Song Cheng listened but didn’t react.
Opening his eyes, he studied Qin Wunian’s expression and suddenly leaned back slightly. He pushed Qin Wunian’s hand away, then frowned as he asked, “Where did you go earlier?”
Qin Wunian paused, then lowered his hand. “To a quiet place… to think and calm myself.”
Song Cheng: “Are you calm now?”
Qin Wunian sensed that this conversation might turn against him. He fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
Song Cheng said nothing further. He lowered his eyes in silence, then after a couple of seconds, turned to pick up his phone from the bedside table. Checking the time, he saw it was already 11:30 p.m.
Putting the phone down, he asked again, “When did you come back?”
Qin Wunian hesitated, then answered vaguely, “Maybe eleven o’clock…”
Under Song Cheng’s expressionless stare, Qin Wunian’s mind jolted. He immediately corrected himself, “Ten fifty-five. When I entered, I glanced at the wall clock.”
Song Cheng repeated, “Ten fifty-five.”
“From one thirty-five to ten fifty-five, nine hours and twenty minutes. While you went out to calm yourself, you left all your unrest for me.”
Qin Wunian: “I thought about calling you, but I didn’t know what to say…”
Song Cheng: “You mean you didn’t know, or you didn’t dare?”
Qin Wunian froze.
Song Cheng stared into his eyes, directly stating the truth Qin Wunian didn’t want to face:
“You didn’t need that long to calm down. You didn’t call me, didn’t answer my calls, and waited until this late, making sure I was asleep before coming back. Ten fifty-five, you came back. But you only woke me now. If I hadn’t had a nightmare, I wouldn’t have seen you today. You avoided it today—what about tomorrow? Are you going to pretend today never happened, or hide out another day?”
Qin Wunian’s fingers curled slightly. He looked at Song Cheng, completely exposed. The veins in his neck were prominent, showing just how embarrassed and exposed he felt.
After a long moment, he finally said, “I just needed some time.”
Song Cheng frowned, disbelief written across his face. “Time for what? I know I was wrong. I know this news shocked you, but do you really need to be this angry? You left me here all day!”
Qin Wunian was left speechless. Song Cheng watched him in silence, and his frustration and anger kept growing.
He got off the bed, standing on the floor. His voice was the same volume as usual, but the trembling tone revealed just how unsettled he was.
“Qin Wunian… you said that as long as I could do it, you could too. You said you wouldn’t go back on your word. But now you’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?”
Qin Wunian froze. He also stood up. The height difference between them suddenly reversed. He looked at Song Cheng, completely flustered, and opened his mouth to defend himself: “I didn’t.”
Song Cheng: “Then why didn’t you answer my calls? Why did you only come back now? If you think this is just a fling, a relationship that can be ended whenever you’re unhappy, then you shouldn’t have sought me out. I’m serious, and I absolutely cannot accept your lack of seriousness!”
Qin Wunian, burning with urgency, tried to explain: “I’m serious too!”
Song Cheng: “Then why can’t I feel it?! The way you left me was like tossing aside a rag. Now looking back, it was me who suggested getting back together, always talking to myself, and I never even heard you confess, never heard a single ‘I miss you.’ Did you reconcile with me because you still like me, or because you needed me as a tool to get through this phase?”
Listening to his accusations, Qin Wunian couldn’t help but laugh through his anger: “You actually asked me if I still like you.”
“Song Cheng, after you left, I didn’t even know how to interact with people. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat properly, no one wanted to stay with me for long because I made everyone in the room as unhappy as I was. I worked myself to exhaustion, made a show of it everywhere, because I couldn’t find you, so I had to wait for you to come back. Every little thing, I posted online—hospital visits, scolding people, reminiscing about the past—my name was on the trending charts five out of ten days. But did you see it? You either didn’t see it at all, or saw it and forgot.”
He pointed to his phone. “I used every possible way to hint to you, to let you know I was still thinking of you, just in hopes that one day you’d soften a little, stand up yourself—because that was the only way I could find you.”
Song Cheng stared at him in shock. He hadn’t known any of this.
Seeing Song Cheng’s stunned expression, Qin Wunian closed his eyes and spoke in surrender: “So don’t ask me anymore if I still like you. If you remembered even a little of the past, you wouldn’t ask this question.”
The room fell into deathly silence. Song Cheng stood frozen for several seconds before softly saying, “I… don’t know…”
Qin Wunian let out a self-deprecating laugh: “I only realized just now that all this time, you truly didn’t know either.”
Song Cheng shook his head unconsciously, then looked up at Qin Wunian urgently: “No, I really didn’t know!”
Qin Wunian was slightly stunned.
Song Cheng’s words tumbled out in a rush: “If I had known, I would have felt it, remembered… I may have forgotten, but not so completely. I don’t remember because I truly didn’t know, I really didn’t know at all.”
Qin Wunian watched him.
He understood—Song Cheng wasn’t ignoring him on purpose; he had never seen it at all.
But even this answer didn’t make Qin Wunian feel better. Even if Song Cheng had been abroad all these years, he could have seen the posts online if he wanted. The fact that he hadn’t meant he didn’t want to.
Perhaps he, like Qin Wunian today, had been avoiding everything Qin Wunian posted online for some reason.
Now, Qin Wunian could understand why Song Cheng was so angry.
He lowered his gaze, wondering if it was appropriate to apologize at this moment. Suddenly, Song Cheng took two quick steps forward and wrapped him tightly in an embrace.
He held on as if he never wanted to let Qin Wunian go again. Feeling the hug, Qin Wunian was momentarily dazed.
The crying from dreams only works in dreams. Once awake, Song Cheng would forget the feelings of the dream; his eyes would be dry, and there wouldn’t be a tangible sense that he had cried. But at this moment, he truly realized he had been crying.
Pressing his head into Qin Wunian’s shoulder, forehead against his neck, warmth trickled down, and Qin Wunian’s mind jolted awake.
Song Cheng thought it was a little embarrassing for a grown man to cry, but he couldn’t help it. So he tried his best to make his voice sound normal, though to Qin Wunian it still shattered his heart.
Choking, he said: “I’m sorry I forgot everything. Is that why you were angry? I forgot all the effort you made for me… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Qin Wunian listened, feeling both like laughing and crying. He had played so many roles before, but none had left him in such a complex state.
Song Cheng cried for him, and it warmed him as if his heart melted in those tears. But Song Cheng had amnesia. He didn’t remember their past, or the past with anyone. How much of these tears were really for him?
Too complicated a question for Qin Wunian to think about. At this moment, all he could do was hold his breath, clumsily lift a hand, and pat the lean back of the person in his arms. “It’s not your fault.”
Song Cheng hugged him tighter, burying his head in Qin Wunian’s chest, voice growing more choked: “You know… you left without a word.”
Qin Wunian: “…”
“I was too impulsive. That’s my fault.”
Song Cheng sniffled, slightly loosening his hold, red-eyed, and looked up: “Are you not impulsive now?”
Qin Wunian looked at Song Cheng’s pitiful expression and drew a deep breath: “No. Never impulsive again.”
In a soft voice, Song Cheng asked: “Then what if it happens again in the future?”
Qin Wunian: “…It won’t. If it does, just lock the door, let me starve outside, freeze to death, then you can reopen it.”
Song Cheng pouted, unconvinced: “Even then, I wouldn’t know if you’d come back.”
Qin Wunian paused, then said: “As long as you’re there, I’ll always come back. The answer you truly don’t know is—how to get rid of me.”
Song Cheng broke into a smile through his tears, hugging Qin Wunian again, taking a long, deep breath. Qin Wunian felt his body relax in his arms.
Feeling the calm of the one in his embrace, Qin Wunian also settled quietly for a while, letting his emotions and body sink slowly into the rhythm of their shared breathing. Finally, he spoke in a very soft voice: “Chengcheng?”
Song Cheng pressed against him and softly hummed in response.
“Are you sleepy?”
Song Cheng paused for a moment, then stood straight and shook his head obediently. “Not sleepy, just tired. Even though I didn’t do anything, it still feels like I ran five kilometers today and did a triathlon.”
Qin Wunian listened and found him a little childish. Even though he knew Song Cheng was no longer lazy and had excellent stamina, instinctively, he still saw the high school student who used to hate gym class.
He smiled faintly, ran his fingers through Song Cheng’s hair, and asked, “Then let’s sleep first. Once you lie down, you’ll feel sleepy.”
Song Cheng blinked but didn’t move.
Seeing him frozen, Qin Wunian didn’t move either. The two of them stood by the bed, staring at each other. After a while, Qin Wunian spoke, slightly puzzled: “Don’t want to sleep?”
Song Cheng nodded. “I do… but I just had a nightmare.”
Qin Wunian paused, understanding immediately.
He glanced at the bed next to them. Although the sheets had been changed and Song Cheng had tidied the room so the middle-aged luxury aesthetic was slightly toned down, it still reminded Qin Wunian of his parents’ home.
This bed had been slept on by his parents. Song Cheng could sleep there alone, and so could he. But sleeping here together with Song Cheng…
It felt strangely awkward.
Turning his head back, Qin Wunian made a decision and said calmly to Song Cheng, “Let’s go to my room.”
This time, Song Cheng froze. “Just for today?”
Qin Wunian: “…”
Only now did he realize how unusually proactive Song Cheng had always been, taking the lead at every step. He had never thought deeply before, assuming it was just a change in Song Cheng’s personality. Now he understood—marriage experience played a role.
Qin Wunian’s mind was still in chaos. Being outside all day had only shifted his emotions from fury to sorrow; it hadn’t provided a solution for handling this situation. Tonight he didn’t want to wake Song Cheng, didn’t want to face him, and that was why.
But seeing Song Cheng’s expectant and anxious eyes, his heart felt like it was about to leap from his chest, beating wildly.
Qin Wunian heard his own voice, as if someone else were speaking: “If you want, every day from now on.”
Finally receiving this answer, Song Cheng wanted to play it cool, but the curve of his lips betrayed him. Realizing he couldn’t hide it, he beamed, the exhaustion he mentioned moments ago forgotten.
“Then wait while I pack up, I’ll bring everything with me!”
Besides some toiletries, it was just his personal items. Qin Wunian watched as he carefully tucked his precious backup device into his pocket, then picked up a notebook next to it.
It looked worn, and Qin Wunian immediately recognized it as Song Cheng’s diary.
His eyelids twitched, and he lowered his gaze, as if ordinary floorboards had suddenly bloomed with flowers.
Clothes from variety shows, all gifts from the production team, were hung in the wardrobe. Now Song Cheng took them out but hadn’t folded them yet. Qin Wunian instinctively grabbed them, then pushed open the door and walked quickly out.
Song Cheng paused briefly, surprised at Qin Wunian’s urgency, but there didn’t seem to be anything else he needed. If so, he could always go back down later.
So he happily carried his things and went upstairs with Qin Wunian.
In his hurry, Qin Wunian didn’t take the elevator; he found it too slow. Song Cheng heard footsteps behind him, looked up, and saw Qin Wunian already gone—just in a few seconds, he had reached the second floor.
Song Cheng hurried after him, slippers slowing him down. By the time he reached the third floor, Qin Wunian had already turned on the lights and was standing at the door, gazing at the room with a completely opposite style from the middle-aged luxury aesthetic. Song Cheng’s mouth dropped in surprise.
“Wow… oh.”
Qin Wunian heard the strange exclamation and glanced at his own bedroom. “What, is there a problem?”
Song Cheng closed his mouth, shaking his head. “No, it’s really nice. The space feels very well used.”
The entire third floor was Qin Wunian’s bedroom—over a hundred square meters. Besides the master bedroom, there was a bathroom, a walk-in closet, a gym, a sunroom, and a semi-open study.
All the doors were open. Towels were hanging messily in the bathroom, bottles and jars stacked in the cupboard. The walk-in closet was transparent—originally with doors, but all opened, showing shirts, pants, and watches and ties scattered outside.
The gym had fewer items, but every piece of equipment was oddly angled.
In the sunroom, several books lay open on the tatami mats, and if he was correct, there was a box of nut energy bars—the kind Qin Wunian had brought for the show.
And the study… Qin Wunian might have a collecting habit. He had covered an entire wall with photos, trophies, plush toys, postcards, origami cranes…
Seeing Song Cheng staring at the semi-open study, Qin Wunian proudly said, “Those are fan gifts. I kept some as mementos.”
Song Cheng turned his head and gave Qin Wunian a dry smile.
Fan gifts… well, if he wanted to display them, fine. But maybe he could put a door on this study so he wouldn’t have to look at it all the time.
Qin Wunian hung Song Cheng’s clothes in his closet. After he came out, Song Cheng asked, “Where should I put the rest of my things?”
Qin Wunian glanced at the diary in Song Cheng’s hands again, pausing for a moment before saying, “Anywhere is fine for your stuff, but the diary… it’s better if you put it somewhere I can’t see it.”
Song Cheng smiled. “Actually, I don’t mind if you look.”
Qin Wunian didn’t smile back. “I do mind. Just put it away.”
Song Cheng didn’t think much of it. He assumed Qin Wunian was simply respecting his privacy. Letting him see the diary would have been to prove that what he said was true—that he had always liked him. But since Qin Wunian didn’t want to, it didn’t matter.
Besides, this way, Song Cheng didn’t have to feel embarrassed fidgeting with his toes on the floor.
He temporarily placed it on the bedside table. With everything settled, Song Cheng also made himself comfortable on Qin Wunian’s bed.
Qin Wunian himself carried no noticeable scent, but the bed had a faint, indescribable aura that drew Song Cheng in. It wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant—just deeply compelling.
Lying there felt like being embraced by Qin Wunian. Song Cheng closed his eyes and nuzzled the pillow, forgetting how much of the room had previously annoyed him.
Meanwhile, Qin Wunian was in the shower.
Hot water ran down his back in torrents. Watching the flow move toward the drain, he noticed that the early droplets disappeared instantly, while the later ones lingered, slowly losing the energy and vitality they started with.
Marriage was different from dating. Qin Wunian had fantasized countless times about scenarios with Song Cheng. Naturally, he had imagined—no, he had inevitably imagined—that if Song Cheng left him, he might end up with someone else.
But marriage.
Even thinking of those two words made his emotions spiral. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind to focus on another thought:
If Song Cheng had mistaken him for someone else, would that be enough to make him invest so deeply?
If there were no emotional foundation, no attraction at all, would Song Cheng really have shown him that expression, said those things?
Or was the mistaken identity just a catalyst? Perhaps Song Cheng’s feelings had initially come from those diary entries, but upon seeing him in person, some of that emotion was drawn to him—the real, living person.
Then… could he use this opportunity?
Leaning back against the wall, Qin Wunian tilted his head as the water streamed over his eyes, nose, and mouth. The slightly hot water didn’t awaken his rational mind. Instead, his thoughts grew hazy and drifting—maybe, just maybe, it could actually work.
Song Cheng leaned against the headboard, hands resting casually on his stomach, legs crossed, head tilted as he examined the room and waited for Qin Wunian to finish in the shower. Time seemed to stretch, and finally Qin Wunian stepped out.
Climbing onto the bed, water droplets still clinging to him, Qin Wunian caught Song Cheng’s gaze, smiled, and then pressed close.
He let Song Cheng hold his arms as he reached to turn off the lights. Watching him, Song Cheng suddenly asked, “You said you were waiting for me to come back, but on the day I returned, I remember you didn’t seem very happy.”
Qin Wunian hesitated for a moment, then continued the motion. The bedside lamp went dark with a gentle touch.
The room plunged into darkness. Qin Wunian turned, pressing Song Cheng down to lie properly before answering. “In the first two years, I acted with hope. In the third and fourth, it was less hope than habit. The hope was so faint, I decided not to hope at all. Something I had completely given up on suddenly comes true—my happiness is a delayed reaction. Shock and doubt come first.”
Song Cheng was quiet for a moment, then softly said, “A beautiful metaphor… if you ignore the fact that you no longer believed in me.”
In the darkness, he turned to Qin Wunian. “But that’s not your fault. I let you down. So, what do you think—starting now, rebuilding your trust in me?”
Qin Wunian: “Worth a try.”
Song Cheng was amused by Qin Wunian’s serious tone and laughed softly twice. He pressed closer, and when his legs brushed against Qin Wunian’s, Qin Wunian rolled over, pulling him into his arms.
Gently patting Song Cheng’s back, he seemed to say: just sleep.
Song Cheng was ready to sleep, too. But before closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered something. “I want to go out tomorrow.”
Qin Wunian asked, “Where?”
Song Cheng: “The mobile carrier office. Didn’t I say we needed to set up the SIM card after coming back? Do you know where the office is around here?”
Qin Wunian tightened his hold on Song Cheng. The calm he had just regained tensed again. After a while, he said, “I’ll handle it for you.”
Song Cheng: “Huh? I can do it myself.”
Qin Wunian: “Did you forget you just finished filming? You can’t go out right now.”
Song Cheng: “…But you can go out? Even without filming, you can’t appear in public, can you?”
Qin Wunian: “I’ll have my assistant go. Just don’t worry about it—I’ll take care of it. Now be good and sleep.”
Song Cheng pouted, feeling like he was being treated like a child. Yet the next moment, he curled up into a comfortable position in Qin Wunian’s arms and slowly drifted off to sleep.