Chapter 2: Dream Funeral

Though the two brothers had a good relationship, they couldn’t help but constantly compete with each other. Some say that the rivalry between twins begins in the womb.

Whatever matters to Zhou Shurong, Zhou Langxing can’t help but care about as well.

No matter how well Zhou Shurong hides it, Zhou Langxing can always find out.

That day…

When people are in love, they may not notice it themselves, but others can easily tell. On their first date, Zhou Shurong dressed like a crane— Zhou Langxing described it as “showy, very showy, with the showiness seeping into his whole body and carelessly spreading out,” a scent that Zhou Langxing caught as he passed by.

Zhou Langxing jokingly called him a fake immortal. Leaning against the door, biting into a bright red apple, he teased, “Great Immortal, where are you going?”

Zhou Shurong smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles on his shoulder in the mirror, his gaze reluctant to offer, and calmly replied, “Out.”

Zhou Langxing stayed, tossing the apple and wearing a mysterious smile.

“A date? Which young lady?”

Zhou Shurong, knowing his brother’s mischievous nature, thought for a moment and said in a pleasant tone, “Miss Lin is back in the country. Dad asked me to meet her. If you want to go, I’ll tell Dad and let you take my place.”

“Blind date? Boring!”

Zhou Langxing was startled, biting into the apple and running away, his back showing clear signs of avoiding the situation.

Zhou Shurong put on his gold-rimmed glasses, turned around, and smiled at himself in the mirror.

After Zhou Shurong left, Zhou Langxing secretly followed him in his car. He didn’t believe Zhou Shurong’s story. Dressed in what seemed like a peacock’s plume, how could he only be meeting someone he had never heard of, this Miss Lin?

Zhou Langxing was an excellent driver and managed to follow him all the way to the West Park without Zhou Shurong noticing.

There, he saw a fateful and breathtaking glimpse.

Qin Yan was fair-skinned, with a hint of mixed-blood genes, his hair and iris color lighter than most, making him appear radiant and translucent. He often wore apricot, light brown, and orange-red clothes, and his colleagues joked that he wore autumn on his body.

But the night before the date, Zhou Shurong had given him a custom-made ivory-white suit.

That day, Qin Yan wore ivory white, and the sunlight illuminated him so brightly that he seemed like an overexposed photograph, making it hard for anyone to open their eyes.

Zhou Langxing seemed to see a vague light, and he rolled down half the car window, straining his eyes to see the true face of the light.

He finally saw clearly — the young man standing beside Zhou Shurong looked like a well-dressed gentleman, tall and straight-backed. Though he wore white and his skin and hair were golden, which also looked white, the slightly upturned lips were as red as a glass of cherry wine.

Zhou Langxing couldn’t help but softly click his tongue.

A little girl, carrying a flower basket and hawking on the street, passed by, searching for a couple. Zhou Shurong called her over and picked a red rose from her basket, pinning it to Qin Yan’s chest.

He didn’t favor red roses but thought that the current Qin Yan suited a splash of red.

Qin Yan, in turn, chose a yellow rose and pinned it to Zhou Shurong’s chest. Zhou Shurong’s eyes immediately flickered.

The little girl received a red note, not needing change, and immediately started praising, although her vocabulary was limited to just “good looking,” “really good looking,” and “so good looking!”

Zhou Shurong said to Qin Yan, “She says you’re good looking.”

Qin Yan lowered his head and smiled faintly, a blush creeping across his cheeks, spreading to his entire face in an instant.

Zhou Langxing stared, feeling sour inside, and hit the steering wheel, muttering, “What’s so good looking? Two white impermanence come down to the mortal world!”

Despite his words, he couldn’t forget that touch of white. However, as brothers, they could fight over anything, but Qin Yan was something Zhou Langxing knew he couldn’t compete for. If he didn’t want to end up in a feud, he could only let it go.

But Zhou Langxing didn’t have the chance to learn how to let go before Zhou Shurong ran into trouble.

At the funeral, Zhou Langxing secretly looked at Qin Yan three times.

The first time, before the ceremony started, guests entered silently and orderly. Zhou Langxing had sent Qin Yan an invitation, knowing he would come.

He leaned on a cane and stood with his father.

Both brothers faced trouble on the same day. When Zhou Shurong had the car accident, Zhou Langxing, with his broken leg, stayed home playing games. At a certain moment, he suddenly felt a strong heart palpitation, and everything went dark as he fainted.

In one day, the Zhou family received two accident reports and were overwhelmed.

Zhou Shurong died on the spot, while Zhou Langxing remained unconscious and was taken to the hospital, only waking up the day before the funeral.

After most of the guests entered, they walked up to the father and son, expressing their condolences in a manner of formalities, lamenting how young the eldest son of the Zhou family was to pass away, and then saying something like “Heaven is jealous of talent.” Occasionally, whispers could be heard, gossiping about the old sending the young…

Hearing these monotonous words, Zhou Langxing felt more bitter. The father, who had never shown care, had a bitter expression even more so.

Zhou Langxing felt these people all wore the same mask, forcing themselves to frown, forcing their mouths down, forcing themselves to be sad.

He felt that everyone attending the funeral was fake.

Perhaps it was similar to the banquets and birthday parties he had attended, where people sought fame and fortune, only thinking of the dinner after the funeral as a platform for business collaboration. After all, they were all profit-driven businessmen.

Thinking of this, he felt even more disdain for his title as the heir of the conglomerate.

He felt mentally drained.

Until the person he had been thinking about walked in.

Qin Yan lowered his head, his light brown hair unkempt and soft against his face, looking tired and disheveled, fitting the identity of someone who had fallen from grace. He walked in step by step, not looking at anyone, not caring about the eyes on him.

Zhou’s father quietly asked, “Who is this?”

Zhou Langxing, without blinking, answered, “My brother’s friend.”

His brother’s boyfriend suddenly stopped and slowly looked up. Dressed in deep black, only his face was pale.

In the past, Zhou Langxing had curiously asked, “How is ‘Yan’ written in Qin Yan?”

“It’s the ‘Yan’ from fireworks.”

His brother had given him a half-smile and left a warning: “Ah Xing, don’t get curious about him. You can’t compete with me.”

Again, that annoying knowing gaze as if he had everything figured out.

Zhou Langxing looked at Qin Yan.

Fireworks. Such a magnificent and beautiful metaphor.

Yet, the Qin Yan who appeared here had hollow eyes, like the mist left behind by a burning cigarette, fading away with a wave of the hand, leaving only a lingering aftertaste.

He looked up, staring ahead. On the high platform, a black coffin stood.

Zhou Shurong lay quietly inside, without a sound.

He gazed at it absently, his soul seemingly crossing the white steps, landing on the coffin, looking down at the face of his deceased lover.

Zhou Langxing looked at Qin Yan’s profile, suddenly feeling a surge of reluctance. He had waited for so long, counting for so long, until there were seventy-two people, but when Qin Yan appeared, his gaze never landed on him.

The second time he looked at Qin Yan without blinking was during the flower offering. Everyone held a white chrysanthemum.

When Qin Yan went up, Zhou Langxing’s gaze followed. He saw Qin Yan gently place the flower on the edge of the coffin. After the flower left his hand, Zhou Langxing noticed that his hand was slightly trembling.

Qin Yan glanced at the coffin.

Zhou Shurong had died in a car accident. There was no conspiracy, only an accident.

The face in the coffin had been repaired, leaving only seven-tenths of its former beauty.

Qin Yan stared for too long. His finger, resting on the coffin, moved slightly, as if he wanted to touch the man’s face, but he restrained himself.

What was he thinking?

Zhou Langxing didn’t have mind-reading abilities, but he could analyze a thing or two.

— Qin Yan and Zhou Shurong had secretly been in a relationship, and only a few knew about it. He didn’t dare to show his overwhelming longing in front of others. With society’s current climate, he couldn’t bear to let his lover’s death lead to more speculation.

After offering the flowers, Qin Yan slowly walked down the white steps, his steps steady, with his hands placed lightly in front of his abdomen. His eyes stared straight ahead, yet they didn’t seem to take in anything around him.

Zhou Langxing saw a tear quietly slide down his cheek, tracing along his face before reaching his chin.

Such a composed demeanor, perhaps even he himself didn’t notice.

His eyes were red, tears flowing without end, yet his profile looked strangely calm, his mouth tightly pressed. Zhou Langxing watched him pass, and not even a faint sob was heard.

For the third time, he watched Qin Yan’s back gradually disappear into the rain.

Zhou Shurong was finally buried.

The tombstone was erected, and in the photo, Zhou Shurong wore gold-rimmed glasses, appearing refined, offering a slight, gentle smile. It was unclear whether the angle or the lighting during the photo was to blame, but a bright light reflected off his lenses, giving him a sharp, intelligent look.

As the crowd dispersed, fine rain began to fall from the sky.

The mist-like rain hit Qin Yan’s face, giving it a soft, blurry appearance.

Zhou Langxing hesitated for a moment, then extended a black umbrella.

He was not usually this hesitant, but in front of his beloved, who could maintain their usual composure?

He couldn’t help but worry, afraid of offending him.

Qin Yan said a faint “thank you,” tired and drained.

He still didn’t look at Zhou Langxing, nor did he take the umbrella, walking off in the rain.

The group soon departed for a dinner, heading to Zhou’s family estate at the foot of the mountain. Only he walked slowly, veering off the path. Yes, the truly heartbroken can’t bring themselves to eat.

Zhou Langxing stood under the umbrella, silently watching Qin Yan’s retreating figure.

He seemed somewhat thinner.

From hearing the news of his lover’s death to his lover’s burial, had he eaten properly during this time?

“Let me walk you,” the words lingered on his lips but were never spoken. He watched him leave, until he vanished into the rain.

The rain grew heavier, and Zhou Langxing suddenly dropped the umbrella. The raindrops hit him, sharp and stinging.

Beside the tombstone, the smile in the photo seemed to grow wider…

Zhou Langxing suddenly opened his eyes. The room was dim, and his phone emitted a faint glow. It was three in the morning.

It was a dream.

He rubbed his forehead, realizing that Zhou Shurong had walked out of the photo in his dream.

Zhou Langxing got out of bed and picked up a box of cigarettes and a lighter from the table.

He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. The cool air rushed into his nose, slightly intoxicating, almost addictive. He had once mocked his brother for smoking such tasteless cigarettes.

Zhou Langxing closed his eyes, lost in the sensation for a while, then thought about Qin Yan.

Had he ever dreamed of the funeral?

***

Qin Yan was dreaming, dreaming of that funeral.

It was raining.

The sky suddenly darkened.

He knew he was dreaming. He floated in the air, looking down at the world below. No one could see him, and all the rain passed through his chest.

The funeral was over, and he saw himself walking away in the rain. From this angle, he appeared so lonely and miserable, like a disgruntled actor who had been relegated to the background.

He tried to chase after him, but he couldn’t move.

He was like a kite, drifting in the air, swaying slightly with the wind.

The rain grew heavier. It was mist before, but now it was heavy rain.

Qin Yan looked down at Zhou Langxing. He hadn’t left, leaning on his cane, drenched by the rain. A black umbrella lay on the ground beside him.

A middle-aged man approached with an umbrella. “Ah Xing, let’s go. Your leg… sigh, the master is waiting for you!”

Qin Yan gazed ahead, where someone held an umbrella. The umbrella was slightly tilted, revealing a stern face, with deep furrows in the brow.

Father and son stared at each other through the rain for a long time. Gradually, the rain blurred Qin Yan’s vision, and he couldn’t make out their expressions.

Neither spoke.

After a while, Zhou Langxing picked up the umbrella and walked slowly toward them.

By the time they descended the mountain, it was nearly dark, and the cemetery was closing.

Qin Yan felt a little lost.

Why hadn’t he woken up from this dream yet?

Just as he was feeling uncertain, something changed at the cemetery—suddenly, the ground cracked open, and a pale greenish-white hand reached out. The fingers were long and delicate, with distinct joints, and there was a shallow brown mole beneath the index finger.

One hand reached out, then two hands, and soon, the head and body followed, stepping out of the grave…

The rain continued to fall, and the man’s body, covered in mud, turned into dirty water, flowing down his slippery clothes. The white clothing was no longer recognizable.

Qin Yan whispered, “Shurong…”

He’s out… he crawled out of the ground!

Zhou Shurong suddenly moved, stepping in the direction of the exit.

Qin Yan could move now too. He floated above Zhou Shurong.

Qin Yan tried calling out to him, to catch his attention, but it was no use. He could only watch his head from above.

Where was he going?

This road felt so familiar.

It was like the road he had walked before. He had walked aimlessly, leaving the cemetery, walking down the street, and entering the residential complex.

Now, Zhou Shurong was retracing the path he had once taken.

No one could see Qin Yan, nor could they see Zhou Shurong. The pedestrians passed by them as though they didn’t exist, never even considering them.

Qin Yan watched Zhou Shurong.

Did he have thoughts?

Did he have feelings?

Had he truly come back?

Qin Yan followed Zhou Shurong into the elevator of the apartment building. He watched him extend his index finger and press the button for the fifth floor.

The fifth floor, Qin Yan’s home. Zhou Shurong was heading to Qin Yan’s home.

The elevator mirror reflected Zhou Shurong’s profile.

Qin Yan finally saw it clearly.

Zhou Shurong had no joy or sorrow, like a walking corpse. His glasses were crooked on his face. He lowered his eyes, a droplet of rain hanging from his eyelashes. Qin Yan watched him for a long time, and he didn’t blink.

The elevator stopped on the third floor. A young woman was holding a long-haired white dog.

She looked at the elevator, surprised. “There’s no one inside, Da Fu, quickly go in!”

The large white dog scratched at the floor, barking loudly at the elevator.

“Hey, hey, Da Fu…”

The elevator door slowly closed, and the woman hurriedly tried to calm her dog.

The elevator reached the fifth floor, and the door opened again.

Qin Yan’s home.

“Tap, tap, tap…”

Zhou Shurong curled his fingers and slowly, stiffly knocked on the door.

Floating above, Qin Yan froze, because he remembered that after returning home, he had indeed heard knocking at the door. When he opened it, no one was there.

The dream continued, uncontrolled.

He watched himself open the door, and in his dazed state, he looked around. Zhou Shurong walked in, passing through Qin Yan. Qin Yan was unaware, numbly closing the door behind him.

The dream ended.

Qin Yan opened his eyes.