When Li Xuan rushed out of the office building, he collided with the new planner, scattering their materials all over the ground. The other person was about to swear but swallowed their words upon seeing him. “Xuan Ge…”
Li Xuan didn’t have time to respond. Then he suddenly remembered he hadn’t grabbed his car keys. Leaving the stunned colleague behind, he hurried back to his office, grabbed the keys, and strode out again.
“Where are you going?” Qi Boyuan chased him to the elevator, panting as he asked.
“Don’t hold the door,” Li Xuan said quickly, pressing the button for the first floor. As the elevator doors closed, he added, “Push the meeting back by half an hour.”
There were two airports in N City, and Li Xuan realized he’d lost his bearings as soon as he pulled onto the road. He only knew Sheng Min had a recording tomorrow, but not which flight he was on. In fact, he’d only found out about the schedule through Zhou Jia.
Luckily, there weren’t many flights departing from the filming location. At a red light, he hastily looked them up. There was only one flight that day, landing in N City’s southern airport in an hour.
The summer heat lingered even after a rainstorm, with the late afternoon sun blazing as brightly as noon.
Driving out of the software park, the sound of cicadas buzzed intensely, as if quarreling. Yet no matter how loud they were, they faded once he turned onto the main road, replaced by the honking of car horns.
Approaching rush hour, cars streamed in from all directions, creating long lines that stretched all the way to the riverside road leading to the southern airport. Looking at the bridge spanning the river in the distance—N City’s iconic landmark, grand and elegant—Li Xuan was involuntarily reminded of that thin, rain-soaked bridge in the ancient town, where Sheng Min had leaned against his shoulder.
Li Xuan finally realized something. When he’d asked Sheng Min if he was giving up on him or letting go, he’d been wrong. What Sheng Min had given up was himself.
The fish holds onto the pillar, but the tide swallows the Blue Bridge. The one who loses their life will never be the one who broke the promise.
Moreover, they never even made any promises.
Sheng Min had no expectations, neither for him nor for them. Yet, waiting had no deadline.
As the car moved through the ever-changing scenery, Li Xuan suddenly recalled a line from his youth: ‘A house as silent as a suspended bell, a wilderness without green grass—What should we rely on to not be afraid?”
Fate had never been kind to him. He was born with nothing and fought for every grain of sand. Except for Sheng Min, who had given him everything.
In their relationship, he had always been the one favored.
Did he truly not know? Or was it because he understood this all too well that he’d allowed himself to waste day after day with ease?
The willingness to bind himself, trapping both of them in a relationship without a name—wasn’t it precisely because he knew Sheng Min would never untangle himself first?
A wave of helplessness engulfed Li Xuan. Frustrated, he pounded the steering wheel, the horn blaring loudly.
“Stop honking!” someone shouted from a nearby car, annoyed. “What’s the point of honking? Can’t you see we’re stuck?!”
The traffic remained gridlocked as Li Xuan neared the northern airport road. Though he could see the airport signs in the distance, his car hadn’t moved an inch. Checking his watch, he saw there were only 15 minutes left before the plane landed. The GPS indicated he was three kilometers away, repeatedly stating it was calculating the optimal route.
Though the suggested route was straight ahead, Li Xuan turned off the GPS with a frown. Seizing the brief reprieve of a green light, he swerved into a closed alleyway. The oppressive heat immediately replaced the car’s air-conditioning, the weather report claiming a surface temperature of 39.5 degrees. Abandoning the car, he started running toward the airport.
…..
“I forgot to mention, I didn’t book the VIP passage today. You’ll have to be careful when leaving the airport later…” As the plane circled above the airport, Zhang Zhihua suddenly leaned over from the back row.
“I already told you this expense is coming out of my account,” Sheng Min said, exasperated as he turned his head. “This happens every time. What if it causes a stampede?”
“There’s never been a major incident. And besides, not every time. Last week, we booked it… Hey, don’t worry, okay? It’ll be fine. The schedule wasn’t even publicized, so there won’t be that many fans…” Zhang Zhihua’s voice trailed off as he met Sheng Min’s gaze. Switching to a resigned tone, he added, “It’s not like I forgot… I only remembered right before boarding, and by then, it was too late. Yang Xu didn’t remind me either! You know how many things I have to deal with. How can I keep track of everything? But don’t worry, I hired security at the airport. No one will get too close.”
He shamelessly shirked responsibility, seemingly forgetting entirely that it was he who had volunteered to handle this task.
“Come on, Zhang Ge, you…” Yang Xu attempted to argue but was silenced by Sheng Min with a light pat on his hand, a subtle gesture to calm him down.
“Don’t forget next time,” Sheng Min said calmly.
“I won’t,” Zhang Zhihua responded reflexively, ready to sit back down, but Sheng Min called him back again. “President Zhang mentioned meeting with me in N City tomorrow. Do you know what it’s about?”
“President Zhang… She is coming back?” Zhang Zhihua froze for a moment, visibly flustered. “I have no idea. Isn’t she still out traveling?”
“Oh,” Sheng Min nodded, “then forget it. I thought you might know.”
“But Sheng Min, why would she…”
“I wouldn’t be asking you if I knew,” Sheng Min smiled faintly. “It’s fine.”
A flight attendant approached them gently, reminding them to sit down.
“Hold on,” Zhang Zhihua interrupted impatiently, licking his lips. “Sheng Min, if President Zhang asks about me… all the deals I’ve signed for you recently have been pretty good. And about today’s incident, it was really just that I forgot…”
Sheng Min replied softly, “We’re landing soon. It’s not safe to talk now. Please sit down.”
Zhang Zhihua opened his mouth again but found nothing else to say. Reluctantly, he sat back down.
Yang Xu discreetly rolled his eyes and typed into the notes app on his phone, showing it to Sheng Min: [He must’ve taken money from some big fan and promised to let them meet you at the airport.]
Sheng Min said nothing, lowering his gaze. Yang Xu deleted it and typed a new line: [Ge, your temper has been too good lately. Zhang Ge is acting up again. A while back, he wouldn’t have dared…]
Before Yang Xu could finish typing, Sheng Min gently pressed down on his phone. “That’s enough.”
So is President Zhang really coming tomorrow?
Unrelenting, Yang Xu typed another message: [She hasn’t been involved in company affairs much over the past two years. Why is she suddenly reaching out to you? Ge, is everything okay?]
A cloud drifted lazily past the window. Sheng Min lowered his gaze and replied softly, “It’s fine. Relax.”
Ten minutes later, the plane landed smoothly. By the time they reached the terminal, Sheng Min had already put on his hat and mask. But such disguises were barely effective against fans.
“There he is! He’s coming out!” Cheers erupted from the crowd waiting at the airport, drawing curious glances from passersby.
“Who’s that? A celebrity?”
“Is that Sheng Min? Is it really Sheng Min? Oh my god, were we on the same flight? How did I not notice…”
“Sheng Min? I don’t know him.”
“You don’t know him? Haven’t you seen ‘Moonlit Dreams’?”
The chatter grew louder as curious onlookers tried to approach. “Sheng Min, can I get your autograph?”
“Sorry, no autographs,” Yang Xu quickly interjected.
Sheng Min pulled his hat brim lower, keeping his head down as he quickened his pace. But no matter how fast he walked, it was impossible to bypass the human wall deliberately formed at the terminal exit.
“Sheng Min!” Many shouted his name, while others waved flowers, banners, and light-up signs. The crowd surged toward him like a tide, with Sheng Min trapped at the center.
“Excuse me, please make way… No gifts, please don’t hand those over,” Yang Xu repeated in vain. “Letters are fine, letters are fine. Just give them to me… stop handing things over…”
The crowd pressed in closer and closer, like a silkworm cocoon wrapping tightly around them. Sheng Min was reminded of the workings of a meat grinder. Being so close, the screaming seemed deafening. Some shouted love confessions; others hurled insults.
Camera lenses were nearly shoved into his face, and even the bodyguards, irritated by the crowd, began pushing the fans back more forcefully.
“Don’t push; someone might get hurt,” Sheng Min urged, only to feel someone grab his back in the chaos. He turned to see the culprit boasting to their friends before resuming their loud cries of, “Sheng Min, I love you! I’ll always support you!”
After more than ten minutes of struggle, they remained stuck in place. Whenever they managed to move forward slightly, they were pushed back again.
The commotion drew more onlookers, and the sound of snapping cameras and flashing lights became a relentless cacophony. Airport staff arrived to restore order, seemingly arguing with Zhang Zhihua over something, but amidst the noise, it was hard to discern the details.
Sheng Min wanted to intervene, but there were too many people between them for his words to reach.
“Tell Zhang Zhihua to stop arguing and focus on getting us out,” he patted Yang Xu’s back.
“What? Ge, what did you say?” Yang Xu shouted, unable to hear over the noise. He turned back, only to be handed another gift and frantically resumed blocking them.
Sheng Min’s lips moved slightly, but he said nothing more. The parking lot elevator was less than a hundred meters away, visible in the distance, yet it felt impossibly out of reach.
The crowd continued to jostle him. He felt like a lone boat tossed in a storm, helplessly drifting with the waves.
The air grew thinner, the heat oppressive, leaving him short of breath and faintly dizzy. Suddenly, a cool touch grazed his wrist.
He instinctively turned his head, and in that instant, astonishment replaced panic.
A black mask obscured most of the face, but he recognized those eyes. Sheng Min had no idea how Li Xuan had managed to reach his side, but his presence instantly quieted all the noise around him.
“Come with me,” he heard Li Xuan say.
“Where to?”
No destination, no purpose.
His heart made the decision before his mind could. Li Xuan gripped his wrist firmly, parting the crowd as they moved.
“Who’s that? Who’s he with?”
The fans, caught off guard, had no time to react. The two were already lost in the sea of people like fish blending into the current.
It turned out the airport had so many paths—twisting and turning, weaving this way and that. They exited through one door, crossed a dimly lit corridor, and ran up a staircase bathed in sunlight.
Fans and staff were left far behind.
The sound of footsteps above, in the stairwell, was it someone looking for them?
Who knows? Who cares?
The motion-activated light flickered on and off, casting an ambiguous glow amidst the floating dust in the backlight. Was Plato’s “Republic” meant to describe this narrow piece of heaven behind the safety exit door?
The hand gripping his wrist had unknowingly slipped into his palm, fingers interlocked in an intimate still frame.
Sheng Min gently tried to pull away, but Li Xuan tightened his grip.
Li Xuan’s gaze bore into him, intense and piercing. It made Sheng Min feel like prey caught in his hunter’s palm. Li Xuan’s voice, slightly hoarse from their earlier run, whispered, “This birthday is over, but there will be another one. Can ‘forever’ not be just fifty-one days?”
Hearing this, Sheng Min’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t have time to respond. In the next moment, Li Xuan cupped the back of his neck, pulling him in for a direct kiss.
Yes yes yes finally!!