Chapter 45: My Life

****

Wang Yun stared at the photo on her phone.

The man who should be swamped with work at M Corporation was grinning brightly in the photo. He looked like an ordinary middle-aged uncle, wearing flip-flops and beach shorts, a bit unkempt.

But ordinary and happy.

Wang Yun tightened her grip on the phone, turned off the screen, and said to her secretary, “Prepare the helicopter. Cancel today’s meetings.”

She took a breath and walked to the restroom. Suddenly, she popped her head back out the door and said, “…”

The secretary froze, hesitant to speak.

Wang Yun waved dismissively, her expression cold and unreasonable.

****

It was nearly dawn when they returned from the hospital.

This small city fell silent around midnight. No buses ran, the trams had stopped. An old man on night duty sat by a lamp, nodding off over a newspaper. Xie Xu dug a broken bicycle out of a corner, took Guan Qing, and rode toward the inn, chasing the fading moonlight.

The carriage had been part of a romantic night tour of Prague, with a scheduled pickup. But they hadn’t stuck to the script, so naturally they missed the shuttle service.

Now the moon’s pure white glow was receding bit by bit. The air held the chill of deep winter, and snowflakes were still falling. On the flat horizon, a thread of light was brightening.

It reminded him of a glance he’d seen years ago, but this was more solid, more certain. Not like that floating, ungrounded love, but rather a sense of steadfastness, of companionship—

Xie Xu suddenly stopped the bike.

Guan Qing bumped into his back, rubbing his forehead, and asked drowsily, “What’s wrong?”

Xie Xu turned off his phone, hesitated, then said, “I’ll take you back to the inn first—”

Guan Qing paused, looked at him seriously, his tone not aggressive: “Did something happen?”

The gradually brightening sunlight wasn’t harsh, but it illuminated every trace of guilt on Xie Xu’s face.

‘Share the suffering,’ he had said.

The two looked at each other for a long time in the dim winter sunlight.

Finally, Xie Xu relented. “Alright.”

He pushed off with one foot, then kicked again, and started pedaling fast toward the main road.

On the main road, a car waited quietly. Xie Xu folded the bike, stuffed it into the trunk, and got in with Guan Qing. He said to the driver, “Go.”

The SUV sped along the mountain road.

As they passed through the forest, sunlight streamed through the windows in panels, like some special effect in a movie. In those flashes of light, Xie Xu held Guan Qing’s hand. Slowly, trembling, he interlaced their fingers.

“I won’t let anything happen,” Xie Xu said.

He bowed his head, carefully cupping Guan Qing’s bandaged left hand in both hands, and gently pressed a kiss to the bandage. His back was bent, his head low, looking a bit fragile.

Guan Qing’s heart ached. He felt unsettled. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Xie Xu straightened up quickly.

Xie Xu took a deep breath, looked out the window, and said as if nothing was wrong, “The snow is stopping.”

Indeed, the snow was still falling, but those few flakes seemed more like willow catkins drifting in a spring sky.

When the snow stops, spring will come.

“Mm,” Guan Qing said. He paused, then squeezed Xie Xu’s hand. “The day after next week is New Year’s Eve. Then, we… the two of us, together with my mom and Uncle Xu…”

New Year’s Eve. Firecrackers, dumplings, the Spring Festival Gala. Just saying those words brought joy, emotion—the bitterness accumulated over a year and the happiness stored up, all about to burst out from every corner, embracing you with the steaming heat of bamboo steamers.

New Year’s Eve was the end of a year. For them, it was also… the beginning.

This whole year of separation, parting, entanglement—

Meeting an end, and also meeting a rebirth.

The light gradually brightened. The sky passed the most gorgeous phase of sunrise, now a bit gray, since the snow hadn’t stopped.

“We’re here.”

The driver braked. Guan Qing tightened his grip on Xie Xu’s hand.

—It was a wine estate.

A doorman in a bow tie stood at the entrance, bowing to welcome them. He seemed to be Asian, with neat hair, meticulous from his buttons to his hems.

Guan Qing glanced at his watch. Five in the morning.

Through the tall windows, he could see waiters moving inside the estate. Was this place open all night, or… was an important guest expected?

“Welcome to Blake Winery.”

The doorman had good habits, keeping his eyes slanted toward the ground, never looking where he shouldn’t.

But Xie Xu rolled down the window, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers in front of the doorman’s face.

The doorman didn’t move.

After a moment, he slowly straightened up, looking straight ahead, and said, “Please follow me.”

Through the gate, the path was lined with flowers. Guan Qing couldn’t name them, but they were clearly carefully pruned. They entered the building, passed through the main door, then bypassed it to a small iron gate.

After the doorman closed the door, his entire demeanor changed.

He rubbed his hands together, pushed back his hair—that was when Guan Qing noticed he had muttered something—rolled up his sleeves casually, and said in a slightly awkward Japanese-accented English: “Here, as promised.”

He held out a hand.

Guan Qing: “…”

Xie Xu took out his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and handed them over.

Guan Qing’s expression was dumbfounded.

The doorman took the money. He pulled a cigarette from some corner and tucked it behind his ear. Now his aura was completely different, almost like a street thug. He spat on his thumb and used it to count the money.

He was about to say something, but Xie Xu stopped him and pointed at Guan Qing.

The doorman looked annoyed, waved his hand, and said something in Czech.

“Wait.” Guan Qing made a gesture, about to interrupt Xie Xu.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Xie Xu was… bribing?

But Xie Xu held Guan Qing’s hand in midair, looked at the doorman seriously, and said, “My life.”

“What?” Guan Qing’s brow furrowed tightly.

It was already dim, and this small room was even darker. Faint light filtered through the high windows, dust motes floating in the air, glittering and beautiful.

Even though they were just dust.

“Oh,” the doorman said, looking surprised. He couldn’t help but whistle. “I thought you’d say ‘boyfriend.'”

Xie Xu shook his head and smiled.

Guan Qing: “…???”

“Alright.”

The doorman shrugged, untied his bow tie, and said, “I don’t have much, but—”

Twenty minutes later.

“Coming, coming.”

A tall, handsome man ran up while tying his bow tie. He had a straight posture, a strikingly handsome face, and in the dim light he seemed almost dazzling. A subtle, knowing smile played at the corner of his mouth.

The butler froze.

He looked closer and realized it was all an illusion. The man running toward him was stooped, clearly very tall but somehow spiritless, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear like a slacker. He responded listlessly, “Sorry, I just went to pee.”

“…” The butler gave him a look that said a thousand words.

This new waiter had come through connections—reportedly recommended by the madam’s son himself, though no one had seen him before. His first day on the job and already this… surprising.

“You…” The butler pointed at him helplessly. “Go help in the kitchen first—wait, who’s behind you?”

A head poked out from behind the waiter.

It was a very clean-cut young man. He looked a bit nervous, dressed in a doorman’s uniform, and gave a slight bow.

The butler didn’t know much about the doorman situation; he only vaguely remembered that today a Japanese youth was on duty.

He nodded impatiently, about to scold them, but didn’t know where to start. So he just assigned them to their posts and left with a sigh.

The two were, of course, Xie Xu and Guan Qing. Xie Xu nodded absently at the butler’s instructions, and as soon as he turned the corner, immediately led Guan Qing up the spiral staircase.

Guan Qing was a bit dazed. He tried to ask what was going on, where they were, but involuntarily asked, “That doorman… what did he ask you?”

Xie Xu’s answer had been ‘my life.’

“Uh.” Xie Xu rubbed the tip of his nose awkwardly, showing a hint of embarrassment.

He hesitated, then said, “I asked him to help with the disguise, didn’t I? He asked me, if this got out, what would I use to compensate—”

“You made up that excuse pretty quickly,” Guan Qing remarked objectively.

“…”

The staircase was almost at its end. The dim light converged, passing through a stained-glass window, casting mottled light.

Xie Xu was walking slightly faster than Guan Qing. He turned, lowered his head, hugged Guan Qing, and whispered something in his ear.

Guan Qing froze.

—”That doorman asked me what you are to me.” Xie Xu finished in a low voice, then turned away, so Guan Qing couldn’t see his expression.

Guan Qing recalled Xie Xu’s answer at the time.

—”My life.”

His heart felt soaked in something soft, aching and sweet beyond belief, but he didn’t have time to savor it, because at that moment, the scene upstairs unfolded before him.

A huge oil painting stood at the turn. The two people in it were very familiar.

The painting was fairly realistic, the whole image in warm tones, as if it were a sunny spring day. A handsome middle-aged man smiled broadly and warmly at the viewer. He stood behind a chair. The woman in the chair had her hands folded on her lap, lips slightly pursed, reserved and shy.

Though he had guessed more or less.

Seeing this directly still made Guan Qing start with surprise.

—It was Wang Yun and Xie Qing. Of course, such a scene could not have existed in reality. The love in Xie Qing’s eyes was so obvious; this could only be… the artist’s imagination.

The signature in the lower right corner was very familiar.

Guan Qing thought about it carefully…

The photo he had seen at Uncle’s place, the inscription on the back, had the same name.

He turned to look at Xie Xu, about to say something, but the words suddenly got stuck in his throat.

At the turn, a woman in a dress was hurrying down, holding up her skirt. She made eye contact with Guan Qing from a few meters away.

Her face was delicate and gentle.

Seeing Guan Qing, her complexion paled.

Guan Qing’s throat was dry. He trembled, and after a long moment, he called out in a dry voice, “Mom.”

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