After that, Huo Youqing turned his head back, seemingly unconcerned about Gong Lang at the door. The living room lights were bright enough to illuminate every small expression on his face. Neither the person lying down nor the one standing up had any intention of opening the door.
Meanwhile, the person outside had already seen the light from the windows downstairs and knew someone was inside. He looked even thinner than the last time they met at the café, his cheeks sunken in. After pressing the doorbell a dozen times, he slowly knelt down in front of the cold metal door.
Gong Lang knew there were cameras here, one in the hallway, and another directly above his door.
Twenty years of pride were completely shattered in that moment. He lowered his head, opened his mouth but struggled to find his voice. After a long pause, he finally spoke, “Youyou, I don’t know why I made so many mistakes. I…” His voice cracked and he fell silent for a full three minutes before continuing, “Can we ever go back to the way things were?”
The sound of him kneeling wasn’t loud enough to be heard inside, but Dai Yixin glanced at the door and chose to lift Huo Youqing into his arms. He carried him to the door and caught a glimpse of the surveillance screen, then calmly stated, “He’s kneeling.”
As Dai Yixin spoke, he kept his eyes fixed on the young man in his arms. Nine years had passed since they first met, from age eighteen to twenty-seven, and every time he saw him, he would look intently. Huo Youqing’s appearance hadn’t changed at all—he was still as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more striking.
Like now.
Huo Youqing’s jade-white face was flushed a deep red, his almond-shaped eyes wet beyond belief. His slightly parted lips exhaled warm, fragrant breath, and his ears, peeking out from his dark hair, were so red they seemed almost translucent. Dai Yixin stared for a moment before realizing that it was the light playing off them.
He tightened his hold and repeated, “Gong Lang is kneeling at the door.”
Huo Youqing didn’t respond. He simply took a deep breath, and by the time Dai Yixin repeated himself a third time, Huo Youqing’s expression had cleared up. He shoved Dai Yixin away, his raised leg trembling as it came down.
Huo Youqing gave Dai Yixin a cold, indifferent glance, as if the situation had ruined the mood. After a few seconds, he walked toward the bathroom without a word. About ten minutes later, he came out wrapped in a bathrobe and resumed working.
Dai Yixin was still standing where he’d been before. He glanced at the monitor again—Gong Lang was still kneeling outside, begging for Huo Youqing’s forgiveness. Dai Yixin averted his gaze and moved to kneel by the sofa, lowering his head into Huo Youqing’s lap.
Huo Youqing frowned slightly but didn’t look at him. After a moment, he kicked Dai Yixin away, though the force wasn’t strong. Any man would feel weak in a situation like this.
After kicking him away, Huo Youqing felt an irritation rising within him, realizing that he needed to shower again. But before he could move, he heard Dai Yixin, still seated on the floor, ask, “Why don’t you look at Gong Lang outside the door?”
Huo Youqing paused in his movements to adjust his bathrobe. The remnants of their previous interaction were still visible on his face, but his eyes had already grown cold. “Why should I look? You brought him here; you look at him.”
With Dai Yixin’s resources, it would have been easy to hide his address from Gong Lang, just as it would have been easy to lure Gong Lang here.
But Huo Youqing was no longer the eighteen-year-old he had once been, nor the twenty-three-year-old who had foolishly fallen into one trap after another.
“If you want Gong Lang to come in and see what we’re doing, I don’t care,” Huo Youqing said, curling his lips into a semblance of a smile.
It used to be that Dai Yixin was the one who smiled in their relationship. But tonight, their roles had reversed. Dai Yixin’s face turned ashen, drained of color, like a corpse fished from the water. His naturally pale complexion was now eerily bloodless.
Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Huo Youqing. He gazed at him as if he couldn’t bear to miss a single moment, but the certainty in his eyes had become a thick fog.
“I regret it,” Dai Yixin whispered.
After nine long years, he finally said it. He finally realized his love had reached the edge of a cliff, and it was his lover who had shown him.
But Huo Youqing acted as if he hadn’t heard a word. His expression didn’t change. He didn’t care about Gong Lang kneeling outside the door, nor about Dai Yixin in front of him.
If he didn’t care, then what was there to forgive?
Gong Lang, who had known Huo Youqing for over a decade, was suffering outside the door, kneeling for forgiveness, but he didn’t get so much as a glance. Dai Yixin, for the first time, considered his own future—if he were to die, would Huo Youqing even look at him?
Without thinking, he voiced the question aloud.
Perhaps Dai Yixin’s fate was better than Gong Lang’s because Huo Youqing answered seriously, “Of course I would. I’d check if you’re really dead. I’d welcome you to kill yourself in front of me.”
