Chapter 36

　　Pei Jingchen glanced at Su Qingci and inevitably caught sight of the painting he was working on. Pei Jingchen couldn’t help but freeze.

It was a canvas approximately two meters long and one meter seventy wide. Though the subject matter was still unformed, merely a work in progress, Pei Jingchen recognized it instantly: lavender.

　　Pei Jingchen possessed little artistic sensibility himself, his appreciation leaning toward realism—much like his younger brother, Chen Cancan. Yet this painting delivered an indescribable impact. Perhaps it was the collision of colors, the masterful composition, the fusion of light and shadow, or maybe the profound meaning embedded within the subject matter—so utterly vivid, so startlingly vivid.

　　Pei Jingchen gazed at Su Qingci’s retreating figure, then back at the lavender. Suddenly, an absurd yet plausible thought took root.

Su Qingci was painting himself.

Pei Jingchen: “This painting…”

Su Qingci heard the voice and glanced back at him, his gaze light and fleeting: “I’ve been painting for ten years.”

　　Pei Jingchen froze. Ten years? That meant Su Qingci had been painting since he was fourteen? Wait—fourteen! Was that after he gave him the lavender?

Pei Jingchen suddenly felt a wave of dread wash over him.

This lavender painting was melancholic, serene. Once completed, it would undoubtedly become a masterpiece that shook the art world. It was breathtakingly beautiful, yet radiated a heart-wrenching chill and solitude. Its style mirrored Su Qingci’s breakthrough work, Twilight, exuding a melancholy that stirred the imagination. Behind its stunning beauty lay a desolate, soul-crushing desolation.

　Su Qingci is an artist who can convey intense emotions through his paintings.

If these were ordinary paintings, it wouldn’t be remarkable. But when they are self-portraits—especially self-portraits painted by an artist facing a terminal illness—they inevitably feel like a burning of life, a distillation of spirit and essence, leaving behind the most profound and heroic testament to the world!

　　Proving to the world I existed! Carving an indelible mark of my eternal presence!

Pei Jingchen’s heart pounded wildly. A sudden, inexplicable dread gripped him. He wanted to call out to Su Qingci, but the doorbell rang instead. Opening the door, he found Annelise standing outside with bouquets of flowers and baskets of fruit.

　　She was surprised to find Pei Jingchen here but didn’t press further, only asking what Su Qingci was doing.

Pei Jingchen replied, “He’s painting,” while stepping aside to gesture Annelise toward the lounge area.

　　Su Qingci required absolute silence and focus when painting. Annelise understood him well, changing her high heels with the lightest of steps so as not to disturb him. She simply watched from a distance in the living room.

Pei Jingchen asked, feigning ignorance, “Is that painting lavender?”

　　“You can tell?” Annelise replied. “Pretty stunning, huh?”

Pei Jingchen nodded.

Annelise continued, “I was blown away the moment I saw it. I’ve been pushing him to finish it quickly. I’m confident this piece will make waves in the art world the moment it’s unveiled, cementing Su Qingci as a world-renowned master.”

　　Annalise paused, turning to face Pei Jingchen with reproach in her voice. “You know he just got out of the hospital, right? He just had open-heart surgery. He should be resting in bed for at least three months!”

　　Pei Jingchen acknowledged he knew. Annelise pressed, “Then why didn’t you stop him? While I’m more eager than anyone to see Incense completed, I care even more about Su Qingci’s health. What were you thinking…”

“Painting is his soul,” Pei Jingchen replied.

　　Annalise froze.

Pei Jingchen gazed at Su Qingci’s retreating figure and murmured, “His vitality has already faded. If he loses his soul too, I fear he’ll become nothing but a walking corpse.”

Annalise’s heart stirred. After a long moment, she lowered her lashes and said, ” You seem to understand him more than I imagined—I mean, his core, the depths of his soul.”

Pei Jingchen looked at Annelise. The woman smiled wryly. “Mr. Pei, I’ve got to say, I’ve got a newfound respect for you.”

Pei Jingchen froze for a few seconds before forcing a laugh. “Thanks.”

　　Annalise tossed her long, wavy hair. “You’re welcome.”

Annalise stayed only a few minutes before leaving.

Su Qingci wasn’t deaf or blind; she knew the agent had been there. But she and Pei Jingchen had spoken in hushed tones, and Su Qingci couldn’t make out what they’d said. She wasn’t curious either.

　　Lunchtime brought a bowl of plain, easily digestible scallion and egg noodles—simple yet nutritionally balanced. After eating, caffeine cravings kicked in, and Su Qingci headed to the kitchen to rummage through the cabinets. He distinctly remembered Pei Jingchen placing the coffee beans on the top shelf yesterday, but no matter how far he reached, he couldn’t find them.

　　A fox has three burrows? Su Qingci continued searching, combing through every cabinet.

Pei Jingchen came downstairs and asked what he was looking for. Su Qingci already knew the answer and coldly demanded, “Where’s the coffee I bought yesterday?”

Pei Jingchen paused for a few seconds before replying, “It’s not in this house.”

　　“Can I take that to mean it went into the trash?” Su Qingci’s gaze grew colder. “No, wait. Mr. Pei is so diligent and thrifty, so opposed to waste. You must have hidden it.”

Pei Jingchen admitted openly, “Yes.”

“Where?”

　　Pei Jingchen only replied, “Quite far away.”

Su Qingci laughed bitterly in anger: “Pei Jingchen!”

“Don’t be angry,” Pei Jingchen said, immediately realizing how pointless it sounded. How could he not be furious? He had a fiery temper to begin with, and this was practically dancing on the young master’s trigger points.

　　Pei Jingchen coaxed earnestly, “You can’t drink coffee. It counteracts medication, and caffeine causes vasoconstriction, worsening pulmonary hypertension symptoms. You’re already prone to heart failure and arrhythmia—coffee will make it worse.”

　　Su Qingci understood all this perfectly well. He wasn’t a three-year-old child. But he was… stubborn. He did things he knew he shouldn’t, deliberately defying himself, as if wielding coffee as a weapon against his illness, declaring, “I’m not afraid of you. I refuse to submit.” It was like someone with a stomach ulcer drinking alcohol, a lung cancer patient smoking, or a diabetic craving ice cream.

　　Of course, this logic is flawed. This refusal to admit defeat is childish. It harms not the disease, but only his own body.

Pei Jingchen, with thoughtful consideration, didn’t throw it away in front of him but instead hid it discreetly. Su Qingci appreciated his gentleness, smiled it off, and let it go.

　　Opening the fridge to grab cocoa powder, she was interrupted before she could pour water as Pei Jingchen snatched it away: “Cocoa nibs contain theobromine, similar to caffeine, which has stimulating effects. Plus, chocolate is low in protein and high in fat—it’s bad for your health.”

Time and again, even if it was for his own good, Su Qingci had reached his limit: ” Pei Jingchen, will you ever stop?”

Su Qingci looked at the man. “You used to find even a glance at me annoying, yet now you micromanage everything, constantly harping on what’s good for my health. Let me tell you—my body is my business. I decide what’s good for me. What does it have to do with you?”

　　Pei Jingchen pressed his lips together. “Just bear with it for a month. No more than a month. After that, you can eat whatever you want.”

Su Qingci retorted, “I don’t want to bear it for a single day, hour, or minute.”

Pei Jingchen murmured, “Be good.”

　　“Obey? Obey you? Why should I? What are you to me? I don’t even listen to Su Baidong—why should I listen to you?” Su Qingci pointed toward the door. “Get out. This is my home. Get out!”

They weren’t strangers to arguments—or rather, Su Qingci had often thrown tantrums unilaterally. But this time was unprecedented, utterly different from before. No matter how furious he’d been before, no matter how harsh his words, they’d always been rooted in affection—heartfelt contradictions, pure sarcasm. When he told him to get lost, they’d make up later. Su Qingci would curl up in his arms, pouting and whining, “Why are you so stubborn? When I told you to leave, I wanted you to stay more than anything.”

　This time, however, it was cold, decisive, and utterly sincere—every word spoken was blunt truth. Telling him to leave meant she genuinely didn’t want him to stay.

“Qingci.” Pei Jingchen felt helplessly lost. Chocolate powder in his hand, he couldn’t compromise. Su Qingci filled his heart, and he refused to leave.

　　“You said you’d prove it to me with actions. Though it was only one day, I can say with certainty you performed exceptionally well. But it’s enough. I don’t need it, and I don’t like it.” Su Qingci stared straight at him. “Do you truly care about me, or are you just trying to impress yourself?”

Pei Jingchen didn’t understand. His handsome almond-shaped eyes were filled with bewilderment.

　　Su Qingci sneered. “Mr. Pei, you don’t seriously think I’m all talk and no action, hiding some secret reason? That I’m terminally ill and don’t want to burden you, so I’m breaking up with you? Do you think this is some cheesy soap opera?”

Pei Jingchen’s heart jolted. “Su Qingci, I never thought that! How could you possibly…”

　　“Twisted thoughts?” Su Qingci chuckled. “Sorry, I’m just a stubborn, sensitive person. I can twist anything into multiple meanings.”

Pei Jingchen stared at him steadily. After a moment, he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I never gave you enough security. Because there was never any, you became sensitive and suspicious.”

　　Su Qingci froze, utterly taken aback by Pei Jingchen’s words…

In that instant, as if drained of all strength, Su Qingci collapsed, exhausted and pale, visibly weakened.

Pei Jingchen caught him, scooped him up, and carried him to the sofa.

　　From this angle, Su Qingci could clearly see the lavender sea. He suddenly asked, “How many pots did you replace?”

Pei Jingchen’s heart skipped a beat, caught off guard. He instinctively wanted to say none, but he didn’t want to deceive Su Qingci. If Su Qingci saw through him, it would only be more awkward.

　　Feeling inexplicably guilty, Pei Jingchen replied, “Not many. Twenty-three pots.”

Su Qingci remarked, “That’s exactly half.”

Pei Jingchen couldn’t help asking, “They all look identical. How did you tell?”

　　Su Qingci had been hospitalized for so long that these lavender plants, left unattended, had naturally withered and faded. Yet upon returning from the hospital, he discovered over forty pots remained—not one missing—each bursting with vitality, thriving with such vigor.

Su Qingci remained silent for a long moment before replying meaningfully, ” I can tell. They’re not the same ones anymore.”

The flowers were still flowers, but they weren’t the same ones. The people were still the same people, but their relationship could never go back to what it once was.

Before, Su Qingci had been stubborn, clinging desperately to Pei Jingchen. Now, Pei Jingchen was the one clinging to him. Su Qingci desperately wanted to ask Pei Jingchen: Seeing me now—sickly and frail, drained of vitality, no different from a withered tree on the verge of death—why persist?

Su Qingci thought to himself, Pei Jingchen truly is a kind and loyal person. After all, they’d known each other since childhood. After all, he’d saved his life. After all, they’d been in love for four years and lived together for three. After all, he was his first boyfriend in this lifetime. Whether by reason or emotion, by duty or affection, Su Qingci simply couldn’t bear to abandon Pei Jingchen. To tend to his terminally ill lover at the bedside, to see it through to the end, to accompany him on his final journey—that was the right thing to do.

　　So that’s how it was. Well, then.

Let him grant Pei Jingchen his wish! It would be a final act of kindness before death, a small compensation for the turmoil he’d caused Pei Jingchen for half his life.

Su Qingci stretched out his arms. “I’m sleepy. Carry me to the bedroom.”

　　*

Su Qingci yawned and rubbed his eyes.

Pei Jingchen approached with a blanket, draping it over him as he said, “If you’re tired, just sleep.”

Su Qingci clutched his phone. “After I clear this level.”

　　Pei Jingchen chuckled: “Need me to tell you the secret to clearing it?”

Su Qingci certainly didn’t. Lately, besides painting, he’d been hooked on a single-player game developed by Lingyue. It was an early work, designed entirely by Pei Jingchen himself. Though the graphics were simple, the level design was ingenious—perfect for Su Qingci to kill time.

　　Ten minutes later, Su Qingci cleared the level. Setting his phone aside to sleep, he told Pei Jingchen before drifting off, “I’d like to eat wontons tonight.”

　　After Su Qingci fell asleep, Pei Jingchen slipped on his coat and headed out.

Only after closing the door did Pei Jingchen relax his pace, no longer treading softly for fear of waking Su Qingci.

　　He headed to the chain supermarket not far from home. While selecting ingredients in the fresh produce section, Pei Jingchen suddenly remembered he hadn’t asked Su Qingci what kind of filling he wanted. Though Su Qingci was picky about food, he never refused anything Pei Jingchen made. He’d even once said, half-jokingly, half-seriously: “Even if you gave me paraquat, I’d drink it all without hesitation.”

　　Lost in thought, Pei Jingchen snapped back to reality when the cashier prompted him. He decided to get both fresh meat with mushrooms and shrimp with eggs—two fillings. Su Qingci could try each, and he’d finish whatever was left.

Just then, his phone rang. Assuming it was Assistant Xu, he answered only to hear someone exclaim, “Brother!”

　　Chen Cancan asked where he was. Pei Jingchen replied, “At the supermarket, buying groceries.”

Chen Cancan’s voice rose. “Bro, you’ve really become a stay-at-home husband?”

Pei Jingchen didn’t deny it. Chen Cancan sounded excited on the other end: “I’m coming to find you.”

　　Pei Jingchen asked, “Are you at school? I’ll come find you.”

They arranged to meet at Wulin Café across from Chen Cancan’s school. To be fair, though Chen Cancan disliked Su Qingci and took it out on the Su family business, Wulin Coffee was undeniably delicious. She’d tried quitting seven times—and failed seven times. Eventually, she resigned herself to the fact that coffee was just coffee, a beverage. What harm could it do? It wasn’t like Su Qingci personally grew or ground it, right?

　　Spotting Pei Jingchen, Chen Cancan waved frantically.

Once Pei Jingchen entered the café and sat across from her, Chen Cancan eagerly ordered a mocha from the waiter. Pei Jingchen cut her off: “No need. Just plain water.”

　　Chen Cancan asked, “Are you in a hurry to leave?”

Pei Jingchen took a sip of water brought by the waiter: “He’s sleeping at home.”

The implication was that no one knew when he’d wake up, and the house couldn’t be left empty when he did.

　　Chen Cancan thought to herself: Even if Su Qingci is terminally ill and bedridden, he’s still a mentally competent adult—not a kindergarten kid needing parental supervision! But Chen Cancan held her tongue. Despite past grievances and recent conflicts with Su Qingci, learning of his terminal illness had stirred her compassion.

　　Chen Cancan learned the news a few days prior through Wu Lu. He’d dropped by PEI Haiyang’s shop and encountered Wu Lu, who lived next door. Wu Lu offered him some fruit, and Chen Cancan mentioned how busy Pei Jingchen had been lately—calls would end after barely three sentences. Wu Lu then revealed that Su Qingci had been hospitalized for surgery, narrowly escaped death, and had been discharged a month ago.

　　Chen Cancan nearly dislocated her jaw in shock.

After repeated questioning and confirmation, he finally learned Su Qingci didn’t have hypertension, but rather idiopathic pulmonary arterial hypertension—a rare, incurable terminal illness that was both agonizing and financially draining.

Of course, Su Qingci wasn’t short on money.

　　Strangely, Chen Cancan didn’t feel schadenfreude over Su Qingci’s suffering in the ICU. Though he’d cursed her to get her comeuppance, now that it had happened, he felt no satisfaction.

How to put it? Perhaps Su Qingci was just too perfect—at least on the surface.

　　That ethereal, melancholic aura—the kind that would make her a white moonlight-level character in any anime—now paired with a terminal illness and a shattered life. The beauty, strength, and tragedy were all amplified to the max, making it truly heartbreaking. Chen Cancan stirred her cappuccino with a spoon, a lump forming in her throat as she asked, “How’s Su Qingci been lately?”

　　Pei Jingchen replied, “Same as always.”

“I…” Chen Cancan instinctively started to say he’d go visit him, then realized it wasn’t appropriate. Better not to upset Su Qingci.

Pei Jingchen saw right through him: “You want to visit him?”

Chen Cancan firmly denied, “No!”

　　Pei Jingchen: “Qingci actually mentioned you.”

Chen Cancan exclaimed in surprise: “Mentioned me? Was it to badmouth me like you did? Damn it, he definitely didn’t say anything nice!”

　　Pei Jingchen recalled the time Chen Cancan had stood up for him, hiring a gang of street thugs to ambush Su Qingci with a sack over his head. Afterward, Su Qingci had casually mentioned to him that his younger brother Chen Cancan was both foolish and wicked, but not quite that bad.

　　Later, Pei Jingchen had questioned those thugs. They were all minors—troublemakers from nearby high schools who skipped class to chase girls and pick fights. Somehow Chen Cancan had gotten mixed up with them. He’d casually mentioned his brother being harassed by a lunatic. The punks declared, “Big brother’s got your back. Your brother’s my brother. Mess with him, mess with us.” So they’d offered to take revenge for Chen Cancan.

　　Chen Cancan hadn’t expected this turn of events. She was both frightened and filled with resentment toward Su Qingci, eager to vent her anger. Half-reluctant, half-persuaded, she agreed. But she made one thing crystal clear, repeating it over and over: they could hit him anywhere else, but they absolutely must not hurt his hands.

He was an artist.

　　Pei Jingchen finished his glass of water and said, “Last week, he casually mentioned asking if you were taking the college entrance exam this year. I told him it was next year.”

Chen Cancan grew wary. “What does he want?”

“Nothing.” Pei Jingchen stood up. “I should be going.”

　　Chen Cancan stood up too, calling out “Brother,” then hesitated. Pei Jingchen looked at him and asked, “Is there something else?” Chen Cancan paused for a few seconds before saying, “Brother, is this really how you plan to handle it?”

Pei Jingchen: “What?”

　　Chen Cancan pressed urgently, “Staying at his place to look after him? Don’t you hate him? Isn’t he forcing this on you because he donated blood to you and because of his family’s power? Even if you don’t hate him, you shouldn’t gloat over his misfortune! Why not just let him fend for himself? Isn’t this how he ended up…”

“Don’t say those two words.” ” Pei Jingchen cut him off coldly.

The syllable “report” stuck in Chen Cancan’s throat.

Pei Jingchen’s voice was low and deep: “It would damage our brotherhood.”

*

Chen Cancan understood. It wouldn’t be long before Pei Haiyang found out too.

Sure enough, after finishing the wontons that night, Pei Jingchen noted that Su Qingci had eaten three meat-and-mushroom wontons and ten chive-egg-shrimp wontons. It seemed he preferred the latter.

　　Sure enough, after eating wontons that evening, Pei Jingchen noted Su Qingci had eaten three meat-and-mushroom wontons and ten chive-egg-shrimp ones—clearly he preferred the latter. Plus, he’d eaten all the seaweed in his bowl. Next time he made wontons, he’d add more seaweed.

　　While washing the dishes, Pei Haiyang called. Through the phone, he gave Pei Jingchen an earful: “Xiao Ci is going through such a major ordeal, and you didn’t tell me!”

Pei Jingchen held the phone and said, “It’s common knowledge he doesn’t want to make a fuss.” After all, receiving a terminal diagnosis wasn’t exactly cause for celebration.

　　Pei Haiyang sighed heavily over the phone, sharing his thoughts before asking about Su Qingci’s condition and saying he’d visit tomorrow. He was tactful enough to suggest Pei Jingchen check first if Su Qingci was available and willing—if not, it wouldn’t matter.

　　Pei Jingchen hung up and walked to the living room to call Su Qingci. Before he could ask, Su Qingci’s phone rang.

“It’s your dad,” Su Qingci said.

Pei Jingchen: “?”

Su Qingci showed him the phone screen. Pei Jingchen was caught off guard.

　　“Smile Bakery” has sent you a friend request.

Su Qingci exited the interface and continued playing his single-player game.

Pei Jingchen’s mind went blank. His phone buzzed—a WeChat message from his dad: [Son, Xiaoci hasn’t added me/crying GIF]

　　[I’ll send it again/striving GIF]

Su Qingci’s phone buzzed with a WeChat notification the next second.

[Son, Xiao Ci still hasn’t added me/crying GIF]

[I will succeed/biceps GIF]

Pei Jingchen: “…”

　　Early the next morning, while making sandwiches, Pei Jingchen asked Su Qingci as usual what sauce he wanted. Su Qingci said blueberry. When the food was served, he noticed today’s drink wasn’t milk but hot chocolate. Su Qingci was taken aback, wondering if Pei Jingchen had made a mistake.

Pei Jingchen smiled faintly and said, “It’s a reward for you.”

　　After a month of recuperating at home, Su Qingci’s health metrics had stabilized. Mr. Pei, who believed in clear rewards and punishments, knew Su Qingci had been craving this drink day and night. He figured a little treat now and then would do wonders for his mental and physical well-being.

　Su Qingci was genuinely pleased, though she gave no outward sign, remaining as lifeless as ever.

To be honest, Su Qingci hadn’t suffered any loss in taste during his month of light meals, for Pei Jingchen prepared every meal with meticulous care. He varied the dishes daily, crafting nutritionally balanced, meat-and-vegetable-paired delicacies, as if afraid she might grow weary of them. Su Qingci mentally teased that if Pei Jingchen kept this up for another two months, he could switch careers to become a nutrition chef. He could even publish a couple more cookbooks—titles like 100 Home-Style Stir-Fries, 99 Soups for Dual Qi and Blood Nourishment, or Cooking with Chef Pei.

　　After breakfast, Su Qingci lay on a lounge chair on the terrace, staring blankly at the deep blue sky while holding his phone. She then accepted Pei Haiyang’s friend request.

A few seconds later, Pei Haiyang sent a smiley face, followed by a middle-aged-and-elderly-exclusive “Health and Safety” emoji pack.

　　Su Qingci typed: [Thanks, Uncle. I’m doing fine.]

Pei Haiyang initiated a video call. Su Qingci hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

The slightly plump Pei Haiyan looked prosperous in his creamy orange apron, emblazoned with the bakery’s logo—a cheerful smiling boy that instantly lifted one’s spirits. Holding his phone in his left hand and a bread slicer in his right, his beaming smile outshone the logo: “Whoa, what a handsome young man! You look like a manga character come to life!”

　　Su Qingci: “?”

Pei Haiyang: “Look at this energetic young man! So vibrant! Handsome, glowing complexion—he could walk the red carpet without a suit!”

Su Qingci couldn’t help but chuckle: “Uncle, where did you learn that?”

Pei Haiyang gave a silly grin: The girls who come to my shop always say things like that. Hey, your uncle here just picks up on it.”

Just as Su Qingci was about to speak, Pei Haiyang cut in: “I’m not just saying this to flatter you. You really do have a healthy glow. You don’t look sick at all. Where have you ever seen a patient looking as radiant as you? Honestly, trust Uncle here—it’s just surgery. Xiao Chen had it too, remember? That huge hole in his liver? Look at him now, jumping around like nothing happened! Don’t worry, just rest up. Once you’re feeling stronger, come see Uncle. I’ll whip up some chocolate mousse to show off!”

　　Su Qingci chuckled, secretly wiping the stinging, dryness from his eyes before nodding at the camera.

He’d expected Pei Haiyang’s first words to be, “Goodness, you’ve lost so much weight!” followed by advice to eat more and rest. But Pei Haiyang didn’t. He didn’t sigh or frown, treating Su Qingci not as a terminally ill patient with little time left. His smile was warm and radiant, like living water flowing into parched soil.

After ending the call, Su Qingci paused, noticing a curious coincidence in his friend list’s nickname.

　　Pei Jingchen brought over a fruit platter, skewering a strawberry with a fork. Glancing down at the phone screen, he couldn’t help but read aloud: “Smile always, worry never, lucky.”

Pei Jingchen chuckled, “Your friend wishes you joy, freedom from worries, and happiness.”