That night, Zheng Kunyu never returned. He hadn’t taken his phone, his wallet, or even his luggage, which proved he couldn't have gone far; he likely only had his room card on him. After Qi Bailu finished his shower, he sat alone in the empty room, watching the clock tick away the minutes and seconds. A premonition had already taken root in his heart: the person who had seen him kissing Ruan Qiuji was none other than Zheng Kunyu.
Qi Bailu didn't know how much he had heard or how much he had seen. Since Qi Bailu hadn't noticed anyone following him, it meant Zheng Kunyu must have gone looking for him quite a while after he had left the hotel. It was highly probable that he had only caught the sight of him and Ruan Qiuji locked in an embrace. Qi Bailu waited with eyes wide open, staying up the entire night, but Zheng Kunyu did not return. As dawn approached, exhaustion finally claimed him, and he drifted off to sleep.
There were no dreams, only a darkness that hung heavy over his eyelids, impossible to lift no matter how hard he tried. In that darkness, a hand clamped around his throat. He could clearly feel those fingers pressing heavily against his windpipe, like the hand of the Grim Reaper. An alarm blared in Qi Bailu’s mind, yet he still couldn't open his eyes. That hand felt like a guillotine blade resting beside his pillow, waiting for a judgment, ready to fall at any moment. Gradually, he felt his breath failing him. Just as he was about to tear his eyes open and scream, the hand finally withdrew.
Consequently, the first thing Qi Bailu did upon waking the next morning was frown and rub his neck. He felt all around it, confirming there were no marks; the guillotine from the night before had merely been a nightmare.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom. It was this splashing that had woken him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall: eight o'clock in the morning. The light outside the window was bright; it was another brilliant, sunny day.
It was Zheng Kunyu. He was back. Qi Bailu sat up abruptly and, without even pausing to put on his slippers, rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Sure enough, the man standing before the mirror shaving was indeed Zheng Kunyu.
Qi Bailu leaned against the doorframe, watching him silently, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. He struggled to swallow his questions and everything he wanted to say, waiting for Zheng Kunyu to finish shaving before speaking.
The bathroom light was on, pouring down from above and reflecting Qi Bailu’s silhouette clearly in the mirror. Half of Zheng Kunyu’s face was covered in white shaving foam. When he saw Qi Bailu appear in the reflection, the old-fashioned straight razor in his hand paused, hovering mid-air near his jawline.
Seeing that he had been noticed, Qi Bailu walked right up behind him. Their eyes met in the mirror.
Zheng Kunyu held his neck to the side, maintaining that posture with his chin slightly tilted. He looked at Qi Bailu for a few seconds before shifting his gaze back to his own face, continuing to shave with meticulous care. His movements seemed no different than before, yet his speed had slowed due to the distraction. Realizing this, Zheng Kunyu steadied himself, treating the person beside him as nothing more than a wooden post. Only when he had finished, put away the razor, and wiped his face clean did he fix his gaze on Qi Bailu again.
Looking at the straight razor in his hand, Qi Bailu couldn't help but think that such a blade was perfectly suited for slitting a throat.
Zheng Kunyu had already changed his clothes. His shirt sleeves were loosely rolled up, an outfit prepared for going out. According to their plan from yesterday, the four of them were supposed to meet at ten in the morning for brunch at a restaurant.
Qi Bailu stepped closer, peering at Zheng Kunyu’s face. Zheng Kunyu looked pale and indifferent; nothing else could be discerned. Qi Bailu asked, "Do you want to hear my explanation?"
There was no answer. The folded metal razor landed on the marble vanity with a sharp *clink*. Zheng Kunyu turned around, his eyes traveling from bottom to top, scanning Qi Bailu’s entire body.
"I’ve thought of ten thousand ways to make you die," Zheng Kunyu said abruptly.
He spoke as if he were sleepwalking, his voice carrying a sense of self-abandonment and faint exhaustion. Whether stunned by his tone or frightened by the words, Qi Bailu fell silent, looking up at him with a similarly dazed expression.
Zheng Kunyu knew that if he came back, he would inevitably hurt him. Last night, he had sat in the bar all night long. He had thought for a long time that perhaps he truly loathed him, and so at dawn, he decided to come back and cast him aside. But the moment he saw him lying there, lying on the double bed they had shared, he still couldn't let go. He would rather Qi Bailu die right then and there. How could he be willing to hand over a flower he had cultivated with his own hands to someone else?
Zheng Kunyu’s gaze returned to Qi Bailu’s face. It was the kind of look that suggested they were both standing on the edge of a cliff; their only choices were to jump or to retreat. Zheng Kunyu reached out, placing his hand on Qi Bailu’s back and pulling him firmly into his arms.
"Haven't you always wanted freedom? Before I change my mind, you have two choices. Either you say you love him—that you love him so much you can't help yourself, that you're willing to give up everything from the past, and that you'd rather die than be apart from him—and I will let you go to be with him immediately."
Qi Bailu watched him unblinkingly, waiting for the second option. He suddenly had a strange premonition. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, every nerve in his body twitching, as if that guillotine was finally about to fall and execute him. He felt as though he might die in the next second.
"Or, we get married."
What absurd nonsense was he saying? Qi Bailu thought Zheng Kunyu had gone mad, or perhaps he had. He let out a startled, incredulous laugh. "Zheng Kunyu, are you joking?!"
"I am proposing to you."
Zheng Kunyu maintained the same tone, as if unaware of the impact his words carried. Qi Bailu had been looking at him mockingly, but gradually, the expression on his face drained away. His pained self-mockery turned into a total blankness. He realized Zheng Kunyu was serious.
What did he just say? Marriage... a word he hadn't even dared to dream of.
Zheng Kunyu’s expression showed no joy. He said coldly, "What are you crying for?"
Qi Bailu wanted to say he wasn't crying, but the moment he met Zheng Kunyu’s eyes, a single tear spilled over. He couldn't utter a word; he couldn't shake his head or nod. He only felt that he was utterly foolish, reduced to a silent void. Zheng Kunyu let him cry, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss between his brows to fill that void.
It was like a person in a terminal freefall, where emotions are reduced to a blurred shadow. In this embrace, he felt as if he were falling headfirst, his internal organs shifting and twisting, like a bird that had forgotten it possessed wings. Qi Bailu reached out and hugged Zheng Kunyu’s waist. At this moment, even if the heavens collapsed and the earth split apart, they would fall into the abyss together.
