Stars Fall Into The Sea, Love Never Fades Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Empty Three-Meter Radius

A Zhi was woken by the ringing of a phone. It wasn’t his usual business ringtone, but the melody of the Old Residence’s landline, which hadn’t rung in ages. The sound was old and scratchy with static, piercing his eardrums in the 5:30 AM silence like a rusty needle, tearing through the calm he had painstakingly maintained.

He shot up in bed. The whiskey glass on the nightstand wobbled, and the remaining liquid spilled onto the expensive silk pillowcase, spreading a small, dark brown stain. The hangover brought a splitting headache, and fragments of the glass he had smashed during his loss of control last night still littered the floor, reflecting the faint light leaking through the curtain gap. He stepped barefoot onto the cold marble floor, his steps unsteady as he headed toward the living room. That landline was something Lin Qi had insisted on installing, saying, “If my phone ever dies, there will always be a way to find you.” Now, it had become a conduit to death.

“Hello.” A Zhi’s voice was terribly hoarse, dry from the hangover.

On the other end was Qi’s Mother, her voice choked almost beyond recognition: “A Zhi… could you please come over? Xiao Qi… he’s gone.”

“Gone?” A Zhi froze, his mind instantly blank. He instinctively wanted to argue, to say that Lin Qi had liked his overtime post on social media just yesterday, to say that they had only broken up three months ago—how could Lin Qi be “gone”? But the next second, Qi’s Mother’s suppressed sobs rushed in like a tide, mixed with the words “Depression,” “suicide,” and “found this morning.” Every word was like a heavy hammer, shattering his insides.

He didn’t remember how he hung up the phone, nor how he got dressed and drove to Qi’s Apartment. His mind repeatedly replayed the rainy night three months ago when he coldly told Lin Qi, “Let’s end this here,” watching the light in Lin Qi’s eyes dim like a snuffed-out candle. At the time, Lin Qi had only tremblingly asked, “Why?” But A Zhi had used “incompatibility” and “too busy with work” as excuses, turning and walking away without even glancing back at Lin Qi’s reddened eyes.

It wasn’t until the flashing lights of police cars and ambulances cut through the morning mist that A Zhi realized, in a daze, that this wasn’t a dream. A crowd had gathered below Qi’s Apartment building. The police tape was pulled taut. Medical personnel carried a stretcher out, the white sheet covering it completely, hiding any outline. He rushed forward, only to be stopped by the police. He kept repeating, “Let me in, I’m his lover,” his voice a loud roar, yet carrying a tremor he hadn’t even noticed himself.

Qi’s Mother collapsed into his arms, sobbing intermittently: “Xiao Qi hasn’t been right since the breakup. Insomnia, not eating. The doctor said he had Severe Depression… I tried to talk him out of it, but he said his heart only held you. When you left, his world became empty… Last night, he even sent you a message. You didn’t reply, did you?”

A message? A Zhi frantically pulled out his phone and opened Lin Qi’s chat box, which he had muted for three months. The latest message was from 2 AM yesterday: “A Zhi, I still miss you so much. Can you please look at me again?” His last reply, three months ago, was the cold “Don’t contact me again.”

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain so intense he could barely breathe. He rushed into Qi’s Apartment. The room still held the familiar Cedar Scent of Lin Qi’s laundry detergent. On the desk was a photo of them together. In the picture, Lin Qi was smiling, eyes curved, leaning on his shoulder, the sunlight warm and blinding on both of them. Now, there was an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the desk, and next to it, a note. The handwriting was slender but filled with despair: “A Zhi, I love you, so much that even death cannot stop me from missing you. If there is a next life, I don’t want to meet you again. It hurts too much.”

A Zhi picked up the note, his thumb tracing Lin Qi’s handwriting. The paper was cold, just like Lin Qi’s body must be now. He suddenly remembered that Lin Qi always used to say, “A Zhi’s hands are so warm, they can melt all my coldness.” But now, he couldn’t even touch Lin Qi’s hand. Immense regret flooded him like a tide. He crouched on the floor, his shoulders shaking violently, crying uncontrollably for the first time. He didn’t know how long he cried until his throat was too hoarse to make a sound, until the police urged him to leave.

By the time he returned to his Villa, night had fallen. He locked himself in the room, leaving the lights off, letting the darkness consume him. Alcohol became his only solace. He downed bottle after bottle of whiskey, trying to use the liquor to numb the deep-seated regret. Just as his consciousness blurred and he was about to collapse onto the floor, he felt a slight breeze beside him, carrying a familiar Cedar Scent.

He snapped his head up. There was nothing in the darkness, but the scent was extraordinarily clear, as if Lin Qi were still there. “Lin Qi?” he called out tentatively, his voice hoarse, carrying a hint of imperceptible hope.

No response.

A Zhi gave a self-deprecating laugh. He must be missing Lin Qi too much and was hallucinating. He struggled to stand up, intending to grab another bottle of liquor, but after only two steps, he felt the Cedar Scent consistently following him, never more than Three-Meter Radius away. He stopped, and the scent stopped too; he walked forward, and the scent moved with him.

His heart skipped a beat. A ridiculous, yet heart-pounding, thought emerged. He quickly walked toward the bedroom. The scent followed closely, stopping at the bedroom doorway, as if blocked by something, unable to proceed further. He looked back. The doorway was empty, but he could distinctly feel that a “presence” was there, separated by a door, silently watching him.

A Zhi’s heart pounded wildly. He reached out a trembling hand, trying to touch the void: “Lin Qi, is that you?”

There was no sound in the air, but the Cedar Scent seemed to grow stronger, like a response. A Zhi’s tears instantly welled up. He slid down the door panel to the floor, hugging his knees, and choked out: “I’m sorry, Lin Qi, I’m sorry… I was wrong. I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I shouldn’t have treated you like that… Please come back, okay?”

He sat by the door and cried all night. What he didn’t know was that, in the place he couldn’t see, Lin Qi’s Soul stood there, wearing his favorite white sweater, eyes red-rimmed. Lin Qi reached out, wanting to touch A Zhi’s cheek, but his hand passed through A Zhi’s body again and again. Lin Qi’s Soul was bound to A Zhi, unable to leave the Within Three Meters Boundary. He watched A Zhi’s suffering, feeling both pain and love, yet unable to do anything. He could only accompany him like this, watching his days and nights, watching him struggle in regret.

As dawn approached, A Zhi gradually calmed down. He stood up, staggering toward the bathroom, looking at his haggard reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, stubble darkening his jaw. The once spirited new elite of the business world now looked like a shell with its Soul extracted. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, trying to clear his head.

Just then, he felt the Cedar Scent draw closer again, right behind him, less than a meter away. He spun around. The bathroom was still empty, but he could feel that gentle gaze, resting on his back, filled with endless attachment and heartache.

A Zhi took a deep breath, his voice hoarse but firm: “Lin Qi, whether you are truly here or not, I will wait for you. Wait for you to forgive me, wait for you… to look at me again.”

He didn’t know that Lin Qi heard those words. Lin Qi’s Soul stood behind him, silent tears streaming down, yet unable to be perceived by A Zhi. The Three-Meter Radius had become the most distant chasm between them, and also the tightest bond. From that day forward, A Zhi’s life gained an invisible shadow, accompanying him to The Company during the day and watching him lose control in the darkness at night. This Cross-Life-and-Death Companionship had just begun.