After opening up about his family once, the second and third times became easier, almost natural.
Ruan Chen remembered reading somewhere that one should never expose too much of their flaws or misfortune to the person they like, it would make them appear awkward or pitiful, pushing the other person away but he wasn’t trying to win Mu Xinghai’s affection, not at all.
Instead, he treated Mu Xinghai like a kind of living confidant, a receptacle for everything he couldn’t hold in himself.
It was an exchange of sorts. When Mu Xinghai wanted intimacy, he obliged. When Mu Xinghai needed to vent negative energy, he listened silently, without complaint.
It was simple. Clear. Uncomplicated.
Ruan Chen didn’t need sympathy or pity, nor did he need advice or solutions, he just needed to voice what he carried inside.
He spoke at length and over time, Mu Xinghai grew accustomed, adjusting himself around Ruan Chen’s rhythms. When Ruan Chen was in a lighter mood, Mu Xinghai would propose playful new ideas or small experiments and Ruan Chen would go along without hesitation.
Removed from society, far into the quiet, empty mountains, his sense of shame relaxed almost entirely.
It was as if a long delayed rebellion, years in dormancy, was finally stirring to life.
“Fine,” he muttered inwardly, half in self disgust, “anyway, in a few months, Mu Xinghai will leave the country. If nothing goes wrong, this is probably the only time in my life I’ll ever go completely wild with a man. Enjoy it now, then forget it ever happened.”
For fairness, Mu Xinghai also shared his past experiences with Ruan Chen but listening only made Ruan Chen more impatient. If he listened too long, a small jealousy would flare up.
Recently, Mu Xinghai had been unusually humble, deferential, even gentle and Ruan Chen found himself emboldened, taking liberties he wouldn’t have otherwise. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but tease Mu Xinghai lightly:
“You really are such a little young master.”
“Is that so? I didn’t want to hear about your girlfriends, anyway.”
“I’m a bit sleepy. Where were we just now?”
Ruan Chen saw Mu Xinghai as a charmed man, born into affection, admired at school, successful in life and love, with a trail of admirers following him. In his capable hands and with his excellent achievements, his future was certain to be brilliant.
Ruan Chen’s own life was the complete opposite, a shadow to Mu Xinghai’s halo, a stark contrast. If Mu Xinghai hadn’t been so radiant, so unassailably brilliant, Ruan Chen’s vanity might never have flared, nor would he have silently accepted their unconventional relationship.
And yet, it remained physical, nothing more.
He didn’t wish to explore deeper emotional or spiritual intimacy with Mu Xinghai. After all, Mu Xinghai had only been acting on impulse. He’d claimed he wanted a relationship; Ruan Chen had believed it for a few seconds and then the words changed. Looking back, he thought, “Why would I trust a master of romance? What was I thinking?”
Mu Xinghai, of course, noticed Ruan Chen’s divided attention. He was intrigued by Ruan Chen’s world, desperate to occupy it fully yet Ruan Chen remained indifferent, fluctuating between warmth and distance, sometimes near, sometimes far.
There were moments when intimacy seemed to grow, Ruan Chen would speak sharply, assertively, showing a little fire in his words, no longer pliant and malleable like dough, easily shaped by others.
And then, one day, it happened.
“By the way… the day after tomorrow I have to go home.”
Mu Xinghai froze, dumbfounded. “Already?”
Ruan Chen’s tone was calm, almost clinical. “Yes. My mother wants me home to tutor my nephew and I also have a paper to finish. I can’t keep fooling around. It’s already been a week.”
Mu Xinghai had never felt a week pass so quickly.
But while he had some authority in the bedroom, outside of it he had none.
So he watched helplessly as Ruan Chen packed, heart pounding and could only say, “Then… I’ll drive you back.”
The mountain roads were treacherous to drive and the descent was worse than the ascent. The slope was steep, the curves winding and sharp. Mu Xinghai drove with painstaking caution.
Once they left the mountains and approached Ruan Chen’s biological parents’ home, they encountered a stretch of road under repair. Mud covered the path, splattering onto the car, leaving it dirty and streaked. Anyone in the village could see at a glance that it was an expensive car, even without reading the plates.
Ruan Chen’s parents had just finished building a four story home last year and the car stopped outside the yard.
Mu Xinghai hopped out faster than Ruan Chen, practically flying. “I’ll help you with your luggage!” he offered, eager and polite, like a hotel attendant.
The household, hearing the commotion, came downstairs to see.
Ruan Chen’s mother approached, warm and welcoming. Her face was lined with the stories of time, her eyes gentle and bright. “Chenchen, you’re home! Who’s this? Your friend? Is this the first time you’ve brought someone home?”
Ruan Chen noticed the light in his mother’s eyes and couldn’t help but marvel at Mu Xinghai’s natural charm, it was truly impossible to imitate.
Without warning, Mu Xinghai stepped into the house.
“Hello, Auntie,” he greeted obediently, polite and deferential.
Ruan Chen’s mother chatted, mentioning another, cleaner route that avoided the mud. Ruan Chen felt a pang of embarrassment, he hadn’t even remembered the best way home.
She suggested Mu Xinghai wash the car before leaving.
Mu Xinghai nodded and asked Ruan Chen if he could stay the night.
Ruan Chen immediately felt as if Mu Xinghai were a luxury item he had brought home to show off, a flawless, prized possession on display.
Out of a flicker of vanity, he agreed to let him stay.
In truth, returning home wasn’t a cold or lonely experience for Ruan Chen. Quite the opposite, he was greeted warmly, even enthusiastically. His mother had gone to the trouble of preparing a full table of carefully cooked dishes. From the moment they met, she fussed over him constantly.
But it all felt forced. Artificial. Like an actor stepping fully into a role, performing the scripted motions of familial affection. Ruan Chen wasn’t a good actor himself. He replied politely, neutrally, unable to blend in.
In the end, he still felt like nothing more than a guest being entertained. Mu Xinghai, by contrast, seemed perfectly at ease in this hospitality. In fact, Ruan Chen felt he was even less comfortable than Mu Xinghai, at least Mu Xinghai could bring joy to both host and guest, while he, Ruan Chen, only had the knack for making everyone feel awkward.
That night, they shared a room.
Mu Xinghai asked, “Is this your room?”
Ruan Chen shook his head. “No. It’s a guest room. I don’t come back very often, so leaving it empty is just a waste.”
Mu Xinghai hesitated, startled. The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. “Even if you don’t come back, shouldn’t the kid at least have a room? And didn’t you say you contributed to building the house?”
As soon as he spoke, he noticed the shadow crossing Ruan Chen’s face and immediately shut his mouth.
“Shut up,” Ruan Chen said flatly, his voice heavy with irritation.
Nothing happened that night. After all, they were in Ruan Chen’s family home and caution was necessary. They had to avoid any hint of impropriety, any sign of an intimate relationship being discovered.
The next morning, Ruan Chen accompanied Mu Xinghai to wash the car. Methodical and meticulous, he scrubbed every inch of the vehicle until it gleamed. His mind, however, was elsewhere, he wanted to finish quickly so that he could get rid of this intrusive presence.
Mu Xinghai smiled. “You did a great job. If this were a car shop, I’d pay a hundred bucks for this service.”
Ruan Chen glanced at him coolly. “No need. Just tell me ‘Happy New Year’ when the day comes, that’s enough.”
Mu Xinghai chuckled. “I’d say it anyway, even if you didn’t remind me.”
Ruan Chen, matter of fact and calm, replied like any ordinary friend: “Alright. Then thanks. Be careful on the road and have a safe trip.”
And with that, Mu Xinghai was sent away.
Ruan Chen returned home, surrounded by family, the house alive with warmth and noise yet the moment he thought of Mu Xinghai, an emptiness spread through his chest. He longed to know where Mu Xinghai was, what he was doing, whether he was safe, whether he was thinking of him too.
It was New Year’s Eve.
Mu Xinghai had just finished dinner and was resting in the cozy warmth of his home, lying on the sofa with the Spring Festival Gala playing faintly in the background. He had his phone in hand, engrossed in writing, unwilling to be distracted even by his parents’ chatter.
He waited impatiently for the clock to strike midnight, planning to be the very first to send Ruan Chen a New Year’s greeting. Not just a simple “Happy New Year”, he wanted to write a little essay, a carefully crafted message that would suit Ruan Chen’s taste, the kind that felt personal, literary, meaningful yet no matter how he edited it, it never felt quite right.
And then, suddenly, Ruan Chen messaged him first.
[I ran into a problem. I don’t have anywhere to go. Can you come pick me up?]
Mu Xinghai froze for a moment, stunned. His pulse spiked. Without hesitation, he leapt from the sofa, found his car keys, threw on a jacket and told his parents, “Mom, Dad, I need to go out for a while.”
At the same time, he messaged Ruan Chen: [Okay, I’m on my way. Where are you? Send me a location.]
Time seemed to accelerate. Every second felt vital, every heartbeat a drumbeat of urgency. Mu Xinghai didn’t even pause to think, he just acted.
He was going to get Ruan Chen, no matter what it took.
✦ ✧ ✦
Fleurveil
[Translator]
☕ A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR THE TRANSLATOR
The magical Realm runs on stories, chaos, and suspicious amounts of coffee.
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✧ (づ｡•ㅅ•｡)づ ☕ ✧
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← PreviousNext →
ChaptersChapter 1 · Rear WindowChapter 2 · Kahlil Gibran, “I Have Spit My Soul Seven Times”Chapter 3 · His ToyChapter 4 · Star GazingChapter 5 · Just a dreamChapter 6 · ColdChapter 7 · Yearning for LoveChapter 8 · A Good PersonChapter 9 · Such a good boyChapter 10 · Delivered to your doorChapter 11 · Not familiar with itChapter 12 · First loveChapter 13 · Giving giftsChapter 14 · HeartstringsChapter 15 · Chinese New YearChapter 16 · TruthChapter 17 · SeparateChapter 18 · Planting minesChapter 19 · ChoiceChapter 20 · More hereChapter 21 · Could things have gotten any worse?Chapter 22 · Not because you like me?Chapter 23 · Not because you like me?Chapter 24 · It’s a tangled mess, impossible to unravelChapter 25 · The truth has been revealedChapter 26 · Extra: 1Chapter 27 · Extra: 2Chapter 28 · Extra: 3Chapter 29 · Extra: 4Chapter 30 · Extra: 5Chapter 31 · Extra: 6Chapter 32 · Extra: 7