Tan Xiao had stayed in Ronggang throughout the summer. Because Tan Qing’s home was quite far from the dance studio where she took classes, she chose to stay in a hotel. Tan Qing drove her to the building and only left after watching her enter the elevator.
A sudden emergency alert popped up on his phone: Ronggang has issued a yellow rainstorm warning! In the next six hours, rainfall in the main city area is expected to exceed 50 millimeters. Precaution is advised.
Tan Qing switched to voice navigation, setting the destination to a cemetery in the suburbs.
Although it was open 24 hours, few people were willing to visit graves at night. When signing in at the entrance, the administrator gave Tan Qing a few extra glances, recognizing him as a celebrity. The man assumed Tan Qing must usually be too busy and only had time at night to pay his respects.
In truth, Tan Qing visited more than once a year. He always came on Ling Ni’s birthday and the anniversary of her death, as well as on Mother’s Day and the Winter Solstice. He often overlooked Qingming Festival, since he remembered that Ling Ni disliked such holidays. She only liked lively occasions.
Tan Qing knelt before Ling Ni’s grave, sitting silently like a statue for a long time.
He wasn’t one to talk to a gravestone. It was nothing more than a cold piece of granite, not his mother. Words from the living were meant for themselves, and if the dead truly had spirits in heaven, Tan Qing figured Ling Ni wouldn’t want to hear about the latest developments in the lives of her former lovers.
Tan Qing didn’t know if she had ever truly loved anyone. He remembered that when he was a child, nosy neighbors had once advised her to change his name. She always agreed out loud but never followed through. For a long time, Tan Qing believed it was because his mother hadn’t let go of the past, so she kept the name he’d been given at birth.
As he grew older, witnessing the steady stream of people passing through her life, he realized Ling Ni seemed capable of showing affection to anyone, but never really cared deeply about anyone.
Before starting his third year of middle school, Tan Qing personally asked if she wanted him to change his name. Ling Ni casually replied, “Too much paperwork. If you want to change it, just do it yourself when you’re an adult.”
“Would it affect your chances of remarrying?” Tan Qing asked.
Ling Ni was sweeping the floor at the time. She let out a chuckle and said carelessly, “If that’s really a problem, changing your name isn’t going to fix it.”
Tan Qing had always felt like he was the seed that had sprouted into the pain in her life. But from that moment on, he realized his guilt was just his own misplaced emotion. He also recognized that he hadn’t truly empathized with his mother. Instead, he had only acted like he understood her, hoping to justify his own existence.
It was as if he had been born to be this hypocritical.
“If you were here, what would you want me to do?” Tan Qing gently wiped the engraved name on the tombstone with a tissue in hand. This was the main reason he came each time. This cold stone was his final link to his mother, and he had to keep it tidy and presentable.
At night, rain fell, thunder cracked suddenly, and strong winds surged in.
The windshield wipers moved at high speed but still couldn’t keep up with the dense raindrops. The windows were a blur. For safety, Tan Qing drove very slowly and didn’t return to the city until the early hours.
In the brightly lit room, Zhu Lianzhen lay on the bed, holding a velvet jewelry box in his hand, carefully examining the pair of earrings inside.
Each one looked great even when worn alone. Zhu Lianzhen didn’t know just how closely Tan Qing had observed him to be so thoroughly aware of his preferences.
Suddenly, he had the urge to argue with Tan Qing—he wanted to know what kind of questions Tan Qing would ask when he was pushed to his limit.
If Tan Qing didn’t speak up, then he would be the one to ask: What you want to give me isn’t just this, right? Then show me everything—let me see it all.
“You’re always like this,” Zhu Lianzhen murmured while staring at the ceiling. He closed the jewelry box and placed it over his left chest.
＊＊＊
Back then, after he accepted the fact that he could be attracted to the same sex, Zhu Lianzhen began to worry about how to explain it to his parents. He also wondered whether he should hide it from Pei Qiao.
Tan Qing told him, “Just take things as they come. Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet, Xiao Zhu.”
Zhu Lianzhen thought that made sense. Pei Qiao was so busy, she probably wouldn’t have time to monitor their private lives. Just as he was beginning to relax, a new concern popped up. “But what about the others?”
Living and training together with his teammates every day made it hard not to be noticed. Being found out wasn’t the real issue; he just feared they might speak carelessly and let something slip in public.
Tan Qing thought for a moment, then said, “People don’t take them seriously anyway. Most likely, it’ll just sound like a joke. If that really happens, we just need to take the lead and make it sound even more over-the-top.”
The methodical way Tan Qing spoke always had a reassuring effect. Zhu Lianzhen quickly cast off his nervousness. Seeing his brows relax, Tan Qing said, “I know you hate lying the most. If I hadn’t been so impulsive that day—”
“Don’t feel guilty about things that already happened,” Zhu Lianzhen cut him off. “It’s true I don’t like lying to others, but what I hate even more is lying to myself. If you hadn’t kissed me that day, I wouldn’t have realized that I’m actually… into guys.”
“Into guys?” Tan Qing looked down at him. “You mean other guys too?”
Not long after their relationship had changed, Zhu Lianzhen still wasn’t used to Tan Qing speaking so bluntly, and he himself was a little shy about expressing his feelings. But once Tan Qing asked, he never avoided answering. “Of course I only like you! I just get embarrassed saying it out loud. How could you not notice!”
Tan Qing couldn’t help but smile. He reached out and smoothly pulled Zhu Lianzhen into his arms, abruptly closing the distance between them. His nose brushed the corner of Zhu Lianzhen’s eye as he replied in a low voice, “I did notice. I understand everything you say.”
He lowered his head further and kissed Zhu Lianzhen.
Their lips and tongues moved slowly, but their bodies heated up rapidly. Zhu Lianzhen felt a bit dizzy and quickly turned his face away to break the kiss, breathing heavily. Tan Qing licked his lips lightly and asked, “You don’t know how to breathe?”
Zhu Lianzhen shot back, “Of course I do. I’m a good swimmer.”
Suddenly, Tan Qing kissed him again, this time with far more intensity, completely throwing off his breathing rhythm. Zhu Lianzhen could almost feel the oxygen being pulled from his lungs, a drowning kind of suffocation crashing over him. But in a fleeting moment, he seemed to seize the gap Tan Qing had deliberately left and gasped urgently for air.
He instinctively leaned back and fell onto the bed. Tan Qing raised his hand to cushion the back of his head, softening the impact just in time. Zhu Lianzhen finally found his chance to escape, turned his flushed face away, and pursed his lips tightly, refusing any more kisses.
Supporting his own weight with his arms so he wouldn’t press down completely, Tan Qing held Zhu Lianzhen in place, leaving him no choice but to look at him.
“That’s enough, okay? My lips are going numb.” Afraid Tan Qing might kiss him again, Zhu Lianzhen quickly complained first. Because his voice was too soft, it sounded like he was acting spoiled.
Staring into those clear eyes, Tan Qing could easily lose himself in them. He brushed aside the hair on Zhu Lianzhen’s forehead and said gently, “I’m joining the film crew tomorrow. I won’t see you for quite a few days.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “I can visit the set when you’re free?”
Tan Qing shook his head. “The place is pretty remote. You’d need a local to drive you there. Just wait for my call.”
“Okay. Do your best.” Zhu Lianzhen smiled at him.
The crew’s schedule was irregular, and sometimes Tan Qing had to film until late into the night before getting to rest. Zhu Lianzhen knew he wouldn’t call past midnight, but still, he couldn’t help staying up a bit later every night. Every morning, the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was check his phone to see if Tan Qing had sent a message during the night.
That habit lasted for a long time, even after Tan Qing had wrapped filming and returned to Ronggang. Zhu Lianzhen still found himself unconsciously waiting for a call around midnight. When they lay in bed together, Tan Qing once asked why he had to check his phone every few minutes and whether he had something to do.
Only then did Zhu Lianzhen realize what was going on, and he laughed at himself. Tan Qing looked at him with a puzzled expression, but Zhu Lianzhen didn’t explain. He raised his hand, trying to fist bump him. Instead of responding in kind, Tan Qing lowered his head and kissed his knuckles gently.
Zhu Lianzhen felt ticklish and pulled his hand back, replacing it with his own lips as he took the initiative to kiss him.
After being apart for many days, their patience had nearly been worn thin by longing. The kiss lasted a long time before they finally pulled away. Zhu Lianzhen rested his chin on Tan Qing’s shoulder, realizing that his throat had gone dry and hoarse. Feeling a little sleepy, he mumbled, “Did we forget to close the bedroom window? I can hear the wind.”
“It’s going to rain. I’ll go check.” Tan Qing let go of him and walked to the window. Sure enough, there was a small gap. Just as he was about to close it tightly, Zhu Lianzhen suddenly said, “Wait a second.”
Zhu Lianzhen sat up in bed, tilting his ear toward the window as if seriously listening for something. After a few seconds, he said, “I think I hear a cat meowing.”
That was the day Naisi met Zhu Lianzhen.
“If we’d found it any later, it probably wouldn’t have made it through today. Just look how heavy the rain is now.” Zhu Lianzhen sat in the passenger seat with two towels on his lap, wrapped around a dirty kitten. He poked it from time to time to make sure it was still alive. “Good thing I have sharp ears and could hear you crying out.”
Tan Qing drove them to the nearest 24-hour animal hospital. The vet cleaned the kitten with warm water and conducted a series of examinations. The results weren’t optimistic.
“Let’s start with two anti-inflammatory injections. Tonight, we’ll put it in an incubator with oxygen support,” the vet said. “It’s been starving for too long, its condition’s very poor, and the temperature dropped sharply today. I can’t guarantee it’ll make it through the night. You should prepare yourselves.”
After paying all the fees, they went home and waited for an update from the vet the next day. Sitting in the car, Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Tan Qing tried to comfort him. “It still had the strength to meow earlier, which means it really wants to survive. You’ve done everything you could. Now, just believe in it.”
Zhu Lianzhen gave a gloomy “Mm” in response.
As the rain grew heavier, he started worrying that there might be more stray kittens near their home. Tan Qing went with him, holding an umbrella and flashlight, as they searched the area. Fortunately, there was only that one.
Back home, the two of them took hot showers. Zhu Lianzhen, exhausted from the night’s ordeal, fell asleep as soon as he lay down.
Tan Qing didn’t even get the chance to say, “Your hair’s still wet.” Zhu Lianzhen was already fast asleep. So, he propped up Zhu Lianzhen’s head with one hand, turned the hair dryer to its lowest setting, and slowly dried his damp hair.
Fans often praised Tan Qing for being “very good at taking care of others,” and this was frequently evident in variety show clips, where his quiet, action-oriented personality showed through. But Tan Qing himself had never paid much attention to this trait—or rather, he didn’t believe he was truly taking care of anyone. As a child, he had simply fulfilled his responsibility to share his mother’s burden; now, the way he treated Zhu Lianzhen with care was simply because he wanted to.
Besides, he could feel that Zhu Lianzhen needed him like this too.
After switching off the hair dryer and looking at Zhu Lianzhen’s sleeping face, Tan Qing suddenly felt the reality of being in a romantic relationship. But the first emotion that emerged in his heart wasn’t happiness or satisfaction—it was a clear-headed thought: how long could this relationship really last?
Love wasn’t an essential part of Zhu Lianzhen’s life, and it had never been a part of Tan Qing’s own life plan. He had once comforted the other with the words “just go with the flow,” but the truth was, even he didn’t know whether allowing emotions to unfold naturally was a good thing or a bad thing.
If the joy they had now ever faded completely one day, he only hoped that Zhu Lianzhen would be forgetful enough not to feel the heartache. As for those ordinary, uneventful days… it would be enough if he remembered them himself.
