WYLM | Chapter 9

Chi Guan had a very long dream.

He dreamt of sitting day after day by a clear stream, idly kicking round pebbles, watching the koi swim in the water with utter boredom.

Time had stretched so long that he had forgotten where this place was, why he had come here, and even his own name.

He only remembered one thing: he was waiting for someone, and then they would leave together.

There was no day or night here, making it impossible to discern the passage of time. Occasionally, travelers would hurriedly pass by and then leave just as quickly, but most of the time, Chi Guan was alone.

Finally, one day, Chi Guan’s wait ended with the arrival of a man dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, handsome with sharp brows and starry eyes, a broad shoulder and narrow waist—exactly Chi Guan’s type.

He looked somewhat familiar.
Chi Guan thought.

But he couldn’t recall who the other was.

Seeing the other man looking at him, Chi Guan smiled politely, only for the man to rush up and embrace him excitedly, exclaiming, “Sui Jian! Your Majesty has finally found you!”

“What are you doing!” Chi Guan was so startled he stepped back, trying to escape the man’s embrace, but the man was too strong, leaving Chi Guan no choice but to pout, “I don’t know who this Sui Jian is that you’re talking about, but you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Sui Jian? Sui Jian!” The man looked incredulous, examining him thoroughly before asserting firmly, “You are Sui Jian, I could never mistake you.”

“Alright, whatever you say,” Chi Guan shrugged indifferently, pointing towards a place where the stream merged with others into a vast ocean, “Are you here to reincarnate? Just head that way, and you’ll figure out what to do.”

Chi Guan then remembered—this was the famed Yellow Springs Road, and those who hurried by daily were souls on their way to reincarnation.

The man didn’t leave, asking him, “Why aren’t you going?”

“I’m waiting for someone,” Chi Guan said with a smile that came naturally, “To reincarnate, you must cross the Golden Silver Bridge. There are too many forks in the road there; two people must walk together to reincarnate to the same place.”

“Who are you waiting for?”

“Hmm… I can’t remember.” Chi Guan massaged his temples, somewhat frustrated, then remembered something, pulling his collar aside to reveal a bite mark below his collarbone, his tone woeful, “I only remember he bit me fiercely, told me never to forget him, and to wait for him when I reincarnate. But I’ve waited so long here, I can’t even remember what he looks like or when he’ll come.”

The man’s expression softened, gently stroking his hair, “I’m sorry, he’s a bad person, he didn’t know staying here too long causes memory confusion, he should have come sooner…”

“Don’t you speak ill of him,” Chi Guan glared, interrupting sharply, “He’s a good man, and a powerful emperor, a wise ruler!”

The man then smiled again, took his hand, and led him towards the end of Yellow Springs, saying, “Okay, I’ll take you to him, I promise, next life I won’t let you wait for him. He’ll stand in the most conspicuous place waiting for you, and find you first.”

Chi Guan didn’t believe his nonsense.
But warm tears uncontrollably streamed down his face.

…

When Chi Guan opened his eyes again, what he saw was a stark white, like a scene from a TV drama, his body covered in tubes, with the ticking of the monitor by his ear.

The pain at the back of his head belatedly made itself known, and Chi Guan finally remembered what had happened: at the event, he had pushed Qi Jingyao out of the way and then was crushed by the falling board, losing consciousness.

So, how was Qi Jingyao?

Struggling to sit up, he heard a nurse not far from his bed exclaim, “Ah! Quick, someone come! Bed 52 is awake!!!”

Half an hour later, Chi Guan lay in his hospital bed, staring blankly at Qi Jingyao who sat beside him.

Qi Jingyao was also injured, probably from the force when Chi Guan pushed him, his arm in a thick cast and bound across his chest, looking somewhat comical. His condition over the past few days wasn’t great, the dark circles under his eyes a stark contrast to his usual indifferent dominance on the red carpet.

While Chi Guan observed Qi Jingyao, Qi Jingyao also scrutinized him.

After a moment, Qi Jingyao was the first to speak, his tone hesitant, “Do you… remember who I am?”

Before Chi Guan could respond, Qi Jingyao hurriedly added, “It’s okay if you can’t remember, are you still feeling unwell? Do you want to sleep some more?”

Chi Guan had been unconscious for an entire week, and during that time, Qi Jingyao hardly slept a wink. Chi Guan wasn’t allowed visitors while in the ICU, but once he was moved out, Qi Jingyao spent nights on end by his side.

Eventually, the doctors, seeing Qi Jingyao couldn’t keep up, urged him to rest, and his assistant forcefully dragged him from Chi Guan’s room. But he couldn’t sleep, barely lying down before he had to sneak back to the hospital to watch Chi Guan from a distance.

It was for this reason that he heard immediately when Chi Guan awoke.

During this time, Qi Jingyao thought a lot—about their past life and this one. But in the end, he had only one thought: as long as Chi Guan was alive, that was enough.

He cared about nothing else, not if Chi Guan couldn’t remember him, whether it was from their past life or this one.

Chi Guan still didn’t speak, looking bewildered, which caused Qi Jingyao’s smile to freeze slightly, “You haven’t forgotten who you are, have you? You’re Chi Guan, Chi as in pond, Guan as in seeing again.”

“…”

Chi Guan couldn’t help but glare at him fiercely, weakly retorting, “Have you been in too many movies? My brain is fine! I don’t have amnesia!”

Qi Jingyao breathed a sigh of relief, just about to speak when Chi Guan continued, “And I haven’t settled scores with you yet. You promised me last life that you’d live well. How could you come down to find me so soon? When I saw you at Yellow Springs, your hair was still black!”

This was something Chi Guan realized after waking up, his memories completely jumbled at the time, easily led by Qi Jingyao to reincarnate via the Milky Way.

“Wait…” Qi Jingyao paused, suddenly realizing something, “You remembered our past life?!”

Chi Guan was still fuming. He lacked the strength now but strained to pull open his collar for Qi Jingyao to see, “You bit me so hard it hurt, of course, I had to remember you.”

Qi Jingyao’s lips quivered, and he couldn’t hold back the tears that flowed down his cheeks, looking quite pitiful.

Chi Guan lay in bed watching him, and after a moment, sighed softly, his tone softening, “Alright, didn’t you promise not to cry? You’re still an actor in this life. Crying like this in front of me, your fans might think I’ve mistreated you. And I don’t have the strength to sit up or comfort you right now.”

Qi Jingyao quietly wiped his tears away. With Chi Guan still connected to tubes, he didn’t dare to touch much, just gripping Chi Guan’s hands, his fingertips trembling, “Sui Jian, look at me, Sui Jian, I promise you everything.”

It took three days for Qi Jingyao to realize that Chi Guan had remembered their past life. Before that, he had fallen asleep next to Chi Guan for a full day and night.

After a week by Chi Guan’s hospital bed, Qi Jingyao indeed couldn’t hold up anymore. Chi Guan had barely woken up when Qi Jingyao, too tired, fell asleep on the edge of his bed, startling Chi Guan so much he panicked and pressed the call button, summoning the nurses.

The nurses, also startled, gave Qi Jingyao a thorough checkup and even consulted with specialists, concluding finally: Qi Jingyao had fallen asleep.

Chi Guan was both amused and frustrated. Qi Jingyao slept soundly beside him, and he too gradually closed his eyes.

Later, it was Qi Jingyao who took care of Chi Guan. Chi Guan was severely injured, having come close to death, and couldn’t get out of bed for ten days to half a month. Qi Jingyao pushed aside all his work to stay quietly by his side, afraid that if he closed his eyes, Chi Guan would be gone.

Chi Guan realized for the first time how clingy Qi Jingyao could be, calling out for him almost every few minutes, sometimes calling him “Sui Jian,” sometimes “Chi Guan,” but he had to respond every time. If he didn’t, Qi Jingyao would fuss over him repeatedly, like a child who hadn’t grown up.

Of course, even if Chi Guan responded, Qi Jingyao wouldn’t settle down but would come over and watch him intently. Later, when his condition improved slightly, Qi Jingyao supervised him through various annoying rehabilitation exercises.

Chi Guan wanted to lose his temper, but every time he faced Qi Jingyao’s pitiful eyes, he couldn’t get mad. After all, they had known each other for two lifetimes, and Qi Jingyao knew exactly how to soften Chi Guan’s heart.

Besides, Chi Guan knew deep down, though he wouldn’t admit it, that Qi Jingyao was suffering from PTSD. Having watched him die in a previous life and then seeing him so injured in this life, it was impossible for him not to be affected.

The rehabilitation lasted three months, and Chi Guan was finally fully recovered and discharged from the hospital.

Qi Jingyao was the happiest person on the day Chi Guan was discharged. He invited the hospital staff to a meal, which turned into a lively affair, and he ended up drunk.

That night, the assistant helped the two of them home. Chi Guan and the assistant supported Qi Jingyao to bed.

The assistant looked back and forth between Chi Guan and Qi Jingyao with a meaningful look before saying significantly, “Mr. Chi, I’ll leave first then. Please take care of Mr. Qi.”

Chi Guan was speechless, wanting to advise the assistant to watch fewer melodramatic TV shows and learn some common sense, because a drunk person can’t…

The assistant eventually left, and Chi Guan, not very sleepy, sat by Qi Jingyao’s side, watching him. Qi Jingyao had been clinging to Chi Guan this whole time. Now that he was drunk, he was surprisingly well-behaved, not making a fuss. He had let Chi Guan and the assistant maneuver him upstairs, and now lay quietly asleep in bed.

He had long eyelashes.
His lips were nicely shaped.

Qi Jingyao’s looks really did appeal to Chi Guan.

Chi Guan couldn’t resist and stealthily reached out to touch his cheek. Qi Jingyao, though his eyes were still closed, immediately grabbed Chi Guan’s wrist.

“Alright, alright, I won’t bother you,” Chi Guan placated him, “Go to sleep.”

Qi Jingyao not only didn’t let go but suddenly pulled Chi Guan onto the bed, rolling over to pin him down.

Chi Guan belatedly realized Qi Jingyao might be dreaming. His eyes were still closed, his brows furrowed tightly, his body shaking as if he had just been through a torrential downpour.

“Sui Jian, Chi Guan, baby…” he mumbled Chi Guan’s names incoherently, his head buried in Chi Guan’s chest, searching to kiss the birthmark there, “When will you remember me… I’ve been searching for you for thirty years… look at me, am I okay?”

Chi Guan’s body stiffened slightly, but then he couldn’t help but laugh.

His right hand was restrained by Qi Jingyao, so he wrapped his left arm around him, calling out, “Qi Jingyao.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep now. I’m watching you, always watching.”

-End of Text-

Author’s Note (Sorry for the ramble, too many words to fit in the sidebar, so I had to include it here, feel free to skip if you don’t want to read):

Back in 2020, I was in a really bad place. I remember writing 70,000 words for this story and even submitted it for V status, but ultimately I chose to abandon it rather than force myself to write something I wasn’t satisfied with.

This story remained a regret for me. I thought many times about how to present it to you all, but I couldn’t convince myself. Later, when I had some ideas and feared I couldn’t write it well, I kept delaying.

Here, I especially want to thank @燚燚生辉 and @小河江北. Thank you to everyone who remembered this story. Without your constant thoughts, I wouldn’t have had the courage to fill this gap.

I don’t know how you feel about this story. When I first started writing, I told a friend that I’d be grateful just to finish it, but as I continued, I really came to like the story and enjoyed writing it, especially fond of little Chi and little Qi. If you even slightly like this story, the characters I’ve created, that would be wonderful!

I welcome your feedback and suggestions. Thank you for reading to the end. =w=