LIAH 5. Doing Just Fine

For two days straight, Song Shengyang didn’t leave the house. He didn’t even open his bedroom door.

Ever since that out-of-control moment with Pei Siyin, his mind had been flooded with his face, especially at night, when everything went quiet. Those dreams felt too real, drenched in heat, scent, and the soft press of Pei Siyin’s palm. They haunted him without pause.

“Goddamn it! Fuck, this is too fucked up!”

It was happening again. He’d lost count how many times now. Pillows and blankets went flying as he thrashed in frustration, the dark gray bedsheets twisting into a mess. He kicked his legs on the bed like a tantruming kid, and his yelling echoed through the room.

A loud knock landed on the bedroom door. Lou Wanqing pounded from the other side.

“Song Shengyang! Are you having an episode in there? You’re howling like a fucking husky all day long. Open the door already!”

Two slippers were flung out from under the bed in opposite directions. Song Shengyang opened the door and leaned weakly against the frame. He looked like hell. The dark circles under his eyes were so deep that Lou Wanqing swallowed the curse she had been about to spit.

“What the hell happened to you?” She looked him up and down. His drained face made her genuinely concerned. “Are you actually sick?”

Song Shengyang slowly lifted his head, his expression drained of all energy.

“Mom, tell Dad to give me one more day off. I’ll go back to the office tomorrow.”

Then he closed the door again.

He felt cheated. Not once, but twice. But even if he had been tricked, the one who had grabbed Pei Siyin’s hand and urged him to keep going in the end had been him. That wasn’t something he could deny, no matter how much he wanted to.

With his brain in shambles, Song Shengyang drifted into a dazed sleep. But he didn’t stay there for long. Another knock at the door dragged him awake.

This time, the sky outside had already turned the color of sunset.

He opened the door and saw Yan Ting standing there. The man looked around at the disaster that was his room before finally fixing his eyes on Song Shengyang’s half-dead face.

“You get dumped?”

No, not exactly. But it was probably worse than getting dumped.

“No,” Song Shengyang sighed, sounding more defeated than ever. “What are you doing here?”

“Aunt Lou was worried, so she sent me to check on you.” Yan Ting switched on the light and stepped into the wreckage, carefully watching where he walked. “Xiao Can came too.”

Normally, Song Shengyang was the first to run up and play with Yan Can. The kid was younger, quiet, and sweet. Every time they saw each other, Song Shengyang would immediately show off, either a new hair color or the chest and abs he’d been working on.

But this time was different. This was the first time he didn’t react at all.

“Oh.” Song Shengyang gave a weak mumble, like his brainstem had been unplugged and he couldn’t process anything. “I’m fine.”

Yan Ting stood by the door with his arms crossed, watching him carefully. There was a knowing look behind the curve of his lips. He didn’t move, just stared at every little reaction.

“Gege?” Yan Can had come upstairs. He peeked out from behind Yan Ting and stared at Song Shengyang’s slumped figure on the bed. The way he lay there looked pitiful, completely drained. “Is he okay?”

“Hard to say,” Yan Ting said slowly. “Looks like something hit him hard.”

“Huh?” Yan Can let out a surprised sound, his brows knitting in concern. “I’ll go check on him.”

Yan Ting didn’t stop him. He simply watched as Yan Can walked over and gave Song Shengyang a little shake. It didn’t move him in the slightest. The only thing that shifted was the orange hair on his head, swaying just a bit.

Song Shengyang turned his head and looked at Yan Can. His eyes scanned the boy’s face with such a strange intensity that Yan Can instinctively stepped back.

“No reaction,” Song Shengyang muttered into the mattress. After a moment of staring, he seemed unsatisfied and suddenly sat up. He grabbed Yan Can by the wrist and clasped his hand with both of his, shaking it like he was greeting an old business partner. He even gave it a squeeze. “Huh?”

Soft.

A fist landed squarely on his head.

Yan Ting stood at the edge of the bed, his expression dark. He pulled the startled Yan Can behind him and said coldly, “You seem perfectly fine to me.”

And for now, he really did.

No strange reactions. No racing heartbeat.

That thought gave Song Shengyang a sudden wave of comfort.

By the afternoon of the third day, he had finally pulled himself together and returned to his usual flamboyant self.

The weather was clear when he left the house. But by the time he finished getting his hair touched up by Tony, the sky had turned black, and a heavy rain came pouring down. He parked by a university road and decided to wait it out before driving again.

He hated driving in heavy rain more than anything.

A few scattered students ran past, holding their bags over their heads in a useless attempt to stay dry. As fewer and fewer people remained on the street, Song Shengyang sat in the car scrolling on his phone. When he looked up, he noticed a figure sitting on the ground not far away.

Rain pelted the windows and blurred his vision, but he could still make out the shape of someone hunched down. The person seemed to be in trouble. They tried to get up several times but fell back each time. Occasionally, thunder cracked through the air. There was a massive tree looming right above where they were sitting.

Out of pure decency, Song Shengyang reached into the back seat and grabbed an umbrella. The moment he opened the door, the wind slammed against him. He stepped out with the umbrella and walked ahead.

Pei Siyin had been hurrying through the rain when he stepped into a deep puddle and twisted his ankle. His knee buckled, and pain shot through his leg. The rain fell hard, and every drop pelted his skin like needles. Water rose quickly, and the hand he was bracing on the ground was now nearly submerged.

“Are you alright? Here, let me help you.”

A clear voice cut through the storm. Pei Siyin was drenched from head to toe. The rain blurred his vision, but the moment he heard that voice, he knew who it was.

A strong arm slid under his and lifted him to his feet. The sound of rain hitting the umbrella was deafening. Song Shengyang bent slightly toward him and asked again, “Are you okay?”

Pei Siyin looked up. His eyes were wet, burning with heat and emotion. His face, pale and soaked, turned to him with a quiet intensity. His eyes were rimmed red.

Song Shengyang stared at him, stunned. The strength in his arm faltered. That heartbeat he thought he had under control returned with a vengeance, pounding violently in his chest.

He stood frozen, unsure of what to do. He began to pull his hand away, but just as he let go, Pei Siyin grabbed it.

Rain poured around them in a blurred curtain. Pei Siyin looked at him and said, “Don’t avoid me.”