EIP 73

This was an embarrassing piece of evidence, blatantly exposed for all to see. The pocket watch hung on his chest like a scorching ember, making Zhou Jun’s head spin and swell with heat. His usually sharp tongue was completely tied. He could only part his lips slightly, too stunned to even turn around and hide. Wouldn’t that just make it more obvious? He needed to pull himself together and pretend it wasn’t a big deal.

The room fell into an awkward silence. Feeling uneasy, Zhou Jun fiddled with the handkerchief again, wiping his face. On the other side, Yong Jin started moving. He unbuttoned his dusty coat and took it off, revealing only a thin shirt underneath. As he headed into the inner room, Zhou Jun quickly stood up from his chair, hurriedly tucking the pocket watch back into his clothes.

The cold metal of the watch’s surface sent chills down his spine, making him shiver. Feeling restless, he rubbed the back of his neck as his craving for a cigarette kicked in. By the time Yong Jin returned with something in hand, Zhou Jun was leaning by the window, facing outwards. The golden sunlight outlined his eyelashes, nose bridge, and lips. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and his pupils glowed with a faint golden hue.

Even though Zhou Jun’s clothes were dirty and his face was still smudged with dust, just standing there with a cigarette between his fingers made Yong Jin feel like they were back in their happiest days. He could almost imagine stepping forward, kissing him naturally, biting softly on his lips, and feeling Zhou Jun’s long lashes brush lightly against his cheek, causing a subtle thrill.

When Zhou Jun noticed him returned, he quickly straightening his posture. The relaxed, carefree air around him vanished in an instant.

Yong Jin had come back with a bottle of strong liquor and some medical supplies. He pointed at Zhou Jun’s shoulder. Zhou Jun tilt his head to look and realize the pain in that spot. At some point, he had gotten injured, and a piece of metal was still embedded in his flesh.

He took a few more drags of his cigarette before grabbing the bottle of liquor Yong Jin handed him, gulping down a big swig. With a carefree attitude, he stripped off his shirt to make it easier for Yong Jin to treat his injury. The pocket watch slipped into view again, but Yong Jin didn’t even glance at it this time. Instead, he focused intently on removing the metal shard from Zhou Jun’s shoulder.

Trying to ease the tension, Zhou Jun joked, “Your bandaging skills aren’t as good as they used to be.” To his surprise, Yong Jin set down the tweezers and apologized, “I’m sorry. I’ll call a medic to come help.”

When Yong Jin stood to leave, Zhou Jun grabbed his arm instinctively. He felt Yong Jin flinch, a flicker of pain crossing his face. Zhou Jun released him at once. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Yong Jin shook his head. “It’s just a minor injury.”

“Why are you here? This place isn’t safe.” His tone carried a weight that suggested he’d been holding back these words since the moment they met. “You need to leave. I’ll arrange for someone to escort you back.”

Zhou Jun frowned at Yong Jin’s commanding tone. “Who said I’m leaving? I’m not going anywhere. I have things to do.”

Yong Jin’s face darkened. “What could possibly be so important that you’d come here of all places? Do you even know where this is? Do you know what could have happened if I hadn’t received that order and rushed over?!” His anger was palpable, and it sparked Zhou Jun’s own temper.

“I know, and I’m grateful! But that doesn’t give you the right to make decisions for me!” Zhou Jun shot back, his voice rising to match Yong Jin’s.

Yong Jin let out a bitter laugh, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t understand how dangerous the world is right now. Why can’t you just stay in a safe place?!”

Zhou Jun clenched his fists. “I’m a man, and I have my own responsibilities to bear! I don’t need you telling me what to do or not to do! Besides, who are you to me? What right do you have to control my life?”

His words hit Yong Jin hard, and the man slammed his injured hand against the wooden table in anger. “I’m just worried about you! If something happened to you today… what would I do?” His voice cracked, and for a moment, Zhou Jun stared at him.

Then he laughed bitterly. “You wouldn’t need to do anything. It has nothing to do with you.”

Yong Jin’s gaze darkened, his eyes filled with a ferocity that made Zhou Jun want to retreat. He hesitated, wondering if he had gone too far and considering how to diffuse the tension. But before he could say anything, Yong Jin lowered his head, his energy completely deflated. His voice was filled with bitterness as he muttered, “You know I love you.”

The confession came out of nowhere, like a clap of thunder on a clear day. Zhou Jun froze, his hand gripping the back of the chair for support, his eyes hurriedly avoiding Yong Jin’s. It felt like a surrender in the unspoken war between them, yet there was no triumph in Zhou Jun’s heart. No satisfaction, no sense of victory, just a deep, aching sorrow.

There had been countless chances in the past for Yong Jin to tell him he loved him, but he never did. Perhaps that love had been hidden in a letter, a pocket watch, or a ring. He knew the weight of Yong Jin’s love, just as he knew the resolute finality in Yong Jin’s voice when he said they should part ways. Zhou Jun, on the other hand, had said “I love you” to many people before, words that came easily, too lightly, and without much substance. That was why he was willing to pursue love through actions, to chase it down and search for it. After enduring countless trials, he had even plucked a single rose to lay by Yong Jin’s pillow.

He raised a hand to rub his temple, closing his eyes as if the sunlight had left him dazed. He stood, intending to leave. His wound still hadn’t been treated, and his earlier agitation had reopened it, causing fresh blood to seep out. Yong Jin grabbed his wrist, but in doing so, the injury on his own hand reopened as well, blood soaking through his shirt. The metallic scent of blood was overwhelming, and as they moved, their legs bumped into each other, forcing them closer.

Their shadows merged into a perfect, dark circle against the wall. Zhou Jun’s lower back hit the edge of the table, and he truly felt like he had lost his mind. Why else would his eyes grow hot, and why else would he so desperately want to hold Yong Jin in his arms? He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. But the mingling scent of blood and Yong Jin invaded his senses, obliterating his remaining rationality.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, as if they could never get enough of looking, as if they had never truly known each other before. It was as though they wanted to carve the other’s image into their minds forever.

Yong Jin’s gaze was filled with pain and conflict. He reached out, his hand brushing Zhou Jun’s jaw, his thumb gently caressing the warmth of his cheek. In a tender, low voice, he said, “I was wrong. Please, just this once, listen to me.”

Zhou Jun gripped the edge of the table tightly, his voice soft as he responded, “What was the reason that night?” He had probably guessed the answer long ago but couldn’t accept it without hearing it from Yong Jin.

Yong Jin stared at him, lost in thought. Perhaps confessing his love had made it easier to say the rest. He finally answered, “I was afraid you’d wait for me. And I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

Hearing those words, Zhou Jun felt like an old, broken clock that had long been missing its pieces. Now, after much effort, it began to tick again, slowly moving forward, click by click.

Neither of them could say who moved first, but their lips met and couldn’t separate. All the dreams and memories came flooding back. Zhou Jun could only feel that Yong Jin’s lips were like fire, burning him until he instinctively leaned back. He was pressed against the table, their fingers interlocked tightly, warmth still lingering at their fingertips from the sunlight.

The dappled light fell across the folds of their clothes, their slightly disheveled hair, and their flushed earlobes. Yong Jin was lost in the depths of Zhou Jun’s eyes. Who had drawn in whom? There was no answer to that question.

Just like the entanglement at the very beginning, everything unfolded without rhyme or reason. Now, all that remained were the results and the chaotic, unsteady beating of their hearts. Zhou Jun bit down on Yong Jin’s lip, drawing blood and tasting its tangy sweetness. Yong Jin let him do as he pleased, his fingers threading into Zhou Jun’s soft hair, the cool strands curling around his touch.

This moment of intimacy was far too long overdue, or perhaps it had been anticipated and dreamt of countless times in Yong Jin’s heart. After the feverish intensity of their kisses, Yong Jin softened. He kissed Zhou Jun’s lips gently, tenderly, over and over again, like a butterfly brushing against a flower.

A fragile emotion surged within Zhou Jun, overwhelming him with all the sorrow and grievances he had buried deep inside. Clinging to Yong Jin’s back, he furrowed his brow like a child who had been wronged. His elder brother’s illness, his sister-in-law’s troubles, the fall of the Zhou family, and his own brush with death, all of it poured out uncontrollably in Yong Jin’s embrace.

Zhou Jun buried his face in Yong Jin’s neck, his voice carrying a faint tremor of tears as he whispered, “I’ve truly missed you.”