FQ chapter 49

Luan Ye’s sleeping posture was very proper. He curled up, head buried under the covers, motionless through the night.
The bed was 1.8 meters wide, and he took up barely a third of it—very space-efficient.

Maybe because they had talked so late, or because he hadn’t spoken so much in a long time and finally felt relaxed—either way, he slept deeply.
Fan Qing didn’t want to wake him, but worried he’d suffocate under the covers, so every now and then, he’d gently pull the blanket away from Luan Ye’s face so he could breathe.

Eventually, Luan Ye must have sensed it.
Unconsciously, he rolled toward Fan Qing and ended up lying on his chest, finally emerging from the covers.

…..

The next day, when Fan Qing woke up, it was already broad daylight, and Luan Ye beside him still seemed to be asleep. Fan Qing moved very quietly, getting out of bed without a sound to wash up.

The clothes he wore yesterday were a bit dirty—probably stained with dye or something from the paper studio. He hadn’t noticed last night, but under the daylight, it looked quite obvious.

He hesitated for a moment but still put them on.

He needed to get back while it was still early. Otherwise, if Granny Mu and Qiao Feibai saw him coming out of Luan Ye’s room first thing in the morning… it’d be quite awkward.

Even though he could brush it off with an excuse like being drunk or something else, Fan Qing still felt a bit guilty for some reason.

When he came out of the bathroom, Luan Ye turned over in bed, his voice raspy with sleep.

“You’re up this early?”

“Got used to it. I always wake up around this time,” Fan Qing replied. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Luan Ye tilted his head to glance at him. “You heading out?”

“Yeah, going back to change clothes. Granny Mu and the others will be up soon,” Fan Qing walked to the bed. “Wouldn’t be good if they saw.”

Luan Ye chuckled at that and lay back down. “Alright, go ahead.”

His hair had come undone last night, and a few strands messily fell across his face. Fan Qing couldn’t help but reach out to brush them aside, letting his hand linger by Luan Ye’s cheek a little longer.

“You have work this afternoon, right?”

Luan Ye turned his face slightly, Fan Qing’s fingers brushing across his skin.

“Yeah. Photo editing, video cutting.”

“I’ll come by again this afternoon then.”

“Sure, come.”

Fan Qing withdrew his hand. “I’m off.”

He turned and headed for the door, but just two steps out, he rushed back in and quickly shut the door.

Hearing the commotion, Luan Ye looked over. “Huh?”

“Granny Mu’s in the courtyard,” Fan Qing turned back, “sweeping.”

“She’s an early riser. Once she’s done sweeping, she heads out,” Luan Ye said. “Just wait a bit.”

“Oh,” Fan Qing replied.

The curtains facing the courtyard were drawn. Fan Qing lifted a corner—sure enough, Granny Mu swiftly finished sweeping, grabbed a basket from the kitchen, and headed out in a hurry—probably going grocery shopping.

Fan Qing waited another two minutes before speaking. “Okay… I’m off then.”

Luan Ye, looking like he was about to fall back asleep, waved at him lazily.

Fan Qing opened the door, but again, after two steps, he came back in and closed it.

Luan Ye looked at him a second time.

“…Qiao Feibai’s up,” Fan Qing whispered as they made eye contact. “Shit, does he always wake up this early?”

Luan Ye didn’t reply—he simply leaned back and burst into laughter. Fan Qing watched as his whole body shook with suppressed laughter on the bed.

“Oh god.”

This weird, inexplicable affair-like vibe.

Fan Qing stood by the door, a little exasperated, but also found it a bit funny.

Once Luan Ye had laughed enough, he patted the empty space beside him and said cheerfully, “Come on, baby, if you can’t leave, get back in bed for a bit.”

Fan Qing pursed his lips, walked over, took off his clothes again, and got back into bed. The blanket was still warm with Luan Ye’s body heat—it was very comfortable. Fan Qing reached out to hug Luan Ye, sliding his hand from his back down to his waist, burying his face in the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath.

Warm, alive, and in his arms.

Luan Ye’s left hand touched Fan Qing’s face and rested on his neck.

Last night, after hearing Luan Ye’s past, Fan Qing was initially shocked—shocked by Bai Mingcheng’s death.

That night in Shangri-La, Luan Ye had mentioned how harsh Bai Mingcheng was with him. Fan Qing, caught up in his own emotions, hadn’t really noticed Luan Ye’s tone. Thinking back on it, even though Luan Ye had mentioned having a boyfriend, he rarely talked about him, and never contacted him.

After the initial shock, Fan Qing just felt heartache.

He pulled back slightly, holding the hand Luan Ye had placed on his neck, brushing his wrist gently.

The bracelet slipped down, revealing the uneven texture of scars under his fingertips.

“Back then… were you alone?”

“Not exactly,” Luan Ye paused. “Bai Mingchuan—Bai Mingcheng’s older brother—he came too.”

Bai Mingcheng’s death left Luan Ye with deep guilt: for the argument they had, for rejecting Mingcheng’s plan to go to Gaza, for parting on bad terms, for not realizing how perfectionist and severely anxious Mingcheng was—almost to the point of obsession.

He felt even more guilty toward Bai Mingcheng’s parents, who had treated him like their own son.

Bai Mingcheng’s mother fell gravely ill from the grief, nearly bedridden in the hospital. Bai Mingcheng’s father, holding it together while caring for her, also quickly deteriorated. Bai Mingcheng’s death had outed their relationship, and at the funeral, his parents, in tears, clutched Luan Ye’s hands, asking what had happened between them in Mexico. Why did Luan Ye come back alone and leave their son behind? What were their last words to each other?

Luan Ye didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. He couldn’t even say “I’m sorry”—it felt too light in the face of parents who had just lost their son.

Not long after the funeral, Luan Ye attempted suicide by slitting his wrists in the house he shared with Bai Mingcheng in California. It was Bai Mingchuan who found him.

Bai Mingchuan had come to sort through his brother’s belongings. After rescuing Luan Ye and getting him to the hospital, he was, by the hospital’s order, made Luan Ye’s emergency contact and admitted him to the psychiatric ward.

Luan Ye stayed there off and on for a year. Bai Mingchuan remained his emergency contact.

“You didn’t tell your mom?”

Fan Qing regretted asking the moment it left his mouth—of course Luan Ye wouldn’t have.

“No,” Luan Ye gave a small smile. “I was in a really bad place—emotionally, mentally. After I started the meds, I was barely conscious most days. I slept through everything—probably used up a lifetime of sleep. The last time we met, we argued about relationships. Then the next time she’d see me, her son had just tried to kill himself and was dying in a mental hospital… I didn’t want to worry her.”

“And… maybe I just couldn’t face her.” Luan Ye paused and curled his lips. “Couldn’t face her and say, ‘Mom, you were right.’”

Fan Qing tightened his grip and placed Luan Ye’s wrist on his chest. Luan Ye opened his hand and felt the pulse of Fan Qing’s heartbeat through his skin and clothes.

“Now… you don’t have to take medication anymore?” Fan Qing’s voice was muffled.

“No, just at the beginning while I was in the hospital. Then I took them at home for over two years. Eventually, I stopped,” Luan Ye said. “They said I didn’t need them anymore.”

Fan Qing frowned a little. “The doctor said that?”

“Bai Mingchuan said it.”

Fan Qing froze.

“Probably the doctor told him. He was the contact,” Luan Ye said calmly. “I was doing well at that point. I could even go out and take photos. So they stopped the meds.”

“And now you…”

“I’m doing fine.” Luan Ye looked at Fan Qing and gently traced his face. “Even better after meeting you. Almost like I’m healing without needing a cure.”

Fan Qing looked at him for a few seconds, then leaned in and kissed his brow, then moved down to his nose, mouth, and chin.

He got so close, his eyelashes brushed Luan Ye’s skin and made it ticklish. Luan Ye cupped the back of his neck and kissed him on the eyelid.

They lay together for a while longer. This time, it was Luan Ye who got up first. After washing up, he stepped outside to check and then came back to pat Fan Qing’s back.

“Get up and make a run for it. No one’s downstairs now.”

“…Got it,” Fan Qing couldn’t help laughing.

“Oh, your clothes are in the closet—the ones you bought last time.”

Fan Qing looked at him, and Luan Ye smirked. “Told you you’d need them eventually.”

Fan Qing chuckled, got dressed, and went downstairs with Luan Ye. The yard was empty—not even Qiao Feibai was around.

“I’m hungry,” Luan Ye checked the time. “Let’s go eat something.”

“What do you want?”

“Rice noodles. That place by the theater. Their zhajiang sauce is good,” Luan Ye said.

This past month hadn’t gone to waste. Fan Qing nodded with a laugh. Just as they stepped outside, they ran into Qiao Feibai coming down the alley.

“Huh?” Qiao Feibai froze. “You two—”

Luan Ye cut him off smoothly, greeting him like nothing happened: “Morning.”

Qiao Feibai responded reflexively, “Morning.”

“Off to work so early?”

“No, I’ve got a few days off.”

“Not working at Go See the Mountains?”

“No… I’ve got something else going on,” Qiao Feibai walked down. “My parents are coming.”

Luan Ye paused, only just remembering that Aunt Qu and the others had mentioned this during the Torch Festival.

“They have some time off, so they’re coming to see me. They’ll arrive tomorrow morning,” Qiao Feibai smiled awkwardly. “I need to tidy up and book them a hotel.”

“That’s nice.” Luan Ye smiled. “Take them around town while they’re here.”

“Mm.” Qiao Feibai’s round cat-like eyes sparkled. “I was nervous at first—I haven’t made much of myself. But Granny Mu said parents don’t care about that. As long as I’m safe, that’s enough.”

Luan Ye didn’t respond right away.

Fan Qing quickly added, “Didn’t that song of yours blow up? Raise the Sails—Li Ge said he came across it.”

Qiao Feibai had posted a video of himself singing and playing that song. It got a good number of likes—over a hundred thousand.

“Oh, just a small hit.” Qiao Feibai scratched his head, pretending to be modest. “It’s just a bit better than before. Still a long way to go.”

The conversation had veered far off topic, but Fan Qing’s comment brought it back around.

“You came to see Ye-ge so early? When did you arrive? I didn’t see you.”

Fan Qing replied, “This morning.”

“I was here all morning. I only stepped out for five minutes,” Qiao Feibai said.

“He arrived in exactly these five minutes,” Luan Ye said.

Qiao Feibai nodded in a daze. “Oh, what a coincidence. So you guys are—”

“Just grabbing a meal,” Luan Ye said. “Wanna join us?”

“I just ate.” Qiao Feibai, now satisfied with his curiosity, responded briskly, “You two go ahead. I still have to go back and clean.”

Once they were out of the alley, Fan Qing finally couldn’t hold back: “That gave me a scare.”

“What are you scared of?” Luan Ye glanced at him. “Afraid of being caught sneaking out of my bed early in the morning?”

“You—” Fan Qing stared at him for a few seconds, then couldn’t help laughing. “You’re way too direct.”

“I haven’t even said the most direct part yet,” Luan Ye chuckled.

For some reason, Fan Qing laughed too. The two walked along, chatting and laughing. The morning air was fresh, and the snow-capped mountains in the distance made everything feel refreshing and invigorating.

Before they reached the rice noodle shop, Fan Qing’s phone vibrated twice. He took it out and glanced at it—it was a text message. The beginning read: 

[Postal Express] Your parcel ending in 9512…

“You ordered something?” Fan Qing asked.

“Don’t think so,” Luan Ye was caught off guard and leaned over to take a look. “Haven’t felt like shopping these days. The last thing I bought was a camera, I think.”

Fan Qing opened the message and saw that the pickup location was the security office of the city’s No. 1 High School.

He paused for a moment before realizing, “It might be my admission letter.”