Unmatched Chapter 45
byChapter 45 Side Effect
Zhao Shuyi did not answer.
The hallucination faded but remained. He smelled the scent of incense, and the four white walls that imprisoned him flickered in and out of existence. Xie Qi’s face was blurry, requiring great effort to see clearly.
“Xie Qi,” Zhao Shuyi repeated the same phrase as if his speech system had malfunctioned, “Has the takeout arrived?”
“…Almost,” Xie Qi glanced at the delivery rider’s distance, only a few dozen meters away.
He temporarily released his hand and said he was going to fetch the meal, but the moment their tightly pressed skin separated, Zhao Shuyi immediately grabbed him, as if he couldn’t be apart from him for a second.
This was a plea to stay, but filled with a morbid craving. Xie Qi’s heart tightened, feeling somewhat alarmed. Instinctively, he yielded to Zhao Shuyi, letting him hold on, afraid to move.
His phone rang.
Xie Qi answered the call with one hand, telling the rider to leave the meal in the lobby downstairs and have the robot bring it up. The building robot happened to be free and delivered it to the door within minutes, calling the landline to notify them of the delivery.
Regardless, Xie Qi still needed to leave temporarily to open the door.
“One minute,” Xie Qi said. “I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t let go first, waiting for Zhao Shuyi’s reaction. The latter, however, ignored him, letting the living room landline ring repeatedly, stop, and then ring a second time.
The sound was grating, relentless, like a death knell.
Zhao Shuyi finally startled awake, sluggishly realizing what he was doing, and released him: “You go.”
His voice was low and husky, slightly indistinct. Zhao Shuyi lay back on the pillow, hiding his slightly trembling hands under the quilt.
“…” Xie Qi glanced at him and fetched the meal as quickly as possible.
He returned in less than a minute. Xie Qi didn’t know what flavor he wanted, so he ordered both pumpkin congee and seafood congee. Both smelled fragrant.
“Zhao Shuyi,” Xie Qi called him softly, “Let’s eat. If you’re feeling unwell, you should eat before sleeping. I’ll go to the hospital with you tomorrow.”
“Go to the hospital?”
“To see a doctor.” Xie Qi unwrapped the utensils. “Don’t you need to see a doctor?”
“No,” Zhao Shuyi replied without hesitation.
To prove that everything was normal, he proactively confessed: “I was… a little dizzy just now. It might be a side effect from taking too much medication last night.”
Xie Qi paused: “Sleeping pills?”
“Yes, a new drug that hasn’t been released yet. There are some issues with it.”
It was rare for Zhao Shuyi to explain; Xie Qi had asked before, and he never spoke about it. But the explanation was also meant to prove he wasn’t sick.
“How did you get an unreleased drug? Isn’t it unsafe?”
“Through special channels,” Zhao Shuyi answered vaguely.
“Don’t take it anymore,” Xie Qi said. “Is it just dizziness?”
“I think I had hallucinations.”
“‘Think’?”
“I’m not sure.”
Uncertain whether it was a physiological hallucination or temporary mental confusion caused by emotional overload, Zhao Shuyi didn’t know how to describe it. He had been cooperative enough and didn’t want to say more. Xie Qi had better not ask any further.
As if sensing his thoughts, Xie Qi remained silent for a moment, then changed the subject: “There’s sweet congee and savory congee. Which one do you want?”
“Either is fine.” Zhao Shuyi sat up, his movements somewhat slow.
He finally took off his bathrobe and changed into pajamas. His complexion was more normal than a few minutes ago. He calmly got out of bed and suggested that the bedroom was inconvenient, proposing they eat in the dining room outside.
Xie Qi followed him, carrying the takeout bag, and subconsciously looked at his hands.
—His expression was normal, but his hands were still trembling slightly. To conceal it, he had to tightly grip his right wrist with his left hand, rubbing it casually, pretending it was just a massage.
Xie Qi couldn’t help but be affected. It was as if his trembling was transmitted through the air; Xie Qi’s heart also trembled, and his nose felt sour. He didn’t dare to look closely anymore.
Xie Qi discarded the disposable cutlery and went to the kitchen to fetch four bowls and two spoons, dividing the sweet and savory congee into two portions each, and ate with Zhao Shuyi.
The atmosphere at the dining table was stagnant, with no topic to lighten the mood.
Xie Qi was worried and wanted to ask, Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor? But Zhao Shuyi spoke first: “Oh, right.”
“Hmm?”
“Happy birthday,” Zhao Shuyi said, eating his congee without lifting his head. “I forgot to say it yesterday.”
“…”
Whether he forgot or didn’t want to say it, they both knew. But what did adding it now accomplish? Did he have nothing else to say besides that?
Xie Qi found it hard to swallow his food and stiffly said, “Thank you.”
Zhao Shuyi seemed not to hear, offering no reaction.
Xie Qi’s mind was in turmoil. He replayed everything Zhao Shuyi had said tonight and couldn’t help but ask, “Was that sentence you said just now also a side effect of the medication?”
“Which one?”
“The one telling me not to leave.”
“…”
The motion of scooping congee paused. Zhao Shuyi looked up at Xie Qi, expressionless.
“Yes,” he uttered a flat interjection, unilaterally blocking any possibility of further communication.
Dinner was over, and it was already very late.
Zhao Shuyi seemed incapable of doing anything else and returned to the room to sleep.
Xie Qi quickly cleared the dishes, tossing them into the dishwasher, and returned to tidy the living room.
He didn’t really know how to tidy up. The luggage he had half-packed was spread out on the floor. He couldn’t finish packing it, nor could he put it away. It resembled their unresolved relationship, stuck at a crossroads, neither left nor right, leaving him helpless.
Xie Qi stared blankly at the luggage alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the bedroom light was off, but Zhao Shuyi hadn’t closed the door.
He wondered if he could interpret this as a signal that Zhao Shuyi wanted him to return to the room and sleep together. Even if it was, why were Zhao Shuyi’s signals always so minimal? They were always at a subtle level that made it impossible for him to judge whether he was being overly hopeful.
Perhaps it wasn’t subtle; perhaps he simply hadn’t given up completely and was eager to find a reason to continue throwing himself at Zhao Shuyi.
Xie Qi didn’t disturb Zhao Shuyi and went to lie down in the other bedroom.
He couldn’t sleep. The surroundings were silent in the deep night. Faint footsteps echoed from the living room—Zhao Shuyi was up, moving around, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, pouring water, smoking.
The lighter clicked softly. Zhao Shuyi seemed to have sat down in the living room.
Xie Qi checked the time—two in the morning.
He wanted to go and offer a few words of advice: “Rest well, smoke less,” but he knew such words would be useless, so he might as well say nothing.
He listened quietly, able to hear Zhao Shuyi’s breathing while smoking, faint and unreal.
Xie Qi remained lost in thought amid this almost hallucinatory breathing, not knowing what Zhao Shuyi was thinking, nor what he himself was thinking, until Zhao Shuyi finished his cigarette, returned to the bedroom, and closed the door.
After enduring a long night, the next day was ordinary, still without hope.
Xie Qi woke up early and tidied his luggage. He didn’t hang the packed clothes back where they belonged, but he didn’t continue packing either. He haphazardly closed the travel cases and pushed them into the corner.
Zhao Shuyi woke up even earlier and went to work without eating breakfast.
There were no urgent matters at the company, but Zhao Shuyi urgently needed to work. Only when immersed in work did he feel mentally normal.
He had his Grandfather to thank for this, for painstakingly cultivating him into a perfect machine capable of switching into work mode at any time.
Life went on as usual, flat as water. Zhao Shuyi and Xie Qi tacitly slept in separate rooms, and neither mentioned moving again.
Zhao Shuyi thought this was fine. Time could dilute everything. In a few more days, he would truly return to normal.
His rationality told him this, but he knew the truth was otherwise.
He spent ten hours at the company every day. When he returned home in the evening, the moment he opened the door, his nerves would involuntarily tighten, and he would subconsciously look at the corner—were those travel cases still there? Was Xie Qi home?
Zhao Shuyi deeply resented this.
But the out-of-control emotion was like a silently growing tumor, already cancerous and impossible to cut out.
Xie Qi usually got home earlier than him. These past few days, he seemed less busy and was actually learning to cook.
Every day, the moment Zhao Shuyi walked in, he could smell the burnt odor wafting from the kitchen. Smoke billowed everywhere. No dish had been successfully made, at least none had appeared on their dining table.
Qin Zhi was someone who loved to cook. She used to say that if no one cooked at home, the house wouldn’t feel like a home, lacking the warmth of life.
Zhao Shuyi was unconvinced. If someone cooked, would their house suddenly feel like a home?
As for why Xie Qi was cooking, Zhao Shuyi didn’t ask.
Xie Qi didn’t seem passionate about cooking, either. Perhaps he was just passing the time, finding something to do.
Regardless, when Zhao Shuyi smelled the kitchen smoke the moment he returned home, his taut nerves involuntarily relaxed, like taking his daily dose of tranquilizer.
But Xie Qi wasn’t home every day.
On December 25th, Christmas Day, Zhao Shuyi had a long meeting. Afterward, he declined the invitation to the executive gathering and asked the driver to take him home.
He hadn’t been driving himself lately due to lack of sleep and poor mental state.
When he arrived home, the sky was dark and the wind was fierce. As usual, Zhao Shuyi habitually looked toward a certain corner of the living room, but unlike usual, those travel cases were gone.
Zhao Shuyi froze, his hand stiff on the door.
The living room lights were glaringly bright, the house was silent, and Xie Qi wasn’t there either.
Zhao Shuyi didn’t believe he couldn’t live without Xie Qi, but the fact was that for that instant, he couldn’t think. It was like a form of PTSD had been triggered. His vision blurred, and he vaguely felt hallucinations returning.
He stood frozen at the doorway, perhaps for five minutes, ten minutes, or even longer, until rationality returned, and a voice in his mind said, “Xie Qi moved out.”
He replied, “I know. It was bound to happen.”
Taking off his shoes, taking off his coat, changing clothes, Zhao Shuyi poured himself a cup of hot water.
The three-hundred-square-meter apartment was vast and dead silent, devoid of any life. For no reason, he suddenly remembered a dog he had owned when he was a child.
He hadn’t kept it long. The stupid dog was lost by his even stupider self. He wondered who picked it up later. Was it doing well? Or was it homeless, becoming a stray?
A dog’s lifespan is only a dozen years. It had probably died of old age, living a happier life than him.
He was more troublesome. He still had decades of life ahead, an endless horizon. At most, he could predict a few years from now:
Perhaps he would be divorced but still living here, having successfully resolved the company’s difficulties. Everything would have changed, but his life would likely remain exactly the same.
Zhao Shuyi suddenly recalled a question Xie Qi had once asked him, the gist of which was: If you weren’t constrained by your family and could choose freely, what would you want to do?
How did he answer back then?
“I haven’t thought about it.”
If asked today, Zhao Shuyi still couldn’t give an answer.
But this was a question a person couldn’t avoid in life: What exactly do I want to do, and why am I alive?
Zhao Shuyi’s chest ached, and he found it hard to breathe.
There was no cooked food in the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge and found a bag of instant oatmeal, which he mixed with hot water, treating it as dinner.
The house was so large. He should logically go check the walk-in closet or Xie Qi’s bedroom; he might not have moved out. But Zhao Shuyi leaned against the sofa, motionless.
He couldn’t understand what he was doing now. His mind and body were gradually separating. He couldn’t control this clumsy shell of a body that was sinking deeper and deeper into affection.
And the emotion he resisted was like a spring; the harder he tried to suppress it, the more violently it rebounded.
Zhao Shuyi was powerless, sitting rigidly on the sofa until late into the night.
He knew he should message Xie Qi, directly asking, “Did you move out?” “Are you coming back?” or “Where are you?” But he didn’t want to touch his phone; he couldn’t send it.
It was strange. Why couldn’t he send it?
Did he have to be so stubborn? Knowing it was a spring, what would happen if he let go?
Zhao Shuyi wanted to smoke again but forgot where the cigarettes were.
When it was time to sleep, the water cup was in front of him, and the medication was in the bedroom. He mentally simulated the path of getting up to retrieve the medicine, swallowing water and taking the pills in his imagination, but in reality, he didn’t move an inch.
After an unknown amount of time, the sound of a door opening suddenly broke the silence.
Zhao Shuyi was distracted and didn’t hear it.
It wasn’t until the familiar figure walked up to him that he saw Xie Qi’s legs, black trousers, the cuffs dusted with a little snow.
Looking up, Xie Qi wore a thin down jacket, his expression startled, probably wondering why Zhao Shuyi was sitting there in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.
“I’m back,” Xie Qi hesitated. “Were you waiting for me?”
“…”
Zhao Shuyi didn’t speak. Xie Qi was already used to him ignoring him. He put down the item he was carrying—an exquisitely packaged red gift box.
“A Christmas gift,” Xie Qi said. “I prepared a lot today. There’s one for everyone who sees me, including you.”
Zhao Shuyi still didn’t speak.
Xie Qi didn’t know what else to say. He silently changed his clothes, moving from the walk-in closet to the bathroom, and then back to the living room. Zhao Shuyi was still sitting there.
When people are in a bad mood, their complexion is usually poor. Xie Qi looked a little haggard these past few days.
Zhao Shuyi looked at him and asked, “You didn’t move out?”
His tone sounded like he was chasing him away. Xie Qi was momentarily stunned, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face. But then he suddenly noticed that Zhao Shuyi was looking at another spot—the now-empty corner where the travel cases used to be.
Xie Qi suddenly realized that Zhao Shuyi seemed genuinely to have been waiting for him, thinking he had moved out without a word and wouldn’t be coming home again.
“I just moved them to a different spot,” he explained. “You kept looking at those cases. I thought they bothered you, so I moved them to the bedroom.”