The metal casing grew warm from being held too long.
Qi Boyuan had already left, the door closing behind him. Outside the office, the faint murmur of employees talking and moving around barely filtered in.
Li Xuan pressed his fingers against his temple. Before opening his editor, he instinctively pulled up the ‘Reverse Track’ project proposal. The game was set in a post-apocalyptic world, where a group of death row inmates killed the warden, set fire to the prison, and escaped…
After a moment, he closed the document, lowered his gaze, took a sip of water, then shut it completely and went back to coding.
“Xuan-ge,” an admin assistant knocked on the door. “Do you need me to order dinner for you?”
“No need.”
“Alright.” The assistant nodded and was about to leave when Li Xuan called out, “Is Zhao Jizhe still here?”
“Yes, do you want me to call him for you?”
Li Xuan hesitated briefly. “No need.”
….
Autumn nights darkened early. Focused on his screen, Li Xuan hadn’t noticed the passing time until Sheng Min’s call came through. Other than the monitor’s glow, the room was already pitch-black.
“Finished filming?”
“Mm, just wrapped up. Are you home or at the office?”
“At the office.” Li Xuan glanced at the bottom-right corner of the screen. It was almost nine. “…There’s still some work to finish. I’ll be back late. Go to bed first, no need to wait for me.”
“As if I’d wait for you. Don’t flatter yourself.” Sheng Min sounded amused, probably in a good mood after returning to campus.
“How was the meeting with your professor?”
“It was good… It’s been a while since we last met. I’ll tell you more when you get back…” He paused, then asked, “Did you have dinner yet?”
Of course not.
Li Xuan turned on the lights. “I’ll eat in a bit.”
“You always say that.” Sheng Min sighed. “How is this even considered dinner at this hour? What are you planning to eat?”
Li Xuan hadn’t thought about it. “Something from a place downstairs.”
“As if. You never actually go.” Sheng Min muttered, “Your stomach’s already a mess… Should I buy some congee and bring it over? There’s an old restaurant nearby that makes good congee.”
“No need,” Li Xuan replied immediately. “Too much trouble. You’ve been busy all day—you should just go home and rest. I’ll be back soon anyway.”
His refusal was so abrupt that even he felt it was a little off. Sure enough, Sheng Min hesitated on the other end. “What’s up with you lately? Feels like you really don’t want me coming to your office… Yesterday too—I offered to pick you up, and you got off work early to wait for me instead. What’s the deal? Hiding some secret lover in there?”
“What kind of scripts have you been reading lately? Your imagination’s running wild.” Li Xuan absentmindedly pressed the light switch on and off, making the room flicker between brightness and shadow. His tone remained casual. “I just happened to finish early yesterday. You always call me a capitalist, but when I get off work early, you act like I need an excuse… But honestly, I really don’t want you to come. If you’re here, how am I supposed to work?”
“I wouldn’t disturb you.”
“I can’t promise I wouldn’t be distracted.” Li Xuan chuckled. “Besides, once you leave, I’d want to leave with you. But there’s too much work tonight… What should I do? Are you trying to make fun of me on purpose?”
“You’re talking nonsense again.” Sheng Min laughed. “Alright, I won’t bother you. Just eat something and finish your work quickly so you can come home.”
Li Xuan hummed in agreement. “I will. Once I’m done, I’ll head back.”
The beeping of the ended call lingered for a while before Li Xuan put his phone down.
Back at his desk, the tiny tracker still lay quietly beside his mouse.
He recalled Sheng Min’s joke, and his throat tightened.
Hiding a lover—of course he was hiding him. But how long could he keep him hidden? How long could he keep Sheng Min safe?
He could wade through rivers and cross seas, but how could he dare let Sheng Min even touch a single ripple?
Strike where it hurts. Qi Boyuan truly lived up to their years of knowing each other.
Most of the office lights had gone out, leaving only a single lamp by the door. But across from him, Qi Boyuan’s office was still lit.
Li Xuan glanced at it, then looked away. He shut his own office door, picked up his coat, and slowly walked over to the still-lit workstation. With a gentle knock, he tapped on the desk.
“Zhao Jizhe…”
Zhao Jizhe was pretending to be asleep—he was quite convincing, actually—but he hadn’t expected Li Xuan to suddenly call him. Caught off guard as he feigned waking up, he scratched his head awkwardly. His sleeve slipped a little, revealing the scattered scars on his arm.
“…You’re still here? I must’ve dozed off. I’ll get going now…”
He fumbled to gather his things, though there wasn’t much to pack, and stole a glance at Li Xuan.
“…Nineteen, you work too hard every day… You have so much money now, there’s really no need…”
His words were sincere.
When they were little, back in the orphanage, he had found Li Xuan hiding in the grass near the railing, reading by the streetlight outside. At that time, he had come looking for Li Xuan with the same concerned expression, the same worried tone.
“Nineteen, it’s too late. Stop reading and go to sleep. If the caretaker catches you, she’ll scold you again… Here, this is the milk they handed out this afternoon. You weren’t around… You drink it. I already had mine, this one’s for you…”
It was that cheap, artificially flavored milk. Li Xuan had never liked it, but no matter how many times he said so, Zhao Jizhe never seemed to remember.
“Let’s go.”
Li Xuan watched as Zhao Jizhe shifted a few sheets of paper around meaninglessly.
“You don’t need to take anything.”
He walked out first, waiting at the door for a moment. Zhao Jizhe followed, looking flustered and a little surprised.
“Nineteen, you were waiting for me? …Or is there something you need?”
Li Xuan didn’t answer. He pressed the elevator button in silence, and Zhao Jizhe, still confused, trailed after him all the way to the parking garage. He hesitated for a moment by the car, only getting in when Li Xuan told him to.
“Nineteen, where are we going?” Zhao Jizhe asked, a bit nervous.
“Are you heading home? …I noticed you don’t seem to get along with your adoptive father. You don’t live together, do you?”
Normally, Li Xuan found Zhao Jizhe’s constant inquiries irritating, even exhausting. But right now, he just felt tired.
It wasn’t just since getting out of prison. Even back in the orphanage, Zhao Jizhe was always asking where he was, if he had met anyone new…
“We’re family. I’m your older brother. It’s only right for me to care about you.”
When had this line first started?
“The kids who came to the orphanage with me were all adopted.”
Zhao Jizhe had walked out of the director’s office, shoulders slumped. The kind-looking woman had said, “We were hoping for a pretty little girl instead.”
“So what?” Li Xuan had replied flatly, flipping through a tattered book.
Zhao Jizhe had been adopted once too, but when that family’s lost child was found, he was sent back. That had been just before Li Xuan arrived at the orphanage. The caretakers gossiped about it, but Zhao Jizhe never mentioned it. Maybe he was too young to remember.
“Nineteen, that man who came last month, he wanted to adopt you. Why didn’t you go? If you had, you would have had parents, a real family. The kids at school wouldn’t call us unwanted anymore.”
“I already have parents. They’re gone, but that doesn’t mean they never existed.” Li Xuan had retorted impatiently. “I don’t need anyone else.”
Zhao Jizhe had never heard anyone say something like that before. He had stared, stunned, as Li Xuan got up and walked away.
That night, Zhao Jizhe had come to find him again.
“I think you’re right. I have parents too…” He sat down beside Li Xuan, tugging at a blade of foxtail grass.
“I’ve decided. We don’t need to be adopted. Last time Big Mouth came back with his new mom, he only wanted to show off his new toy plane. And honestly, it wasn’t even that great. A bamboo dragonfly is way better… So we don’t need new parents, but I still want a family. Every time I fill out a form, that box is always empty, and the teacher always looks at me…”
“How about this? You be my family, and I’ll be yours. I’m older, so I’ll be the big brother. My deskmate has a little brother—now I’ll have one too…”
Ridiculous. Li Xuan had thought dismissively. What nonsense.
If a lie is repeated a hundred times, it becomes the truth. What about a joke?
More than ten years had passed, and Zhao Jizhe was still saying the same things. We’re family. I care about you. Where do you live now? What are you thinking?
“Sometimes I think… if only you didn’t have so many questions.”
Li Xuan cut him off gently.
It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but strangely, it silenced Zhao Jizhe. He stayed quiet the entire way to the outskirts of the city, until the car stopped near a newly built amusement park. His face still held that uneasy expression.
“Get out.”
“Where is this?”
Li Xuan pulled open the door. “Get out, and you’ll see.”
A sharp wind bit at them as they stepped outside. It was late, and the park had already closed. Without the decorative lights, the Ferris wheel lost its romance, its cabins swaying precariously in the dark.
The bustling food street from earlier was now deserted, only a few stubborn vendors shivering in the cold, hoping for any last customers.
Across the street, a French restaurant stood in contrast, exuding an air of exclusivity. The well-dressed waiters inside would glance at each guest’s attire before adjusting their smiles and saying, “Welcome.”
Li Xuan had no particular fondness for Western cuisine, but all the nearby restaurants had already closed. He glanced at the menu and ordered at random.
Unluckily, several dishes were unavailable.
“Apologies, sir,” the waiter explained. “We use only the freshest ingredients, so we don’t stock too much at once.”
Li Xuan simply handed back the menu. “Just bring whatever’s available.”
After the waiter left, Zhao Jizhe hesitated before speaking.
“Have you ever been to this amusement park?” He was cautious, trying to make conversation. “I think Zhu Zhou mentioned it once… Some kind of IP-themed park? I don’t really get it…”
“I came before it was built. You were here too.” Li Xuan picked up the sparkling water from the table. “Before this, it was a checkpoint for trucks entering the city. Before that, it was a dry bridge. They tore it down.”
Zhao Jizhe froze for a second.
When he turned back to look out the window, his expression was tinged with nostalgia, lost in old memories.
It took a while before he finally said, “I don’t recognize it anymore.”
Who would? Cities were always changing.
What had been a roof tile yesterday was just dust in the earth today.
This had been their first stop upon arriving in N City—homeless strangers following that heavy, lumbering bus, like cargo in a boat tossed by the waves. The cycle of sunrise and sunset, clear skies and rain passed by, and when the bus finally stopped again, they had arrived at a completely unfamiliar city, one they had only ever seen on TV or in textbooks.
When he got a clear view of the massive landmark in the distance, Zhao Jizhe actually wanted to leave.
“I don’t want to be here.”
He was too afraid. Looking at their own worn-out clothes, every well-dressed man and woman passing by seemed to him as if they might turn into monsters the next second. Their entire lives had only consisted of the gray, square sky above the orphanage, the farthest they had ever been was school. A teacher who had once gone on a business trip to a big city had told them that many people there lived lives they had never even heard of.
His classmates had listened with envious, dreamy expressions. Zhao Jizhe thought it didn’t sound all that interesting.
He refused to get off the bus. “Nineteen… let’s just go back… I don’t like it here.”
He wanted to go somewhere smaller, somewhere like the orphanage, where he could find a hiding place that made him feel safe.
But Li Xuan had already made up his mind to stay. “If you want to go back, go by yourself.” He handed over all the money he had. “Take it. Use it to change the dressing on your hand. Go wherever you want—we’re already this far, they won’t find us again.”
