Rebirth
November 11, ten o’clock at night.
Rain began falling from the sky without warning. The entire Shijiang District was empty and desolate, with only Binjiang Hospital still brightly lit, people coming and going.
Just as lively was the staff housing compound on the other side of the wall, Binjiang Courtyard.
It was the usual time for the night-shift handover. Old Man Li had just pushed open the door to the security office when a strong wave of alcohol hit him. Empty bottles lay scattered across the floor in every direction.
At the center of the mess, a handsome young man was sprawled asleep. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes unfocused. He looked thoroughly drunk.
“Good grief, Yangyang, how did you get yourself this drunk?”
Old Man Li opened the window for ventilation, then walked over and nudged the man on the floor. “What happened?”
The cold air suddenly pouring in woke Zhao Yang. He took a large gulp of beer, then cocked his head and said with a foolish grin, “Uncle Li… I, I’ve finally had my heart broken.”
Old Man Li was utterly bewildered.
He had guarded Binjiang Courtyard’s only entrance for decades. Nothing happening among the neighborhood families, not even the juiciest bit of gossip, ever escaped his notice.
When had Zhao Yang started dating someone?
How had he not heard a single thing?
Could it have been someone from outside the compound?
The thought made Old Man Li a little indignant.
After all, you could grab any random passerby in Binjiang Courtyard and they would have graduated from a top university, a nationally recognized outstanding talent…
Well, not quite anyone. The person on the floor was the exception. Zhao Yang was the only person in all of Binjiang Courtyard’s history who had failed to get into a top university.
He had not even come close to meeting the cutoff for a third-tier university. After scraping together a vocational college diploma, he had settled into the compound at a young age and become a security guard.
There was nothing wrong with the job, but in Binjiang, where talent was everywhere and everyone loved to compare themselves with everyone else, it was practically a disgrace. People would whisper behind his back and call him a good-for-nothing.
And yet no one ever called Zhao Yang that.
For one thing, he had a sweet, clean-cut face. Whenever he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents, and his two little canine teeth made him especially approachable.
He was also smooth-tongued and quick-witted, always able to charm the old folks in the compound into beaming smiles.
A truly interesting soul was one in a million, and Zhao Yang had consequently become the most popular person in Binjiang Courtyard. Everyone was eager to introduce him to their own grandson or granddaughter.
Old Man Li was no exception.
So which bastard had stolen the son-in-law he had wanted to hold in the palm of his hand, then gone and left him heartbroken?
What a blind fool! What a waste of a treasure!
November nights were cold, and the rain made the floor damp with chill. Old Man Li was too old to carry Zhao Yang, so he first cleared away the bottles, then found a padded coat and draped it over him.
A blurry figure passed outside the security office. Through the rain and mist, it was possible to make out an exceptionally tall man walking at an unhurried pace beneath a black umbrella. The dark-gray coat he wore nearly merged with the night.
He was wearing glasses, too, and the occasional flash of reflected light from the lenses made him especially conspicuous in the pouring rain.
Old Man Li recognized him at once. Leaning out of the window, he called, “Xiaochen, you came at just the right time. Give me a hand and get Yangyang home.”
Liao Xingchen stopped. His languid gaze showed through the lenses, his expression indifferent. He asked carelessly, “Who?”
His voice was several degrees colder than the winter rain.
Old Man Li was used to his manner and did not take offense. He turned and pointed at the floor. “Zhao Yang. He drank too much and has been lying there for ages. Take him on your back and carry him home.”
Zhao Yang and Liao Xingchen lived in the same building, one floor apart. Their mothers also worked as doctors in the same department and visited each other often.
In the eyes of everyone in the compound, Zhao Yang and Liao Xingchen were childhood friends who had grown up together. Anyone would have said the route home could not be any easier.
But the person standing in the rain remained motionless beneath his umbrella, every inch of him radiating the word “no.”
Old Man Li knew the habits and temperaments of everyone in the compound like the back of his hand. He even knew which of the stray cats in the west courtyard were affectionate and which were aloof.
Naturally, he also knew that Liao Xingchen had a severe case of obsessive cleanliness and especially hated being around drunk people.
But he was the only one who could get Zhao Yang home. Feeling sorry for his future son-in-law, Old Man Li tried to persuade him. “It’s freezing out here. If he keeps sleeping on the floor, he’ll probably get sick. Besides…”
He played his trump card. “Yangyang seems to have had his heart broken. He’s terribly upset. Xiaochen, just put up with it this once and carry him home.”
Heartbroken?
At those words, Liao Xingchen’s brows drew together almost imperceptibly. He looked past Old Man Li at the person curled up on the floor. Zhao Yang was tall and long-legged, and even with the army-green coat draped over him, his slender ankles were exposed. He did look cold.
Liao Xingchen was silent for a long while before finally nodding.
The familiar smell of disinfectant swept into Zhao Yang’s nose with the cold wind, dispelling some of his drunkenness.
He felt himself being carried upstairs. In a haze, he opened his eyes and found a handsome profile close in front of him.
It was so good-looking that his heart seemed to skip a beat.
The stairwell was dimly lit. Liao Xingchen’s narrow eyes were lowered slightly, his pupils deep and dark, his lashes thick and long. His thin lips were lightly pressed together. The bridge of his nose and the strong curve of his jaw gave him a hard-edged, strikingly handsome appearance.
This was the first time Zhao Yang had seen Liao Xingchen so close, with nothing obscuring his face.
Zhao Yang was certain he had drunk himself into hallucinating…
Because in all his memories of the past decade or more, the neighbor who lived downstairs had always worn a pair of heavy black-rimmed glasses. Fine brown hair fell over most of his face, and his skin was so pale it looked almost sickly.
He even walked with a listless air, as though the slightest breeze might blow him over. He was quiet and taciturn, always wearing the same indifferent expression for everyone…
Both in temperament and appearance, he was far too delicate and feminine. He was precisely the type Zhao Yang liked least.
Zhao Yang was the sort of person who got carried away whenever he was around people. In his own words, he could have fun with even a ghost. But Liao Xingchen’s cool, detached personality left him completely at a loss.
He had no idea how to interact with Liao Xingchen, while Liao Xingchen never took the initiative to seek him out.
So even though they had grown up together and often ate and socialized with their families, making them look quite close on the surface.
They actually had almost no private interaction or communication. They were practically strangers.
Zhao Yang shook his head, trying to dispel the illusion.
Noticing that the person on his back had woken up, Liao Xingchen stopped outside Room 601 and said, “Get down and open the door.”
Zhao Yang was awake, but he was still drunk. Clinging to Liao Xingchen’s shoulders, he shamelessly refused to get down. “The scanner’s broken. It won’t recognize my fingerprint.”
Liao Xingchen looked at the number pad on the smart lock and suppressed the urge to dump the person on his back onto the floor. With unusual patience, he asked, “Then what’s the password?”
Zhao Yang mumbled and stammered for a long while before muttering, “I… don’t know.”
Liao Xingchen turned his head and looked at him as though he were an idiot.
Who did not know the password to their own home?
Zhao Yang buried his head in the hollow of Liao Xingchen’s shoulder. His voice began to catch. “The password… is Su Qin’s birthday, but I don’t want to say it.”
Remembering what had happened not long ago, Zhao Yang still could not stop feeling hurt and disgusted. He rarely showed weakness in front of anyone, but tonight he had lost control.
With red-rimmed eyes, he mumbled in a muffled voice, sounding aggrieved and pitiful. “Yu Xiaoluo came back today.”
“Su Qin agreed to be with him.”
“All our classmates at Shining High School are watching me make a fool of myself.”
Today was Su Qin’s birthday. Nearly everyone there knew about the tangled relationship between Zhao Yang, Su Qin, and Yu Xiaoluo.
Su Qin was the first person Zhao Yang had ever fallen for, the person he had sincerely loved for ten years, the one he had held closest to his heart.
For him, Zhao Yang had even been willing to settle for being a backup.
Zhao Yang had once naively believed that no matter how cold a person’s heart was, enough devotion could eventually warm it. If he persisted long enough, Su Qin would one day realize how good he was.
Besides, he truly was not inferior to that Yu fellow.
But love was not something that could be won through humility and self-abasement. Unfortunately, Zhao Yang had understood that lesson too late. The best years of his youth had already been thrown away on someone who did not deserve them.
Remembering those precious years he had lost, Zhao Yang’s heart felt as though it were being cut apart. He burst into tears, thinking he had been an utter fool.
If only life could start over.
Crying as he repented inwardly, Zhao Yang thought that if time turned back, he would never again waste a second on Su Qin.
.
During his time at the hospital, Liao Xingchen had seen all kinds of tears: tears caused by the torment of illness, tears brought on by astronomical medical bills, tears shed when someone finally broke beneath the pressure of family…
But he had never seen anyone cry over a broken heart.
In the face of fragile life, such a trivial emotion was not worth mentioning.
A large patch of Liao Xingchen’s shoulder was soaked with tears. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but in the end he chose silence and turned to walk downstairs.
Like Zhao Yang’s home, Liao Xingchen’s was completely empty.
More than half the households in Binjiang Courtyard were like this. Their schedules were never regular, and working through the night was the norm.
The coffee table in the living room was covered with reagent tubes. Medical documents were piled across the floor and sofa, leaving not a single place to set foot.
Let alone somewhere to lie down.
Liao Xingchen looked around the room and finally had no choice but to carry Zhao Yang into the bedroom and dump him on his own bed.
Zhao Yang grabbed a pillow and hugged it. He cried himself to sleep, with several tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes, making him look pitiful.
Liao Xingchen received an emergency call and had already reached the door when he suddenly remembered Old Man Li’s warning that Zhao Yang might sleep himself sick. For some inexplicable reason, he turned back.
The cold northern wind drove the torrential rain through the gaps around the window, howling into the room much like the low whimpers of the person on the bed.
Acting on the principle that a doctor should always show compassion, Liao Xingchen turned on the air conditioner’s heating, then pulled a down quilt from the cabinet and tucked it securely around Zhao Yang.
Only after doing all this did he hurry away.
The downpour continued. Whether because he had been drunk and cried himself out, or because of the considerate down quilt Liao Xingchen had given him, Zhao Yang slept very uneasily. In his muddled state, he dreamed…