EIP 20

He thought he shouldn’t be running down, but by the time he came to his senses, he was already barefoot, rushing down two flights of stairs. His one foot was covered in black dust, and the small window in the hallway looked like a dark hole, with just a sliver of light landing on his foot. Zhou Jun leaned against the wall, lost in thought for a long time before letting out a deep sigh. He turned around and headed back.

Holding onto the wall, he climbed back up step by step, piecing together memories. He wondered how he first came to know about Yong Jin. It was probably at some gathering where he was holding a glass of wine and joking with others when someone pointed out Yong Jin from a distance, whispering as if sharing a secret, “That’s him, the son of Governor Yong, Yong Jin.”

Perhaps at that time, when he heard the introduction, he had repeated Yong Jin’s name in his mind, looking at him several times without really paying attention. It was like seeing a valuable painting; no matter how stunning the brushstrokes were, he could only admire it for a moment, quietly tucking the memory away for future encounters. When he later stumbled upon that artwork again, its beauty would hit him all at once, revealing its significance.

Back home, he washed his foot and applied some ointment. The lamp by the sofa was still on, and a few pages of the book Yong Jin had flipped through were resting on it. He silently sat in the spot where Yong Jin had been, feeling as if some warmth still lingered there. Closing the book and putting it back in place, he turned off the lamp and shut the window. It was as if that person had never been there at all. He returned to bed, choosing not to think about it anymore.

The dream was long and fragmented. In it, Yong Jin pushed him out the window, and he fell from a great height, but not alone; Yong Jin was falling with him. Amidst the biting wind, he heard the other laugh and say, “To die under the peony is to be a charming ghost.” They kept falling and falling, yet they didn’t crash to the ground in a burst of blood-red; instead, they landed in that familiar car.

Yong Jin held onto his ankle, his hand feeling as hot as fire against his skin. “You were the one who approached me first,” he said. In the dream, Yong Jin was no longer dominant or cold. He quietly let Zhou Jun unbutton his shirt, revealing a smooth chest and a set of well-defined abs. Zhou Jun’s gaze was filled with confusion; the skin was too flawless, lacking the scars that should be present on someone who had experienced so much.

He placed his hand on that smooth skin, and the sensation made him sigh softly. He lowered his head and kissed it as if in admiration, leaving behind his breath. In the next moment, the world spun around him, and he found himself enveloped in layers of white sheets, as if a multitude of fabrics had covered his face, with only faint light seeping through the gaps to illuminate his eyes.

In the dream, Zhou Jun kicked his legs, feeling anxious and pained. Yes, it was pain. Something was forcing itself into his body against his will, like a fiery snake tightly coiling around him, gradually penetrating his most intimate depths. Zhou Jun felt tears streaming down his face, he was crying endlessly. The layers of fabric were pulled away, like countless windows being opened, revealing the face hidden within the depths.

It was still Yong Jin, his face filled with desire, brows furrowed and lips pressed together, eyelids slightly reddened. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead to Zhou Jun’s cheek, mixing with his tears and trickling down his face and neck. Zhou Jun watched as Yong Jin showed a tenderness he had never seen before, kissing his forehead and eyes, whispering, “Don’t cry, I won’t do it anymore.”

A feeling of weightlessness spread throughout Zhou Jun’s body, and he suddenly woke up in his bed. The bright sun streamed through the curtains onto the carpet, and the sounds of the bustling street echoed in his room. Outside the bedroom, he could hear his housemaid’s footsteps; the day had fully dawned. Zhou Jun felt dazed, as if he hadn’t quite pulled himself out of that enchanting dream.

His throat was dry, and his lower body felt sticky. Every breath he took was hot. A deep headache pounded in his head, making him hoarsely call for the housemaid to come into the room. He was indeed running a fever. He rarely got sick, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this ill; it seemed like it had happened in this same season, leaving him dazed and unaware.

What he thought about during the day filled his dreams at night. He kept dreaming—spring dreams—and after several of them, Zhou Jun’s illness worsened. Lying in bed, the young master, suffering from a bad cold, unconsciously acted spoiled. He held his housemaid hand, his eyes glistening with tears, and spoke in a gentle tone, reminding her to pay close attention to when he might be unwell and to take him to the hospital if needed. Had the medicine been prepared? Did he need a thicker blanket?

He wanted to give the housemaid extra money to stay overnight, so he wouldn’t have to risk fainting in the kitchen when he needed a glass of water. She had worked in many households and understood that a man’s cold could feel like a death sentence. She refused the extra pay, saying she needed to return home to take care of her daughter and her newborn grandchild.

Left alone and feeling abandoned, Zhou Jun lay sick in bed, feeling utterly miserable. Being ill often led to feelings of emptiness, and that emptiness made him prone to overthinking. What troubled him the most was the source of his spring dreams. That culprit had indeed disappeared after that night and hadn’t contacted him since. Zhou Jun lay in bed, suffering from headaches and discomfort, cursing the person in his mind over and over.

Unbeknownst to him, the source of his troubles had actually come by a few times, just parking downstairs and smoking a few cigarettes before leaving again. One day, Zhou Jun finally felt a bit better and made himself a cup of coffee. As he held the coffee and opened the window to take in the night view, he caught sight of that familiar car below. His eyes widened, and he hurried back to his room to grab the binoculars.

The binoculars were heavy and cumbersome, but when he set them up to look down, he saw the familiar hand of Yong Jin extending out the window, flicking off ashes. It was indeed Major Yong, recognizable by his white gloves. When Zhou Jun rushed downstairs, he only managed to catch a glimpse of the car’s rear as it slipped away from him yet again. It had happened too many times before, and this time, he felt no real regret.

Zhou Jun felt every pore on his body sweating; the intense exercise had cleared his long-blocked nose. Like a magical remedy, he felt much better the next day. The housemaid brewed flower tea in a fine porcelain cup and watched her master at the small table, basking in the sunlight, who seemed to shine again.

Miss Wen, who hadn’t been in touch for some time, had suddenly taken a romantic turn. Instead of calling, she decided to write letters. The letter smelled of her perfume and featured her beautifully styled handwriting. Zhou Jun replied while enjoying the sun, not only sending a letter back but also a necklace as a gift. A few days later, he received a call from Miss Wen. On the other end, she playfully chided him for being heartless, claiming she had sent him several letters, yet he hadn’t replied to a single one.

Zhou Jun felt very wronged; he had clearly replied, and besides, he hadn’t received any letters from Miss Wen later on. After some back-and-forth on the phone, they figured out that the letters had gotten lost. Miss Wen sighed, “Stinson, I also sent you an invitation. It was tucked inside the third letter, hoping you would be my partner.”

After confirming the date with Zhou Jun, she added in frustration, “I don’t want to send letters anymore. It’s better to just call you. If there’s a misunderstanding and we don’t clarify it, that would be really unfair.”

The two of them were unsure where the letters had gone, and the matter was left unmentioned. When the time arrived, Zhou Jun set out to pick up Miss Wen. As they entered the ballroom, she was unexpectedly surprised to see someone. This gathering was not just about laughter and dancing; it also featured performances by dancers on stage. Some bold women, spotting men they fancied, took the initiative to invite them to dance. Amid the drinking and smoking, the atmosphere was filled with lavishness and subtly tinged with sensuality. In their drunken state, people might find themselves drawn to strangers, leading to unexpected encounters.

Miss Wen opened her delicate little fan, half-concealing her face, and whispered to Zhou Jun, “Isn’t that Major General Yong? I heard he usually looks down on places like this. What brings him here?”