Sun Rain Chapter 17
byShi Meng hadn’t actually planned on going far.
He just wanted to retrieve the drawing Fu Xuanliao had made. That afternoon, on the way to the lake, the paper had been torn from the notebook and casually tossed into a roadside trash can.
He hadn’t even gotten a good look at what was drawn on it.
During dinner, Shi Meng was already thinking about how to get it back. On the shuttle ride back to the hotel, he used the streetlights to carefully observe the surrounding terrain, deciding it wasn’t too complicated. After getting off, he told Jiang Xue he was leaving and started walking back the way they came.
After walking for a while, he remembered that Fu Xuanliao and the others would also take this route back. Shi Meng didn’t want to run into him, so he chose a small path branching off the main road and slipped into it, continuing in the general direction.
Visibility was low at night, and frost was setting in the mountains. The winding path had numerous forks. He must have chosen the wrong turn somewhere, because when his foot landed on soft, spongy grass, Shi Meng realized with a start that he had strayed far off course.
His reactions had always been slower than others. When he was little, Yang Youlan had taken him to the hospital for being dull and taciturn. When the doctor said he was fine, she didn’t believe it. She cursed the doctor as a quack and demanded a refund, shouting, “How can this child be fine? There must be something wrong with his head!”
Gazing at the ink-black mountains ahead, swallowed by darkness, Shi Meng stopped, exhaled, and thought that maybe she was right.
He tried to retrace his steps, but there were too many forks and the sky was too dark. Every choice was a severe test of his sense of direction and memory. After walking two or three hundred meters, Shi Meng stopped again. He decided that instead of wandering aimlessly like a headless fly and getting even further lost, it was better to wait where he was until daylight to find his way back.
So, Shi Meng surveyed his surroundings and sat down next to a tree that offered shelter from the wind, tucking himself into the protected corner.
This was a piece of wilderness survival knowledge he had read in a book when he was in elementary school, which also included using the sun or the North Star to determine direction.
Unfortunately, it was night, and he couldn’t see any stars.
After sitting for a while, Shi Meng felt cold, so he used his large down jacket to cover his legs as much as possible.
He moved carefully, because Fu Xuanliao had said the jacket looked nice and that he planned to wear it tomorrow. Shi Meng didn’t want to get it dirty.
A gust of wind, slightly off course, swept past his side, hitting his exposed neck first. Shi Meng raised a hand to touch his hair, which only reached his earlobes. He regretted cutting it short; it could have blocked the wind and provided some warmth.
He had listened to Gao Lecheng and cut his hair short, even trimming it again the day before coming to the resort, but Fu Xuanliao hadn’t reacted specially to it. He was still very harsh toward him.
He had even wanted to run away, just this afternoon.
Thinking of this, Shi Meng’s eyes darkened with melancholy. Besides the anger of being defied, there was a rare hint of grievance mixed in.
The sour feeling in his heart was similar to the night he was mistaken for someone else eight years ago. Shi Meng raised his hand to press against his chest, still unfamiliar with this sensation that had been absent for so long.
From childhood, everyone had told him it was right: his position was right, giving way to Shi Mu was right, being treated coldly was right… Perhaps because these ideas had been instilled in him since he could remember, he rarely felt unfairly treated and almost never felt wronged.
It seemed Fu Xuanliao was truly excessive—Shi Meng thought. If he hadn’t been so excessive, even by a little, he wouldn’t be sitting out here in the wilderness, catching a cold wind in the middle of the night.
But he only blamed him for three seconds before Shi Meng regained his composure and started pondering other things.
What exactly did Fu Xuanliao draw on that paper? Sister Xue even laughed, so was it really a good likeness of me?
Shi Meng didn’t quite believe it. Fu Xuanliao had taken painting lessons with them in elementary school, but he gave up after only a week. In middle school, he only dropped into the art studio for a few sessions. How could he be good at drawing?
However, even though he wasn’t good at drawing, he was excellent in other areas: math, English, sports… It seemed there was nothing he couldn’t do.
Oh, except rowing.
Shi Meng fell into another line of thought—was Fu Xuanliao genuinely bad at rowing, or did he just not want to row with me?
When alone, Shi Meng always thought about many things, as if using them to fill the void in his heart and push out useless distractions.
He even started missing the phone he had left in the hotel room. Although he was usually too lazy to carry it, he had to admit that a phone could be extremely useful in a crucial moment. At least he could use it to call for help.
As if completely ignoring the possibility that someone might come looking for him, Shi Meng, even in hindsight, only thought of ways to save himself.
He had been alone for far too long, and habit had become second nature. So, when he heard someone calling his name, he instinctively thought it was auditory hallucination.
“Shi Meng—”
I must have misheard.
“Shi—Meng—”
Why would anyone come looking for me?
“Shi Meng, is that you over there?”
Where… am I?
As a beam of light swept across his face, approaching footsteps transitioned from the stone path to the grass, becoming chaotic and hurried.
The person stumbled on the uneven ground, nearly falling, and then walked up to him with deep, uneven steps. When the light source shone directly on him, Shi Meng instinctively squinted.
Thus, he missed the almost joyful smile that crossed Fu Xuanliao’s face after he let out a sigh of relief.
“I’ve been calling you for ages.” The words that came out were still stiff. Fu Xuanliao half-crouched, his eyes level with Shi Meng’s. “Couldn’t you have made a sound?”
After a moment, Shi Meng, having adjusted to the light, looked at the person still heavily breathing in front of him, opened his mouth, and uttered a single syllable: “Ah.”
Fu Xuanliao paused, then waved a hand in front of his eyes. “You haven’t been scared senseless, have you?”
No sooner had he spoken than Shi Meng, who had been sitting under the tree like a wooden statue, suddenly leaped up, lunged at Fu Xuanliao, and pushed him straight onto the ground.
Fu Xuanliao only had time to brace himself with his hands behind him. His already sore right wrist took the full impact again, making him wince in pain.
He couldn’t even tell which was worse: the pain or being hugged so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He forced a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Hiss… You look skinny, but you’re strong.”
Shi Meng took this as a compliment, but also felt embarrassed by his overly aggressive reaction.
Fortunately, it was dark, and no one could see.
He climbed off Fu Xuanliao. He wanted to hurry back, but when he started walking, he realized his right ankle was sprained, and moving it caused excruciating pain.
Seeing him hobble along with difficulty, Fu Xuanliao, who was following behind and lighting the way, said, “Slow down. We’re not in a rush.”
Slowing down wouldn’t stop the pain. Better a short, sharp pain than a prolonged one, Shi Meng insisted on walking quickly, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Fu Xuanliao couldn’t stand watching anymore. He stepped forward and supported Shi Meng for a while, but the path was too narrow for them to walk side-by-side. He simply walked two steps ahead, bent his knees, and offered his back to Shi Meng. “Get on.”
Shi Meng initially refused, giving the reason: “The road is long. You can’t carry me.”
Fu Xuanliao turned his head and snapped, “If you knew it was far, why did you run off?”
Shi Meng pursed his lips and remained silent.
“Fine, just get on.” Fu Xuanliao turned back around. “Hugging wasn’t a problem, so carrying you won’t be either.”
After a brief hesitation, Shi Meng stepped forward and slowly climbed onto his back.
The phone, set to flashlight mode, was transferred to Shi Meng’s hand. Fu Xuanliao secured his grip under the other man’s knees and abruptly stood up straight. The sudden lift made Shi Meng gasp, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Fu Xuanliao’s neck.
“Don’t repay kindness with malice,” Fu Xuanliao warned as he started walking forward. “If you strangle me, you won’t get back either.”
This seemed to have a deterrent effect. Shi Meng loosened his arms, adopting the most relaxed posture possible while being carried by Fu Xuanliao.
A secluded path, a limited beam of light, and two hearts that were physically very close.
So close that Shi Meng worried his overly loud heartbeat would transmit through the thin chest to the other person’s ear. He shifted uncomfortably backward, hearing the person carrying him “Tsk” in displeasure. “Stop moving.”
Shi Meng was used to acting on impulse, but this time he was obedient. Since Fu Xuanliao told him not to move, he stayed still, lying quietly on his back.
This, in turn, made Fu Xuanliao a little unaccustomed.
“Are you still awake?” he asked. “You haven’t fallen asleep, have you?”
Shi Meng kicked his left leg.
Fu Xuanliao adjusted his grip on him. “You only have one good leg left, don’t show off.”
When asked why he had run out here, Shi Meng finally deigned to speak. The answer was a single word: “Fun.”
Fu Xuanliao understood. “Regretting not getting on the boat this afternoon?”
“No.”
“But the boat isn’t in this direction.”
“Mm.”
“Can you stop being so stingy with words?”
“I can.”
One word turning into two words was, for Shi Meng, a change made after accepting feedback—a qualitative leap. It might not sound that way to others, though.
Feeling like he was being placated, Shi Meng heard Fu Xuanliao laugh. The resonance transmitted through his chest made his body vibrate, and his heart contracted rapidly. Shi Meng was overwhelmed by this strange yet familiar sensation.
Perhaps it was because the solo performance he had been acting out for years suddenly had another participant. The set needed adjusting, the props needed preparing, and an extra spotlight should be shone.
The new script hadn’t arrived yet, so he could only improvise.
Shi Meng thought for a moment and asked, “Does your hand still hurt?”
“Yes, it hurts,” Fu Xuanliao said. “You know how much force you used, don’t you?”
Shi Meng felt a little guilty, yet also felt he wasn’t wrong. He mumbled, “Why did you try to run away?”
“…” Fu Xuanliao was speechless. “And you think you’re justified.”
In terms of physical harm, all the incidents between them over the years added up to a draw; neither had gotten the better of the other.
But it hadn’t always been like this. They had shared peaceful moments, even on a quiet night like this.
“Do you still remember…” Driven by a long-held impulse, Shi Meng asked, “Eleven years ago, you saved someone too?”
“Huh?” Fu Xuanliao was confused. “Eleven years ago? Who remembers that?”
“Think harder.”
“Thinking harder won’t help. I’ve forgotten most of what happened eight years ago. You expect me to remember eleven years ago?”
Shi Meng suspected he was deliberately playing dumb, using the incident Shi Meng himself had claimed to forget as a clear act of revenge.
When he heard the low chuckle again, suspicion turned to certainty. In his frustration, Shi Meng twisted his body, intending to jump down, but Fu Xuanliao secured his knees and refused to let go.
“Don’t jump, don’t jump, don’t cripple your other leg… Ah, I remember, of course, I remember that.” Fu Xuanliao conceded, steadying the person on his back. He continued, “It was even darker than this back then, in the middle of nowhere. There were so many teachers and students, but I was the only one who found you. It was simply…”
Fu Xuanliao didn’t finish the sentence. Shi Meng guessed the ending word was probably something like “fateful entanglement.”
But he felt it was only “fate” without the “entanglement.” When fifteen-year-old Fu Xuanliao appeared before him, dusty and disheveled, panting, “I found you,” Shi Meng’s closed world opened a crack for the first time, letting someone rush in.
Another spotlight shone on Fu Xuanliao. They stood at opposite ends of the stage, gazing at each other from afar. The prelude to many years of entanglement began at that moment.
“You were much cuter back then,” Fu Xuanliao reminisced. “You even knew to say thank you when I saved you. Now…”
While he was complaining, Shi Meng, on his back, had already received the instruction and acted upon it.
Taking advantage of the darkness, the lack of witnesses, and the warmth radiating from the chest beneath him, Shi Meng freed one hand, cupped Fu Xuanliao’s chin, and pulled his head back, silencing the incessant chatter by pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.
Due to the awkward position, the kiss was slightly off-center, but it was enough to make Fu Xuanliao stop walking, frozen in place.
This gave Shi Meng the chance to look into Fu Xuanliao’s eyes and confirm that he saw himself reflected there.
Then he added a quiet “Thank you,” hoping that the Shi Meng who remained in Fu Xuanliao’s heart would be a little cuter—even just a little—enough to make him hesitate for a second when he thought about leaving.
After all, many seconds accumulated together make a lifetime.