FQ chapter 45

“Can you even take the exam if you dropped out of college?” Luan Ye laughed. “If so, I’ll give it a try.”

“You’re just full-on doing public service these days, huh?” Xu Song was skeptical. “Totally unlike you.”

“I’m not helpful?” Luan Ye asked.

“You’re not usually into people’s business,” Xu Song said.

It sounded absurd, but for Luan Ye, it was oddly accurate.

“You go to Yunnan for a month and it totally cleansed your soul? No way.”

Luan Ye just smiled silently.

After some banter, Xu Song’s tone turned serious: “If it’s not the environment, then it’s someone.”

“You should be writing novels, not stuck in a photo studio,” Luan Ye said.

“That was a terrible attempt to change the subject,” Xu Song wasn’t having it.

“Is it that not-quite-a-fling you mentioned before? What was his name again—Fan Qing?”

Luan Ye paused before remembering—that conversation had happened while they were shooting: “Good memory.”

Xu Song replied, “Thanks. You only call me a few times a year. If I forgot, that’d be sad… So it is a fling?”

Luan Ye thought back to that conversation.

He had said it wasn’t a fling because their kiss back then was sudden, drunken, and awkward. Afterward, both of them had backed off.

But now…

He thought of Fan Qing turning back just now, just to kiss him.

“It’s not a fling.”

It sounded like a similar answer to last time.

Luan Ye paused for two seconds after speaking, his fingers clenching and then slowly loosening.

In the overly quiet room, he seemed to hear the sound of his heart suspended in mid-air, trembling.

“I… am in a relationship.”

His voice was a little tight, so much so that it broke the rhythm slightly, making it sound hesitant. So he repeated himself.

“I’m in a relationship.”

The heart suspended in mid-air slowly landed.

It wasn’t a fleeting affair—it was real, mutual affection. A relationship.

On the other end of the line, Xu Song was silent for three seconds, then suddenly raised his voice by eight degrees:
“That’s great news!”

“What the hell,” Luan Ye was startled. “What kind of reaction is that?”

“A happy-for-you kind of reaction,” Xu Song sounded as thrilled as if he were the one dating. “Falling in love, that’s such a great thing — love lots, date more! the more the better.”

“…Can you really have more than one?” Luan Ye chuckled, his tone lightening with Xu Song’s. “Being in the entertainment industry too long has really messed you up, Director Xu.”

“I was just saying. Don’t slander me,” Xu Song clicked his tongue. “Meng Zhao is peeling fruit and just turned around holding the knife.”

Meng Zhao was Xu Song’s girlfriend of over four years. Sure enough, a woman’s voice chimed in immediately:
“Don’t slander me! I was just asking if you wanted an apple!”

Luan Ye and Xu Song laughed over the phone for a while. Xu Song asked:
“It’s that Fan Qing I mailed the package to last time, right?”

“Mm,” Luan Ye replied. “A local.”

“Willing to take your delivery — sounds like a good person,” Xu Song continued, “What does he do?”

Luan Ye paused:
“Student. Just finished the college entrance exam.”

That response caught Xu Song off guard. After a pause, he asked:
“So… he’s legal, right?”

“What kind of question is that?” Luan Ye couldn’t help laughing.
“He’s eighteen, turning nineteen in a few months.”

“Oh, prime age. Youthful and full of life.”

“Wow, what a compliment,” Luan Ye sipped water.
“If you two didn’t know each other, I’d think he bought you dinner.”

Xu Song responded smoothly:
“How could I let him pay? If there’s a chance, I’ll treat both of you.”

Luan Ye chuckled for a while before stopping:
“I thought…”

“You’d try to talk me out of it,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“Why would I do that?” Xu Song asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe because of the age difference, the distance, the timing… things like that.”

In the brief silence, Luan Ye looked at the long-unused black computer screen, where his smile gradually faded, reflecting back at him.

“Or… because if Bai Mingchuan knew…..”

After all, they mainly shot portraits. In the beginning, Xu Song and Bai Mingchuan were more familiar with each other than with Luan Ye.

Luan Ye started repeating a phrase he’d said countless times:
“If Bai Mingchuan knew, he would—”

“He won’t know,” Xu Song took a deep breath and cut him off.
“Even if he did know, he wouldn’t be upset.”

Luan Ye’s words froze, hanging in mid-air.

On the other end, someone quietly left, and a faint door closing sound followed. Likely, Meng Zhao had gone back to her room to give them privacy.

“…Really?” Luan Ye’s voice was very soft.

The curtains were half-drawn; the room wasn’t very bright. A black bracelet hung from his wrist, faintly revealing some old scars.

A voice long unheard — Bai Mingchuan’s — started playing in his mind again like a broadcast.

“Luan Ye, what did you say to Xiao Cheng in that final call?”

“If Xiao Cheng knew you were hurting yourself like this, he’d be heartbroken.”

“You need to get better quickly so Xiao Cheng won’t worry.”

“You don’t really love photography, nor are you suited for it. You’re only persisting so Xiao Cheng won’t be disappointed, right?”

“Xiao Cheng stayed in California forever. If you leave, he and mom will be sad too.”

Luan Ye stared ahead as the dark computer screen expanded, as if it were swallowing his whole vision.

Day after day, ever since he got sick, the same things repeated.

Alright. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“After what happened back then, Bai Mingchuan didn’t allow anyone to contact you. He was afraid it would trigger your… condition. Later, even when we did talk to you again, everyone avoided the topic.”

Xu Song’s voice suddenly came through the phone, snapping Luan Ye back to focus.

“So I don’t know exactly what happened eight years ago. But Luan Ye, I need to remind you…”

His voice was serious, even a bit stern.

“Bai Mingcheng’s death was an accident.”

Luan Ye’s hand clenched instinctively.

“No one could have predicted it. You just happened to be the last person by his side, a witness to his…” Xu Song paused, noticing his own rising emotion.
“…departure.”

“Even if someone had to take responsibility, it shouldn’t fall entirely on you.”

“…I was supposed to go with him,” Luan Ye finally said after who knows how long.

“I was supposed to go with him that day, but I didn’t. I let him go alone.”

“That’s not your fault.” Xu Song’s tone was hoarse. “This isn’t all on you. There’s no reason for you to be stuck in the past alone.”

After a long while, Luan Ye smiled toward the phone:
“When are you treating us?”

“Huh?” Xu Song was confused.

“Didn’t you say you’d buy us dinner?” Luan Ye’s tone was normal again.
“You praised him so much — not introducing you two feels wrong now.”

The subject shift was jarring and abrupt, but Xu Song only faltered for a second before picking it up naturally.

“Sometime soon. We’re actually planning a trip to Yunnan. When we’re there, dinner will be easy.”

Luan Ye paused:
“You’re coming to Yunnan?”

“Meng Zhao wants to. It’s been planned for a while, and we finally got a break. Figured we’d drop by and see you.” Xu Song added, “Not chasing you—I’ve got my own partner.”

“…You’re making it hard for me to respond to that,” Luan Ye sighed.

“Then just meet us at the airport — can we have that meal or not?” Xu Song teased.

Luan Ye laughed:
“Sure, I’ll be in touch.”

…..

The topic finally shifted to professional matters. Though Luan Ye hadn’t worked on professional video shoots, he had a solid foundation. Their conversation went smoothly. Xu Song explained a lot about filming techniques and recommended a few human-interest documentaries and directors he knew.

The call lasted over two hours. When he hung up, he heard Granny Mu downstairs asking what he wanted for dinner.

Luan Ye didn’t go down, just stepped out to the second-floor landing, leaned over the railing, and replied:
“I’m not eating, not hungry.”

“What did you eat that you’re not hungry?” Granny Mu frowned.
“You won’t sleep well if you go to bed hungry.”

“Flower cakes.”

“Little one Xiao Qing brought them?”

Fan Qing had been visiting Luan Ye often lately; Granny Mu had seen him several times. But every time she brought him up, Luan Ye couldn’t help but laugh:
“Why do you always add ‘little’ to his name?”

“Still a student kid,” Granny Mu laughed,
“Little one.”

Luan Ye nodded with a smile:
“Yeah, little Fan Qing brought them.”

“Cakes aren’t filling,” Granny Mu shook her head,
“Come down and make rice noodles if you get hungry later.”

Luan Ye smiled and replied, “Okay.” Once she was back in the kitchen, he returned to his room.

He hadn’t watched the documentaries Xu Song sent yet. He collapsed onto his bed, burying himself in the blanket.

The blanket blocked most of the light. In the confined space, tightly wrapped, and with the absolute silence, Luan Ye felt a bit more comfortable.

He didn’t know whether he fell asleep. Every time he drifted toward unconsciousness, something in his mind would tense, snapping him awake again.

After a while, someone pushed open the door. Luan Ye’s eyes opened immediately, and he looked up.

Oh. Little Fan Qing.

Fan Qing paused:
“Were you… asleep?”

“No.” Luan Ye retreated under the covers again. “Just lying down.”

Fan Qing watched him for a few seconds, quietly closed and locked the door, then walked over to Luan Ye’s bed.

“You didn’t eat?” Fan Qing asked.
“It’s already eight.”

Had it been that long?

Luan Ye kept his eyes closed. “Nope.”

There was a pause. Luan Ye vaguely heard something being placed to the side.

The bed dipped slightly. He felt Fan Qing climb in the bed and hug him through the blanket.

Fan Qing’s head was near his neck. The blanket was thick, so warmth barely transferred, but Luan Ye could still feel how close they were — like a perfect fit.

“Did you take your clothes off before getting in bed?” Luan Ye suddenly asked.

Fan Qing glanced at him. His eyes were still closed. He rested his chin in the crook of Luan Ye’s neck and muttered:
“I’ll help you wash the sheets.”

Luan Ye chuckled.

As Fan Qing spoke, his breath brushed Luan Ye’s skin, tickling a bit. But it brought a feeling he hadn’t had before — peace.

That tense nerve in his mind finally relaxed and went quiet.

They stayed like that for a while — ten minutes, half an hour, or maybe longer. Luan Ye let out a long breath, lifted his head, and looked at Fan Qing.

Fan Qing hadn’t fallen asleep. Their eyes met.

Fan Qing asked,
“Are you hungry now?”

“I brought you some buckwheat cakes and yogurt, bought them in town.”

After a moment, Fan Qing heard Luan Ye chuckle softly.

“Then I’ll have a little,” he said.