15: Zhou Shurong

“Really annoying.”

A cold, faint sigh drifted through the air.

The room was dark, with only a sliver of moonlight offering a reluctant glow. Whether standing or sleeping, it was impossible to discern the faces of anyone.

Zhou Shurong was a newly born ghost, muddled in the first few days, acting entirely on instinct.

Now, as the seventh day arrived, his awareness returned, but he found his lover crying so pitifully in his brother’s arms, and his heart felt extremely complicated.

He stood in front of the sofa, wearing a suit vest with a white, pointed-collar shirt beneath, and a pair of custom-made leather shoes on his feet. His hair was meticulously styled with wax, his delicate, refined face showing no emotional fluctuation.

He fixed his gaze on Qin Yan.

His deep gray eyes were motionless.

The gaze felt tangible, roaming freely across Qin Yan’s body.

Qin Yan’s eyelashes fluttered. He didn’t wake, but felt a sense of restraint, so he freed both his hands and clutched the clothes around him. Not satisfied after two seconds, he curled up and buried his face in them.

The expensive suit lay in his embrace, revealing the smooth satin lining.

Zhou Shurong’s gaze flickered slightly. His fingers, which had been resting on the suit, seemed to shift, now positioned on Qin Yan’s waist. The restraint broke, nearly unsettling his composed demeanor.

He breathed out softly.

A cold breath escaped his lips.

Suddenly, he reached out, gently sliding his hand across his lover’s neck.

However, with the slightest pressure, his fingers seemed to slip through the surface of water, leaving no ripple.

Zhou Shurong’s mouth pressed into a taut line.

“I really want to hide you away, so no one can see you.”

The night was still long.

***

Zhou Langxing, having heard of his father’s fainting, was desperately rushing back, trying to catch a ride.

Meanwhile, Zhou Shurong remained indifferent, staying with his sick lover. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his father and son relationship—it was a matter of fate.

Zhou’s father had been troubled by his younger son’s late nights, feeling disrespected and unable to bring him back. So, he turned to his stable eldest son for advice.

Zhou Shurong flipped through a book without raising his head and spoke gently, “Next time, pretend you’re sick. He’ll fly back immediately.”

Zhou’s father was skeptical, “Really? He’s angry with me.”

Zhou Shurong’s voice remained calm, “Really.”

Zhou Langxing and Zhou Shurong were different. Zhou Shurong no longer expected paternal love, while Zhou Langxing, despite saying the same, still carried a spark of hope within.

With this in mind, he could distinguish the authenticity of that phone call. Butler Lin’s acting needed improvement—it was too exaggerated, and only a fool like Zhou Langxing wouldn’t understand.

The fool, Zhou Langxing, finally arrived home.

The light spilling from the window made it clear that the house was brightly lit, reflecting the chaos of the previous commotion.

Zhou Langxing pushed the door open in a panic.

“Dad—”

His anxious expression froze on his face, looking rather ridiculous.

The father, whom he worried about, was sitting on the sofa drinking soup. Though his expression was desolate, his body was in perfect condition.

“You brat!” Father Zhou turned around, his initial surprise fleeting. He scowled, “At a critical moment, you’re still out messing around. Do you not want your leg?”

Zhou Langxing stood at the door, fist clenched tightly. “You didn’t faint. You lied to me.”

Bang! He slammed the soup bowl down.

“So what if I lied? I speak to you calmly, but have you ever listened? Can’t you learn from your brother? He graduated early to help me at the company. What about you? You hurt your leg and missed a whole semester!”

He sighed. “Can’t you be more steady?”

Zhou Langxing silently swatted away the hand reaching to help him, leaning on his crutch and stubbornly walking through the living room, intending to go upstairs. He didn’t want to argue any longer—his body and mind were exhausted.

Butler Lin watched the two stubborn father and son, neither willing to give in. Wanting to ease the tension, he whispered in Zhou Langxing’s ear, “Master really did faint. He just woke up and felt better after taking some medicine.”

Zhou Langxing glanced back at the middle-aged man on the sofa, avoiding looking directly at the white hair by his ears. Time was cruel; before, he would look up to his father, but now he had to look down.

He hesitated for a moment, then returned and sat back down on the sofa.

Even if he had been deceived, he was willing to fall for it this time.

He didn’t look at his father, casually sweeping his gaze across the room. “Why are you home today?”

His voice was unusually calm. His gaze suddenly fell on the black-and-white photo on the wall ahead, where a wisp of smoke was rising slowly. The ritual had just ended.

He understood now. He turned to his father. “So you remember.”

“How could I forget on a day like this?”

“It’s too late now. You never remembered my birthday before, and only now, after someone’s passed, do you remember to come back for their seventh day.”

Zhou Langxing noticed the faint expression of embarrassment on his father’s face. He raised an eyebrow—was that a mistake? A person like him would never admit to a fault.

“Ah-Xing, I’ll definitely come home for your future birthdays!”

Zhou Langxing froze, his head lowering as he tried to hide his face with his disheveled hair.

After a moment of silence, he replied, “No need.”

He stood up, not looking at his father. “Making me feel like my special treatment was bought with his life. Ha. Funny!”

Zhou Langxing went straight upstairs.

Father Zhou watched him for a long time, and after hearing the sound of a door closing upstairs, he asked the butler, “Ah-Lin, am I really too late?”

Butler Lin replied, “It’s not too late. Right now is the best time.”

“No, it’s too late.” Father Zhou sighed. “They don’t need me anymore.”

***

The alarm clock rang at 7 AM.

Qin Yan reached for his phone, groggily remembering one thing clearly—his vacation was over, and today was the day to return to work.

“Hello, Director…” The voice was hoarse, so thirsty that he almost wanted to plunge his head into a bucket of water, “I don’t feel well. Can I take another day off?”

“Ah, it seems you’re really sick, Xiao Qin. Today is Saturday, no need to come to work. Rest well!”

After hanging up the phone, his dizzy mind cleared a little—today was Saturday?

He looked at the date, and indeed, it was.

Qin Yan suddenly felt drained of energy and sank back into the sofa.

When he woke up again, it was an hour and a half later, already 8:30 AM.

Qin Yan felt much better. He stared at the ceiling and mumbled, “No wonder I didn’t hear the neighbors brushing their teeth. It’s Saturday today.”

“Yes, it’s Saturday. The weather is nice. Want to go for a walk?” Zhou Shurong said.

Qin Yan didn’t hear him. He had just peeled off the fever-reducing patch on his head when he noticed a new band-aid on his thumb, with a cute little balloon pattern on it.

“Ah!” The memories of last night came flooding back. He covered his face. “How embarrassing.”

Zhou Shurong stood beside the coffee table, his hands in his pockets, watching him.

Qin Yan slapped his face to make it red and muttered to himself, “It’s okay. Just pretend I lost my memory. When Zhou Langxing teases you, just think he’s talking nonsense.”

Zhou Shurong couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t worry, he probably won’t tease you. He can’t leave the house until his cast is removed.”

“Not going out today… What should I do?”

“Really not going out? Be careful, you might get moldy.”

“Mm… There are a few light bulbs in the house that aren’t very bright. I’ll ask the landlord to send someone to replace them.”

“Sorry about that, I broke it out of anger,” Zhou Shurong said as he spread his hands and glanced around. With a casual wave, a faint cold breeze passed through his palms.

He looked at Qin Yan and gently said, “What should I do to make you see me? How can I make you understand that I’m here?”

Qin Yan had already sent a message to the landlord, but hadn’t received a reply yet, so he prepared to take a shower. Before leaving, he glanced at the incense burner on the coffee table and smiled slightly, “See you later.”

Zhou Shurong froze. “So you’re not talking to yourself. But… I’m on your left.”

The sound of water splashing could be heard. Through the frosted glass door, a blurry figure seemed visible. Zhou Shurong stood at the door, leaning against the white wall, staring blankly at the light bulb above him.

Since he had broken it, maybe he didn’t need a repairman. He could fix it himself?

He stared at the light bulb, focusing hard, sweating profusely, his face pale.

Then there was a “crack,” and the light bulb let out a sad cry.

Zhou Shurong nervously touched his lips.

The bathroom door opened, and Qin Yan walked out covered in steam. He first looked suspiciously at the light bulb. It appeared fine on the outside, with no apparent issues, so he walked to the switch and pressed it.

“Zzi—zzi—”

The living room light flickered a few times stubbornly before completely going out, no light at all.

Qin Yan furrowed his brows.

Zhou Shurong walked beside him, his gaze a bit unfocused. “Ah, I swear, I just moved it slightly. Who knew it was so fragile?”

Slightly?

The truth of that statement was questionable.

Who just now put in so much effort?

Now, his body was still flickering, looking as if it had lost all its strength.

Qin Yan picked up the phone on the coffee table. The landlord had already replied, saying that changing two light bulbs was so easy that there was no need for a repairman. Just buy two and replace them.

The landlord had even sent a red envelope.

He also kindly mentioned where the shared folding ladder was.

Qin Yan shook his head helplessly. “Forget it, I’m already feeling much better, and I have nothing else to do.”

“Nothing else to do?” Zhou Shurong leaned in to look at the message. “Don’t you want to dry your hair first?”

Qin Yan put down his phone and glanced at the incense burner. He lit three sticks of incense and offered them to Zhou Shurong. He closed his eyes, a faint sadness appearing on his face.

Zhou Shurong asked, “What are you thinking about? Are you mourning me or do you have a wish?”

Zhou Shurong stared at Qin Yan.

There must be something he wanted!

In the past, every year on his mother’s death anniversary, they never missed it.

At first, he heard his father say, “I hope you can be happy, be reborn soon, and find a good family… Maybe I can see you before I die.”

Gradually, Zhou Langxing became rebellious, stopped listening to anyone, filled with defiance, and even stopped going to his mother’s death anniversary.

Father Zhou took Zhou Shurong to the grave and said, “The kids have grown up. Do you see? Look, this is Xingxing, he got into a great high school this year, his studies are tough, he couldn’t come. Mei Zhen, bless them to be safe.”

Later, last year, he had a little to drink, stared at the eternal brilliant smile on the tombstone, and his voice even choked.

He said, “Mei Zhen, I miss you so much!”

Zhou Shurong thought, after his mother passed away, he became an incompetent father. But he was always a good husband.

Sometimes he pondered, maybe his father became so focused on his career to keep himself busy, with no time to miss his loved one.

It was an unhealed wound, with perfect skin, but rotten inside, and work was the anesthetic. Once it stopped, the pain struck to the heart.

Qin Yan had already opened his eyes, inserted the incense into the burner, and continued with his tasks.

He had found many things to do.

Make breakfast, wash clothes, go out to buy things, change the light bulbs… then cook, take a shower, sleep…

The day passed, seemingly busy, and just like that.