Yes, he loved him.
Mohan loved Duan Cang deeply loved him to the point of losing himself, loved him to the point of willingly giving up everything, loved him to the point of humbling himself into the dust. To stay by his side, he had even gone so far as to play the part of a tail-wagging, pitiful dog, wretchedly acting out the likeness of someone else.
In a daze, Mohan walked unconsciously toward the kitchen.
The kitchen was impeccably clean, entirely maintaining the appearance it had when he left. Mohan walked with practiced familiarity to the rice bin, unsealed a bag of millet, and scooped out a spoonful of wolfberries. Just as his hand reached toward the clay casserole pot, he stopped abruptly.
That heavy rain, cutting across the river of time, poured over him once again.
No…
He no longer wanted to stew porridge for this person.
The moment this thought arose, the voices criticizing him in his mind swelled dramatically.
[Sigh… What a pity. With those hands, I’m afraid he’ll even struggle to feed himself in the future.]
[Um, sorry, Mohan, I never had the heart to tell you before, but we have a bit of trouble getting used to the food you cook. Please don’t trouble yourself with it anymore.]
[Ha? Could that cripple be thinking of leaving Brother Duan? He’s just like a parasitic vine—what does he have that’s worth looking at besides a pretty face?]
Amidst this clamor, Duan Cang looked at him with a half-smile, just like the expression Duan Cang had worn that day when looking at the breakfast he prepared—full of such mockery and knowing comprehension.
It was as if he were telling him: Look, Mohan. Once you leave me, you’re nothing more than a helpless, good-for-nothing parasite.
Duan Cang’s expression was so agonizingly cruel that it almost made Mohan die within this silent violence.
Yet originally, it clearly hadn’t been like this.
Mohan remembered that once, for a kind of rain-flower pebble that he liked, Duan Cang had spent two days and a night without sleep making a round trip to personally select them. Early the next morning, the moment Mohan opened his door, Duan Cang—covered in morning dew—triumphantly placed the pebbles in his palm and asked him, “Well? Does what I picked out suit your fancy?”
The rain-flower pebbles were heavy, carrying the other’s body temperature as they were pressed into his palm, giving the phrase “I love you” a genuine, tangible weight from then on.
The thousands of days and nights they had shared were just like those rain-flower pebbles gleaming in the sunlight—ordinary, yet warm.
So, how could he possibly be resigned?
What on earth was it that held him captive?
Mohan’s hands trembled slightly. It was as if hallucinations were unfolding before his eyes: on one side were the Mo family members who looked at him with indifference, classmates who gradually grew distant, and doctors wearing looks of deep pity; while on the other side stood a twenty-something Duan Cang, looking at him with gentle eyes full of tender affection.
The bowl he held in his hands felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.
Countless voices erupted inside his head. Mohan’s hands trembled, and a dull ache began to throb once more.
[I love you, how could I possibly not love you?]
Xiao Hei, do you want to play with the cat teaser today?
[Once you leave me, where else can you even go?]
Xiao Hei, is it time for you to take a bath? Don’t run! Get back here!
[As long as you don’t harbor desires for things that don’t belong to you.]
Xiao Hei! Xiao Hei!
Trembling, Mohan raised his head and looked at Duan Cang, whose gaze was filled with deep affection, and took a step backward.
His legs were shaking, barely able to support his body, yet he slowly, resolutely retreated backward, stepping right back into the pouring rain.
The Duan Cang before him abruptly twisted into a ferocious expression, his mouth opening wide. Mohan knew that in the next second, he would utter countless hurtful words, just like he always used to.
No, it doesn’t matter.
Mohan’s body suddenly relaxed completely. He lowered his gaze, watching his own form pass straight through the wall.
After all, he was already dead.
As if discovering for the very first time that he had transformed into a ghost, Mohan pushed his hand into the wall, pulled it back out, and refused to look at the hallucinations before him ever again.
Anyway, he was already dead.
No one could see him, and no one knew him.
No one remembered him, and no one would ever love him.
He had nothing left, and desired nothing more, so he was no longer afraid of losing anything.
The hallucinations were dissolving. Perhaps sensing something, the Duan Cang in the bedroom suddenly raised his voice and called out “Mohan.”
Simultaneously, a shrill cat’s meow pierced the air right beside his ear. Mohan only felt as though his head had been heavily struck by something, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, yet he still forced himself to stand straight and looked around in all directions. “Xiao Hei?”
The front door was shoved open, and the Duan family’s medical team rushed into the house. Duan Cang was carried away, leaving Mohan behind in place.
He pressed his lips together, calling out Xiao Hei’s name, and relying on his status as a ghost, walked straight through door after door and wall after wall to search for the source of the cat’s cry.
He found nothing.
Mohan stood frozen in a daze, belatedly recalling that that cat’s cry seemed to have resonated from the depths of his own heart; it was likely just another hallucination.
An indescribable exhaustion suddenly washed over Mohan’s body. This wave of fatigue was even worse than before, making it almost impossible for him to stand upright.
He closed his eyes, no longer wanting to look at the familiar furnishings around him.
He wanted to go back.
Even if it meant just staying by Bai Ziyan’s side, that was fine.
For the first time in a long time, he had a dream. In the dream, he saw Xiao Hei again, its fur puffed out all over, hissing at him.
This time, sensing something, he turned his body around and saw a giant as towering and terrifying as a mountain and the giant bore the exact face of Duan Cang.
“…Meow-ow?”
When Mohan opened his eyes, he was met squarely by a pair of emerald-green feline pupils.
The cow-cat familiarly rubbed against his body, then expertly flattened itself out into a cat-pancake.
To Mohan’s astonishment, the cow-cat could touch him.
The back of his hand still retained the fluffy, warm sensation, feeling precisely like materialized sunlight.
Tentatively reaching out again, Mohan easily stroked the cat’s fur.
The cow-cat nudged its head further into his hand and let out a yawn, as if saying, “Stupid human, since you like petting my fur so much, I’ll grant you the privilege of petting me a couple of times.”
Shocked, Mohan looked at his own hand and reached out to touch the carpet. His hand passed straight through the carpet again, sinking straight into the floorboards.
Mohan tested all the objects around him, and couldn’t touch a single one.
Could it be that he can only touch living creatures?
His range of activity was restricted; apart from the cow-cat, the only other “living creature” around was Bai Ziyan.
Murmuring an internal apology, Mohan extended his fingertip and gently brushed against the back of Bai Ziyan’s hand.
His finger passed right through.
Bai Ziyan opened his eyes.
Mohan’s entire body stiffened. Even though he could tell that the other’s pupils were still unfocused, he felt the awkwardness of being caught red-handed while doing something shady.
Not seeing Mohan, Bai Ziyan got up on his own. Mohan hurriedly stood up and retreated; Bai Ziyan’s soft brown short hair nearly brushed against his fingertip.
The cow-cat kept one eye half-open, watched the strange-acting Mohan, and yawned again.
Playing all night was so exhausting; it’s time to sleep during the day.
Stretching lazily, the cow-cat closed its other half-open eye as well.
Bai Ziyan also stretched and prepared to get up to wash up.
The next second, however, his phone rang. After answering it, Bai Ziyan’s pupils constricted sharply.
“Hospital?!”
When Bai Ziyan hurried anxiously to the hospital, Duan Cang had just woken up.
His stomach pain had subsided, and apart from feeling somewhat weak in body, he experienced no further discomfort.
Assistant Li bent over and asked, “President Duan, is there anywhere else you feel uncomfortable?”
Duan Cang shook his head. Glancing around the room, he frowned and asked, “Where is Mohan? Tell him to bring the porridge over; I want to drink some.”
Assistant Li froze for a moment, hesitating before saying, “President Duan, last night at your house… you were the only one there.”