Upon closer inspection, he realized it was just a trick of the light—Gong Lang wasn’t on the verge of tears; not even his eyes were red. The thought made him involuntarily think of another person.
Dai Yixin, who could cry even in a crowded airport.
Lost in his own thoughts, a shadow fell across from him. Unlike the tense atmosphere of their last meeting, Gong Lang now seemed hesitant and unsure. His gaze was filled with words left unsaid, but it seemed like he didn’t know how to express them.
Huo Youqing turned his head to look out the window, his expression indifferent. Gong Lang noticed, and his face momentarily twisted between a smile and a sob, though he quickly masked it. He stared at Huo Youqing’s face with a look that was almost greedy, as if trying to commit it to memory. Only when Huo Youqing’s eyes flicked impatiently back at him, did he hurriedly look away.
As Huo Youqing started to pack up his things, Gong Lang panicked, “Don’t go,” he said hoarsely. “I need to talk to you.”
Huo Youqing paused. “Talk about what? Are you here to give me trouble over the coffee incident, or is this about Dai Yuan again?”
“Don’t mention him!” Gong Lang suddenly interrupted, his voice loud enough to draw attention. He seemed to be in terrible shape, holding his head in his hands. A few people turned to look, and a staff member from the café approached, asking if everything was okay.
But Gong Lang acted as if he didn’t hear anything. He continued muttering to himself, saying things that no one else could understand. “How did this happen… I can’t tell anymore… Is this another dream? Am I dreaming again? I didn’t do anything wrong… No, I was deceived, it was Dai Yuan…”
Huo Youqing’s initially irritated expression shifted as he heard these words. His eyes flicked over to Gong Lang’s face, now taking him seriously. He listened closely to Gong Lang’s mutterings, and when he understood, his eyes filled with shock.
The man being stared at lifted his head slowly. His eyes were finally red, just as Huo Youqing had imagined earlier. His dry lips moved, and he whispered, “Youyou, the treatment… it hurts so much.”
***
That night, Huo Youqing couldn’t sleep. He laid in bed, wide awake, and as the sky began to turn a deep blue, he got up and fetched a can of beer from the fridge.
The night air on the balcony had grown cold. Wrapped in a blanket, the beer fizzed as he opened it, the foam bubbling up from the can.
A few drops of beer spilled onto his fingers, but with no tissue in sight, he licked the liquid off. It was something his 18-year-old self would never have done, but now, with nine years of memories, he was technically 27.
Huo Youqing realized he had overlooked some things. When he regained his memories, he didn’t stop to consider whether he was still his 18-year-old self with nine extra years of experience, or if he was his 27-year-old self who had traveled back in time.
And then there was the question of altering the timeline. He wanted to save his uncle and aunt, to prevent his cousin from struggling so much, and to change Dai Yixin so that he wouldn’t grow into the “Dai Yuan” of the 27-year-old timeline, all in order to save himself.
But if the 18-year-old timeline was the past and the 27-year-old timeline was the future, didn’t that mean the two timelines intersected?
This wasn’t a parallel universe.
He thought to himself.
His initial plan had been to change the 18-year-old timeline as much as possible, so that if things developed the way he wanted, the future would be much better. The people he cared about would be safe, and he wouldn’t end up like his 27-year-old self.
Huo Youqing took a swig of beer. Despite his sleeplessness, his thoughts were startlingly clear. Gong Lang’s appearance today made him realize the butterfly effect had already begun. The two timelines weren’t independent—his actions in the 18-year-old timeline were starting to affect the 27-year-old timeline.
Everyone and everything he changed would be impacted. Gong Lang was the perfect example. His memories were starting to mix together. Huo Youqing thought that maybe Gong Lang now had two sets of memories: one where he was subjected to the so-called “gay conversion” therapy at the hospital, and another where he went to the U.S. and found Huo Youqing with Dai Yixin, which filled him with hatred.
The two conflicting sets of memories were torturing Gong Lang, driving him to the state Huo Youqing had seen today.
Huo Youqing regretted not questioning Gong Lang more thoroughly when he had the chance. But Gong Lang’s family’s bodyguards had arrived quickly, as if they already knew something was wrong. They whisked him away before Huo Youqing could ask anything else.
Eventually, Huo Youqing fell asleep in the wicker chair on his balcony, waking up around noon with a stiff neck and aching muscles. As he pressed a warm towel against his neck, his eyes stung with unshed tears.
He pitifully realized that his deadline was fast approaching, and while typing with one hand, he applied a heat compress to himself with the other.
Not even half an hour passed before a colleague responsible for handing over the translation work called him.
The colleague explained that they were going on a business trip and wouldn’t be able to hand over the work for another week, asking if it would be convenient for him. As Huo Youqing listened, a chill crept up inside him. Of course, his tone remained flawless as he responded to the editor.
How could it be so coincidental?
It was like someone handing him a pillow just as he wanted to doze off.
Last time, when Dai Yixin invited him to watch a musical, and he declined, a colleague had also called him. Back then, he knew it was Dai Yixin’s doing—trying to eliminate his excuses. But what about this time?
Dai Yixin hadn’t asked him to do anything, yet his colleague still called—at the exact time when he wasn’t feeling well.
He was sure this was also Dai Yixin’s doing. But the question was, how did Dai Yixin know he wasn’t feeling well when he hadn’t even left the house today?
After hanging up the phone, Huo Youqing didn’t glance around suspiciously. Instead, he calmly shifted his position a bit, saved his document, and even smiled as if he had just heard good news.
He was trying to conceal his thoughts, but his mind was already churning.
He shouldn’t have underestimated Dai Yixin’s controlling nature. How could Dai Yixin possibly allow him to live alone in an apartment? Impossible.
Huo Youqing answered his own question in his mind, and even the mystery of the 120 emergency call in the bathroom was solved. He wasn’t the one who made the call—it was Dai Yixin.
Dai Yixin had likely bribed someone in the property management to stage the incident, so he’d believe he had made the call himself.
Wait.
Last time, Dai Yixin had at least made sure the property management quashed any of his doubts. But today, he was merely feeling unwell, and Dai Yixin had brazenly sent his people to call him and tell him he could rest.
Dai Yixin wasn’t stupid.
Huo Youqing figured he wasn’t entirely clueless either. At the very least, he had realized that something was wrong with Dai Yixin.
If Gong Lang had two sets of memories, did Dai Yixin as well?
With that thought, Huo Youqing could no longer maintain his calm expression. He wasn’t sure which hidden camera might catch his face, so he hurriedly slipped his feet into his shoes, fumbling in his panic and putting them on the wrong feet.
He stared at his mismatched shoes for a moment, then suddenly calmed down. Slowly, he swapped the shoes around, then walked to the door and opened it.
As expected, someone was standing outside—just as he had anticipated.
