Chapter 93#

By the time they left the convention center, it was nearly dark outside.

They took the side entrance on the way out, dodging the bulk of the reporters.

The “ironclad evidence” of Ji Yang’s acquaintance with Nathan—that had been resting around his neck—would naturally never see the light of day.

But along the way, they still spotted reporters tailing them.

It was right then that Aunt Mo called to say a water pipe had burst in the building where Ji Yang lived, and the whole building would be out of water for the night.

“Of all times to burst?” Ji Yang tugged at his collar, too drained to even complain properly.

Han Biao, who was driving, accidentally caught Ji Yang’s eye in the rearview mirror and reflexively distanced himself, blurting out: “Wasn’t us. And the boss didn’t hire anyone to do it either.”

Ji Yang actually found this genuinely funny. He said quietly: “…Your boss is sitting right next to you, you know. Do you realize you slander him like this all the time?”

Nie Xu still had his laptop balanced on his knees. Hearing this, he turned his head to look at Ji Yang, then glanced forward again.

Han Biao was embarrassed, his head about to burst: “That’s not what I meant either.”

The main thing was that whenever Ji Yang was around, anything dramatic was liable to happen. He was already a little on edge and prone to overreacting.

Nie Xu didn’t bother engaging with Han Biao at all, simply saying: “Back to Berman.”

Ji Yang, from the side: “I didn’t say I was going. Little White is still at home.”

“Aunt Mo will take care of it,” Nie Xu said. “I’ll take you to visit the grave tomorrow. It’s more convenient to set off from Berman.”

For that reason, Ji Yang was left completely without a rebuttal.

The car pulled to a stop downstairs at Berman. Nie Xu took a call, and Ji Yang got out first.

He tilted his head up to look at the window on the thirty-second floor and saw that the light was on, a warm glow filtering through the sheer curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

When Nie Xu came out, Ji Yang pointed upstairs: “You left the light on this morning when you went out?”

Nie Xu looked up, then reached over and took Ji Yang’s hand, saying: “I turned on the thermostat remotely in advance. I was worried you’d be cold.”

Ji Yang glanced down at his captured hand. After two seconds, he flipped it around and gripped back, holding tight.

This feeling—of having every single detail thought of on your behalf, of someone having gone ahead to cover every corner for you—was for Ji Yang a warmth that flowed through him almost unbidden, wrapped in something foreign.

Out loud, he said: “Actually it’s fine. I didn’t feel cold.”

“Let’s go.” Nie Xu led him by the hand.

Upstairs.

The instant Ji Yang pushed open the door, he felt something was subtly different.

Perhaps it was that the scattered odds and ends he had tidied before leaving had all been placed back exactly where they belonged. The throw pillows he’d left on the couch were still lying there in their familiar disarray. By the door sat two pairs of slippers—one of them new, in his size.

There was none of the coldness from his first visit here. Only the traces of someone who had existed here, who had never truly left.

Nie Xu set his car keys down on the entryway console and asked: “What are you spacing out for?”

“You… didn’t have the housekeeper clean up?” Ji Yang asked.

Nie Xu smiled. “There was nothing to clean up.” He pulled Ji Yang close and pinned him between the entryway cabinet and his own arm. “I like keeping this place exactly as it looks when you’re here. No matter what day you come back, it’ll always feel familiar to you.”

Ji Yang tilted his head up to look at him and tugged at his tie: “Brother Xu, you really make it hard to resist, you know that?”

“Is that so?” Nie Xu countered.

Ji Yang nodded and pulled him in a little closer. “What happened backstage at the convention center earlier—want to continue?”

“No.” Nie Xu pulled his tie back out of Ji Yang’s grasp for the second time. “What your legs need most right now is a hot soak. When you come out, I’ll rub some ointment on you. Knox heard you got frostbitten on South Island this time and sent it specifically—still sealed, perfect time to try it.”

Ji Yang: “…”

He followed Nie Xu into the living room.

Watching him toss his tie onto the couch and then undo the top button of his shirt, Ji Yang couldn’t hold back: “I mean, I’m grateful to Knox, but you’re about one step away from being named the moral standard-bearer of abstinence. If anyone dares say you’re not a good person, I’ll fight them.”

Nie Xu undid the second button and looked at him: “Is being a good person a bad thing?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ji Yang thought back to the first time. Although Nie Xu had lost some composure later on, Ji Yang could tell he had been attentive throughout. For him, the intensity had been a bit much, but the experience had been wonderful—which was precisely why Ji Yang didn’t feel averse to it now. He said: “It was great. Excellent bed skills. Very service-oriented.”

Nie Xu picked up the glass pitcher from the coffee table, poured a cup, and held it out. Then he said, with an inscrutable tone: “Mm. If that’s how you feel, then that’s good.”

That’s good?

What does “that’s good” mean?

Ji Yang felt as though there was something more behind those words, but he couldn’t pin it down. He took a sip of water, let it go, and went to take a shower.

That night, until bedtime, Ji Yang kept expecting something to happen. But the result told him: nothing did.

Nie Xu stayed downstairs with him.

It was genuinely just sleeping together, nothing more.

Ji Yang lay wrapped in Nie Xu’s arms, listening to the wind outside the window, gradually settling down from the tangle of chaotic thoughts in his head.

The bedsheets and pillowcases were all from Nie Xu’s spare set upstairs. They still carried the faint scent of the laundry detergent Ji Yang had bought himself before—though it was slightly different now, tinged with something that was uniquely Nie Xu.

Enveloped like that, Ji Yang fell asleep quickly.

The next day, he woke up at seven on the dot.

It had rained outside.

A misty, overcast day. Cold rain like threads of silk.

The cemetery in the northern outskirts of Fanzhou was built along a gentle slope. The pines and cypresses were a deep, heavy green. Because of the high price, each grave was spaced far apart, scattered among neatly trimmed lawns—so quiet that all you could hear was the wind threading through the treetops.

Ji Yang stood under an umbrella at the cemetery entrance for a while, cradling a bouquet of white lisianthus in his arms, but not moving further in.

Nie Xu was wearing a long overcoat today. He didn’t rush Ji Yang. After parking the car and walking back, he reached over and straightened one of the flowers in the bouquet that had tilted sideways.

“Let’s go.” Ji Yang let out a long breath and looked up.

Nie Xu followed his gaze upward. “If you really don’t feel mentally ready, we can come back another day.”

Ji Yang shook his head: “There isn’t really any mental preparation to do, anyway. I remember her. She’s right there. That’s all that matters, right?”

Even the last word came out as a question.

Nie Xu reached over and took the umbrella, draping an arm around his shoulder. “Come on. I’m with you.”

They walked in along the stone path for about seven or eight minutes, then stopped beside an old pine tree. From about ten meters away, Ji Yang could see the spot the groundskeeper had pointed to.

All Ji Yang could see was a cold, gray stone tomb—unlike those rows upon rows of plots housing boxes, this one appeared large and solitary. The headstone was made of ordinary gray granite, and the inscription carved into it—“Beloved Wife, Yu Fei, Rest in Peace”—looked especially poignant set against the bleak, late-autumn scenery surrounding it.

A layer of dust coated the cement ledge in front of the stone, mottled with rain streaks, as if no one had been here in a long time. There was no photograph on it either.

What surprised Ji Yang was the fresh bouquet of lilies that had been placed there, still glistening with newly fallen raindrops.

“Someone was here.” Ji Yang instinctively looked around.

It wasn’t Qingming Festival today. Who would come?

Nie Xu crouched down and observed how far the raindrops had settled into the bouquet, then said: “They left less than half an hour ago.”

Ji Yang frowned: “When we came up just now, we didn’t see anyone else, did we?”

Nie Xu hummed in agreement.

He glanced toward the side—there was a path leading down the mountain that way.

Ji Yang looked over as well. Nothing. He tested the waters: “Do you know who it was?”

Nie Xu shook his head.

So Ji Yang didn’t press further.

The bouquet in his hands swayed gently in the wind. Ji Yang bent down and placed it on the ledge.

Ji Yang reached out and wiped the surface of the headstone. A thin smear of mud left a mark on his fingertip. He didn’t wipe it off.

Ji Yang thought he would have a lot to say, a lot of questions to ask. But standing here for real, he couldn’t get a single word out.

He wanted to ask her: What exactly happened back then?

He wanted to ask: What made you make a different choice that year? How was I supposed to convince myself—someone from a completely different past life who doesn’t remember you at all, someone who has completely lost himself in this one?

If he hadn’t come back—the version of himself who had lived an entirely different life, ravaged by phantom limb pain and destroyed by drugs—what would things have become?

He wanted to ask: What do you actually want me to do?

In the end, Ji Yang decided to leave all those questions to himself, saying only: “I’m sorry. It took me so long to come see you, Mom.”

On the way down the mountain, the rain intensified.

Because Ji Yang nearly slipped on the stone path, Nie Xu ended up carrying him on his back.

Ji Yang held the umbrella, lying against Nie Xu’s back, watching the misty, hazy landscape flanking the hillside.

That year in the swamp forest, crystallized in his mind once more.

This time, Ji Yang completely lost that feeling of “that might not have been me.” It was the same kind of weather—heavy fog and rain—and the sensation of his feet sinking into freezing mud was vivid and sharp. That boy who had finally hoisted him onto his back and carried him for such a long way had blurred into the tall, mature figure in front of him now.

Ji Yang’s arms looped around Nie Xu’s neck. His breath was already starting to come out in faint white puffs. He asked: “Is winter coming?”

“Almost.” Nie Xu walked steadily, tilting his head to ask: “Cold?”

Ji Yang: “It’s fine. You run hot.”

As he spoke, he pressed his face against the back of Nie Xu’s neck and gave it a light, gentle bite.

Nie Xu’s steps paused briefly, and he laughed softly: “Why do you love biting people so much?”

“Just wanted to leave a mark.” Ji Yang pressed his forehead against the shallow teeth marks and asked quietly: “If none of those things had happened, if there hadn’t been the Qiming incident—if I had just been the child of a friend your mother knew from studying abroad—would everything have been different?”

Nie Xu shook his head: “I don’t know. Life is made up of one choice after another. The way it is now? It’s good.”

Ji Yang: “Did your parents have graves?”

Nie Xu adjusted him higher on his back and reminded him: “Hold on tight. Yes—they have a cenotaph. I’ll take you to visit them when we have time.”

Ji Yang nodded: “Okay.”

Down the mountain.

Back at the cemetery entrance.

This time, Ji Yang spotted a familiar figure not far away immediately.

“Dr. Yu?” Ji Yang climbed down from Nie Xu’s back. “What a coincidence?”

Yu Qin was wearing a gray wool overcoat, holding an umbrella as he looked their way. His gaze swept over Nie Xu, then turned to Ji Yang with visible surprise. He smiled and walked a few steps closer: “It’s you, Ji—Little Yang. I’m older. You won’t mind if I call you that?”

Ji Yang shook his head: “Not at all. Dr. Yu is here to…?”

Yu Qin smiled ruefully: “To visit family. I’ve been abroad for years. Only recently settled down and finally had the time.”

Ji Yang: “My condolences.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to apologize for.” Yu Qin was quite gentlemanly. “Are you heading back to the city? This rain doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon. Need me to give you a ride?”

Ji Yang waved his hand: “No need. We have a car.”

Yu Qin spotted the car behind them and nodded, not insisting.

Yu Qin glanced at Nie Xu again: “Mr. Nie and I have met twice now, I believe, and I still don’t know what you do for a living?”

“Bodyguard.” Nie Xu reached out and shook Yu Qin’s hand.

Yu Qin’s eyes flickered with a brief confusion before dawning understanding. He smiled: “I see. Given that you two are always together, I thought…”

“You thought we were lovers?” Ji Yang chimed in from the side.

Yu Qin quickly denied it: “No—”

“We are.” Ji Yang reached over and hooked his arm through Nie Xu’s. “We are indeed together.”

This time, the surprise in Yu Qin’s eyes was completely unmasked. He smiled—a smile that seemed as though he’d expected it yet also hadn’t. After a brief pause, it grew into something far more complex. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end nothing came out.

Ji Yang found him a little strange, though he couldn’t say exactly what felt off.

The drive back took an hour.

Nie Xu received two or three calls in succession.

“Who is it?” Ji Yang asked.

Nie Xu pulled the car to the roadside, picked up the tablet he used for receiving files, tapped it open, scrolled through, and handed it to Ji Yang.

Ji Yang took it: “What’s this?”

“I had someone look into your maternal grandparents’ information.” Nie Xu rolled down the window and said: “The records show that your grandfather and grandmother were both university professors. Their son and daughter were both sent abroad to study in their teens. Later, your mother returned to the country. The Ji family happened to need a clean marriage prospect for political backing. She married Ji Changshou against her parents’ wishes and had a child.”

Ji Yang frowned: “She initiated the marriage with Ji Changshou?”

“Yes,” Nie Xu said. “However, tracing through my mother’s side—among her classmates, there was no one named Yu Fei. That photo you saw was taken at your mother’s school. The investigation took so long because that school was absorbed by an international research institute twenty-five years ago. All student records were classified into confidential archives.”

Ji Yang held the tablet, staring at the dense text on the screen without taking in a single word.

He understood what Nie Xu was implying.

If Yu Fei’s experience was as described, then the other identity she held—Elara—suddenly made perfect sense.

A marriage between what appeared to be an intellectual family and the Ji family, who had risen to sudden wealth through shipping interests, looked perfectly plausible on the surface. But from the very beginning, there must have been a completely different truth behind it.

A truth that no one could see. That no one had ever touched.

Nie Xu took the tablet away for him.

Ji Yang: “I haven’t finished reading.”

“The rest is just fragmented information.” Nie Xu took the tablet and scrolled further. “The one thing that still doesn’t add up is the old couple’s son. By blood and kinship, he should be your uncle.”

Ji Yang had actually heard Ji Mingyue mention this once.

At the time, he had thought to himself—since he’d transmigrated into a book—the entire Yu family was gone, an uncle living overseas, and that branch of his mother’s family had completely lost contact.

Ji Yang: “What happened to him?”

“The information shows he died abroad in an accident fifteen years ago.”

Ji Yang froze. His fingertips went cold.

He thought of the dream—the scene where he’d spoken with Yu Fei. The voice she had been talking to had also been a young man.

Could it have been him?

The next second, Nie Xu handed the tablet back over. “Look. Does anything seem off to you?”

Ji Yang glanced at him curiously and took the tablet again.

On it was a black-and-white electronic headshot.

A young man in his early twenties, with slightly curly black hair, and a beautiful smile.

So familiar. That sense of familiarity—something was on the verge of surfacing.

At that moment, Nie Xu said: “His name was Yu Qin.”

“Yu Qin? Yu Qin.” Ji Yang’s eyes went wide: “Dr. Yu?”

Once you overlapped the face he had seen just an hour ago with the one in this photograph, you’d realize—his eyes had merely sharpened with age, his features had gained the mature resolve that only years accumulate, and his smile was even gentler and more composed now.

Ji Yang couldn’t speak for a long time.

After two minutes: “I’m going to find him and ask him face to face.”

“Don’t be impulsive.” Nie Xu held him back. “The very first time I met him, I felt that your encounter with him wasn’t a coincidence. Today included. If he’s intentionally come close but hasn’t revealed his identity—changed his name and lived under a different one for all these years—there must be his own reasons.”

Ji Yang suppressed the urge, leaned back into the seat, and tilted his head: “So that bouquet of flowers just now was actually his? Did you suspect it earlier?”

“I only had a hunch at the time. So never rush anything.” Nie Xu ruffled his hair. “I’m stepping out to make a call.”

Ji Yang nodded.

He picked the tablet back up and studied it line by line carefully.

By the time he’d gone through everything, he hadn’t found any new or useful leads.

Meanwhile, Nie Xu was still on the phone.

Ji Yang leaned across the driver’s seat and poked his head out the window.

The rain had stopped outside.

Nie Xu was leaning against the car body, smoking while on the call.

Ji Yang quietly reached out and plucked the cigarette from between Nie Xu’s fingers. Before he could even bring it to his own lips, he was caught.

Nie Xu clamped down on his hand and took the cigarette back.

He narrowed his eyes at him: “Getting bold, are we?”

“That’s all thanks to your excellent teaching.” Ji Yang looked up at him. “Let me try.”

Through the phone at Nie Xu’s ear, a voice was still speaking: “Yu Qin said for you to find him alone.”

“Understood.” Nie Xu acknowledged, then ended the call.

He lowered his head and looked at the troublemaker who refused to learn. That gaze was, in truth, quite quiet.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it out with his foot.

Nie Xu reached up and pinched Ji Yang’s chin, issuing a soft, threatening murmur: “Next time you dare come take it, I’ll break your hand.”