The results came the next day.
Although they had gone to the best private hospital, the late hour and understaffed personnel meant some waiting was unavoidable. Hu Guangtong arranged for Yuan Mian to be placed in a nearby hotel, keeping him close.
It was a hotel owned by Hu Guangtong himself. He booked the presidential suite and did not assign Yuan Mian a separate room.
Late that night, Hu Guangtong sat in the living room coordinating with his assistant, quickly drafting a compensation plan for the accident.
The assistant, upon learning that Hu Guangtong had hit someone with his car, was shocked. When they heard the other party’s name, they were shocked again.
Hu Guangtong, of course, knew the source of their surprise. Yuan Mian’s fame was considerable; calling him a top-tier celebrity in the industry was no exaggeration.
Looking out from Hu Guangtong’s position, across the street, a giant billboard displayed a face.
In the night, surrounded by scattered light, the image was slightly obscured but unmistakable: the face of a beauty so flawless that it commanded admiration. Who else but Yuan Mian?
Hu Guangtong squinted, recognizing the name beneath the image, Yuan Mian.
Yuan Mian. He repeated it quietly, the name familiar yet distant.
Hu Guangtong knew him or at least knew of him yet in truth, they were strangers. Parallel lines, momentarily connected by fate, never truly intersecting.
Hu Guangtong had glimpsed Yuan Mian from afar twice before. Both occasions were extraordinary, each linked to a funeral.
The first time was in middle school. A close classmate, whose family had business dealings with the Yuans, went to pay respects at the Yuan family home and took Hu Guangtong along. Hu Guangtong remained outside the main hall, witnessing Yuan Mian and his brother carrying the ancestral tablet, his pale face almost blending with the falling snow, a quiet sorrow that moved the mourners to tears.
The second time was at the funeral of Yuan Mian’s older brother. Few attended. The same classmate who had first brought Hu Guangtong did not show. A cousin of Hu Guangtong’s was invited to attend and gave Hu Guangtong a ride along the way.
It was only then that Hu Guangtong realized this was a Yuan family funeral.
The cousin chattered non-stop on the way there, his words a continuous stream: “It’s all because that brat from the Fu family insisted people go just to support his new boyfriend at his funeral. What a ridiculous request. Who the hell goes to someone else’s funeral just to make an appearance?”
On the way back, his expression shifted, now laced with amusement: “Ah, so that’s how it was. No wonder Fu Tianle’s head’s spinning. The youngest son of the Yuan family really is quite something, I’ll give him that.”
He shook his head and muttered, almost ruefully: “Poor Yuan Mian, really. To get a brother who robs him of the family fortune, squanders it all, then forces him to attend the funeral… and now he has to deal with Fu Tianle on top of it.”
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping conspiratorially: “Guangtong, have you heard of him? That Fu Tianle from the Fu family, the best-looking among the younger generation. He’s notorious for being fickle, born with a head full of schemes, not someone who can settle down. If those two are just playing around, fine but if real feelings are involved… I can’t even imagine the future. What a curse, really.”
At that remark, Hu Guangtong cast a careful glance toward the Yuan family garden.
The Yuan household was in mourning at the time yet the garden was in full bloom. Flowers competed for attention, petals vivid in a riot of color. Flowering vines crawled up the swing frame and the grown Yuan Mian sat there silently, staring at the tips of his shoes.
It may have lasted only a few seconds, maybe ten but through it all, Yuan Mian did not lift his head and the two never made eye contact.
Hu Guangtong, however, remembered that moment vividly. Yuan Mian reminded him of his mother. There had been a time when he planted flowers for her, to cheer her up. She had sat silently on a swing frame, her expression almost identical to Yuan Mian’s now.
They shared not just a look but a feeling, a kind of beauty tinged with sorrow, quietly flowing, haunting in its grace.
The sharp ding-ding of a phone interrupted the moment.
Hu Guangtong lowered his gaze to his phone. The assistant had sent over the prepared compensation proposal. He clicked to accept, read through it and signed his name.
That night, Hu Guangtong did not sleep.
Hours later, morning came. There was no need for him to leave; all of the hospital reports were delivered directly to the hotel room.
He flipped through the medical report. As expected, the physical injuries were minor, some superficial bruises, a slight ankle sprain but all other bodily functions were normal.
Turning to the psychological assessment, he prepared to examine it but then Yuan Mian stepped out of the room.
Hu Guangtong had heard the sound of washing and moving around in the bedroom a few minutes prior, so he was aware of Yuan Mian’s awakening yet seeing him in person still caught him slightly off guard.
Yuan Mian had cut his hair short, now just above the nape of his neck. He wasn’t a professional and the cut was uneven, with jagged lines yet his high cheekbones and refined features made even the uneven strands seem effortless, revealing a smooth forehead. It didn’t look messy, it looked fresh, striking and modern.
His eyes, too, were different from the day before.
Hu Guangtong had always been sensitive to emotions. Yesterday, Yuan Mian had shown a clear desire to avoid him, not hostility, not anger, just a strong reluctance to meet his gaze.
Today, however, his eyes met Hu Guangtong’s directly. He spoke first, simply: “Morning.”
Hu Guangtong replied in kind: “Morning.”
Little did he know that this simple exchange was just the beginning of surprises.
Once he informed Yuan Mian that all the test results were in and they reviewed the psychological assessment together, Hu Guangtong experienced a rare, subtle shock.
The results indicated that Yuan Mian’s mental state was very healthy.
Not only was there no sign of depression, there wasn’t even the slightest inclination toward it.
Earlier, when Hu Guangtong had asked how he was, Yuan Mian had said he was fine and indeed, he truly appeared fine.
But how could he really be fine?
Hu Guangtong’s gaze lingered on him. Yuan Mian’s past breakdowns, the fragments of his trauma he’d glimpsed… even small pieces of it were like tidal waves capable of overwhelming a world.
And emotional tsunamis, Hu Guangtong knew, were often far crueler than physical pain.
His thoughts drifted to his own mother, the woman who had withered silently amidst her own personal storms.
Hu Guangtong was considered fortunate, born into the Hu family, blessed with the combined advantages of his parents’ beauty and upbringing. More importantly, he was the only child, the sole inheritor of the Hu family fortune, untouchable even if his father had affairs elsewhere.
He was supremely lucky. His mother was lucky, too; privately, people often said she had borne the perfect son.
Yet all of this luck had a condition: his mother’s love had been for her husband, not for wealth.
Hu Guangtong had never liked the phrase “love makes fools of us.” He thought it unfair to demean someone who was hurt in love. Loving someone, even recklessly, was not shameful.
His mother had been courageous and bright, born into a respectable family. She died of cancer but before that, she had suffered severe psychological illness. When she learned she had a terminal illness, paradoxically, she lived her remaining days with more ease than before. Hu Guangtong had stayed by her side, trying with all his might to protect and support her but her heart never fully healed.
Drawing his thoughts back, Hu Guangtong looked at Yuan Mian carefully, studying him in detail.
Their eyes met. Neither spoke immediately. Yuan Mian’s phone rang.
He had just turned it on, having blocked Fu Tianle. Messages and two calls from him the previous night remained unseen. He gestured to Hu Guangtong, then stepped aside a few paces to answer.
Hu Guangtong couldn’t hear the other end, only Yuan Mian’s voice. Calm, composed yet with a hint of brazen audacity:
“Late, so what? I wasn’t even photographed.”
“Say whatever you want. Mouths are made for talking.”
“I don’t think it affects my reputation. Yeah, you’re right. Fine, I won’t do it anymore. I didn’t want to do it before and now neither should you. No one should do it.”
The call ended quickly. Yuan Mian caught the reaction from the other side and laughed to himself, a smile Hu Guangtong had never seen before. The rarest of memories: Yuan Mian, laughing.
Yuan Mian looked up, seeing Hu Guangtong’s attention. “What is it? Did I bother you?”
“No,” Hu Guangtong said, coming back to himself. After a pause, he added: “You look fine now.”
“I’ve always been fine,” Yuan Mian replied.
“Yesterday…”
“Yesterday is over,” Yuan Mian interrupted decisively. Everything was over.
A corner of Hu Guangtong’s mouth lifted in a small, unspoken smile.
His gaze drifted past Yuan Mian to the massive billboard outside. Last night, in dim light, he had thought the object Yuan Mian held at his chest was a perfume bottle. Now, seeing clearly, it was a diamond wristwatch.
A similar illusion but diamonds were unbreakable, resilient and impervious.
Hu Guangtong spoke softly: “My name is Hu Guangtong.”
Surprise finally flashed in Yuan Mian’s eyes. He answered calmly: “I know.”
“I’ve prepared your compensation agreement, including potential impacts on your work. I hope the amount is satisfactory. If there are no issues, we can consider this matter closed.”
“Of course,” Yuan Mian replied.
It had been a minor collision. Under normal circumstances, he might not have undergone so many tests. Now, there was no room for dispute over the agreement.
With the signatures completed, Yuan Mian had nothing more to say to Hu Guangtong. His own work as a celebrity had never been something he enjoyed; it had brought years of accumulated frustration. Starting over, he wanted nothing more to do with it.
He rose, glanced subtly at Hu Guangtong, fully aware that the man had not slept the entire night, checking on him three times.
Yuan Mian had never truly known Hu Guangtong. He had only imagined the person he liked to be radiant, untouchable, almost ethereal and yet, years later, that fleeting fantasy proved uncannily correct. Even so, it stirred something within him, long buried under apathy.
It was a small miracle, a gentle moonlight blessing in the midst of life’s chaos.
Just as Yuan Mian turned to leave, Hu Guangtong called out suddenly: “Mr. Yuan.”
He spoke his name clearly. Then he asked, cautiously: “May I ask… have you broken up with Fu Tianle?”
✦ ✧ ✦
Fleurveil
[Translator]
☕ A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR THE TRANSLATOR
Coffee: useful. Translator: useful. You: potentially useful.
☕ BUY THEM A COFFEE →
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ChaptersChapter 1 · Why don’t you go and keep him company?Chapter 2 · He opened the door and left without looking backChapter 3 · Why Hu Guangtong of all people?Chapter 4 · Have you broken up with Fu Tianle?Chapter 5 · Hello, I am Yuan Mian’s fiancé.Chapter 6 · You liked Hu Guangtong from the beginningChapter 7 · I want to spend the rest of my life with you.Chapter 8 · Have you seen Yuan Mian recently?Chapter 9 · Yuan Mian has already started talking to someone elseChapter 10 · He wasn’t Yuan Mian’s first love?Chapter 11 · Are you comparable to Hu Guangtong?Chapter 12 · Yuan Mian would certainly love Hu GuangtongChapter 13 · They’re going home together for dinnerChapter 14 · Extra 1Chapter 15 · Extra 2Chapter 16 · Extra 3