The 502 and 520 hospital rooms were located at opposite ends of the fifth-floor ward. The distance wasn’t too far — a quick trip back and forth would only take about a minute.
Yet, Lin Wangye still hadn’t returned.
In those few minutes, time inside the room seemed to freeze. Everything remained perfectly still, except for the steady rise and fall of the patient’s chest as they breathed.
From the surveillance footage, it looked just like a still photograph.
Then, the silence shattered as the door swung open from the outside, breaking the eerie stillness like glass cracking. A light, carefree vibe swept back into the room.
“Look what I snatched!”
Lin Wangye burst in, hopping excitedly with something raised high in his hand. Shi Yuan, without his glasses on, squinted until Lin Wangye sat down nearby. Only then did he realize it was a game console.
Shi Yuan watched as Lin Wangye fiddled with the unfamiliar system, scrolling through the menus to find a game. His gaze darkened once again.
To Lin Wangye, this console might seem like some old, outdated model — but in reality, it was top-of-the-line, something most ordinary families wouldn’t even have access to.
In that moment, Shi Yuan was reminded just how different their worlds were.
“Ah!”
Halfway through exploring the system, the screen suddenly went black. Lin Wangye’s eyes widened in shock before he angrily tossed the console aside. “So it was out of battery this whole time! And he covered it up on purpose just to mess with me — he’s so annoying!”
His outburst, like a kitten puffing up in frustration, made Shi Yuan’s heart soften. He couldn’t resist reaching out to ruffle Lin Wangye’s hair.
“Guess we’ll play later then.”
Lin Wangye had spent ages sweet-talking and bargaining just to get his hands on that console, only to find out his scheming dad had tricked him.
The warm hand on his head soothed some of his frustration. With a pout, he stood up and reached for the console on the cabinet.
“I’ll take it back and charge it real quick…”
Just as Lin Wangye turned around, his steps suddenly halted. Slowly, he lowered his head, his gaze landing on the hand tightly gripping his wrist.
The warmth from that palm pressed firmly against his skin.
He could clearly feel his pulse racing.
Shi Yuan only realized what he’d done after instinctively reaching out.
The moment Lin Wangye turned back, Shi Yuan quickly withdrew his hand. In that brief second, his mind scrambled through a thousand excuses before finally landing on one that felt the least awkward.
“Come with me to the bathroom.”
The second those words left his mouth, Shi Yuan realized there wasn’t a worse excuse he could’ve picked out of those thousand options.
Sure, it wasn’t suspicious.
But it was definitely awkward.
Luckily, Lin Wangye didn’t overthink it. Since he’d taken it upon himself to stay by Shi Yuan’s side, this felt completely normal to him. Without a second thought, he set the console down.
“Alright.”
Lin Wangye brought the wheelchair over and carefully helped Shi Yuan off the hospital bed.
The hospital’s facilities were well-equipped. Each room had its own private bathroom — spacious enough to comfortably fit a wheelchair, with grab bars lining the walls to support patients with injuries.
Shi Yuan stared at the toilet, feeling even more uncomfortable than he had that afternoon when the nurse had helped him. Back then, it had been different — medical staff were professionals, and there was no need to overthink it.
But in front of Lin Wangye…
Noticing Shi Yuan’s hesitation, Lin Wangye scratched his head awkwardly and asked, “Uh… you good on your own?”
“I’m good,” Shi Yuan nodded. “My other leg’s fine — I can stand on one foot.”
Lin Wangye felt reassured and turned to leave the bathroom.
“Alright, if you need help, just call me.”
He waited outside for a bit, and once he heard the sound of running water from the sink, he pushed the door open again. After Shi Yuan finished washing his hands, Lin Wangye wheeled him back to the hospital bed and carefully helped him lie down.
With nothing else to do, Lin Wangye suddenly remembered something important. He pulled out his phone from his pocket.
“Let’s swap numbers!”
Before they’d met, Lin Wangye had tried calling Shi Yuan’s old number from his previous life.
As expected, it had been disconnected — an empty, unreachable line.
Shi Yuan recited a string of numbers. Lin Wangye repeated it in his head a few times, typed it in quickly, and hit the dial button. Then, without missing a beat, he added Shi Yuan as a WeChat friend and pinned the chat to the top of his list right in front of him.
Shi Yuan couldn’t help but smile and asked,
“Why didn’t you save my number?”
“No need,” Lin Wangye grinned, flashing his sharp little canine teeth. His bright eyes glimmered playfully. “I can remember it after seeing it once. Don’t believe me? Test me right now.”
Honestly, saving it would’ve been easier.
But Lin Wangye’s words made his intentions clear — he was going out of his way to show that he cared. It was deliberate, and obvious enough that anyone could tell.
Still, being valued like that felt nice.
“You’ve got a good memory.”
The warmth in Shi Yuan’s eyes softened his naturally distant, aloof expression. With a faint smile on his lips, he asked casually,
“Do you memorize a lot of people’s numbers?”
Lin Wangye shook his head, the tuft of hair on his head swaying side to side. “Nope. Why would I bother memorizing a bunch of phone numbers for no reason? Just Lin Shen’s… and yours.”
Back in the day, most people relied on address books to keep track of important contacts.
Now that smartphones had made it easier than ever, this little skill felt almost unnecessary.
No matter the era, memorizing someone’s phone number has always been something that typically happens only when two people are very close.
It’s not just a string of digits.
It’s a sign — a clear and effortless way of showing that someone genuinely cares.
Shi Yuan’s heart softened in a way he’d never felt before — all because of how naturally and openly Lin Wangye had shown his concern.
But that warmth was soon overshadowed by a pang of discomfort — all because of that other name.
Lin Wangye was always restless — even when he wasn’t particularly hungry, he’d still want to snack on something.
He rummaged through the cabinet, grabbed a box of chocolate sticks he’d swiped from his dad, and tore the packaging open. Then, dragging his chair closer to the bed on purpose, he leaned in as close to Shi Yuan as possible, his delicate profile catching the light.
Shi Yuan stared at the crown of Lin Wangye’s head and spoke in a calm tone. “You and Lin Shen seem pretty close.”
Lin Wangye nodded. “Yeah, we are.”
Shi Yuan’s gaze dropped for a moment, but when he looked up again, he saw Lin Wangye pressing a chocolate stick to his lips, nibbling away at it like a little hamster storing food for winter.
Shi Yuan’s lashes flickered slightly. “So… how did you two meet?”
Hearing the question, Lin Wangye quickly finished the chocolate stick in his mouth and began recounting the whole story — from how they first met in an internet cafe, to how he ended up being taken in by Lu Chengxuan’s family, and even how they played in Phantom Wail tournaments together.
Shi Yuan listened quietly, taking it all in. After a moment, he said thoughtfully, “So… you’re actually closer to Lin Shen than Lu Chengxuan.”
“Of course!” Lin Wangye blinked a few times, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, as if remembering something, he glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before adding in a hushed voice, “Lu Chengxuan’s like a block of wood — hanging out with him is so boring.”
Lu Chengxuan was a well-known ice-cold heartthrob at Seventh High, so Shi Yuan had heard a thing or two.
Thinking about how Lin Wangye lived at Lu Chengxuan’s house, Shi Yuan couldn’t help but ask, “Are his family like that too?”
“Lu Chengxuan says he takes after his dad, so I guess his old man’s probably the same way. But ever since I moved in, his dad’s been overseas, so I’ve never actually met him.”
After saying that, Lin Wangye couldn’t help but cup his face in his hands, his expression softening.
“But his mom… she’s really nice. And she’s so pretty! Super sweet too — always calling me ‘baby,’ ‘angel,’ or ‘cutie.’”
Shi Yuan gazed into Lin Wangye’s bright, sparkling eyes and couldn’t help but smile. “Looks like you really like those sweet nicknames.”
“Of course,” Lin Wangye grinned, his eyes narrowing with amusement. Then, testing the waters, he asked, “Can you call me that too?”
Hearing this, Shi Yuan mentally replayed those affectionate nicknames from earlier.
Truthfully, he thought every one of them suited Lin Wangye perfectly — warm, playful, and full of life. Yet somehow, when the words reached his throat, they refused to come out. After a brief pause, he swallowed them back down.
If anyone else had asked him that, Shi Yuan probably would’ve seen it as a lack of boundaries — maybe even felt a little offended by the teasing tone.
But this was Lin Wangye.
And for some reason, he couldn’t imagine that kind of intention coming from him.
After thinking it over, Shi Yuan realized he didn’t actually dislike those nicknames — but he couldn’t bring himself to say them either. The reason was simple — if an older person called someone younger by those names, it would seem normal.
But between two people of the same age, it was too intimate—too suggestive.
His hesitation wasn’t because of discomfort with the closeness they implied… but because those words needed a reason.
A bond — something deeper.
And what that bond was… well, that was obvious.
They’d only known each other for a day. The fact that his mind was already wandering in that direction felt absurd.
Yet in truth, Lin Wangye was deliberately teasing him.
He stayed quiet, closely watching Shi Yuan’s reaction. Noticing the hesitation — the way Shi Yuan started to speak but held back — Lin Wangye sighed in disappointment.
‘Yeah… he’s still the same,’ Lin Wangye thought to himself.
Shi Yuan was just like before — used to being alone, protective of his personal space, unwilling to let people get too close.
Any kind of affectionate nickname would only make him feel awkward and uncomfortable — distant, even.
In his past life, Lin Wangye had only managed to slip through the cracks of Shi Yuan’s guarded heart because of the natural advantage of youth. That youthful innocence had allowed him to hover at the edges of Shi Yuan’s inner world, basking in that rare warmth and affection for a few precious years.
But before he’d had the chance to truly step inside, his footsteps had been too loud — and Shi Yuan had noticed.
Just imagining Shi Yuan calling him ‘baby’ or anything remotely sweet made Lin Wangye’s heart race and his face flush. His whole body tingled like he’d been hit with an electric current, goosebumps rising on his skin.
Yet in his previous life, the only nickname he’d ever earned was ‘Xiao Lin.’
And that was only because his dad was ‘Old Lin.’
He’d thought he could use his youthful charm to smooth-talk his way into something more special.
But unfortunately… that plan had flopped.
Not wanting to push too hard this time — worried he’d scare Shi Yuan off again — Lin Wangye quickly gave himself an out. Rubbing his nose awkwardly, he muttered,
“Hmm… yeah, kinda cheesy. Forget it, forget it.”
Shi Yuan’s eyes lifted slightly. In a warm, gentle tone, he asked, “What does Lin Shen usually call you?”
“Oh, him?” Lin Wangye scratched the back of his head and chuckled. “Sometimes ‘Xiao Lin,’ sometimes ‘son.’”
Shi Yuan’s expression darkened slightly, and he answered with a quiet “Mm.”
Lin Wangye watched him closely, then silently mouthed a few words before slowly enunciating, “Xu… Sui… Nian.”
Shi Yuan tilted his head just a little, his soft reply carrying a hint of curiosity. “Hm?”
Lin Wangye grinned. “Your name sounds really nice. Who gave it to you?”
“My grandpa,” Shi Yuan told him.
“Suinian…” Lin Wangye repeated thoughtfully before asking, “Does it have some special meaning?”
Shi Yuan let out a light laugh. “It’s nothing too complicated — just a wish for abundance every year, and peace with every passing season.”
“Ohh… so that’s what it means.”
As their conversation drifted on, Lin Wangye couldn’t help but feel something was off.
In his previous life, ‘Shi Yuan’ wasn’t just Uncle Shi’s stage name as a designer — Lin Wangye had seen his ID before. The name ‘Shi Yuan’ was right there in bold, official print.
So why had he changed his name?
Even stranger — why change his ‘last name’ too?
And this name wasn’t some random choice either — it was personally given by his grandfather, with such a meaningful blessing behind it.
Uncle Shi wasn’t the type to do things without reason. If he chose the name ‘Shi Yuan’, it had to mean something.
Shi — like Sui Nian, it symbolized time.
But that Yuan… it carried more weight than Nian.
Yuan… like— the deep abyss[mfn]Shen Yuan[/mfn].
Shen? Wait, holy crap — Lin Shen?!
What the hell, is this a couple’s name with my dad?!
Traditionally, people avoid saying their parents’ names directly out of respect. Since he hadn’t spent too much time with his dad, Lin Wangye had never paid close attention to details like this.
But now that the thought hit him, he sucked in a sharp breath.
‘Wait… no way… Could my dad have come out of the closet because of Uncle Shi? Were they a thing in their past lives?!’
The more he thought about it, the colder his sweat got. But after piecing things together more carefully, he realized something didn’t add up.
His dad had already come out to the family ages ago.
And besides, Shi Yuan and his dad had just met today.
Not to mention, in his past life, their relationship had always seemed casual and easygoing — just two friends catching up. If something deeper had ever been there, surely there would’ve been some sign.
‘Yeah… yeah, it’s gotta be a coincidence.’
Maybe Shi Yuan had just borrowed his dad’s name as inspiration. Designers get random bursts of creativity like that all the time and name changes aren’t that unusual.
‘Damn, though… nearly gave me a heart attack with that accidental couple name.’
After mentally untangling the whole mess, Lin Wangye sat there, feeling a little embarrassed. He let out a deep breath, quietly exhaling the tension.
Since Shi Yuan had changed his name in his past life for some reason, chances were high he’d do the same this time around. No need to rush — Lin Wangye figured he’d just take things step by step.
With that thought tucked away, Lin Wangye absentmindedly held the chocolate stick between his lips, then grabbed another one and held it up to Shi Yuan’s mouth.
The rich scent of milk chocolate drifted under Shi Yuan’s nose, and instinctively, he raised his hand to take it.
But before he could grab it, Lin Wangye twisted his wrist away, chin tilting smugly as he let out a casual “Mm.” Then, he poked the chocolate stick against Shi Yuan’s lips, signaling for him to open his mouth.
Shi Yuan froze for a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face before he parted his lips and bit down.
The chocolate stick, crisp and delicate, snapped cleanly in two — half in Shi Yuan’s mouth, the other still in Lin Wangye’s hand.
Lin Wangye glanced down at the piece in his hand, then suddenly clenched his teeth, letting the one he’d originally been holding between his lips drop to the floor.
Without a hint of shame, he popped the remaining half of the broken stick into his mouth.
Shi Yuan wasn’t sure if it was the central heating or something else, but a wave of heat crept up his neck, leaving his ears faintly burning.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
