Fan Jin rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. His heart was beating so fast it seemed ridiculous. He was thirty-two, yet something someone had said could still keep him up at night.
He picked up his phone and opened his chat with Shan Ye. Shan Ye had been distant with him today, nothing like his usual enthusiastic self. He was probably genuinely angry with him.
He scrolled up a little further. Late last night, Shan Ye had sent a message asking, "Could you be a little nicer to me?"
Had he already been feeling hurt when he said that?
Fan Jin set his phone facedown on the nightstand and closed his eyes.
He remembered the morning Shan Ye had hugged him. Shan Ye's arms had wrapped around his waist, his face resting against his shoulder, his warm breath brushing the side of his neck. He hadn't pushed him away-not because he hadn't wanted to, but because he couldn't bear to.
It had been the first time anyone had ever hugged him.
Fan Jin laid a hand over his eyes.
He didn't want Shan Ye to leave.
But he was even more afraid that, after staying, Shan Ye would discover there was nothing special about him.
He feared his coldness would wear away Shan Ye's enthusiasm little by little, until Shan Ye finally said, "Fan Jin, you're really no fun," and walked away without looking back.
He feared he really was like his father, incapable of loving anyone, only capable of hurting them.
Fan Jin sat up and lit a cigarette in the dark.
As the smoke drifted apart, he remembered what his grandmother had said: "You need to find someone who'll stay by your side."
He exhaled a mouthful of smoke and murmured, "...Let's give it a try."
"What if I can make him happy..."
He had spent too long struggling in the mire of his own life. At eighteen, he had been at the end of his rope. His mother was gone, and his alcoholic, gambling-addicted father kept coming to him for money. Before she died, Fan Jin's mother had left him a bank card containing all her savings and told him he must keep the money for himself.
But before long, his father discovered it and snatched the card away. Fan Jin had been an unfilial son: he'd had a vicious fight with his father at home and nearly beaten him into the hospital. The only reason his father hadn't gone was that there was no money to take him.
Later, Fan Jin left him the card, turned around, and signed up for the military. Fortunately, he was healthy, tall, and had no bad habits.
And so he spent ten years in the military.
In his fifth year of service, he received news that his father had died of an illness. It was the same disease his mother had had: pancreatic cancer. Fan Jin went home and used the bereavement payment from the military to arrange his funeral. He stood before his father's grave without shedding a single tear.
He felt his father had brought it on himself. It was payback. When his mother was alive, his father would get blind drunk and come home to throw bottles at her.
Even as his mother lay dying, his father had stood by her hospital bed demanding money.
What was there to mourn about the death of a bastard like that?
After his father's funeral, he visited his mother's grave and bowed three times, knocking his forehead against the ground. He lived alone in this world, with no family and no attachments, but all those years in the military had taught him to cherish life. Staying alive wasn't easy; while he could still live, he should live well.
He had left the military four years ago. In the blink of an eye, he was already thirty-two.
He hadn't been in a single relationship all these years. He had only wanted to drift peacefully through life on his own and care for his grandmother until her final days.
He had never had any hopes or thoughts about love, but now Shan Ye had appeared. Only when Shan Ye held him did he realize that he, too, longed to be loved.
He didn't want to let Shan Ye go anymore, nor did he want to hide from him. He could fool Shan Ye, but he couldn't fool his own heart.
Fan Jin opened his phone again, his fingertip hovering over their earlier chat.
He tapped out a message: "I'll reply from now on."
After sending it, he rubbed his fingertips together for a long time, still feeling a little nervous.
Shan Ye had just finished washing up. When he saw Fan Jin's message, he was so happy he nearly jumped into the air.
All that effort he'd put into acting distant hadn't been wasted. In truth, he hadn't wanted to say a single harsh word to his Fan Jin.
His lips curved as he sent a message: "Then what if I say I miss you again? Will you still reply?"
"Yes."
"With what?" Shan Ye raised his eyebrows, a little curious about what Fan Jin would say.
Fan Jin carefully typed out one word: "Okay."
Shan Ye frowned and muttered to himself, "What does 'okay' mean?"
In truth, there was more he wanted to add: I miss you too.
But he still didn't dare say it. He was in Muzhou now and feared leaving Shan Ye disappointed, so he wanted to tell him in person.
There were still five days until Fan Jin came back. Shan Ye had noticed last week that Fan Jin's attitude toward him was nowhere near as cold as before. It showed in the way Fan Jin replied to every message he sent each day, even responding to his stickers with one of his own.
Shan Ye gradually began sending him voice messages. His voice alone made it clear how happy he was, as though every day were drenched in honey.
Shan Ye's voice sounded bright and clear in the messages. Fan Jin listened to every one, and afterward, the corners of his mouth would lift without him realizing.
They chatted more and more often, too. Even spotting a dog by the roadside was enough for Shan Ye to take a picture and send it to Fan Jin.
A week passed like that.
On Friday morning, Shan Ye woke up feeling that something was off. His throat felt tight, his head was heavy, and his whole body felt weak. He touched his forehead. It seemed a little hot.
He was home alone today; his parents were away on business. He didn't think much of it. He rummaged through the medicine box, found a packet of cold medicine, dissolved it in water, and drank it before packing his things and leaving to teach.
He couldn't afford to miss even a day of university classes. Taking leave meant rescheduling classes and making them up, which was a huge hassle.
The first class went all right, but by the second, his head had begun to swim. As he stood at the lectern, even the words on the slides seemed to float. He braced himself against the lectern and finished the third class, his voice already terribly hoarse.
"That's all for today." His voice was so raspy that the students could all hear it.
"Sir, what happened to your voice?"
"Sir, have you caught a cold?"
Shan Ye waved a hand. "I'm fine. Just a little cold."
He still had two classes that afternoon. Sitting in the office, he rested his forehead on the desk, hoping to nap for a moment. Yu Chuan passed by and paused when he saw him slumped there without moving.
"Shan Ye? Are you feeling unwell?"
"A little." Shan Ye raised his head, his face flushed with fever and his lips dry and peeling.
Yu Chuan frowned and reached out to feel his forehead. "You have a fever. Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"It's fine. I still have two classes. I'll deal with it afterward."
"How are you supposed to teach like this?" Yu Chuan sounded a little anxious. "I'll ask the team leader for leave for you. Go home and rest."
"No need, I can-"
"Shan Ye." Yu Chuan cut him off, his tone serious. "If you force yourself to keep going like this, you won't teach well, and you'll put off getting treated. What's the point?"
Shan Ye opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He really couldn't keep going. His head felt as heavy as though it had been filled with lead.
Yu Chuan said no more. He turned and went to the team leader's office to ask for leave on Shan Ye's behalf. When he returned, he was carrying a bottle of water and a box of fever medicine.
"Take the medicine first. I'll take you to the hospital."
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