Unmatched Chapter 44
byAs expected, he received no answer.
But Zhao Shuyi didn’t deny it either.
He leaned against the sink, his shoulders hunched in an arc, his head bowed. He seemed to have exhausted all his strength from dry heaving and didn’t want to move.
Xie Qi suspected he hadn’t heard what he asked, but he didn’t have the courage to ask a second time.
About five minutes passed, and neither of them moved. The bathroom was deathly silent. Xie Qi couldn’t even hear Zhao Shuyi’s breathing, yet he was still gasping—slowly, faintly. His body trembled slightly at a very regular frequency, like a butterfly trying to spread its wings but unable to fly.
Zhao Shuyi rarely showed a vulnerable side, but even his vulnerability held a sharp edge that made people afraid to touch him. It felt as if the moment Xie Qi reached out to help, he would immediately straighten up and coldly attack, “Why haven’t you scrammed yet?”
Xie Qi watched him, cautiously waiting for a few more minutes. He still didn’t move.
His emotional state was clearly abnormal; this wasn’t ordinary dry heaving caused by a cold, motion sickness, or airsickness.
Xie Qi finally reached out. The moment he touched his arm, Zhao Shuyi instinctively yanked his hand away.
However, he lifted his head too quickly. Having not eaten properly all day, his blood sugar dropped, causing a dizzy spell. His feet lost balance. If Xie Qi hadn’t been there to support him, he would have fallen right there.
Xie Qi led him out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom.
Zhao Shuyi wasn’t so severely ill that he couldn’t take care of himself. He broke free of Xie Qi’s grasp and sat on the edge of the bed. His expression quickly returned to calm. After a pause, he said, “I’m fine.”
“Are you really fine?”
“Yes.”
Zhao Shuyi answered perfunctorily. After speaking, he stopped looking at Xie Qi, turned, and lay down. He didn’t even take off his bathrobe, pulling the quilt over himself immediately. Then he closed his eyes, turned his back to Xie Qi, and fell silent.
—A rare posture of avoidance, refusing to explain anything.
He wasn’t even maintaining his pride.
Such suspicious behavior made it hard not to overthink things. But Xie Qi was cautious even about “overthinking” in secret, because hope inevitably leads to continuous disappointment. Otherwise, how could he have given up entirely?
It wasn’t that he stopped loving him; it was that he didn’t dare to hope anymore.
“Let’s eat something first.” Since he didn’t want to explain, Xie Qi didn’t press him. He said softly, “I’m hungry too. Moving is troublesome, and I won’t be able to finish packing up anytime soon. I’ll ask my assistant to help tomorrow.”
Zhao Shuyi acted as if he hadn’t heard.
Xie Qi asked, “What do you want to eat? I’ll order takeout.”
He didn’t answer, so Xie Qi decided for him: “Let’s have some congee. It will warm your stomach.”
Zhao Shuyi still didn’t react. Xie Qi operated his phone on his own. After placing the order, he said, “If you want to sleep, take a nap. I’ll wake you up later.”
He said this, but Xie Qi didn’t leave after Zhao Shuyi “fell asleep.”
The gaze watching him from behind was intensely palpable. Xie Qi was clearly bothered by what had just happened. He could choose not to ask, but he couldn’t ignore it.
Zhao Shuyi, however, deliberately ignored him, trying his best to empty his mind and expel those nauseating, abnormal emotions from his body.
In truth, people with strong control issues prefer to control themselves the most.
What he should do and what he shouldn’t do were like pre-set machine programs, strictly comparable to heavenly rules and precepts, absolutely not to be violated.
Otherwise, he would feel like a failure, unable to overcome the inherent flaws of human nature, unable to fight the destiny that mocked him.
But destiny is inherently an ethereal thing, just like the Buddha Qin Zhi believes in—invisible and intangible. How can one fight it?
This thought flashed by. Although he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, Zhao Shuyi’s mind began to conjure a nightmare prematurely.
He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the sound of chanting coming from all directions in his hallucination. Buzzing… buzz, buzz, buzz… It was as if a hundred thousand mosquitoes and flies were shouting in unison, making his heart and lungs ache.
He couldn’t stand it anymore and abruptly sat up. Xie Qi, who was by the bed, was startled: “What’s wrong? You’re having a nightmare after only a few minutes?”
“…”
Xie Qi leaned over, pressing down on his shoulder, his other hand braced on the bed, his expression concerned.
Having lived together for so long, Xie Qi knew he had sleep issues. He had tried to help him regulate his sleep a few times, but Zhao Shuyi’s cooperation depended on his mood, and he didn’t like telling the truth. Xie Qi couldn’t gauge how severe his symptoms were or if they had lessened at all.
“Your state seems…” Xie Qi carefully chose his words, “Did I make you angry?”
Zhao Shuyi kept his head down, remaining silent, as if he didn’t want to look at Xie Qi for a second longer.
He shouldn’t be like this.
Zhao Shuyi should be calmly mocking, or ruthlessly retaliating. In short, he shouldn’t be avoiding Xie Qi’s gaze like this for some unknown reason, his presence weakened.
It was as if Xie Qi were some kind of sharp weapon that could harm him, and he was instinctively avoiding danger.
But how could Xie Qi possibly hurt him? The reverse was closer to the truth.
“…” Xie Qi didn’t know why he was being so presumptuous tonight, interpreting so many absurd things from Zhao Shuyi’s expressionless face.
But Zhao Shuyi was truly too abnormal. The atmosphere was more telling than words; a subtle, hidden current flowed between them, inviting exploration.
“I really don’t understand you,” Xie Qi murmured. “I never understand what you’re thinking, but precisely because I don’t understand, I want to look at you more, to figure it out.”
Zhao Shuyi finally spoke: “And what have you figured out?”
“Nothing at all.” Xie Qi gave a wry smile. “The moment I see you, I get dizzy and my IQ drops significantly. How could I possibly figure anything out?”
“…”
In the past, this would have been considered a term of endearment, and Zhao Shuyi would have been pleased.
But everything had changed now. The relationship between Xie Qi and him was no longer a simple matter of pleasing and being pleased. It was something else, something more dangerous—
Zhao Shuyi had avoided it all day, unwilling to reveal the answer in his heart.
But the answer had already been born, hidden behind a layer of reason as thin as a cicada’s wing. Whether he accepted it or not, it was there.
Zhao Shuyi hesitated, his gaze fixed on Xie Qi’s face.
This face, which he had seen thousands of times, from childhood to adulthood, from unfamiliar to familiar, now felt somewhat strange again.
He suddenly recalled a line of poetry: “The road is long that leads to the nearest place—”
What came after that?
Zhao Shuyi didn’t usually read poetry. He didn’t remember why this line was in his memory. Perhaps Xie Qi had read it to him once, or maybe Qin Zhi had.
He was distracted, his thoughts drifting.
Thinking of the inexplicable poem, thinking of the unfamiliar Xie Qi, thinking of his mother in the nightmare, and his grandfather who loved him but not completely, his father whom he barely remembered, and his Second Uncle who was like an enemy…
The world was so small, containing only a few people, enough to torment him for half his life.
The sound of chanting surged again, the hallucination flickering in and out.
Zhao Shuyi tried to regain consciousness, but trying to open his eyes wide was useless. Instead, he clearly saw the sudden appearance of Buddhist shrines.
Someone was lighting incense before the shrine, their figure blurred, vaguely a woman. Zhao Shuyi called her “Mom,” and the person turned around at the sound, revealing a terrifying face.
Zhao Shuyi was terrified out of his wits with just one look. He wanted to escape, pushing hard on a door—but nightmares are always narrow and confined. He didn’t know where the door was. He fumbled along the blank walls, from south to north, from east to west. In despair, he finally found a doorknob.
Like a life raft, Zhao Shuyi gripped it tightly, almost crushing it.
Suddenly, someone touched him, “Zhao Shuyi.”
Zhao Shuyi shuddered violently.
Xie Qi looked down at his own wrist, which Zhao Shuyi was clutching, “What exactly is wrong with you?”
“…”
In just a few minutes, Zhao Shuyi was drenched in cold sweat, his face alarmingly pale.
He didn’t speak. Xie Qi didn’t know what he was thinking. His hand was being squeezed painfully, and he instinctively tried to pull it away. Zhao Shuyi tightened his grip even more: “Don’t go.”
“You—”
Not giving Xie Qi a chance to ask questions, he suddenly said, “I want congee.”
“…”
“Has the takeout arrived?” He blocked Xie Qi’s questions, his hand unyielding. He looked up at Xie Qi, then slowly lowered his head, as if he hadn’t said anything just now, and wasn’t doing anything now.
But his grip grew tighter and tighter. Xie Qi was stunned for a long time before realizing that such excessive force was his way of masking his trembling.
“Zhao Shuyi.” Xie Qi pulled his hand back and grasped Zhao Shuyi’s hand instead, “If you don’t want me to leave, then… I won’t move out yet?”