shouldn’t have stayed until now, and he certainly shouldn’t be hurt again.
Perhaps hearing the slight tremor in his voice, Fu Xuanliao looked at Shi Meng, his tone still firm: “I should be the one asking if you’re afraid.”
“I told you, before it was you who was crazy, now it’s my turn.” He stopped carefully and slowly choosing his words, asking directly, “You infected me with your madness. What should we do?”
Shi Meng looked up, somewhat bewildered, meeting Fu Xuanliao’s bloodshot eyes, which still held a hint of a smile.
Just like many years ago, a single glance dragged him in and trapped him.
The night was deep and quiet, the moon bright, and the stars sparse. Cold mist rose from the empty ground, giving the illusion of being adrift in a vast ocean.
In a daze, Shi Meng mechanically repeated, “What… should we do?”
And what awaited him was a confession he had never dared to dream of.
Fu Xuanliao looked at Shi Meng, only at Shi Meng, with single-minded seriousness.
He said, “I love you.”
Then he offered the only solution, “So, I want you to love me too.”
Even the kind that hurts me deeply.