Downstairs, beneath the apartment complex.
The streetlight was broken — only one lonely pole still worked.
Under it, a single figure stood waiting.
He Zheng.
Time passed.
In the dim quiet, he finally heard hurried footsteps approaching — faster, louder.
The gate was flung open.
A man burst in from the cold night wind, bent over with hands on his knees, panting, but his head lifted, eyes locked tightly onto the silhouette under the light.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
Under the double strain of nerves and overexertion, Wei Zhenye’s knees throbbed painfully. The heat in his blood was being drained away by the wind. He had forced himself to sprint three kilometers just to keep from backing down—but when he was only five meters away, all he could do was stand there and watch, powerless to take another step.
He didn’t move for a long time, so He Zheng finished the last bit of distance for him.
He Zheng walked toward him slowly—steady steps, neither fast nor heavy. The space between them shrank bit by bit. When only a meter remained, He Zheng froze slightly. The man before him didn’t quite match his memories. The once sickly thin cheeks had been softened by time; the sharp, angular edges had turned into the contours of a mature man.
As He Zheng drew closer, Wei Zhenye instinctively lowered his eyes. A drop of sweat slid down from his forehead, hung on the tip of his eyelashes, trembled lightly, then fell into his eye.
He hadn’t dared to look He Zheng in the eye—but the next moment, He Zheng opened his arms to him and said, with an easy smile, “You’ve gotten so tall, Xiao Wei.”
It was the gesture of an embrace—an invitation.
Wei Zhenye only hesitated for a second before throwing himself forward.
“Hey!” He Zheng stumbled backward from the impact, chest vibrating with a muffled laugh. “Slow down—you’re gonna crush me.”
But just as he said that, the arms looped around his neck tightened even more. He Zheng was nearly choked, tried to push him off but couldn’t bring himself to use force, so he gave up and let him hold on—long, and hard, and silent.
When He Zheng finally stopped resisting, a sudden warmth bloomed on his shoulder—drop by drop, soaking through the fabric.
He froze.
Was he… crying?
The man in his arms was silent, body still, not trembling—just quietly shedding tears. Even in heartbreak, he stayed restrained.
Up close, He Zheng could clearly see the small red mole beneath Wei Zhenye’s left eye—faint, barely visible. When the tears slid past it, it only made him look more fragile, more broken.
He Zheng patted his back gently and coaxed softly, “Alright, come on. You’re an adult now, how are you still such a crybaby?”
Wei Zhenye mumbled stubbornly, “It’s sweat.”
“Oh?” He Zheng raised an eyebrow. “Then let go and let me see your face.”
“No.”
He Zheng sighed, half laughing. “At least come upstairs and have some water. Your voice is hoarse.”
“…”
He Zheng sighed again, then lifted one of his arms and slid Wei Zhenye’s hand down, naturally taking hold of his wrist. “Like this, okay?”
Wei Zhenye stayed silent.
He Zheng spread his fingers open, paused a moment, then tried to lace them together. “Like this?”
He couldn’t see Wei Zhenye’s expression, didn’t know what was written there—but out of sight, Wei Zhenye quietly wiped away the last of his tears. The next second, He Zheng felt his fingers tighten. As Wei Zhenye released the embrace, he gripped He Zheng’s hand even more firmly.
Wei Zhenye’s hands were beautiful—He Zheng had already noticed that during their first video call.
But he hadn’t expected he’d get to hold them this soon.
Their palms pressed together, warmth spreading all the way up as they climbed the stairs to the apartment door. When He Zheng reached for his keys, he naturally let go to check his pockets, back turned as he unlocked the door.
At that moment, Wei Zhenye reflexively reached out again—but He Zheng didn’t notice. Wei Zhenye’s fingers twitched midair before quietly withdrawing.
He Zheng headed straight for the water dispenser, then turned to glance at Wei Zhenye still standing at the entrance. “No need to change shoes. Come sit.”
Wei Zhenye had never been to He Zheng’s place in Beijing. Their shared memories only existed in that small rental apartment. The unfamiliarity made him uneasy. He sat down stiffly on the sofa, tugging at his tie to loosen it a little.
He Zheng handed him a glass of water. “See if it’s too hot.”
Wei Zhenye took it with both hands, sipped carefully, and after saying, “It’s not hot,” took another small drink. Tilting his head back slightly exposed the curve of his neck—elegant and unguarded. For the first time that night, He Zheng found his gaze slipping out of control.
He watched for a while, then looked away, pulling out a cigarette from under the coffee table. He turned it over a few times but couldn’t find his lighter.
Seeing that, Wei Zhenye set his cup down and took out an empty cigarette pack and a lighter from his pocket, handing them over without a word.
“Thanks.” He Zheng smiled, turning the lighter in his hand. Black casing, pure brass—expensive. The same one he’d used in the video call to light a candle.
He inhaled, the cigarette tip flaring. The scent of nicotine spread through the room. Passing the lighter back, he asked, “When did you start smoking?”
Wei Zhenye lowered his head. “A long time ago.”
“Funny,” He Zheng flicked off the ash. “Didn’t see you smoke when we lived together. Afraid I’d kick you out?”
“…”
“No wonder the kitchen always smelled like smoke,” He Zheng chuckled. “And you told me it was burnt food. Sneaking smokes, huh?”
Wei Zhenye murmured a quiet “Mm,” eyes downcast.
He spoke far less now than he ever did online. Though his looks and voice had changed, his essence was exactly the same.
He Zheng switched topics. “Aren’t you curious how I figured out who you were?”
Wei Zhenye shook his head slightly, gaze still fixed on the empty cup. “You would’ve found out sooner or later.”
More than being discovered, he feared that his persistence, his chasing after He Zheng, would only annoy him.
“Then why not just tell me yourself?” He Zheng pressed. “What if I never guessed?”
“I’d wait.”
He Zheng laughed softly. “Another ten years, maybe? That’s not how you pursue someone. Think about it—would it be worth it?”
Wei Zhenye didn’t argue. He simply lifted his head and looked at He Zheng directly, his eyes giving the only answer needed.
He Zheng stared back, half exasperated. This man’s stubbornness was beyond reason.
“You…” He Zheng rubbed his forehead helplessly. “If we ever got together and broke up again, someone like you—wouldn’t you kill me?”
Wei Zhenye fell silent, thinking it over objectively for a moment before saying honestly, “The one who would have died… might not be you.”
“…Then forget it,” He Zheng quickly waved his hand.
“What do you mean, forget it?”
“About dating. You and me,” He Zheng said. “I did consider it just now, but… forget it.”
Wei Zhenye let out a calm “Oh,” surprisingly composed. “And then?” he asked faintly.
“…” He Zheng couldn’t read his expression. Bracing himself, he said, “I’ll return all the gifts you sent during the live streams. Then… however you want me to make up for the past years, I’ll try my best. And after that… let’s not contact each other for now.”
His words were tactful and polite, but the air froze for a moment.
Their gazes met — each standing firm, neither backing down.
In the end, it was He Zheng who looked away first.
Wei Zhenye slowly leaned back against the sofa, his face calm. His gaze swept from He Zheng’s hair down to his feet, his eyes gradually darkening — and if you looked closely, there was a faint trace of mockery in them. His voice low, he repeated, enunciating each word: “Try your best to make it up to me?”
It hadn’t sounded strange when He Zheng said it earlier, but hearing it now from Wei Zhenye’s mouth, he suddenly realized how sarcastic those words were.
Eight years — who could possibly make up for that?
“How are you planning to make it up to me?” Wei Zhenye asked coolly.
He Zheng had no answer. Wei Zhenye wasn’t in any hurry — patience had always been his strength.
After a long silence, under Wei Zhenye’s unwavering gaze, He Zheng slowly raised his hand and tentatively unbuttoned the first button of his shirt.
There were some things he couldn’t say out loud. In an adult world, actions spoke louder than words — hints meant everything.
Wei Zhenye didn’t move.
He Zheng shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and undid the second button.
He had never done anything like this before — his pride rebelled against it — but after thinking it through, this was the only thing he could offer that Wei Zhenye might actually want.
Long hair fell loosely over his shoulders, hiding much of his skin. He brushed it aside, and just as he was about to unbutton the third one — revealing his collarbone — a shadow suddenly fell over him. A suit jacket dropped over his head, plunging him into darkness.
He felt Wei Zhenye kneel down, roughly pulling his shirt closed and buttoning it back up, one button at a time.
“You don’t have to do this,” he heard Wei Zhenye say, voice low and hoarse, holding back something He Zheng couldn’t name. “I don’t want this kind of compensation.”
“I waited because I chose to. It wasn’t you forcing me. I can handle the consequences myself.”
“I won’t demand that you love me. But don’t demand that I stop loving you. Okay?”
He Zheng tried to lift the jacket away, but a firm hand stopped him. Wei Zhenye stood up, opened his mouth as if to speak, stared at He Zheng for a long time, and finally — overwhelmed by a deep sense of helplessness — sighed instead.
He Zheng heard footsteps fading, the door opening, and then closing softly. Wei Zhenye was gone.
The jacket slipped off his head, and when it fell to the floor, there was a dull thud — something hard inside the pocket.
A small black box had slid halfway out. He Zheng bent down, picked it up, and opened it. Inside was a ring.
It fit perfectly — the size of his ring finger. There were engraved letters on the inside of the band — a foreign language. He Zheng couldn’t read it, but it looked familiar.
He’d seen it in a handwritten letter before — the first Spanish phrase Wei Zhenye ever learned: Te extraño tanto — “I miss you so much.”