Beneath the magnificent, glittering nebula, the two embraced, exchanging a warm, lingering kiss. The starlight blanketed their shoulders, concealing their deepest desires for one another. Xia Xiqing reached for Zhou Ziheng’s hand, intending to hold it, but as he loosened his grip, he accidentally dropped the switch to the universe.
As he stumbled backward, clutching Zhou Ziheng’s shoulder, the tip of Xia Xiqing’s elegant leather shoe accidentally stepped on it. The crimson nebula instantly expanded, then contracted, dissolving into endless darkness. Zhou Ziheng reacted faster, pulling Xia Xiqing tightly against him and kissing him deeply and passionately. The wet sounds echoed in the darkness, amplified by some failing sense, like invisible hands stirring their increasingly ragged breaths.
“Ziheng…”
“Don’t be afraid.” Zhou Ziheng’s arms tightened around his waist, his body pushing against Xia Xiqing’s as they groped in the darkness. The fear surging within him was layered over by the burning desire, and it was impossible to say which overpowered the other. Xia Xiqing only felt himself retreating, retreating until there was nowhere left to go. his back pressed against a wall. Zhou Ziheng’s kiss was aggressive, like an insatiable thirst. His wet, soft tongue sent Xia Xiqing’s heart racing, his legs weakening. His palms pressed against the wall, trying to steady his body, which felt like quicksand beginning to flow.
“Turn on the light.” He finally found a gap in the hot, wet kiss, like a green escape sign in the darkness. Zhou Ziheng’s white sweater seemed to glow in the night, shrouded in a faint, luminous glow.
He craved to find light within him.
“Beg me.” Zhou Ziheng bit his lower lip, the soft, fragile sensation sending him into a daze.
“…Please.”
He had already offered everything he possessed; this last shred of pride was hardly worth mentioning.
Zhou Ziheng reached out one hand to switch on the light, the other covering Xia Xiqing’s eyes. When brightness flooded back, all Xia Xiqing perceived was the red glow streaming through Zhou Ziheng’s fingers—soft and suggestive.
He licked his dry lips, parched from evaporating saliva, then parted them slightly. His eyes, veiled in mist, gazed at Zhou Ziheng like a fish gasping for water. His arms instinctively wrapped around Zhou Ziheng’s neck again—his usual, favored way.
They kissed fiercely in the entryway, leaving scorched marks of desire in their wake. Xia Xiqing grew weak at the knees, and when Zhou Ziheng lifted him up, he stumbled over a box on the floor. Zhou Ziheng pulled him back just in time, preventing a fall.
“What is this…” Dazed, Xia Xiqing squinted to see a note on the box.
My gift to you both. —Zhao Ke.
“What is this?” Xia Xiqing turned to look at Zhou Ziheng, his face still flushed with lingering passion and confusion. But Zhou Ziheng’s evasion was too obvious. “Nothing. Let’s go inside.”
“Oh?” Xia Xiqing curved his lips, drawing out the syllable with a thousand twists and turns, precisely hooking Zhou Ziheng’s heart. Seizing the moment of distraction, Xia Xiqing flicked open the lid with the tip of his leather shoe. The contents inside instantly sobered him.
“What the hell is all this?” Xia Xiqing wiped his lips, lazily crouching down. He hooked a black silk blindfold with his index finger, dangling it before Zhou Ziheng’s eyes. Then he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, flexing them twice, followed by a long rope he yanked free.
“If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was props sent over from Escape Room.”
Zhou Ziheng gave a dry chuckle, glancing at the box to find even more outrageous props inside. He was truly in the dark, nearly driven mad by Zhao Ke. He’d worked so hard to make this romantic, only for everything to be derailed.
“He forced all this on me. It doesn’t represent my own will.”
Hearing Zhou Ziheng’s stiff, desperate defense, Xia Xiqing nearly burst out laughing. He managed to stifle it, however, picking up the blindfold, handcuffs, and rope from the box. His fingers gripped one end of the rope, twirling it like a hunter preparing to snare his prey. His eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze playful. Zhou Ziheng was thus drawn in, transforming from a hesitant hunter into prey at his mercy.
Time ignited flames, hurling them skyward where they exploded into bursts of fireworks, only to plunge back into the tranquil ocean, their sparks melting into the ripples.
Uncertain how much time had passed, Xia Xiqing gradually regained his senses and clarity, feeling his soul—once jolted away—finally return to this mud-covered shell. His body limp, bones aching, he lay sprawled across Zhou Ziheng’s chest like a helpless cub, letting the other’s arm slip around his shoulders while fingers played with his sweat-dampened hair.
The thudding of his heartbeat, transmitted through the chest, pounded against his eardrums like an intimate greeting.
“Tired?” Zhou Ziheng tilted his neck to kiss the top of his head. Hearing Xia Xiqing’s hoarse “mhm” made him find it both adorable and amusing, but he couldn’t laugh or call him cute—that was the wrong way to stroke a cat.
Xia Xiqing glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing it was almost midnight. He pulled out his phone to check Weibo.
“You only have this little time left on your birthday,” Zhou Ziheng said, snatching the phone with a hint of dissatisfaction. “Can’t you save it for me?”
“I want to see what your perfume is actually called.”
Zhou Ziheng chuckled. “Then ask me.”
Xia Xiqing snatched the phone back. “No, I just want to see it myself.” He wanted to wait until 23:59. The ritual of anticipation satisfied him.
Finally, the perfume brand’s official Weibo account posted the names of the two fragrances right on time. Xia Xiqing found it amusing—he’d waited for nothing.
“What’s the deal? One’s called NC27, the other G23? Sounds like lipstick shades.” Xia Xiqing was both amused and exasperated. He understood Zhou Ziheng’s joke, but how would anyone else get it?
Who could have predicted that even Xia Xiqing hadn’t anticipated the replies flooding in under this public announcement of the perfume names.
[@Fields of Hope: As a loyal viewer of Escape from the Sky, seeing these perfume names instantly sparked my urge to crack the code… I’m way too invested in the show…]
[@SelfStudyGo: Is Zhou Ziheng, this science guy, seriously giving us a puzzle?]
[@MyBelovedAlpha: When I first saw the design, I thought the perfume name would be about stars or roses—after all, there’s quicksand and roses. Who’d have guessed the name would be so hardcore? Hahahaha.]
[@EscapeNeverEnds: I don’t think it’s that simple. With both numbers and letters, it screams “code.” Applying the fence code from Episode 1—where the plaintext was split into two columns by shifting positions—if this is those two columns, decoding should give NGC2237. But what’s the point of that…? Maybe I’m just overthinking it and getting too invested. Take it with a grain of salt, haha.]
[@HengHengConquersTheUniverse replies to @EscapeNeverEnds: It makes sense! Sis, you’re so awesome! I just looked it up—NGC2237 is the name of a nebula. Its shape resembles a rose, and I even attached a picture. It’s absolutely stunning.]
[@Zhou Ziheng Is an Angel: Holy crap that image is stunning! And the designs of these two perfumes—one’s the universe, the other’s a rose—combined they form NGC 2237, a rose in the cosmos! Oh my god, Zhou Ziheng is such a romantic nerd!]
[@I Love Ziheng: Zhou Ziheng has completely shattered my dating standards—I could never find a man like him… Maybe he should just come out so I can give up hope for good.]…
“They actually managed to decode it,” Xia Xiqing thought, feeling utterly surreal.
Zhou Ziheng wrapped an arm around his shoulder, eyes crinkling with amusement. “After watching so many episodes, I’ve developed this kind of sensitivity.” He suddenly bent down, searching for something in the sofa crevices, finally finding it where Xia Xiqing had been lying.
“What are you looking for?”
Zhou Ziheng clasped his hands behind his back, grinning. Xia Xiqing reached around to snatch it, but he obediently pulled it out himself. It was a bottle of perfume. The liquid inside was as dark as ink, shimmering with grains of sand that sparkled under the light. At the center of the bottle sat a tiny red rose.
“This is the fusion of NC27 and G23—NGC2237.” He pressed the perfume into Xia Xiqing’s arms. “This is the real limited edition. The brand made this one exclusively for me.” Zhou Ziheng’s tone held a childish pride. “Everyone else only has half. You have the whole thing, completely unique.”
At moments like this, Xia Xiqing found it hard to maintain emotional control. Could anyone in this world remain unmoved by Zhou Ziheng? The answer was undoubtedly no.
“Try it. See if you like it?”
Xia Xiqing felt reluctant, hesitating like an inexperienced young girl. Finally, he unscrewed the cap and lightly sprayed a bit onto his wrist. A cool mist settled over it, unleashing a rose storm—not the cloyingly sweet kind, but cold and vast, laced with a hint of peppery spice. The clean white musk was tinged with lingering traces of the air’s sensuality, creating an ambiguous aura.
How could one describe such a complex fragrance? He brushed the inside of his wrist against Zhou Ziheng’s neck, then nestled into his embrace to inhale.
Perhaps it was a rose stirred by passion in a frozen universe.
“Do you like it?”
His body went limp, his mind dizzy. The perfume enveloped him like soft silk from head to toe. He could only nod, tilting his face to kiss Zhou Ziheng’s neck. He murmured his approval softly—perhaps too softly—so he repeated it firmly, “I like it.”
“Wonderful.” Zhou Ziheng embraced the person in his arms with satisfaction, unable to describe how utterly beautiful his mood felt. This perfume had allowed him to experience creation beyond performance—he now understood how immense the joy of designing and inventing something could be. Most importantly, Xia Xiqing liked it.
That was the supreme standard of value in Zhou Ziheng’s creations.
Gently rocking the beautiful glass bottle in his hand, the fine shimmering fragments flowed within, the tiny rose like a living heart.
“I want to see that one too.” Xia Xiqing pressed his pointed chin against Zhou Ziheng’s chest, lifting his eyes to look at him. “Show it to me.”
Zhou Ziheng ruffled his soft hair, his voice brimming with affection. “Sure.” He sat up, first fetching the gray velvet blanket draped over the other sofa to cover Xia Xiqing. Picking up the controller from the floor, he activated the hologram and switched off the living room lights. Then he climbed onto the sofa, wrapping his arms around Xia Xiqing. Nestled together beneath the soft, warm blanket, they gazed at the dazzling nebula before them.
“Doesn’t this remind you of a couple camping on a mountain peak?” Zhou Ziheng chuckled.
Xia Xiqing rested his head against his shoulder, gazing at the gently drifting starlight. His tone was neither indifferent nor excited. “That’s a horror movie setup. Usually, in the next scene, they’re dead.”
Zhou Ziheng smiled, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “How could there be such an unromantic artist like you?”
And how could there be such a romantic science guy like you, Xia Xiqing retorted silently.
But in the end, he kept it to himself, only gazing deeply at this rose of the cosmos. After a long while, he finally spoke, “Actually, I’ve always wondered why you chose to study physics. From my perspective, someone who’s been involved in performing arts since childhood would hardly dedicate themselves to scientific research. It seems contradictory. No, I mean…”
Mid-sentence, Xia Xiqing abruptly contradicted himself. He lifted his head to meet Zhou Ziheng’s eyes, his pupils speckled with starlight, radiating a mesmerizing pull. “It’s not contradictory, just perplexing. Even if you truly are a genius, it makes one wonder if you’re being too greedy.”
Zhou Ziheng smiled, lips pressed together. “I am greedy. It’s my nature.”
I want to give you everything beautiful in this world.
“But regardless,” Xia Xiqing murmured, settling back into his embrace, “this choice is wonderful. I’ve always thought physicists were special—and romantic.”
“Why?”
Xia Xiqing’s voice was soft, slightly husky. “Because they care about the beauty of nature. And their way of caring differs from poets—it’s a fundamental concern and contemplation. From this perspective alone, most people in the world are already excluded, because we too often care only about appearances.”
He reached out, as if trying to scoop up a handful of that illusory starlight. “Someone who genuinely cares about the direction of wind and water currents, the patterns of the sun and moon, and the very origin of the universe—how could you say they aren’t romantic? Not just romantic, but possessed of a vast, magnificent romanticism.”
For some reason, hearing these words from Xia Xiqing’s mouth stirred a subtle emotion within Zhou Ziheng. It felt as though beneath this galaxy, a pair of hands flickering like fireflies floated, knocking upon the door of his lonely heart.
His soul was declaring its stance—no, it was pouring out its heart.
It said: I am the same as you.
This soul-to-soul connection left Zhou Ziheng momentarily speechless. Suddenly at a loss for words, he returned to Xia Xiqing’s earlier question. “I want to answer your question about why I studied physics. Actually, I only encountered physics after I started acting. It was around…”
He paused to recall. “When I was ten. I remember it vividly. I was waiting for a night shoot on set. Since we were filming in the mountains, sitting in a recliner at night, I could see a stunning starry sky—nothing like Beijing today.”
Xia Xiqing lay against his chest like a child, listening quietly, enveloped in the ethereal scent of roses and white musk.
“I’d already memorized my lines, so I was reading. I remember it was Feynman’s Lectures on Physics. There was a passage that completely changed me—actually, it was a story. There was once a physicist researching why stars can emit light and heat continuously without interruption.”
As he spoke, Zhou Ziheng pressed the controller in his hand. The magnificent rose nebula before Xia Xiqing suddenly expanded, rushing toward him as if enveloped in countless specks of stardust.
Finally, it came to a halt, its center blazing with dazzling light.
“This is a star. Why can it keep shining and generating heat? Where does its energy come from, and where does it go? That’s what the team the researcher was part of studied. Later, they discovered this energy comes from the star’s unceasing nuclear reactions. Then one day, he was walking with his girlfriend. Like many people, she looked up at the starry sky and, like many people, let out an exclamation so commonplace it was almost instinctive.”
Extending a fingertip to touch the virtual, shimmering star before him, Xia Xiqing suddenly interjected, “How bright this star is.”
Zhou Ziheng chuckled at the unspoken understanding. “Yes, that’s the line. Then the researcher said to her, ‘Yes, at this very moment, I am the only person in the world who knows why it shines.’”
Finishing, Zhou Ziheng turned to face Xia Xiqing. “I was just a kid who knew nothing back then. After reading that story, my blood felt like it was boiling. It was so damn cool. Maybe because I’d already acted in so many plays, that actor’s habit made me unconsciously slip into the researcher’s role. Just imagining myself as the only person in the world who knew why the stars shone gave me goosebumps.” “
His voice carried sincerity tinged with excitement. “That resonance changed me, leading me down this path. Back then, others just thought my looks were promising and steered me into this industry. But physics? That was entirely my own choice. Even if I never become that ‘sole discoverer of the moment,’ becoming one of the countless seekers who follow in others’ footsteps is still a noble martyrdom.”
Xia Xiqing couldn’t deny it—Zhou Ziheng was an undeniably compelling idealist. Other idealists discussing their dreams in his presence always seemed laughable. But Zhou Ziheng was different. His sincerity and passion could infect you, pulling you into the vast starry sky and making you bow to the solemnity and grandeur of science.
He was also certain that Zhou Ziheng’s future journey would extend far beyond a script. His focus would shift, returning to the orbit that belonged to him.
“I wonder if the book mentioned how the researcher’s girlfriend responded?”
Zhou Ziheng smiled, pressing the controller in his hand to shrink the nebula’s view. A complete rose blossomed before his eyes once more. “She just smiled. She didn’t say anything.”
Just as Xia Xiqing had anticipated.
Whether artists or scientists, they were often solitary figures. That was why Xia Xiqing never cared about others’ opinions, choosing to believe no one understood.
Yet the next moment, Zhou Ziheng grasped Xia Xiqing’s hand. “But I know you’re different.”
Xia Xiqing was puzzled. “What?”
“If—I mean, if I were that researcher, and I said those words to you, you wouldn’t think I was joking.” Zhou Ziheng turned his face toward Xia Xiqing, offering a warm smile. “You would ask me seriously.”
“Why does it glow?”
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Xia Xiqing suddenly felt his eyes sting. He even felt that Zhou Ziheng’s words moved him more deeply than any passionate, heartfelt confession. It was a profound affirmation—one he’d never wanted to admit, yet couldn’t deny—he cherished this validation.
He cherished this radiant person before him more than anyone else in the world. And this person was telling him with unwavering certainty: You are the one among billions who truly understands me.
You are my soulmate.
Author’s Note: At ten years old, Hengheng found his life’s direction under the guidance of a star.
That same year, fifteen-year-old Xi Qing sold his first painting at auction, marking the beginning of his artistic journey.
Ten years later, Zhou Ziheng returned that painting to Xia Xiqing—along with love, dreams, and the very spark that ignited Zhou Ziheng’s own life.
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