FQ chapter 63

The shadow of the trees streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting across the dining table. It wasn’t mealtime, so the restaurant was empty—only Bai Mingchuan and Luan Ye sat by the window.

“Why did you visit the cemetery today?” Bai Mingchuan asked. “The death anniversary is still some time away.”

Hearing those words so casually spoken no longer stirred him. Luan Ye took a few bites of food before answering.

“Just felt like going.”

“Nora said you also visited Mom.”

“You told me she was sick.” Luan Ye looked at him.

“She’s always been in poor health.” Bai Mingchuan’s tone was composed. “Next time, we can go together.”

Luan Ye smiled faintly, but said nothing.

“How have you been these past few months?” Bai Mingchuan asked.

“Pretty good.”

“You haven’t taken your medication for months now. Make time to see a doctor,” Bai Mingchuan said. “See whether treatment should continue.”

“No need,” Luan Ye replied. “I feel much better than before.”

His refusal was so firm that Bai Mingchuan set down his knife and fork, finally raising his eyes to look at him.

The other met his gaze calmly.

“You seem… different after coming back this time,” Bai Mingchuan said.

“Do I?” Luan Ye smiled.

“Maybe it’s because I’m in love now.”

Outside the window, tree shadows swayed in the wind. Bai Mingchuan’s cutlery clattered against the plate, letting out a long, crisp ring.

Narrowing his eyes slightly in the shifting light, he looked at Luan Ye.

“What?”

“I’m in love,” Luan Ye repeated, meeting his gaze. “I met someone after returning home.”

Bai Mingchuan stared at him, silent for a moment.

Too much time had passed since they last met—he suddenly realized Luan Ye’s hair had grown long, tied back neatly, revealing his whole face, composed and self-assured.

But apart from these three months, when he thought further back, his impression of Luan Ye had never been very deep.

When Luan Ye first came to the Bai household, Bai Mingchuan had just graduated from university and was seldom at home due to work. Even on rare visits back, he hardly paid attention to this outsider, who was his younger brother’s age and living under their roof.

Until he discovered the boy was dating his brother.

He didn’t care about his brother’s orientation—truthfully, he often didn’t care about anyone at all. He had once broken up with a girlfriend because even after three dates, he couldn’t remember her face or name. But as an older brother, out of duty or something else, he still spoke with Bai Mingcheng, advising him to be cautious in matters of love, not to go too far.

But Bai Mingcheng, still like a child, insisted at length that his relationship with Luan Ye was genuine love, and begged his brother to keep the secret—while asking him to look after Luan Ye in the future.

“Take care of him?” Bai Mingchuan had laughed. “Forget it—he’s much smarter than you.”

In his mind, Luan Ye’s ability to stay in America for study and work under the guise of dating his brother was indeed a very clever tactic.

He hadn’t taken Bai Mingcheng’s words seriously—until the accident happened.

The day he found Luan Ye after his suicide attempt, Bai Mingchuan rushed him to the hospital. Blood seeped through his shirt, soaking into his skin. On the stretcher, the boy looked as if a gust of wind could snap him in half.

Bai Mingchuan wondered then—what was he trying to obtain?

After stabilizing, he had him transferred to a psychiatric hospital. One day, the hospital called—Luan Ye had locked himself in the bathroom, refusing treatment, refusing to eat. The door was bolted, and staff worried forcing it open would cause harm. They asked if he could come.

At that time, Bai Mingchuan was in an important meeting. By the time he reached California, it was very late. Medical staff crowded the room, knocking repeatedly, pleading through the door. Luan Ye stayed silent inside.

Bai Mingchuan pushed through the crowd and knocked.

“Luan Ye, come out.”

No response.

Patience waning, he ordered everyone to leave. Alone with the boy behind the door, he said:

“Before Mingcheng died, he asked me to look after you. Do you want him to see you like this?”

He added, “Or do you think this would make him happier?”

After half a minute, the door cracked open.

Soaked through in his hospital gown, Luan Ye stared out at him.

His voice was hoarse: “Mingcheng asked you… to take care of me?”

“Yes.” Bai Mingchuan pressed his hand to the door, commanding, “Get changed. Then take your medicine.”

Moments later, he felt the resistance on the other side weaken, and pushed the door open with ease.

The door that had stayed shut against everyone else all day had yielded to him.

Weak from hunger and thirst, Luan Ye extended a hand. As his fingers brushed the hem of Bai Mingchuan’s shirt, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Bai Mingchuan turned to look at him.

The door opened fully. He saw those dark, fathomless eyes, reflecting his own figure.

And suddenly, he felt something subtle—something strange.

As a child, he’d raised a Canary mastiff, an aggressive fighting dog, vicious enough to bite its handler. It took him years of effort to cage and train it, until it obeyed him alone with perfect loyalty.

In the family, only Bai Mingchuan could command it—his pet, his triumph.

That feeling of achievement was incomparable.

But the dog had died of illness during his high school years.

Getting Luan Ye to obey was even easier. Just the mention of Bai Mingcheng’s name could resolve anything.

He began using it, honing the tactic, until it became second nature.

“Mingcheng wouldn’t want this”—he used it skillfully, for his treatment, for his work, for every part of his life.

He knew Luan Ye’s guilt toward Mingcheng and the Bai family, knew his utter isolation. That made it easy to cloak control as care, to use his life for himself.

Not manipulation—use.

During the years of treatment, he used Luan Ye’s life.

And later, even without invoking Mingcheng, he could control him through the guise of care.

Don’t waste time—don’t pursue hobbies, new friends, new lovers.

Photography isn’t for you—don’t wander where I can’t watch you.

Why make those who love you worry—don’t leave my reach, stay where I can see you forever.

When Luan Ye’s condition improved, he began making his own choices. Autonomy was troublesome, but Bai Mingchuan found another way.

Whenever illness returned, Luan Ye’s emotions unraveled, leaving him anxious, fragile. Without being told, he shut himself in, just as he had locked himself in that bathroom.

Luan Ye wasn’t blind to Bai Mingchuan’s hidden control beneath the care. But illness, guilt, and years of dependence made him avoid conflict—silently drifting with the current, even departures like driftwood at sea.

That was exactly what Bai Mingchuan wanted.

He wanted Luan Ye to forever hold that look from the day the door opened—adrift in vast waters, unable to find direction, grasping only him.

He liked it, even relished it—being his savior, his last straw.

And for years, he had enjoyed the fear, silence, pain, and desperate dependence of the sickly boy who clung only to him.

Until Fan Qing appeared.

And said to Luan Ye: You should be a tree.

….

“Gone for over two months, and you come back to tell me you’re in love?” Bai Mingchuan set down his utensils, voice cold. “How long?”

Luan Ye quickly calculated. “Met two months ago. Dating for one month.”

Bai Mingchuan let out a mocking laugh. “That sounds like a fling.”

“I plan to keep dating. Haven’t thought of breaking up. Most likely, it’ll last a lifetime.”

Sipping his white wine, the floral fruitiness fresh on his lips, Luan Ye smiled. “That, to me, is love.”

A moment later, Bai Mingchuan asked, “So?”

“I’m planning to return home,” Luan Ye said.

“The house and studio are yours. I don’t want anything inside. Handle it however you want.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Bai Mingchuan said coldly.

“All the money I earned is in that work account. Nora knows. About seven figures. The password is Mingcheng’s birthday. Give part of it to Nora as a bonus—she’s worked hard these years. The rest, keep for yourself and Aunt Bai.”

As he spoke, his face was calm as still water.

Looking at him, Bai Mingchuan finally realized—this time, he was different from before.

He wasn’t driftwood floating on the sea—he was a sharp spear, breaking the cauldrons and sinking the boats.

“Is this supposed to be compensation?” Bai Mingchuan’s hand pressed against the dining table, his voice cold. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve given for you all these years?”

“This could never make up for it. These past few years, all my work and life were arranged by you. The doctors, the house, the studio…” Luan Ye paused briefly.

“I also thought about not coming back at all, but I kept feeling that I should at least tell you in person—”

“Because I’ve called you ge for more than ten years,” Luan Ye said. “At the very least, for these things, I really am grateful to you.”

“So this is how you repay me?”

Luan Ye looked at him, expressionless. “This is the only way I can repay you.”

“All for this so-called love of yours on your little journey?” Bai Mingchuan asked.

Luan Ye nodded. “Yes.”

Bai Mingchuan’s tone was icy, tinged with contempt. “Someone you’ve known for just a few months—how much can they really like you? Is it worth throwing everything away?”

How much could Fan Qing possibly like him… Luan Ye leaned back, seriously thinking about it.

It had only been a little over two months. The first time they met, the other probably found him annoying. Later, during the hike, things improved a little. That night when he got drunk, he startled the kid. Only after the Torch Festival did he confess, and then until now…

In the long silence, it was as if Luan Ye reviewed every single day of this time. At last, he looked up at Bai Mingchuan.

“I met him in Yunnan, in a small village at the foot of a snow mountain.”

Finally, Luan Ye spoke.

“The first time he took me to the snow mountain, someone told us there was a legend there. Lovers would always receive the snow mountain’s blessing. If their families disapproved, they could die together on the mountain, and the mountain god would bless them on their way to the mythical ‘Third Kingdom.’”

“So, what? You’re trying to say he’d die for you?”

Bai Mingchuan almost laughed out loud. He leaned back slightly against his chair, lowered his gaze to look at Luan Ye across the table, and tapped his fingertip idly on the surface.

“You think someone you’ve only known for a little over two months loves you enough to die for you? To give up their life just to avoid losing you? How old are you now? And you still believe things like that?”

“I’m talking about myself,” Luan Ye said.

When Bai Mingchuan lifted his eyes, Luan Ye was already looking at him, even smiling a little.

“I’m willing.”

Bai Mingchuan’s fingertips froze.

“I can’t speak for how much he loves me, but as for me…”

“Either I leave here to find him. Whether we’re together for a year, ten years, or a lifetime, that’s for me to worry about.”

Luan Ye met Bai Mingchuan’s gaze, and as their eyes locked, he smiled faintly.

“Or I die here. Those are the only two options.”

From beginning to end, his tone was steady, his expression falling into Bai Mingchuan’s eyes as though he were stating the most natural thing in the world.

Like that night in the ambulance, when blood flowed peacefully from his body.

After a long silence, Bai Mingchuan asked, “And what about Mingcheng? You’d leave here for someone else—have you thought about him?”

He looked at Luan Ye. “Do you really love him?”

“I don’t need you to lecture me about love. You have no right, no standing to judge who I should or shouldn’t love.”

Luan Ye met Bai Mingchuan’s eyes.

“If you insist on thinking I’m betraying Bai Mingcheng, then I’ll choose the second option,” Luan Ye said. “Don’t worry. If I can say it, I can do it.”

He loosened his grip, and the dinner knife clattered into the plate. The bracelet on his wrist swayed lightly with the motion.

“The will—I already wrote it on the plane ride back and saved it in my email. No matter if it’s you or anyone else, no one needs to take responsibility for my death. It’ll be my choice, and I’ll go willingly. But—”

He looked at Bai Mingchuan.

“This is the first and the last time I’ll tell you: stop using Bai Mingcheng to pressure me. Stop using that name to control me.”

The sunlight shifted. From somewhere in the distance, a church bell began to toll. Amid the echoing chimes, a flock of white pigeons spread their wings and soared past the window.

After a long time, Bai Mingchuan finally spoke, gazing at Luan Ye: “Someone you’ve only known for a few months—you like him that much?”

“Yes.” Luan Ye nodded, the corners of his lips lifting faintly in the sunlight.

“Just like you said—”

“I love him. Either I live to love him, or I die. That’s how much.”