Gu Chong replied flatly, “No. I already have someone. He’d worry, and I don’t want him to feel insecure.”
Shen Wang stared at the rippling light in his glass of alcohol, as if he were dreaming—nothing felt real.
At just the right moment, Gu Chong’s phone rang. He answered it and stepped outside to take the call.
Shen Wang suddenly felt an unbearable itch rising beneath his skin, like a rash crawling over his chest. It turned nauseating—his stomach twisted violently, pain coiling so tightly he nearly curled up on the sofa.
But Gu Chong’s expression remained calm, as if he were only saying something trivial.
Back when Gu Chong loved him, even his anger had felt like teasing.
Only now did Shen Wang finally see Gu Chong’s temper for what it was. It might have been better if Gu Chong had lied to him—at least that would have been gentler. But instead, every word was blunt, sharp, unrelenting.
And Shen Wang… was suddenly stripped of all armor, reduced to an unarmed soldier—defenseless in every way.
Even so, he still ran after him like his life depended on it.
He told himself it was just Gu Chong being his usual self—saying one thing and meaning another.
He found Gu Chong in the parking lot. Gu Chong had just gotten into the driver’s seat and was still on the phone.
Shen Wang yanked the car door open and slipped inside.
His whole body was trembling, but he forced himself to bite down hard enough on his teeth to speak.
Gu Chong froze for a moment, then frowned. “…I’ve got something to deal with. We’ll talk later.”
He ended the call with a sharp tap and turned to Shen Wang, irritation already in his voice. “What are you doing?”
“I just… wanted to talk to you again.”
“Talk about what?” Gu Chong’s tone was cold. “Didn’t I already make myself clear?”
Shen Wang couldn’t meet his eyes. He stared instead at the car’s floor mat, voice low. “I just want to know… what your boyfriend is like. Where you met him. Have I ever seen him?”
Gu Chong’s brows tightened. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I— I just—”
He wanted to ask: Can we get back together?
He regretted it. Truly.
He wanted to tell Gu Chong that.
But the nausea surged harder, rising in violent waves he couldn’t suppress. His stomach lurched painfully. Instinctively, he clutched at his abdomen—but instead of easing himself, his hand grabbed Gu Chong’s shirt.
He crumpled it in his grip.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he had collapsed into Gu Chong’s arms.
Tears breaking out of his control, he choked, “Husband… it hurts…”
“Hey.”
“Shen Wang—what’s wrong?”
But his hearing was already fading.
Gu Chong’s voice dissolved, like an old black-and-white television losing signal—until only static remained, a harsh, endless “zzzt… zzzt…”
He felt like he was falling into a barren world.
Only hurried footsteps, heavy breathing, and distant shouts stretched endlessly outward, while everything in his own world turned into a vast, unreachable white.
For a brief, absurd moment, he even wondered—
Am I going to die?
Am I sick?
He didn’t know anything.
About himself. About others. About anything.
He had always lived like that—unthinking, drifting through ignorance—but he had never been lucky enough to stay an ignorant fool untouched by consequence.
When Shen Wang woke, his mouth was dry and his eyes sore.
It felt like he had been lying in a coffin for a thousand years. Every bone in his body ached in protest.
He pushed himself up, trying to sit, when he heard Gu Chong’s voice.
“Lie back down.”
He blinked, slowly focusing.
Only then did he see Gu Chong clearly.
Gu Chong looked displeased as he held an apple in one hand. A fruit knife lay on the table.
Under that unkind stare, Shen Wang belatedly obeyed and lay back down.
Gu Chong peeled the apple with practiced precision.
“Your phone ran out of battery. I couldn’t reach your manager,” he said.
“Mm,” Shen Wang responded softly, secretly relieved.
He studied Gu Chong’s face, then carefully said, “Thank you… for taking me to the hospital.”
Gu Chong gave a short acknowledgment, then immediately frowned again. “You passed out in my car. Of course I brought you here. Don’t read too much into it.”
“Mm,” Shen Wang murmured, fingers gripping the blanket.
He obediently lowered his gaze.
Gu Chong poured him a glass of water.
Shen Wang held it with both hands. The warmth seeped into his palms, making his eyes sting slightly with moisture, but he lowered his head and drank in small, careful sips as if nothing were wrong.
“Also,” Gu Chong said, looking up at him, “the doctor said it’s withdrawal symptoms. Have you been quitting something lately?”
“Cigarettes. Alcohol.”
“Mm.” Gu Chong paused, then asked, “Why did you suddenly decide to quit?”
Shen Wang almost said it casually—because of an allergy.
But then he remembered what Mei He had said:
If you want to get back together, stop being so contradictory.
If Gu Chong himself was naturally sharp and contradictory… then maybe he should try being more honest too.
He cautiously studied Gu Chong’s expression and said softly, “I wanted to be a little better… before I met you again.”
Gu Chong looked at him in silence.
Shen Wang couldn’t read anything in his eyes.
Then Gu Chong frowned. “I already have a stable partner. You shouldn’t be saying things like that anymore.”
Shen Wang tightened his grip on the cup. “You really… have a boyfriend?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
Shen Wang tugged at the blanket slightly. “Then why do you still use a daisy as your profile picture? Doesn’t he mind?”
Or… does he like daisies too?
The apple in Gu Chong’s hand was set down with a quiet thud.
Shen Wang’s heart jumped violently into his throat.
Almost instinctively, he lowered his eyes. “Sorry.”
“Weren’t you talking so much just now?” Gu Chong said coolly. “Why are you apologizing again?”
“I’m afraid you’ll get angry,” Shen Wang admitted in a small voice.
Gu Chong exhaled slightly. “Yes, I do have a boyfriend. He’s good to me, and our relationship is stable. As for the profile picture… I just haven’t bothered to change it. You’re right—he might care. I’ll change it.”
And just like that, he did.
The bright yellow daisy turned into a plain, muted blue.
Gu Chong didn’t stay long after that. He left soon after, leaving behind only a few slices of freshly cut apple.
Shen Wang picked one up and put it into his mouth.
It wasn’t sweet.
His throat still hurt.
But he still forced himself to finish it—half swallowing, half gagging.
As he ate, tears began to fall.
Not really out of grievance.
It was just that something in his chest hurt unbearably—physically at first, sharp and suffocating—but then it spread outward, until even his eyes joined in, insisting on crying too.
He hadn’t cried much before.
Not even when Ji Xiao died.
But ever since he fell in love with Gu Chong, everything he had once lost seemed to come back.
Except now, he had become painfully fragile—timid in a way he no longer recognized.
