Chapter 3: Black Tie

Not sure what time it was.

The room was extremely dark.

The moon was being lazy, having already disappeared before the end of its shift, hiding somewhere out of sight.

The night was still, and Qin Yan sat on the bed, dazed for a long while. He couldn’t hear a single sound; even the bugs on the trees were asleep. The wind had stopped, the electricity was out, and the fan had long since stopped spinning.

That dream, he remembered it clearly. Frame by frame, as if someone were playing a movie.

He used to dream a lot, and though he had dreamed of Zhou Shurong before, those dreams faded away within minutes after waking up, and by the time the sun rose, they were completely forgotten.

Qin Yan touched his chest, unknowingly sweating, his chest completely soaked.

It was so hot, hot enough to make his eyes blurry.

He stared, walking a circle around the room. After adjusting to the surroundings, he saw some blurry figures—wardrobe, desk, standing fan… All of them stood still and silent, as if coldly staring at him.

“Shurong…”

No one responded.

He eagerly got out of bed, only to trip over something and fall to the ground.

Qin Yan turned back to take a look—

White shirt, black trousers, light brown long coat, gray-white striped knitted vest… and a black tie, all tangled on the floor due to his sudden movement.

Before going to sleep, he had taken all of Zhou Shurong’s clothes and made a little nest on the bed.

So, that was why he tripped.

Qin Yan unwrapped the tie around his ankle, unsure of the material. He had never seriously studied it; it was cool to the touch. Was it always this temperature?

“Shurong!” He clutched the black tie and called again into the empty room.

Still, no one responded.

No, maybe something was responding, but he couldn’t hear it.

He stumbled to his feet, staggering from the bedroom to the living room, shouting again, but no response. He ran to the second bedroom, the bathroom, calling loudly.

There was no wind in the house.

There was no light in the house.

All the furniture stood still, silently watching him.

Qin Yan stumbled around, feeling pain in several places, probably from bumping into things.

“

Zhou Shurong! Have you come back—”

“Shut up! Which idiot is yelling in the middle of the night? If you don’t sleep, we still have to work!!”

Finally, a response came from the neighbor’s room, a loud scolding.

Qin Yan stood dazed. By nature, he wouldn’t shout in the middle of the night, and he would apologize to others. This time, he didn’t want to be a polite person, because he had lost all the strength to shout.

He dragged himself and collapsed on the long sofa in the living room.

Opposite was the television, its black screen reflecting his listless image.

Qin Yan covered his eyes with his hand, a bitter smile on his lips. How foolish was he to believe in a dream?

Unrealistic.

Absurd.

How could the dead come back to life?

He criticized himself with all his might, trying to sever his delusions. But still, he couldn’t let go of the cold black tie he tightly clutched.

***

Daylight came.

It was almost a full night of sleep.

The sunlight was good today, bright and a bit blinding. The neighbors had all gotten up, with the sounds of washing up from all directions.

The soundproofing in the house wasn’t great, and there were still three months left on the lease. Originally, Zhou Shurong had discussed with Qin Yan that once the lease was up, they would move in together and start living together officially. But that plan had suddenly fallen through.

Qin Yan didn’t even wash his face, just found the cigarettes and lighter on the coffee table, lying down on the sofa to smoke.

He didn’t care if the ash fell into his collar.

While smoking, he stared at the tie in his hand. After holding it in his palm for so long, it no longer felt cold, but a warm lump instead.

“Sorry, I wrinkled your tie. Wait… I’ll iron it out for you later.”

After finishing the cigarette, his mind cleared a little.

He realized clearly—he was going to live a life without Zhou Shurong.

His heart ached again. They had only been together for half a year, but it felt like he had loved deeply. He picked up another cigarette; only by numbing his brain could he escape the pain.

Before lighting it, there was a knock at the door.

His hand froze.

The soundproofing in this building was poor, and sometimes it was hard to tell which door the knocking came from. Qin Yan focused for a moment and confirmed it was knocking on his door.

At that moment, he remembered the knock from the dream.

Some delusions quietly flared up in his mind. Qin Yan hesitated and called out to the door, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Zhou Langxing.”

Qin Yan dejectedly dropped the cigarette, stood up, and walked over. Before opening the door, he remembered to straighten his expression and force a smile.

The door opened.

Zhou Langxing instinctively straightened his clothes.

Behind the door appeared a pale, weary, yet still delicate face, the corners of the lips slightly raised in a polite curve.

He suspected Qin Yan hadn’t slept all night.

Those once warm amber eyes seemed to have been submerged in cold water all night, now cold, lost, and faded.

Zhou Langxing wanted to look longer but dared not. After a brief glance at Qin Yan’s face, he quickly lowered his gaze, focusing on his chest. There, he saw cigarette ash clinging to Qin Yan’s skin, his throat, and collarbone.

The wet, cold minty scent assaulted his nose, making him pause.

He stood frozen.

Zhou Langxing and Zhou Shurong had inherited their father’s tall genes, and the familiar height blocked the doorway, causing Qin Yan a momentary daze.

Soon, he smelled the familiar scent of soy milk and the fragrance of steamed dumplings.

Qin Yan snapped back to reality. Zhou Shurong often brought him breakfast, always knowing his taste, bringing only his favorite Li Ji’s steamed dumplings.

That Li Ji shop sold not only dumplings but also soy milk, but he didn’t like soy milk.

Realizing this was breakfast prepared for him, Qin Yan furrowed his brows slightly. If he couldn’t refuse, he’d have to eat it all, even the soy milk he disliked.

Why did he come to see him?

Why not let him stay quietly by himself?

Why, at a time like this, does he still have to suppress his sad feelings to please others?

Qin Yan took a deep breath.

Can he shut the door selfishly?

No! He answered himself. That’s Zhou Shurong’s younger brother. He’s also grieving, yet he still cares about you. How can you bear to turn him away?

The scent of mint filled the air, like an embrace.

Zhou Langxing’s ears turned slightly red.

He smelled the smoke on Qin Yan’s clothes, which made him feel a little restless, but quickly realized that Qin Yan smoked to remember Zhou Shurong.

He reined in his scattered thoughts, pursed his lips, and handed over the breakfast he was holding. In a low voice, he said, “A-Qin Yan…” He almost said that burning nickname, and Zhou Langxing felt his earlobe grow hotter.

“I brought you breakfast. Do you want it?”

His expression was cool, but his eyes were fixed on the buttons on Qin Yan’s clothes, as if waiting for that inevitable rejection.

Qin Yan raised his eyes to look at him.

It was similar, but only the facial features were alike. The differences were too many: skin tone, gaze, contour…

Zhou Langxing kept a trendy wolf-tail hairstyle, slightly lowering his head, hiding his gaze, but not completely—there was a sharp glint of light slipping through. His facial features were defined, sharp, and pointed, like the edge of a blade. His aura was the complete opposite of Zhou Shurong’s.

And Zhou Shurong… In the bedroom, there was a portrait of him. When Qin Yan drew his face, he sharpened the charcoal pencil, and when lining, he had to be gentle. At the turns of the contours, he used his finger to gently smudge, blurring it slightly to show his softer contours.

This painting, the person in it was looking directly at the artist, his gaze warm, calm, and with a hint of cunning, like a fox hunting a rabbit.

Qin Yan’s gaze was naturally sensed by Zhou Langxing, who stiffened, not moving. His eyes flickered, and suddenly, his lashes fluttered, directly meeting Qin Yan’s gaze.

When their eyes met, Qin Yan felt like his eyelids were pricked, quickly blinking.

Zhou Langxing couldn’t help but smile.

His eyes curved like crescent moons, shimmering with a faint light.

No matter how calm he acted, a hint of arrogance in his brows and eyes still showed through. He laughed so hard that his chest shook, and the diamond studs on his earlobes flickered with a few gleams.

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of me?”

Qin Yan blinked again. He noticed the sweat beading on the sun-kissed tip of the man’s nose, and paused, smiling more genuinely.

“You won’t eat me, what am I afraid of?”

Zhou Langxing raised an eyebrow, noncommittally.

Qin Yan reached for the breakfast, accidentally brushing his hand against the thin calluses on Zhou Langxing’s palm. When Zhou Langxing saw it, he quickly pulled his hand back, almost as if he regretted it.

“I’ll take it in for you.”

“I can do it myself.”

A full bag of buns, a little heavy, he avoided Zhou Langxing’s reaching hand. What’s going on? He wasn’t a weakling, and didn’t need such considerate care.

Qin Yan thought for a moment. Sending him away immediately after receiving breakfast felt rude. After all, he had come all the way here, limping, to bring him some care. Just in time, Qin Yan needed someone to deal with the two annoying cups of soy milk.

So, he said gently, “Thank you for the breakfast. It’s a lot, I won’t finish it. Have you eaten? If not, come in and eat together, alright?”

Zhou Langxing couldn’t have been more eager.

He had planned this all along. Not only had he not eaten, but he had also bought extra.

“Wait a moment. The house is a bit messy. I’ll tidy up first. Hope you don’t mind.” Qin Yan leaned on the door, apologetically saying, “Please wait a moment, I’ll be quick.”

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.” Zhou Langxing waved his hand.

Qin Yan gently closed the door, and his smile disappeared instantly. He casually placed the breakfast on the coffee table, then put away his cigarettes and lighter. His peripheral vision caught the cigarette ash on the floor, so he grabbed a piece of paper and wiped it off, tossing it into the trash bin. He then lifted the dirty carpet, hurriedly carrying it toward the bedroom.

It was too messy!

Those clothes that belonged to Zhou Shurong were scattered around the room, even draped over the standing fan.

Qin Yan laid the carpet down, patted his face, feeling embarrassed about his “nesting” behavior last night.

He didn’t fold the clothes. Instead, he secretly stashed them in the wardrobe, planning to take them out tonight.

He didn’t know when the electricity came back, but after removing the shirt, the fan’s blades started spinning. Qin Yan pressed the switch.

He couldn’t let the guest wait too long; after all, he was a guest with a crutch, just recently having lost someone dear. He hurriedly ran to open the door.

“Please come in. I’ll wash up first. Sit down, and if you’re hungry, eat first.”

It was Zhou Langxing’s first time here. He sat up straight, feeling that the sofa under him was too soft, as if it would sway, making him want to rock left and right. He tried to sit up properly, but the heart in his chest was pounding, making him restless.

He quietly watched Qin Yan walk into the bedroom, carrying clothes, and then head to the bathroom.

Once Qin Yan was out of sight, Zhou Langxing felt both disappointed and relieved.

He had to take this chance to calm his excited feelings and leave a mature and composed impression.

Zhou Langxing exhaled, relaxed his nerves, and sank into the single sofa. He heard a creaking sound, and in panic, grabbed his crutch and jumped up like he saw a ghost.

Had he broken the sofa?

No way!

He didn’t want to leave Qin Yan with such a ridiculous impression—a person who broke the sofa just after entering.

Zhou Langxing checked, and it was just a small issue, nothing serious. He sighed with relief, preparing to sit on the long sofa next to him.

His gaze suddenly paused. He saw a wrinkled black tie.

He picked it up, held it up to his eyes. His intense gaze slowly cooled.

This was the style that Zhou Shurong often wore. He had collected a bunch of the same style in black and white.

Of course. The two of them were a couple. It was only natural for Qin Yan to have Zhou Shurong’s personal belongings. Even if they had been intimate, it wouldn’t be such a surprise.

Yes, no need to make a fuss.

Zhou Langxing took a deep breath, placing the tie back where it was. He arranged it carefully, remembering its position. It was just a small tie, yet it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

That searing warmth, who knows how long it had been clutched in Qin Yan’s hand.

It was only natural.

No need to make a fuss.

It was just holding onto a lover’s tie. Even if he held it all night, so what?

Zhou Shurong was already dead… already dead!

After a long while, the bad feeling in his chest dissipated. He slumped his shoulders, rubbed his brow, and looked at his blurry reflection on the TV screen. He softly said:

“Sorry, brother.”