LMMY chapter 124

They got home around 6 PM.

However, it was deep winter, and the sun had set early, leaving the world as dark as midnight.

After a simple dinner, they lay together on the bed, both with things weighing on their minds, but neither of them brought it up. It was peaceful, as they pressed close to each other, feeling each other’s heartbeat and warmth.

Outside, snowflakes fell, and on the way back, the car radio had said the city would experience the heaviest snowfall in nearly sixty years. But the two of them snuggled up together, managing to create a small world of their own, using the warmth of their entwined limbs to resist the cold.

Sheng Min didn’t know when Li Xuan got up. When he himself woke, it was only five o’clock, and Li Xuan was already gone.

He put on his coat and walked out of the bedroom, seeing the study light still on. Li Xuan was frowning slightly, staring at the computer, deeply focused.

“You’re up?” After about fifteen minutes, Li Xuan finally noticed Sheng Min by the door.

“Want something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” Li Xuan replied. “Why aren’t you still sleeping?”

“I couldn’t go back to sleep once I woke up,” Sheng Min smiled. When he saw Li Xuan extend his hand toward him, he walked over and held it.

“So cold?” Li Xuan pulled him to sit on his lap and turned the air conditioner up a little.

The glow from the computer screen gently illuminated Li Xuan’s defined jawline. The fragility from yesterday seemed to have disappeared overnight. This realization made Sheng Min’s heart ache, and he leaned his forehead against Li Xuan’s shoulder to hide his emotions.

“What’s wrong?” Li Xuan gently rubbed his back. “Cold?”

“No,” Sheng Min shook his head, sitting up straight, and turned to look at the computer screen. The rows of code were beyond his understanding. He lowered his gaze and squeezed Li Xuan’s fingers, whispering, “Do you need money?”

Li Xuan smiled. Sheng Min raised his eyes to look at him, pretending to be angry. “What? Is it shameful to use my money?”

“Are you raising a sugar baby?” Li Xuan teased.

“Yeah.” Sheng Min replied casually. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not.” Li Xuan smiled, then added, “But not right now.”

“Then when?”

“Let’s see after two or three weeks.” Li Xuan casually grasped his hand again.

Sheng Min moved back a little, his palm resting on Li Xuan’s shoulder as he stared into his clear, black-and-white eyes. He didn’t know how Li Xuan was calculating those two or three weeks. Was it for the company’s daily expenses? Connections? Compensation for partners? But he felt asking these questions now would be cruel, so he hugged him again, pressing his ear to Li Xuan’s, “You need to tell me, Li Xuan. I’ll help you. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

The warm breath on Li Xuan’s neck made him touch Sheng Min’s hair. “I know.”

……

The next morning, Li Xuan went to the company and didn’t return at night, working through the night. The same happened the next day.

Things at the company weren’t going well. Although Sheng Min wasn’t clear on the details, nearly a week had passed, and Nook still hadn’t been restored to the major software platforms. It was obvious without even having to ask.

The forecasted heavy snow had arrived a few days later than expected, and the storm was stronger than anticipated. The flowers in the vase, probably damaged during the delivery, wilted after just half a day due to the cold and heat.

Sheng Min threw the wilted flowers away and, just as his phone buzzed, received a text from Li Xuan saying he wouldn’t be coming home that night and that Sheng Min should eat and rest early.

Under Li Xuan’s message, there were two recent messages, one from Deng Jing and one from Zhang Shan.

Standing for too long, the hallway lights went off. Sheng Min lowered his eyes and put away his phone. After thinking for a moment, he packed the radish and oxtail soup from the stove into an insulated box and drove to the software park.

It was dinner time, and there weren’t many people in the office. After the receptionist made a call, she politely said, “Mr. Li is in a meeting. Please wait in his office.”

She glanced curiously at the young man who claimed to be Li Xuan’s family member. His hat and mask covered most of his face, only revealing his beautiful yet strangely familiar eyes.

A relative? A brother? She speculated aimlessly, “Let me take you there.”

“Thank you but…,” Sheng Min lightly shook his head. “I know which office it is.”

Perhaps for some fresh air, the office window was left half-open on such a cold day, and when he entered, it felt much colder than in the lobby.

The wind caused the documents on the desk to flutter, and Sheng Min coughed, walking over to close the window. He set the insulated box on the desk, only to notice a few papers had blown onto the carpet.

He bent down to pick them up and was about to use the paperweight to press them back down when he suddenly glanced at the top page and froze.

It was a legal document from a partner demanding compensation for the losses caused by the game being taken down. The amount was shockingly high; calling it outrageous would not be an exaggeration.

Flipping further, there were several more pages, as if they had all coordinated.

Sheng Min bit his lip. Outside the door, he suddenly heard Li Xuan’s voice, instructing someone on work, his tone unfamiliar and serious.

Hastily putting the document back in place, he was about to step toward the door when it was pushed open from the outside.

Li Xuan saw him, his tired and stern expression softened by a faint smile. He locked the door behind him and kissed Sheng Min’s cheek. “Family member?”

“Otherwise, how would I say it?”

Li Xuan rubbed his hair. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just wanted to see you.” Sheng Min pointed to the insulated box on the desk. “Have you eaten? I brought you soup.”

“That’s just right, I was planning to take a break anyway.” Li Xuan said this, though it wasn’t clear if it was true, “Have you eaten?”

“I’ve eaten.”

When Sheng Min saw Li Xuan walk over to the desk, he seemed to have noticed the documents. Without showing it, he carefully slid them to the bottom before sitting down and picking up his chopsticks. Sheng Min couldn’t help but frown and pulled over a chair to sit next to him.

Li Xuan fed him a spoonful of soup. Sheng Min drank it, then shook his head. “I’m full, take your time, it’s hot.”

Li Xuan drank some soup, then casually opened his laptop. The screen was filled with a packed schedule.

Qi Boyuan wasn’t in and Li Xuan’s meetings had increased significantly. As they were talking, there was a knock on the door. The two exchanged glances, and Sheng Min stood up to go to the lounge room.

The person who came in was Chu Tianheng. He initially started talking about the game update, using too many technical terms that Sheng Min didn’t quite understand. After talking for a while, Sheng Min vaguely heard through the door that Chu Tianheng was awkwardly mentioning how players were constantly demanding refunds, with a rude and aggressive attitude. This made Sheng Min’s heart tighten. Li Xuan probably didn’t expect him to bring it up, and just as Chu Tianheng started, Li Xuan interrupted him, saying they should talk in the conference room and pulled him away. So, Sheng Min didn’t get to hear the rest.

He bit his lip, tired, and sat down on the edge of the bed. His palm touched the bed surface, and he suddenly felt something was wrong. He hadn’t turned on the lights and hadn’t noticed before, but now, as he looked down, he realized that the bed still had the thin autumn blanket from before, neatly laid out without a single crease, like it hadn’t been used in a long time. There was no other blanket either.

This was how Li Xuan had been living lately, barely getting any sleep.

This time, Sheng Min really felt he had come at the right time. He lowered his eyes. There hadn’t been any good news; it wasn’t really bad luck, but rather that everything in the company had been going wrong recently, each problem hitting one after another.

He couldn’t help but sigh and tiredly cover his eyes. A minute or two later, or maybe even shorter, Li Xuan returned.

“Did the employees leave?” Sheng Min asked casually.

“Mm, they went downstairs for dinner, come out,” Li Xuan joked, “It’s like we’re sneaking around, doing something inappropriate.”

Sheng Min was a little absent-minded and casually said, “Want to try it?”

Li Xuan froze, then laughed, “I’d be happy to, but I’m afraid you’d be shy. Let’s skip it today.”

Sheng Min snapped back to his senses and smiled in return, allowing Li Xuan to pull him out and sit back at the table without saying anything.

Li Xuan drank two spoonfuls of soup, knowing that Sheng Min might have heard something. After a moment, he suddenly said, “It’s all small stuff, we can handle it.”

Refunds are small stuff? Are lawyer documents small stuff too? Is there anything really big? Or maybe Li Xuan had decided to take it all on himself, so nothing else mattered? Sheng Min looked at his visibly thinner face, still exuding confidence. Li Xuan always seemed so sure of himself, leaving people unable to tell whether there was a deep abyss or an open path ahead of him. His heart ached, the pain like thousands of needles pricking him.

Li Xuan avoided his gaze, took a sip of soup, and changed the topic. “Did you use bird’s nest to make the broth? It’s very fresh.”

“I simmered it all afternoon,” Sheng Min replied.

“Didn’t you go to the theater today?” Li Xuan casually asked. When he didn’t hear an answer from Sheng Min, he raised his eyes warily. “What’s wrong?”

Sheng Min lowered his gaze, thinking about how Li Xuan had worn the same black sweater in a photo of them that had been secretly taken.

He also remembered what Yin Qianfen had said after Zhang Shan left that day.

“You don’t have to explain, I already know. It’s not like it’s a big deal you have a boyfriend. Deng Jing noticed early on and told me. Don’t be mad at him, he just considers you a friend and was worried about me finding out and making things hard for you, so he spoke up, but he had no tact, I hadn’t said anything, yet he yelled at me first.”

“Do you need him to speak for you? I don’t mind at all. What do a few photos prove? Did they catch you in bed together? Even if they did, so what? You could hold a press conference tomorrow and I wouldn’t bat an eye. I’d still sign you.”

“The theater industry isn’t full of restrictions, nor are there many people watching. If you perform well and fit the role, it’s yours. The contract’s here, we can sign if you want. I don’t care what your previous boss says. I just want to know what you think…”

What did he think now?

Sheng Min wanted Li Xuan to be happy, even just a little. He didn’t want him to be worn down by life, he wanted him to be able to eat properly and sleep peacefully.

Maybe, all it would take was some money.

“I haven’t been to the theater these days,” Sheng Min said slowly, “The role in ‘Not Just a Mountain’ didn’t fit me. They decided to let Deng Jing do it.”

“When was that?” Li Xuan froze, put down his spoon, and frowned.

“Just drink your soup,” Sheng Min smiled. “It’s been a few days. I saw you’ve been busy, so I didn’t bring it up.”

He saw the heartache and even unnecessary grievance in Li Xuan’s eyes, so he moved closer and gently cupped Li Xuan’s face. “I’m fine, I just wanted to try. I was a bit disappointed when I first found out, but after a few days, I feel like it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Sheng Min could tell that Li Xuan still wanted to ask more, but was probably hesitant to bring it up and touch on something that might upset him. This made it easier for him to continue the lie.

“I’ve been thinking these past few days. Maybe I don’t have to act in a play. The rehearsals were fun, but if I make this my career, there will inevitably be unexpected troubles…”

“I just want to act in things I like. Now I have some autonomy. I can sign with an agency, do movies and TV dramas, and I can still carefully choose scripts.”

As he spoke, Sheng Min almost convinced himself. He thought he really didn’t have many regrets. If he could solve Li Xuan’s troubles, that would be enough to make up for everything.

“Sign with an agency? Your previous agency?” Li Xuan gently held his hand on his cheek and cautiously asked, “Do you want to renew the contract?”

His tone and expression clearly showed disapproval. Sheng Min quickly responded, “It’s not decided yet. The company has been in contact with me, and the conditions they’ve offered are actually very good. Although the past few years of cooperation haven’t always been smooth, we don’t have major conflicts, and they know me well. Changing to another agency may not be better. You know I’m sentimental and don’t like too much change.”

Li Xuan fell silent.

Their hands remained closely pressed together, but Sheng Min suddenly couldn’t feel the warmth between them. In this moment of silence, he asked himself—was this the right thing to do? Was this okay?

He had acted in and seen so many scripts about love, and every writer was a master of emotions, using their characters to preach grand truths—love should be honest, love should be real.

But looking at Li Xuan, he could only think of the numbers on those legal documents, of the messages piling up in the system. Maybe these were just the worst outward signs, maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. But how long had it been since Li Xuan had had a proper rest? The pressure behind those sleepless nights, Sheng Min couldn’t turn a blind eye.

A deep sense of helplessness enveloped him. He didn’t want to deceive Li Xuan, nor did he like doing so. He knew this wasn’t right, that this shouldn’t be done, but when trapped in the middle of it all—love and pain clouded his vision, and he couldn’t see any other way forward.

“Is your contract termination causing trouble?” Li Xuan suddenly asked.

“No.” Sheng Min shook his head with a smile. At least this wasn’t a lie, he thought. It truly wasn’t trouble—it was just a choice he had to make. “Since I can’t do theater, I have to think about the future. I can’t just stop working altogether.”

“Then take your time,” Li Xuan said after watching him for a moment. “I don’t want to interfere with your work. I just don’t want you to have regrets. If this play didn’t cast you, there will be another one. It’s not like there’s only one theater company in the world. You can afford to wait.”

He could wait, of course. But could Li Xuan?

A sting of sourness crept up his nose, and he suddenly buried himself in Li Xuan’s embrace, wrapping his arms around him. Li Xuan thought he was just being affectionate and gently stroked his back. “Sheng Min, I want you to be free, to be happy, to do what you want without worry. You still have me, don’t you?”

And wasn’t that exactly what Sheng Min wished for him too? He pressed his lips together, hiding any trace of emotion.

“Okay.” He quietly tightened his arms around Li Xuan’s waist.

He wouldn’t have any regrets now. This was the choice that would make him happiest.