What a strange thing to say.
Fang Juexia, held in his arms, closed his eyes and could almost picture the scene. He even caught the scent of salty seawater and damp wood.
He sniffed, nestling dependently into Pei Tingsong’s shoulder, and whispered, “But we haven’t replaced the parts with new ones. We keep swapping out the old ones, and they might not last another few hundred years.”
“Do you want to live forever?” Pei Tingsong’s voice finally softened with laughter as he gently stroked Fang Juexia’s back. Though he was the younger one, he spoke as if soothing a child. “Old parts are old parts. We can decay together slowly. Maybe on some calm, windless day, we’ll sink together to the ocean floor, become two sets of remains, like dead whales, slowly descending…”
Fang Juexia’s nose stung once more. “I like the ending of this story.”
Pei Tingsong smiled at him. “Me too.”
Perhaps one day, someone would dive deep into the ocean, discover their existence, unearth the story of how they once sailed side by side through storms, and realize that every decaying part of them actually came from each other.
Two completely different ships of Theseus became each other’s remains, forever buried in the sea.
Fang Juexia knew that choosing to bare his soul just as his fantasy shattered completely was perhaps foolish and reckless, but he truly wanted Pei Tingsong to know.
Without Pei Tingsong, Fang Juexia couldn’t imagine who he would be now.
He would have been swallowed by darkness long ago.
“I love you,” he said, loosening his grip slightly as he met Pei Tingsong’s eyes. “I love you deeply, Pei Tingsong.”
Pei Tingsong froze.
This was the first time he’d heard Fang Juexia say the word “love” to him with such solemnity. He’d always assumed their relationship remained at the level of liking, especially Fang Juexia. He’d never dared to expect too much emotion from this man—he knew it was difficult. So Pei Tingsong constantly feared overstepping, afraid his own intense feelings would push Fang Juexia away.
But Fang Juexia was too brave. He’d even taken the initiative, uttering those words first.
In his eyes, Fang Juexia’s gaze was crystal clear. Though his face bore wounds, he was still so beautiful, the red birthmark at the corner of his eye more exquisite than any flower petal. Pei Tingsong couldn’t resist kissing that spot, whispering, “I love you too. I love you more than you could ever imagine.”
Pei Tingsong had read countless books, each filled with different kinds of love. He had tasted them all, yet those words had never transformed into real emotion. They remained mere words, alive only on paper. It wasn’t until he met Fang Juexia that he realized he could love someone this way.
Love so deep that his rebellious spirit would automatically turn into armor.
“Thank you,” Fang Juexia murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss against his lips before pulling away swiftly, his gaze soft and unguarded.
Pei Tingsong’s eyes stung with moisture. To mask his emotions, he suddenly broke into a smile, his face still carrying a hint of boyishness. “You really… I’ve imagined so many times how I’d be the one to say ‘I love you’ first. It was supposed to be so romantic, but you beat me to it.”
The sudden “accusation” left Fang Juexia momentarily flustered. “Well… you didn’t discuss it with me either.”
Discuss?
Pei Tingsong found this even funnier. How could this guy be so dead serious? “Not only that, I’d never seen you cry before. I thought the first time you’d cry in front of me would be because of me.” He lowered his head and bit gently at Fang Juexia’s nose tip. “Guess that thought went down the drain too.”
Thinking about how he’d been crying just now, Fang Juexia felt a bit embarrassed. He lowered his eyes and mumbled, “What’s so good about crying…”
“Of course it’s good.” Pei Tingsong kissed his brow and eyes gently. “You look beautiful when you cry. Everything you do is beautiful.”
A teenager’s affection is always reckless, passionately thrust before you, terrified you might overlook it.
Pei Tingsong frowned slightly again. “But when you really cry, it hurts me deeply. My chest aches terribly. I’m not afraid you’ll laugh at me—I’ve truly never felt this pain before. When I got the security guard’s message and learned the person following you was your father, my hands were shaking. In such hot weather, I was actually trembling.” “Pei Tingsong took a deep breath and continued, ”And why is San Francisco so far from Beijing?”
His words were brimming with complaint, his voice trailing off like a child’s. Fang Juexia could almost picture how frantic this hot-tempered guy must have been, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Pei Tingsong remained lost in his own emotions. “I was truly terrified and tormented. I feared that by the time I returned, you’d be utterly despairing over your father’s situation. I feared you’d suddenly abandon me.”
Fang Juexia embraced him, stroking him from the back of his head down his spine like comforting a large dog. “I won’t.”
“Mm.” Pei Tingsong replied. “I won’t make you face this alone. And I won’t let him show his face to you again.” He looked at Fang Juexia solemnly. “While you were showering, I had him sent to a mandatory detox center. Honestly, I wanted to kill him, to make him disappear from this world. But I know that if given the choice, you wouldn’t do that.”
Fang Juexia stared back silently, his eyes already giving a definite answer.
Rehabilitation was the best outcome. He had accepted that Fang Ping was no longer his father, yet he still wanted to give him a chance to redeem himself.
“Whether he truly kicks the habit depends on his own fate. If he can’t, he’ll stay there for life—at least he won’t do anything more extreme.”
After speaking, Pei Tingsong gently placed his hand on Fang Juexia’s lower back. “Does it hurt?”
Fang Juexia said it didn’t hurt, but Pei Tingsong looked unconvinced. So he whispered softly, “It hurts a little. It didn’t damage the bone. It’ll heal soon.”
Even if that person had truly given Fang Juexia life and once warmed him in his childhood, Pei Tingsong simply couldn’t accept him hurting the one he loved most like this.
His senses seemed no longer his own, having migrated from Fang Juexia’s body. When Fang Juexia cried, his heart ached; when Fang Juexia was hurt, his pain intensified.
“This will never happen again,” Pei Tingsong murmured, gently tracing the bruise. “And no more tears either—your crying shatters my heart.”
Fang Juexia nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.
“Smiling suits you better,” Pei Tingsong said, brushing aside a strand of hair from Fang Juexia’s forehead. “Our Juexia looks beautiful when he smiles.”
Fang Juexia had never considered himself fortunate. That word always felt distant from his life, so he marched forward relentlessly, constantly convincing himself there must be an exit ahead, that all his sacrifices would surely pay off.
He didn’t know if there would be any reward, but he had met Pei Tingsong.
That was his greatest fortune.
His nose tickled. Fang Juexia rubbed it against Pei Tingsong’s chin before speaking slowly, “It’s already the fifteenth today. You’ve been gone for six days.” He glanced up at the wall clock. “It’s not exact, but based on now, you’ve been gone six days and ten hours.”
It felt so long that his internal clock had malfunctioned. Every second in reality dragged on like a minute in his mind.
But Pei Tingsong returned before the first summer thunderstorm.
Just in time, sparing him from the rain.
“Did you miss me?”
Hearing his deep voice, Fang Juexia gave a slight nod. “Mm.” Then he added, “And I worried about you every single day.”
Fang Juexia had never seen a real capitalist family up close. He’d only seen them on TV, where they always seemed complicated and full of intrigue. Fang Juexia hated complicated things. He feared his Pei Tingsong would be bullied by some cunning old foxes, feared his mother would say hurtful things, and feared Pei Tingsong wouldn’t control his emotions and fall for others’ tricks.
These past few days had worn him out completely. He couldn’t focus on anything, feeling as listless and wilted as a seedling deprived of water.
“I just dread worrying you. Calling you every day still isn’t enough?”
Fang Juexia nestled obediently into Pei Tingsong’s embrace. “Only seeing you puts my mind at ease. I’m afraid you’ll lie to me, saying you’re fine when you’re really not. Listening to your mother’s nonsense, then getting angry with her.”
He made it sound so convincing it made Pei Tingsong want to laugh.
“Juexia.”
Fang Juexia loved hearing him call him that. Though others used the same name, Pei Tingsong rarely did. Each time those two syllables left his lips, he felt cherished. His palm was dry and broad, its touch on him cheek comforting. “When I went back to see my mom this time, guess what my first reaction was?”
Fang Juexia shook his head. He couldn’t picture the scene, and even if he could, he wouldn’t dare say it.
“So this is what she looks like.”
Fang Juexia’s hand gripped the fabric at Pei Tingsong’s waist, clenching tightly.
He could barely remember his own mother’s face anymore.
“What did she look like?” Fang Juexia asked with his eyes closed.
“How to describe it…” Pei Tingsong tried to paint a picture. “She wore a red sleeveless dress. Around her neck hung a black pearl necklace—large pearls, yet they couldn’t hide the lines etched into her skin. But her face was smooth as glass, not a single wrinkle. It was puffy, different from how I remembered her when I was little. Much uglier.”
He described her bluntly, as if talking about a stranger.
“The moment she saw me, she opened her arms to hug me, calling out ‘Song’ with such warmth, as if we were the closest of mother and son. But I can’t even remember how old I was the last time I saw her.”
Fang Juexia felt a pang of sorrow. “Didn’t you miss your mother when you were little?”
“You only miss your mother if you have one,” Pei Tingsong replied.
Fang Juexia kept those words in his mind, chewing them over and over. They tasted bitter.
“I remember when I was about four. She came back for my grandfather’s birthday—one of the rare times she visited. She wore a black dress, and beside her stood a very tall man, one of her boyfriends. Grandpa told me to go say hello to her. I walked over but didn’t speak. I just looked up at her.”
Just hearing him describe it, Fang Juexia could picture the scene. Such a small child—it felt both obedient and pitiful.
“Her boyfriend was French, with a thick accent. “Pei Tingsong could still mimic his awkward accent today. ‘Who’s this little guy?’”
“‘Oh, this is my nephew,’ my mom said.” Pei Tingsong chuckled. “So back then, I just said ‘hello’ to that man in French, then went back to my grandfather.”
Fang Juexia couldn’t fathom a mother unable to even acknowledge her own child. Anger surged through him—a rare occurrence—“Why would she do this to you? It’s outrageous.”
He emphasized the last four words with deliberate force. Pei Tingsong found it oddly endearing and reached up to smooth the crease between his brows.
Feeling Fang Juexia’s face grow slightly cool, Pei Tingsong turned the air conditioner up two degrees and clasped his hand. “She explained later, in front of my grandfather. She said she loved that man deeply, but he wasn’t fond of children. To avoid trouble, she said what she did.”
To her, it had been nothing more than a harmless little lie.
“Thinking about it now, she hasn’t changed at all.”
To her, he was always just a tool to be used whenever she needed to curry favor with others.
Fang Juexia lifted his head slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to his chin, offering a small comfort. Pei Tingsong wasn’t actually that upset; recalling it now, it felt like nothing more than a fleeting sting.
“You wouldn’t believe it—the moment she saw me, she claimed she missed me. I told her to stop acting, that I knew she only wanted to take the inheritance Grandpa left me. She denied it, saying, ‘No, sweetheart, you’re misunderstanding. He’s just republishing it, not really taking anything from you. Mommy still loves you.’”
He mimicked his mother’s tone, his expression affectionate as he spoke these intimate words. Then slowly, Pei Tingsong’s expression cooled, gradually settling into calmness.
“See? To achieve her goals, she’ll weave colossal lies.” Pei Tingsong smiled wryly. “People are just people. The title of parent doesn’t make them great—it can even defile that very title.”
Fang Juexia didn’t want to see him upset, so he gently stroked his back. He didn’t know what to say; it all felt futile. Pei Tingsong had never known the love of a father or mother—things most children took for granted, yet he had never possessed for even a moment.
He thought, thankfully Pei Tingsong hadn’t grown up in China. He wouldn’t have been forced to write essays titled “My Father” or “My Mother” in composition class, let alone read them aloud in front of everyone.
He could already picture it: Pei Tingsong’s tiny hands clutching a blank sheet of paper, filled only with the title, nothing else.
How had such a young child so naturally accepted the fact that he wasn’t cherished by his parents, and even turned around to comfort him?
Fang Juexia couldn’t help but shed tears again.
Outside the window, the sky darkened. The rain had stopped long ago, and a faint reddish twilight spread across the gray sky. Pei Tingsong looked up and felt that light resembled the birthmark on Fang Juexia’s face.
So he lowered his gaze to his lover again, only to realize he was crying once more.
What’s wrong? I’m fine, really.“ Pei Tingsong kissed his birthmark and his eyes, his tear-stained lips brushing his twice. ”I’m not sad at all. So this time I’m going back purely on official business. I’m an adult now, and I’ve settled all the inheritance matters. She can’t take anything from me. My sister has also cut off her contact with me and threatened her—if she keeps harassing me or her, her boyfriend’s publishing business won’t survive.”
“Your sister has been so good to you,” Fang Juexia said, rubbing his eyes. “She always helps you. You should treat her better from now on.”
Pei Tingsong smiled. “You’re right. You’re always right.”
“You two are alike—both a bit eccentric, but fundamentally kind people.”
“You’ve never even met her.”
Fang Juexia lifted his eyelids slightly, a hint of reproach in his gaze. “But I know.”
“Fine, fine. You know. You know everything.” Pei Tingsong laughed helplessly, but then heard Fang Juexia say to him.
“Pei Tingsong, you look very handsome when you smile.”
This was the first time Fang Juexia had ever complimented his looks. Pei Tingsong first found Fang Juexia adorable and wanted to laugh. Then he felt strange—sometimes looking at Fang Juexia was like looking at a child, even though he was so much older, older than himself. Yet other times, he felt like he was a child in Fang Juexia’s eyes too, because Fang Juexia always smiled at him with such tolerance and affection.
Before he could respond, Fang Juexia spoke again, “I love you so much. I’ll give you all the love in the world—more than both your mom and dad combined. Okay?”
His voice was too gentle, his words tinged with childishness. How could love be added, subtracted, multiplied, or divided?
But Pei Tingsong knew he meant it. Fang Juexia was the person in the world who loved doing math the most. His calculations couldn’t be wrong. They must be greater than the combined sums of everyone else’s.
“Okay.”
Fang Juexia lay in his arms, asking to hear more stories from his childhood. Pei Tingsong chose the happy ones to share—like fishing for rainbow trout with his grandfather by the lake, only to watch the caught fish die in the pool; or how he ruined his sister’s birthday party and stole her first car.
Before long, Fang Juexia grew tired and fell asleep, breathing deeply as his chest rose and fell gently. Yet his hand remained clutched tightly to Pei Tingsong’s shirt.
Pei Tingsong stopped talking. He simply gazed quietly at Fang Juexia’s sleeping face.
Despite having received so little himself, he was solely focused on making amends for Fang Juexia.
What a peculiar person.
Only after Fang Juexia was sound asleep did Pei Tingsong rise quietly, taking his phone and leaving the room. He went to the living room and called his former private bodyguard to check on the situation. He remained uneasy, so he arranged for a few more people to keep watch. After that, he called Cheng Qiang to inform him he was back, though he’d caught the flu. He also mentioned that Fang Juexia had agreed to take care of him, so he probably wouldn’t return to the dorm for a few days to avoid spreading it.
Cheng Qiang, who was also taking a rare break, didn’t ask many questions. He just told him to focus on getting better. Pei Tingsong nodded in agreement. After hanging up, he took a shower, changed into clean clothes, returned to bed, and fell asleep hugging Fang Juexia—who was notoriously fastidious about cleanliness.
He finally drifted off, even dreaming.
In the dream, he shrank to a tiny stature, clad in an exorbitantly expensive yet unbearably uncomfortable miniature suit. The dream was filled with people dancing and eating. A sense of familiarity slowly emerged—he had returned to the day of his grandfather’s birthday.
Pei Tingsong tried to find his grandfather, but as he lifted his foot, he saw a beautiful woman calling his name, calling him “darling.” He recoiled, darting in the opposite direction. He ran out of the house into the darkness, into a garden blooming with yellow roses, hiding behind the bushes.
He remembered hiding alone in these bushes, pondering the difference between a nephew and a son, until the maid found him and brought him back.
A rustle stirred in the grass. The young Pei Tingsong in the dream grew alert, wondering if it was a squirrel or the maid coming for him.
But when he looked up, he saw a handsome child, a head taller than him, dressed in the plainest clothes. Yet he was strikingly beautiful, with a pink birthmark at the corner of his eye. He seemed unable to see, stretching out his arms to feel his way forward, slowly approaching step by step until he reached Pei Tingsong’s side.
He couldn’t see, yet he found Pei Tingsong hiding.
Only when the child drew near did Pei Tingsong notice the cast on his left leg, the crutch he leaned on, and the bruises on his arms.
“Did you come to wish my grandfather a happy birthday too?” Pei Tingsong asked.
The child shook his head. “I came to find you.”
Pei Tingsong’s eyes lit up. “You want to be my friend, right?”
He nodded. “Mm.”
“How old are you?” Pei Tingsong blurted out first, “I’m four this year.”
“Seven.”
“You’re older than me, so I should call you big brother,” Pei Tingsong said. “You’re hurt.”
He nodded. “I didn’t know I couldn’t see, so I fell down. Later, the doctor said I won’t be able to see anything when it gets dark.”
“But you still came looking for me,” Little Pei Tingsong couldn’t understand. “Your leg was broken, and it was so dark, yet you still came looking for me.”
Unexpectedly, the handsome older brother turned his face toward him and smiled. “I had to come.”
“I promised you I would come to make it up to you.”
