Sun Rain Chapter 21
by(Part 1)
At night, an easel stood abruptly by the bed, the light from the floor lamp illuminating the pale paper.
A thin figure stood before the easel. The scratching sound of charcoal against paper was muffled by the wind outside. The window was open, and the cold air clashed with the warm currents inside, achieving a subtle harmony on the surface through their mutual ebb and flow.
Beneath the calm, undercurrents surged. The moment Fu Xuanliao stood up, Shi Meng turned his head to look at him, like a prison warden guarding an inmate, his dominance taken for granted.
“Taking a shower, is that not allowed?” Fu Xuanliao asked with a cold laugh. “Or do you expect me to lie in bed without washing?”
Shi Meng withdrew his gaze and looked back at the drawing paper: “Go ahead and wash.”
Fu Xuanliao walked into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light. He dropped his smile, raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, fatigue washing over him like a tide.
He had deliberately arrived at the Shi family home early that afternoon to avoid Shi Meng and settle the matter. Who would have thought Shi Meng would return ahead of schedule, catching them red-handed.
Thinking of Shi Meng’s bewildered eyes at the time, the suppressed irritation in his heart threatened to resurface. Fu Xuanliao stood under the shower, letting the water wash over him, rinsing away useless worries, and began to consider what to do next.
Li Bihan, the mistress of the Shi family, was clearly inclined to terminate the contract. After all, she had previously tried to win over the Fu family, attempting to reclaim the shares in Shi Meng’s hands, so she naturally didn’t want to see him and Shi Meng grow closer.
As for Shi Huaiyi, his stance was neutral. The main purpose of him helping Shi Meng sign this contract back then was to restrain the Fu family. Now that Fu Xuanliao’s father had shown sufficient sincerity, guaranteeing that the Fu family’s profits in the collaboration would always be lower than the Shi family’s, and handing over all final decision-making power to the Shi family, from a business perspective, Shi Huaiyi had no need to continue enforcing the contract.
If considering it from the perspective of familial affection… Fu Xuanliao wasn’t sure, because given the Shi family’s status in Fengcheng at the time, there was no need to sign this contract; their prospects were already bright. On the contrary, if the Fu family had unfortunately failed to receive the Shi family’s help back then, they likely wouldn’t have survived that difficult period.
Viewed this way, Shi Meng must have been a factor in Shi Huaiyi’s decision to set up the contract. As for how much of that was due to a father’s deep love for his son, it remained uncertain.
According to Fu Xuanliao’s past observations, during the time Shi Meng first arrived at the Shi family, Shi Huaiyi was not particularly concerned about this illegitimate son raised by an outside woman. Bringing him home only ensured he was fed and clothed; he was stingy even with a word of verbal concern.
The shift occurred four years ago, roughly coinciding with the signing of the contract. Since then, Shi Huaiyi’s attitude toward Shi Meng had improved significantly. He not only cared about his life but also actively helped arrange his studies. Fu Xuanliao had heard him mention the matter of returning to school for further studies several times.
If the reason was simply that Shi Meng was the only son left, and so the love was transferred to him, it was somewhat plausible. But if it was out of guilt, feeling he had previously mistreated his youngest son, this change, which lacked any apparent catalyst, seemed too sudden.
He hadn’t thought about treating him well for over a decade, and then suddenly had a change of heart when the person reached twenty years old?
That clearly didn’t make sense.
Therefore, although Fu Xuanliao was unsure of the success rate of breaking through via Shi Huaiyi, the only hope he could pin on was pressure from the elders.
He hadn’t stopped considering persuading Shi Meng to let go.
After showering and returning to the bedroom, Fu Xuanliao looked up and saw the contract placed next to the easel, with the Sapphire resting on top of it.
After only two glances, Shi Meng vigilantly pressed his hand down on it, glaring at him like he was guarding food. Before long, the contract was put back into the locked drawer on the bedside table, making it impossible for anyone else to touch it.
Fu Xuanliao gave another self-deprecating smile, mocking his overly naive idea.
Since he was destined to stay here today, he stopped struggling, finding a comfortable position on the bed where he had slept many Saturday nights.
Before long, the light source by the bed was extinguished, the window was closed, footsteps approached, and the other person climbed into bed.
When a slender arm reached over and circled his waist, a tremendous sense of powerlessness slowly surged up, making Fu Xuanliao feel both exhausted and absurd.
He asked, “Is this meaningful?”
Shi Meng didn’t speak, only held him tighter.
“It’s impossible for me to like you.”
Shi Meng still remained silent, but the breath puffing against his back hitched.
This scene echoed the one two hours ago in a strange way, though back then it was he who was silent, and Shi Meng who was hysterical.
Fu Xuanliao seemed to have fallen into a stubbornness that wouldn’t stop until its goal was reached, blinding himself to his true feelings in the moment, mechanically reciting words that should have been enough to deter Shi Meng: “I like Shi Mu. You know I’ve always liked him.”
“I promised I would never forget him.”
“Shi Meng, let me go.”
The moment the words “let me go” left his mouth, the person holding him finally reacted.
The arm around his waist tightened again, and Shi Meng said fiercely, “Dream on.”
He was like a machine that didn’t know the meaning of despair, having just learned to treat people gently and trying to yield, only to be drenched by the cold rain of reality, forcing him to raise his shield and arm himself to be indestructible.
“Dream on,” Shi Meng repeated. “You are mine. You are not allowed to leave.”
He only repeated these two sentences over and over.
Everything that needed to be said had been said. Fu Xuanliao closed his eyes helplessly, no longer attempting to reason with a lunatic.
Perhaps because it was mentioned before sleep, Fu Xuanliao dreamed of Shi Mu for the first time in a long while that night.
When the wind picked up, he stood at the far end of the sports field. Looking across, though somewhat blurry, Fu Xuanliao was certain Shi Mu was looking at him.
He questioned him with his eyes—How could you forget me?
Fu Xuanliao tried to argue, wanting to say he hadn’t, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out.
In fact, he couldn’t even clearly see Shi Mu’s face.
He asked himself, was he unable to see clearly or unable to remember clearly?
Before he could find the answer, Shi Mu asked again—Did you never truly like me?
Of course not, Fu Xuanliao answered silently. The flutter of his heart was real, and the liking was real, it was just that…
Just that too much time had passed, and too much had happened over the past four years.
Just that there were too many things beyond his control.
Even in the dream, Fu Xuanliao was burdened by heavy pressure, afraid of being accused of breaking his promise, terrified of being called treacherous.
And Shi Mu shook his head, seemingly unable to accept his explanation.
Then he raised his hand and pointed behind him.
Fu Xuanliao turned around and saw a thin figure.
His heart rate suddenly accelerated. As if guided by something, Fu Xuanliao uncontrollably turned back, lifted his feet, and walked forward, completely ignoring the calls from behind.
That figure was distant and frail, seemingly ready to be blown away by a gust of wind.
Therefore, all other thoughts in his mind were instantly cleared, leaving only one idea: to walk over and hold him tight.
When he suddenly opened his eyes, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
Turning over, he saw a fluffy head with pointed ears peeking out from the side of the bed. Fu Xuanliao was stunned for a moment before remembering it was the cat Shi Meng had brought back yesterday.
Shi Meng was already up, or perhaps hadn’t slept all night.
He was very thin; his spine formed a shocking protrusion beneath his thin pajamas. After pouring the cat food and turning around, Fu Xuanliao saw his gray face and bloodless lips. His once bright eyes had become dull and lifeless, as if the vitality had been drained from him overnight, leaving only a cold shell.
It was exactly the same as in the dream.
Returning to reality, Fu Xuanliao’s heart was still beating rapidly, but more than that, a sense of dread surged up.
How could I hug him?
He was both pitiful and hateful, still showing no remorse for the evil deeds he had committed. How could he possibly want to hug such a person?
Soon, Fu Xuanliao felt ironic about the slight emotion he had produced in his confusion—something that could be called pity—because when Shi Meng saw he was awake, he quickly put down the cat food scoop and strode to the bedside, using his body to shield his combination lock drawer.
His sprained foot hadn’t fully healed, and he still limped slightly. When he moved quickly, it looked almost comical.
The last thread of thought was pulled away from the dream. Fu Xuanliao breathed a sigh of relief, then scoffed, saying, “Don’t worry, I won’t steal it.”
If tearing it up could achieve the goal of abolishing the contract, why would he even be here?
Shi Meng froze for a moment upon hearing this, seemingly realizing that such guarding was futile. He silently lowered his eyes, looking at the cat by the wall burying its face in the food bowl.
Sunday was not within the scope of the contract. Fu Xuanliao was going to leave after washing up.
Shi Meng followed him downstairs. The cat squeezed out through the door crack and followed too. Shi Meng went back, picked the cat up from the steps, and hurried to catch up.
Knowing someone was following him, Fu Xuanliao didn’t look back.
He got into the car and closed the door in one swift motion. As he backed the car out, he saw Shi Meng standing at the doorway holding the cat in the rearview mirror. He hardened his heart, looked away, and stepped on the accelerator without hesitation.
Fu Xuanliao went to Heting Club.
It was rare that Gao Lecheng wasn’t there today. He told Fu Xuanliao on the phone to go straight upstairs, saying today’s Supervisor Chen would arrange things for him.
He didn’t forget to tease him: “What’s going on, Old Fu? Did your ice beauty kick you out of bed or sweep you out the door?”
“Today is Sunday,” Fu Xuanliao said.
“That’s why it’s strange! Logically, after a passionate Saturday night, shouldn’t you be sleeping in and cuddling under the covers on Sunday morning?”
“He and I are about to break up,” Fu Xuanliao interrupted, instinctively unwilling to hear others mention his intimacy with Shi Meng. “I went there yesterday to discuss terminating the contract.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Gao Lecheng dropped his flippant tone and tentatively asked, “Are you serious?”
Recalling how he had asked Gao Lecheng a similar question at the resort last week, Fu Xuanliao pretended to be relaxed and mimicked him: “When am I not serious?”
“But isn’t it… wait, that’s not right,” Gao Lecheng couldn’t figure it out. “You two were fine last week, with the hero saving the beauty and the token of love. Jiang Xue hasn’t even accepted my necklace yet; I was so envious of you two.”
Perhaps it was the first time he had heard someone describe the Sapphire necklace as a “token of love.” In that moment of distraction, Fu Xuanliao remembered Shi Meng desperately trying to return the necklace to him last night, saying things like “It’s not mine” and “I don’t want it.”
He didn’t want the things that belonged to him, but he recklessly held onto things that didn’t. Fu Xuanliao curled his lips, thinking that Shi Meng wasn’t crazy; he was clearly just foolish.
That cold laugh sounded chilling to Gao Lecheng. He asked nervously, “What exactly happened? What did he do to you, or what did you do to him? You two are constantly making a fuss, making me afraid to pursue Jiang Xue openly.”
Even an outsider felt the commotion. Fu Xuanliao sighed heavily.
“Nothing much, it just ended prematurely.” His voice carried a weary despondency. “Anyway, it shouldn’t have started in the first place.”
While Fu Xuanliao was planning to cut the knot quickly and abandon the struggle, the crazy and foolish Shi Meng was already worrying about what to do next Saturday.
He had grown accustomed to looking forward to Saturday. Every SAT on the calendar was circled in red pen, some with special markings.
With two weeks left until the Lunar New Year, he had planned one week to attend a musical and one week to go strawberry picking in the suburbs.
Few people knew that Fu Xuanliao had a sweet tooth and particularly loved pastries and fruits. So Shi Meng had specifically chosen this strawberry farm from the date locations Jiang Xue had given him and included it in his plan.
He had already booked the venue with the owner of the strawberry farm over the phone. Fu Xuanliao disliked noise, so he chose to book the entire place. It would just be him and Fu Xuanliao.
He had even decided what to wear: the white down jacket. He had sent it for dry cleaning the day after returning from the resort last time, and by now, it should be ready for pickup. He knew Fu Xuanliao liked seeing him wear it because Fu Xuanliao had asked where the jacket came from and complimented how good it looked.
Shi Meng paced back and forth in the room, flipping through things here and checking his phone there, eventually calming the restlessness in his heart.
See, how well I understand Fu Xuanliao. Is there anyone else in the world who understands him better than me?
No, only me.
After this self-affirmation intended to prove his point, Shi Meng exhaled, and his agitated heart settled slightly.
For the next five days, Shi Meng repeatedly self-hypnotized, assuring himself that Fu Xuanliao would definitely come on Saturday.
The newly drafted painting, drawn under an anxious state of mind, was characterized by messy lines and complex colors, like the shifting blur of Impressionism. Its artistic value was unknown, but Jiang Xue praised it repeatedly after seeing the photos Shi Meng sent her.
“It’s a new style you haven’t tried before,” Jiang Xue, in the video call, couldn’t hide her excitement. “I think this painting will open a new chapter in your artistic career. Wait, I’ll contact a major exhibition to make this painting the center of attention and sell it for a hefty price with great fanfare.”
Shi Meng, however, couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for her vision: “I don’t think it’s good.” He took the painting, filled with fear and sorrow, off the easel and tore it in half right in front of Jiang Xue. “It’s not good. I’ll start over.”
Although it wasn’t the first time she had seen him tear up a painting, Shi Meng’s decisive action still made Jiang Xue’s heart skip a beat.
“Baby, you just tore up my dream of reaching the peak,” she sighed, patting her chest, then adopted a fierce expression. “The next one must be better than this. Put my dream back together, got it?”
Shi Meng neither agreed nor disagreed. He placed his phone on the empty easel and picked up a book nearby.
It was a book about handling light and shadow in portraits, already dog-eared from use. Jiang Xue saw it and asked, “Still reading? Have you decided who to paint?”
Shi Meng opened his mouth to say something, but the name strangely failed to leave his lips.
In the end, he just shook his head. Whether he hadn’t decided or lacked confidence, he couldn’t paint for the time being.
Jiang Xue had heard some things about him and Fu Xuanliao from Gao Lecheng and didn’t dare ask too many questions.
Afraid he would dwell on it, Jiang Xue tried to keep the conversation light, suggesting things like, “How about I find a few people to put a sack over that Fu guy’s head and beat him up?” or “Why don’t you ask your dad to add a clause about breach of contract penalties to that agreement that will bankrupt him?”
Shi Meng couldn’t smile. He neither wanted Fu Xuanliao to be hurt nor did he need that much money.
He just wanted Fu Xuanliao to be the same as before, meeting him every Saturday, even if they just stayed home and did nothing.
Jiang Xue had known how stubborn Shi Meng was for a long time. It was impossible to persuade him with facts or reason. All she could do was care for him and keep him company.
“If he doesn’t come tomorrow…”
Jiang Xue didn’t say the words “doesn’t come.” She changed to a cheerful tone: “Just call me. I’ll go wherever you want. Even if you want to climb Mount Everest, I’ll go with you.”
Shi Meng nodded slowly and said, “No climbing. It’s too cold.”
And Fu Xuanliao wouldn’t be there.
Places without Fu Xuanliao were even colder.
(Part 2)
Before the video call ended, Jiang Xue couldn’t help but add a few words: “Hey, even if you’re not satisfied with a painting in the future, don’t tear it up. My new house is being renovated, and I need some paintings to hang. Existence is reasonable, right? The works you think are bad can always serve a purpose elsewhere.”
Shi Meng agreed.
He didn’t think much of it at the time, but the next day, this sentence became the last lifeline Shi Meng could grasp. At the moment his long-held belief was on the verge of collapse, it provided him with a way to turn the situation around.
On the second-to-last Saturday before the Lunar New Year, Shi Meng woke up early, pulled open the Attic curtains, and opened the window wide. He looked outside after every brushstroke, keeping his phone close by.
At exactly nine o’clock, he sent a message to the number coded 001, asking when Fu Xuanliao would arrive today. There was no reply.
Thinking he might be busy working overtime on the weekend, Shi Meng waited until three in the afternoon and sent another message, asking what he wanted for dinner that evening.
The housekeeper had bought fish today, and Shi Meng specifically went to the kitchen to remind her not to use chili.
“Fish can taste great without chili,” the housekeeper agreed, though her expression was hesitant. “But will Young Master Fu be coming today?”
“Yes,” Shi Meng said. “He didn’t say he wouldn’t.”
Shi Meng’s world was simple, black and white. A promise made must be kept. Since Fu Xuanliao hadn’t said he wouldn’t come, he would come.
They still had five years and seven months left. In such a long time, since Fu Xuanliao hadn’t said he hated him, that feeling would eventually turn into liking.
Having constructed a complete chain of logic, Shi Meng calmed down. He didn’t send any more texts but stood by the Attic window, continuing to wait.
He was very familiar with waiting. It was because he was patient enough to wait that Fu Xuanliao had found him under the tree outside the school gate back then.
And it was because he didn’t lack patience, and could wait for a very long time, that he secured the Saturday agreement.
See, this world was actually fair. Simply investing time would yield rewards.
But as time passed, this perfect chain of logic seemed to develop a hole. Shi Meng grew restless, watching the hole expand, and a dark, wriggling premonition crawled out of it.
This ominous premonition gradually took shape as the hour hand slowly passed the five o’clock mark and approached six.
Before it could solidify into a concrete outline, Shi Meng picked up his phone and called 001.
The first call wasn’t answered, nor was the second. It wasn’t until the third attempt that he heard environmental sounds other than the dial tone, along with the voice of Fu Xuanliao’s friend, the one surnamed Gao.
“Old Fu isn’t here,” Gao Lecheng was clearly not good at lying, his sentence rambling. “If there’s anything, wait until he gets back… oh no, I’ll pass on the message for you.”
Shi Meng didn’t need a message passed on. He had only one request: “Let Fu Xuanliao answer the phone.”
The noise on the phone stopped, becoming very quiet because the microphone was covered by a hand.
When the sound resumed, Shi Meng sat up straight, unconsciously becoming excited.
He called out impatiently, “Fu Xuanliao.”
Being able to confirm the person on the other end was Fu Xuanliao just by a breath sound was a little secret known only to Shi Meng.
Unfortunately, Fu Xuanliao was not interested in this talent of his, and his tone was laced with intense impatience: “What do you want?”
Shi Meng didn’t have a habit of beating around the bush and went straight to the point: “Today is Saturday.”
“What about Saturday?”
“You should come over.”
“Come over where?”
“My house.”
Fu Xuanliao laughed: “Shi Meng, have you forgotten? We’ve already terminated the contract.”
Struck by the painful truth, the hand that was free gripped the curtain fabric, twisting it tightly. Shi Meng said, “We haven’t terminated it. The contract is still in effect.”
Fu Xuanliao only felt annoyed by this. He had called Shi Huaiyi several times this week, hoping to talk to him alone, but the old man was either busy or had a last-minute engagement, dragging on until Saturday without finding an opportunity to meet.
“It’s already being discussed,” Fu Xuanliao could only say. “It’s only a matter of time.”
This response would normally be fine, but he forgot that Shi Meng’s thought process was different from ordinary people, and he was extremely stubborn.
“Whether it’s sooner or later, the contract hasn’t been terminated yet,” Shi Meng stated righteously. “You must come over on Saturday.”
Fu Xuanliao, who hated being commanded the most, almost threw his phone.
However, it wasn’t yet time to compromise. After all, no matter how capable Shi Meng was, he had to abide by the law.
So he calmed down again and said leisurely into the phone, “What if I don’t go?”
I just won’t go. Are you going to tie him up with a rope and drag him from Heting Club to the Shi family home?
Fu Xuanliao expected Shi Meng to scratch his head in frustration or become furious, but instead, he heard a click, and the call ended.
While Fu Xuanliao was staring blankly at the disconnected call screen, his phone vibrated. Shi Meng had sent a photo.
Clicking it open with the thought of “I want to see what trick you’re playing,” the moment he saw the content of the photo, Fu Xuanliao’s eyes widened, and he shot up to his feet.
He only had time to say, “I have to go,” to Gao Lecheng before rushing out in large strides.
He sped and changed lanes all the way, reaching the Shi family mansion in just half an hour.
The sun had set, and it was completely dark. When he knocked and entered, the housekeeper who opened the door looked surprised: “Young Master Fu, why are you here? The Master and Madam are not home…”
Fu Xuanliao didn’t have time to listen carefully. After entering the house, he ran straight toward the stairs without looking back, taking the steps two at a time, rushing up to the Attic in one breath.
When he slammed open the door to the studio, the sudden, excessive gasp of his breath was met by a rush of cold wind. The sudden shift in temperature made him cough uncontrollably. His hair was messy, and he looked quite disheveled.
However, Fu Xuanliao ignored all that because the sight before him was too horrifying, instantly chilling him to the bone. It was like an acute stress reaction, causing him to tremble madly from his fingertips to his heart.
—Directly in front of him, less than three meters away, Shi Meng, dressed in thin pajamas, was sitting on the windowsill, holding a painting that was half his height. The frame, along with half of his body, was hanging outside the window. A faint, dim light shone above his head, and behind him was the boundless black night.
The wind rushed into the room from the side, lifting the loose corners of Shi Meng’s clothes, making it seem as if he could be blown away at any moment, carried high into the air, and then violently dashed down, resulting in utter destruction.
Hearing the sound, Shi Meng turned his head and looked at the person standing in the doorway, still catching his breath. He showed the first smile he had worn in days.
His choice was correct.
He could finally breathe a sigh of relief, smiling as he said to Fu Xuanliao, “You came.”
His heart was pounding so loudly and fast that Fu Xuanliao couldn’t distinguish whether this overwhelming fear stemmed from the fear of the painting being destroyed or the worry that Shi Meng would fall.
The situation was critical, leaving no time for him to sort out his thoughts. Fu Xuanliao shouted as he stepped forward, “Are you crazy? Get down now!”
Perhaps the word “crazy” reminded Shi Meng. Having sat in the cold wind for a long time, he suddenly remembered why he was sitting there.
He pushed the painting, titled “Flame,” a few inches further out the window. Finding it amusing, he shifted his own body out by half an arm’s length.
Then, as if he had discovered something new and exciting, he turned back to look at Fu Xuanliao, asking with a belly full of curiosity and fearless ignorance, “Do you want to push me down?”
Fu Xuanliao felt his chest sink, and his feet were nailed to the spot.
Seeing his reaction, Shi Meng smiled silently again.
The cold wind brought clarity. At this moment, he was free from his inherent dullness. His soul detached and floated into the air, borrowing a pair of insightful eyes, transforming into a deity looking down on all living beings.
He seemed to see all the evil and dark thoughts in Fu Xuanliao’s heart—those that had sprouted, those that were suppressed, those hidden in obscure corners… all magnified countless times, seen clearly and truly.
Unfortunately, it was too late. He had already stepped onto a tightrope alone. The path ahead was narrow and steep, and the path behind was pitch black. There was no turning back; he could only walk forward.
Here, tears and weakness were useless. Gentleness and waiting would not earn any pity.
So, the mortal, common-flesh version of him could only put his discarded armor back on, and then wrap it in hard thorns.
The smile on his lips lost its warmth, flattened by a heavy slowness. Shi Meng looked at Fu Xuanliao with cold eyes in the biting wind, telling him as if he were an outsider: “But if you push me down… this painting will be gone too.”