Eight Years...

The courtyard's iron gate now had a sensor lock. Tong Zhao followed Shu Sizhuo inside and saw that the courtyard was just as it had been, full of trees, with the fragrance of osmanthus in the air and greenery winding up from the base of the walls.

The sound of the gate opening alerted the housekeeper of the old residence. She came out with a coat draped over her shoulders. "Young master, you're here?"

"Mm," Shu Sizhuo answered.

The housekeeper was somewhat surprised and curious to see a slender figure following Shu Sizhuo. After all, he had never brought anyone back at night before.

She looked past Shu Sizhuo's shoulder just as the person raised his head. The housekeeper froze, a chill instantly seeping through her entire body.

It's him! Has he come back?

When Shu Sizhuo brought Tong Zhao closer, the housekeeper finally saw that it was a young face. She quietly breathed a sigh of relief, warmth gradually returning to her numb fingers.

It's not him.

If it were that person, he should have been in his thirties by now.

She stared at Tong Zhao's face, thinking uneasily that he really did look like him. He looked so much like him, more than anyone else had.

"Hello, I'm Tong Zhao." Tong Zhao stopped and smiled at the housekeeper.

His eyes curved when he smiled, beautiful as stars.

He really looked so much like him.

The housekeeper looked away and lowered her head slightly. "Mr. Tong, just call me Mama Feng."

"Mama Feng." Tong Zhao nodded.

Tong Zhao followed Shu Sizhuo upstairs. Unable to help himself, he looked back and saw that Mama Feng was still watching him.

Mama Feng was older than before. Looking at the new wrinkles on her face, Tong Zhao finally had a clearer, more tangible sense of what eight years meant.

After following Shu Sizhuo all the way to the second floor, Tong Zhao looked at him again. Shu Sizhuo was more than half a head taller than him, with broad shoulders and long legs, and took long strides as he walked.

Suddenly, Shu Sizhuo stopped, and Tong Zhao stopped too.

The night was so quiet. A draft blew through the dim hallway, and the effects of the alcohol that had just worn off swept over Tong Zhao again, leaving him dizzy and muddleheaded.

Shu Sizhuo reached out and opened a door on the left. He tilted his head slightly, his expression hard to make out in the darkness. "You'll sleep in this room. There's a change of clothes in the bathroom."

Tong Zhao was a little slow to react. Before he could respond, Shu Sizhuo had taken a few steps forward, turned the handle of the door diagonally opposite, and gone inside.

Tong Zhao slowly turned his head and realized that this was the room he had often stayed in before.

He turned on the light. The furnishings in the room had not changed at all. An old tire that he and Shu Sizhuo had doodled on hung on the wall, and a Lego robot he had built out of boredom sat on the desk cabinet.

The robot still held a card with a message he had written for Shu Sizhuo: "Little Sizhuo, be happy every day~"

Shu Sizhuo had been unhappy at the time, saying he was already nineteen and Tong Zhao was not allowed to call him Little Sizhuo anymore.

After all these years, the handwriting had grown somewhat blurry.

Tong Zhao reached out and touched it, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

Then his smile fell again.

There were so many guest rooms in the old residence. Why give someone he had just met the room Tong Zhao had stayed in?

The room was spotless. It was clear someone cleaned it every day, and even the bedding was fluffy.

Was it maintained so meticulously in remembrance of him from eight years ago, or had he long since been forgotten, so that it no longer mattered, and they had simply been too lazy to change the furnishings?

But since Shu Sizhuo had so casually let someone sleep in it, Tong Zhao thought it was the latter.

A forlorn look appeared on his face, but he could only sigh helplessly.

Because all of this had been wrong from the start.

He went to the bathroom and took a shower, knowing the way by heart, then crawled under the covers, cradling his aching, dizzy head.

Lying in that familiar bed, with insects chirping outside the window and the scent of osmanthus drifting in from the courtyard, Tong Zhao felt as though a lifetime had passed.

He should have been satisfied that he could enter this world, this spatial dimension, again and see Shu Sizhuo once more.

It was just that Shu Sizhuo was not the target of his mission this time. His target was Shi Ruohe.

Shi Ruohe's original path was to act diligently, pursue his dream in the entertainment industry, and become a great best actor.

But his thinking had suddenly gone astray, and he actually wanted to leave the industry!

Headquarters had told Tong Zhao to find a way to keep Shi Ruohe in the entertainment industry, help him find resources, and help him soar to success.

Whether a tasker succeeded or failed, they had to return after one year.

A year was too short. Naturally, Shi Ruohe could not become a best actor in so little time, so Tong Zhao's mission was to help him earn acting achievements on the road to that goal. Tong Zhao would receive one star for each achievement, and five stars would count as completing the mission.

Only after Tong Zhao transmigrated did he discover that Shi Ruohe had social anxiety: whenever he spoke to a stranger, he became both shy and afraid. Tong Zhao had no choice but to get inside, using his outstanding looks to successfully sign with Zilai Entertainment. Then he approached Shi Ruohe and became his support teammate!

As for tonight's dinner, it was a breakthrough Tong Zhao had spent five hundred yuan to learn about from the system: President Lu.

This man was a friend of Sister Wan's and had an extensive network. Tong Zhao had gone to great lengths to persuade him to arrange a dinner for him and Shi Ruohe. As for what he got out of it...

Tong Zhao had promised to give President Lu ten percent of all his future pay from film and television projects.

President Lu did not care about that ten percent, but after sizing Tong Zhao up for a while, he thought he looked good and spoke well. He also considered that the production they wanted to join was not S+ tier, and the roles they wanted were not leads, so it would not be too difficult. Only then did he reluctantly agree.

Counting on the fact that he would kick the bucket in this world a year later, Tong Zhao made the promise without a second thought for the consequences.

What he had not expected was for a dinner to bring him such a pleasant surprise. He had finally seen Shu Sizhuo, whom he had missed day and night.

It was late at night. The cicadas had grown much quieter, and the night breeze billowed and fluttered the sheer curtains.

The bedroom door was opened, then closed again.

A tall figure walked to the bedside and bent down, staring coldly at the person sleeping soundly on the bed.

Shu Sizhuo had just taken his medicine, but his hand still could not stop twitching and trembling slightly. An invisible force was pulling and squeezing his heart, the pain nearly making him faint. Countless times that night, he had almost lost his composure, leaving him unable to keep pretending to be calm.

Eight years.

It's been eight years...

It's been eight years, and you've finally deigned to come back...

He reached out with trembling fingers and gripped Tong Zhao's neck. The warmth against his fingertips made Shu Sizhuo tremble to his core.

Real, warm, flesh and blood.

It's not an illusion. It's real. You've really come back...

...You've finally deigned to come back.

Shu Sizhuo tightened his fingers, suppressing the frenzy in his eyes as he watched Tong Zhao's brows knit from the obstruction to his breathing.

His five fingers tightened further.

He watched Tong Zhao stir in discomfort, lifting his pale chin and parting his lips slightly as he struggled to draw in air.

His five fingers slowly loosened.

Tong Zhao's eyelids fluttered. He turned his head and rubbed it against the pillow, then sank back into sleep.

Shu Sizhuo moved his hand away from Tong Zhao's neck and cupped his face, pressing his thumb against his soft lips as he gazed at him, transfixed.

He had not changed at all. Whether sixteen years ago or eight years ago, this was the face he had had.

His thumb whitened as he pressed a dent into Tong Zhao's lips. Then he pried his teeth apart, slipped his index and middle fingers inside, and pinched his warm, soft tongue.

Shu Sizhuo trembled uncontrollably all over, his eyes red-rimmed, filled with roiling hatred and surging love.

"Tong Zhao?"

Shu Sizhuo pulled the corners of his mouth into a smile, then bent down and bit Tong Zhao's lower lip. He hated him so much that he bit a little hard.

A sound of discomfort escaped Tong Zhao's throat. He reached out, instinctively trying to break free, but like a piece of fish on a chopping board, he could only struggle helplessly.

Shu Sizhuo pulled away from his lips. Seeing that the lower one had grown red and swollen, he rubbed against it again, distressed. Then he buried his face in the crook of Tong Zhao's neck, his eyes aching and bloodshot.

"No matter what your name is, now that you're back, don't even think about leaving again."