At nine in the morning, just after the rush hour had ended, a business vehicle sped past, leaving only a fleeting afterimage on the retinas of passing pedestrians.
Qin Wunian drove with his lips tightly pressed together, one hand braced under his chin and the other gripping the steering wheel.
The speed limit here was seventy, but Qin Wunian had already pressed the accelerator all the way down.
It felt like a volcano sat inside him—not erupting, but continuously heating the magma within. So many things churned in his chest, with nowhere to go, as if in the next second they would burst him open and tear his flesh apart.
Why did Song Cheng never talk about his family?
Why was Song Cheng afraid to drive?
Why did Song Cheng only meet him during school days, yet disappear once vacation began?
Why would Song Cheng give up such a promising future and run off to suffer in the military?
All the questions from before—the doubts he once noticed but never paid attention to—now finally had answers.
All except one.
Why had he noticed those things… yet never truly cared enough to take them seriously?
There was no way to press the accelerator any further. Seeing the red light ahead, Qin Wunian suddenly slammed the brakes. With a sharp screech, the car stopped, and inertia jolted him forward.
The red light counted down second by second. Qin Wunian’s breathing rose and fell just as sharply.
The red light turned green, yet he still didn’t move. The cars behind him began honking impatiently.
Finally, Qin Wunian steadied himself, pulled the car into a nearby parking space, turned off the engine, and leaned back in his seat. Resting the back of his hand against his forehead, he closed his eyes in exhaustion.
In his mind, he repeated to himself over and over: he had to stay calm. He had to stay calm…
It was close to noon when Qin Wunian finally returned home.
Song Cheng was sitting at the computer. Hearing the door open, he stood up immediately, his expression lighting up with surprise. “You’re back this early!”
He set the laptop aside, slipped into his slippers, and hurried over to Qin Wunian, wrapping him in a tight hug. Out of habit, Song Cheng leaned in and took a small breath of his scent.
Good. It was still the same smell that made him feel safe.
He let go and asked, “Have you eaten?”
Qin Wunian looked at him but said nothing.
Song Cheng still had a smile on his face. Seeing that, he asked again, “What’s wrong, did you go dumb? Did you hear what I said?”
Qin Wunian still didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled Song Cheng back into his arms.
Song Cheng’s strength didn’t amount to much against him, but Qin Wunian’s grip made Song Cheng feel like the air in his lungs was about to be squeezed out.
After enduring it for a moment and realizing Qin Wunian had no intention of letting go, he struggled slightly.
Only then did Qin Wunian loosen his hold.
Frowning now, genuine concern in his eyes, Song Cheng asked, “What happened? Did something go wrong?”
Qin Wunian shook his head and spoke in a hoarse voice. “Nothing happened. I just missed you too much.”
Song Cheng blinked, then smiled. “It’s not easy staying alone in an empty house, huh? But you’re back now.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten either. You’re this sensitive—looks like low blood sugar to me. Perfect timing, I haven’t eaten yet either. I’ll cook.”
As he spoke, Song Cheng started toward the kitchen. But after only two steps, he noticed Qin Wunian had followed him two steps as well.
Song Cheng paused, then said nothing, letting him trail behind.
When he cooked, Qin Wunian stayed beside him. When he ate, Qin Wunian stayed beside him. Even when he went out to walk the dog, Qin Wunian insisted on going too.
Before, Qin Wunian had been a bit clingy, but never to the point of sticking to him every second like this.
Song Cheng couldn’t bring himself to push him away—especially since he looked rather pitiful.
Even after all these years, Shen Hanshu was still the same—his temper hadn’t changed one bit. The one who had changed was Ji Xingyuan.
He had grown up. He was stronger now. His wings had hardened.
That anger that once terrified him to the point of fear… now, when he saw it, he even felt a faint urge to laugh.
Not yet.
With a trace of regret, Ji Xingyuan withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked forward.