He Zheng bought two bowls of hot congee from a breakfast shop. When he opened the door, he carefully controlled the sound, afraid of waking He Linlin. But when he went inside, he found that she was already awake, hunched over on the sofa. Her nightgown was loose, her hair messy, and she stared blankly at a grayish photo in her hands.
She hadn’t slept since He Zheng left and had stayed up the whole night.
He Zheng stood at the doorway without speaking. He Linlin was lost in her own world, unaware of his presence. When she couldn’t help lowering her head to kiss the woman in the photo, He Zheng tactfully turned his back to her.
He silently counted the date. If he remembered right, today was the death anniversary of his biological mother, Tan Mo.
Tan Mo had jumped into the river after giving birth to him. She had suffered long-term domestic abuse and had become mentally unstable. He Linlin, under the name of being Tan Mo’s close friend, had taken He Zheng in and raised him. She rarely talked about her past with Tan Mo, and even when she missed her deeply, she only shed tears quietly in private.
Her deliberate avoidance had cast a veil over the relationship between the two women. He Zheng had noticed hints of it before but had never tried to confirm anything.
He waited by the door for a while, the congee nearly cooling. He took out his keys and deliberately dropped them on the shoe cabinet—the metallic clatter rang crisply through the room. Startled, He Linlin quickly put the photo away, wiped her eyes hard, and forced a smile as she turned toward him. “You’re back?”
“Mm.”
He Zheng placed the congee in front of her and pretended not to notice her hands hidden behind her back. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
He Linlin nodded in response.
…..
Back in his room, He Zheng locked the door. He had three new messages—one from Wei Zhenye and two from Yang Cheng.
He didn’t even open Yang Cheng’s messages, deleting the chat right away. Then he switched to Wei Zhenye’s chat and replied: [I’m home.]
Almost immediately, a call came through. Just as He Zheng was about to speak, a teasing whistle sounded on the other end.
“I sent you a message first. You reply to him but not me?” Yang Cheng tsked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A wave of irritation rose in He Zheng for no clear reason. His tone turned uncharacteristically cold. “Put Wei Zhenye on the phone.”
“He’s in a video meeting.”
“Then I’ll call him later. Bye.” He Zheng didn’t give Yang Cheng a chance to respond before hanging up.
What the hell.
He had already sensed something off. He’d thought Yang Cheng’s friendliness was just his personality, but now he realized the man didn’t know boundaries. Some of his behavior wasn’t what you’d expect from a friend’s partner.
He Zheng lay against the headboard for a while. Outside, the sky lightened with the first signs of dawn, and the rising sun spilled a layer of warmth over the ground. He found the view beautiful, took a photo, and sent it to Wei Zhenye.
He was just about to fall asleep when Wei Zhenye finally called back, his work finished.
He Zheng’s voice was muffled, tinged with sleepiness. “So tired.”
“Go to sleep. The dinner’s at twelve. I’ll pick you up an hour earlier,” Wei Zhenye said gently.
He Zheng thought for a moment. “What should I wear?”
“Whatever you like.”
“Even a tank top and shorts?” He Zheng teased.
“Sure, if you like,” Wei Zhenye replied slowly and seriously. “I’ve already seen how beautiful you are. So no matter how casually you dress, you’ll still look good to me.”
Something soft in He Zheng’s heart was struck hard. Wei Zhenye really was like a loyal puppy—circling around him, tail wagging, eyes full of warmth.
“Xiao Wei,” He Zheng said exactly what he thought, “bark twice for me.”
Wei Zhenye couldn’t quite follow his train of thought, but he humored him anyway. “Woof.”
He Zheng made a sound of approval. “Good puppy.”
“You’re so childish.”
Wei Zhenye laughed helplessly, a little embarrassed but fond.
He Zheng fished a pair of earphones from the nightstand and changed the topic. “I want to hear your playlist.”
“I don’t have any local music apps,” Wei Zhenye said as he fiddled with his phone. “Give me three minutes—I’ll set it up.”
“Okay,” He Zheng said, waiting. Before long, his phone buzzed with a new message—this time from Yang Cheng again.
[—You blocked me from your Moments?]
He Zheng sighed. He didn’t even post on Moments; there was no such thing as blocking anyone.
He replied with one word: [No.]
Yang Cheng seemed to be waiting for his response. He replied instantly: [What’s your waist size? I found a dress that’d look great on you. Want it or not?]
Then came a photo—a Dior haute couture embroidered tulle evening gown, the kind female celebrities wore on red carpets.
He Zheng took one glance at the outrageous price tag and looked away. [No.]
Yang Cheng pressed: [Don’t like it?]
He Zheng replied: [No. What suits someone else doesn’t necessarily suit me.]
His words were polite but clear enough. Yang Cheng was smart; he understood the message and didn’t reply again.
He Zheng deleted their chat once more and pinned Wei Zhenye’s conversation to the top.
Now that looked much better.
“I invited you. Once you enter the room, we can listen together.”
Wei Zhenye had just finished downloading the app and casually asked, “Who were you talking to just now? The vibration was so strong I could hear it from here.”
He Zheng lied, “Li Ru.”
Yang Cheng’s little schemes hadn’t yet taken shape, and it wasn’t time to fall out with him. He Zheng didn’t want Wei Zheng to break ties with Yang Cheng because of him.
Wei Zhenye gave a small “mm” and didn’t think much of it. He transferred the songs from his playlist into the app and pressed play.
Remembering that He Zheng was wearing earphones, he quietly turned the volume down.
He Zheng opened the playlist. Most of the songs were in Spanish, and the first one was Para Tu Amor — slow, gentle, romantic — perfect to listen to before bed.
The lyrics sounded exactly like Wei Zheng’s inner confession. As the soft voice sang, He Zheng drifted into sleep.
Para tu amor lo tengo todo — For your love, I have everything.
Desde mi sangre hasta la esencia de mi ser — From my blood to the essence of my soul.
Y que no conoce el fin un corazón que late por vos — A heart that beats for you, never knowing an end.
Para tu amor no hay despedidas — For your love, there are no goodbyes.
Para tu amor yo solo tengo eternidad — For your love, I have only eternity.
He Zheng wasn’t someone who cared much for ceremony, while Wei Zhenye was the complete opposite — To him, the first day of confirming a relationship had to begin with a bouquet of flowers.
….
When Wei Zhenye saw He Zheng coming downstairs, he got out of the car, walked around to open the passenger door for him. On the seat sat a bouquet of roses, beneath which lay a black gift box, its lid half-open. Inside was a white long dress lying quietly.
In that birthday video, He Zheng had thought the dress suited him perfectly — and now, touching it in person, those words surfaced again in his mind: “I hope you’ll always stay beautiful.”
He Zheng was lost in thought for a long time, until Wei Zhenye suddenly leaned close, reaching over to fasten the seatbelt for him.
Their bodies brushed close for a brief second, but not even a strand of hair touched — Wei Zhenye’s sense of boundaries was precise, and he never intended to take advantage of the moment.
“You’ve been spacing out,” Wei Zhenye said calmly, a statement rather than a question.
He Zheng gripped the seatbelt. Wei Zhenye drove steadily onto the Yuejiang Bridge; outside the window, the waves stretched endlessly, seagulls flying in the distance beneath a blue sky that melted into the horizon.
He Zheng took out his phone to snap a photo — wanting to share the beautiful scene — only to realize that the person he wanted to share it with was sitting right beside him.
Wei Zhenye had crossed countless rivers like this — from Mexico to Beijing — a distance of 12,400 kilometers, a journey eight years long.
He Zheng turned to look at Wei Zhenye, only to find that Wei Zheng was also looking at him.
So he reached out his hand, fingers slightly spread, leaving just enough space for another hand to fit. He shook it lightly toward Wei Zhenye.
Wei Zhenye understood immediately and took his hand.
A call appeared on the car’s navigation screen. The caller ID read “Mother.” He Zheng saw it and, understandingly, turned his head away to keep watching the view outside.
But the next second, Wei Zhenye disconnected the Bluetooth, turned on the speaker, and openly let He Zheng hear the call.
“Have you picked up Mr. He?” His mother’s voice was calm, her tone unreadable.
He Zheng froze for a moment at hearing his name.
Wei Zhenye glanced at him — seeing how flustered he looked — and decided not to make him greet her. Instead, he answered, “On the way. Haven’t picked him up yet.”
His mother hummed softly. “You can date, but don’t forget your work.”
“Okay.”
That was all. The call ended.
He Zheng felt Wei Zhenye’s fingertips gently tapping on the back of his hand, a quiet reassurance — don’t be nervous.
He Zheng swallowed. “Do your parents know we’re together?”
“Yes.” Wei Zhenye held his hand with one hand while steering with the other. “I came out to them a long time ago.”
For him, this love wasn’t some impulsive act — it had been long prepared. He had paved every path, waiting only for He Zheng to take that final step.
He Zheng suddenly didn’t know what to say. In the face of such clear, decisive action, words felt pale and powerless. He could only tighten his grip on Wei Zheng’s hand.
Wei Zhenye seemed to sense his thoughts, chuckled softly, and said in a warm voice, “It’s how it should be.”