After settling the fees and calling Lin Yuewei to let her know everything was fine, Qi Bailu returned to the ward near midnight. The corridor was lined with sound-activated lights; because his footsteps were light, the lamps remained dark until he reached the door. Through the rectangular glass pane, he saw a nurse tidying up, so he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The nurse looked up, surprised that someone would call an ambulance for a situation like this—it wasn't exactly an emergency. In truth, if he hadn't been unable to wake the man, Qi Bailu wouldn't have called; at the time, Ruan Qiuji had looked as though he were deathly ill.
"Why did he faint?" Qi Bailu asked.
"Hypoglycemia. Has he not eaten? There’s a cafeteria downstairs. When he wakes up, you can get him something to eat."
At the nurse's mention of food, Qi Bailu felt a pang of hunger, but he didn't feel like moving. After the nurse left, he sat on the sofa by the window for a long while. Ruan Qiuji remained unconscious, lying there with a pale face, seemingly oblivious to the world. Qi Bailu turned his gaze away and noticed a single lily in a vase by the headboard. He hadn't expected the hospital's service to be so thoughtful—then again, this was a VIP ward costing a thousand yuan a night, and there was even a television opposite the bed.
Having slept the entire day, Qi Bailu wasn't tired at all. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping to a random channel and muting the volume. The images flickered silently. He didn't particularly want to watch; it was just that the loneliness in the room was becoming unbearable.
There was nothing more absurd than sleeping with someone, only to wake up and find them comatose. Qi Bailu felt terrible. Ruan Qiuji was lucky—he could just sleep it off as if nothing had happened—but now that Qi Bailu was still, his mind was flooded with everything that had transpired: the words they’d exchanged, every detail of their time in bed. He remembered it all too clearly.
The television was showing a documentary about penguins. From chicks to adulthood, the penguins embarked on adventures, hunted for food, and reproduced. Two males fought bloodily for the right to mate with a female, while other penguins waddled past, their black faces looking inscrutable. *How are humans any different?* Qi Bailu thought. Gradually, he began to feel a chill, and he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around himself.
When he was startled awake by the sound of the door opening, a nurse was at the bedside changing the IV bag. The documentary was still playing. His limbs felt cold and heavy, and his forehead was burning—the signs of a fever were unmistakable.
"Could I have two fever reducers?" Qi Bailu asked softly.
The nurse didn't hear him at first. When he repeated himself, she realized what he was saying. Surprised, she took his temperature and brought him medicine and water. "Did you catch it from your friend? Autumn is the peak season for colds and fevers. You two should remember to take your medicine on time and drink plenty of water."
Thirty-nine degrees Celsius. At least it wasn't as terrifying as Ruan Qiuji’s forty. Qi Bailu popped the two tablets out of the blister pack, thinking to himself that "Autumn" was indeed the peak season for fevers. He didn't know if he had been infected by Ruan Qiuji or if it was because he’d showered and left with wet hair, catching a chill in the cold wind.
In the nurse's eyes, they must have been very "close friends" to pass an illness back and forth so quickly.
Ruan Qiuji woke up while the third IV bag was being hung. The penguin documentary had ended, replaced by a cooking show. The night-shift nurse yawned as she tidied her supplies. Turning, she saw Ruan Qiuji slowly blink his eyes open. She leaned over to feel his forehead. "How are you feeling?"
His forehead was still burning; the fever hadn't broken. Seeing that he didn't speak, the nurse straightened up to leave, but after two steps, she heard the patient murmur something. It sounded like a name.
"Looking for your friend?" the nurse asked. "He went to get something to eat."
Ruan Qiuji’s eyes shifted, his pupils still appearing dazed and unfocused. He muttered a name: "Bailu."
She heard it clearly this time—a rather unusual name, the nurse thought. she rarely watched movies, and even if she had seen entertainment news, she couldn't match a real face to a photograph. Naturally, she didn't recognize Qi Bailu.
"He'll be back in a moment," the nurse said out of pity. His gaze looked truly pathetic, like a lost puppy on the street.
Ruan Qiuji closed his eyes and said nothing more, though his brow furrowed.
He didn't know how much time had passed. He heard the nurse leave, then someone else enter; they spoke at the door. His needle had been pulled out, but five hours later, it was inserted again. The needle pierced his skin, settling quietly into a blue vein.
In a state between sleep and wakefulness, he dreamed of a small incident from long ago. Whether it was a memory, a hallucination, or a dream, Ruan Qiuji couldn't tell; sensations during illness often blurred the lines of reality. In the dream, he was sitting at the head of a bed reading a book. Qi Bailu came over after a shower, took the book from his hands, set it aside, and looped his arms around his neck to kiss him. He was forced to lean back as Qi Bailu sat on his lap. They were pressed tight against each other, sharing their first long kiss, as if they could melt into one another.
Ruan Qiuji felt a twinge of doubt regarding the reality of this event. He doubted whether the intimacy of the past few months was merely a castle in the air; he doubted they had ever truly been together. The room gradually changed shape. He became a bystander standing by the bed. A pair of hands cupped Qi Bailu’s face, pinning him down. The person kissing him wasn't himself.
But if it wasn't him, who was it? Ruan Qiuji’s hand twitched as if to prove it was indeed him. The back of his hand was still pierced by the needle, secured by white medical tape. *It would be better if Qi Bailu died too,* a frantic thought flashed through his mind. *Right now, I could wrap the IV tubing around his neck, loop after loop, and suddenly throttle him, strangling him to death in my arms.*
But Qi Bailu didn't even plead. He only looked at him coldly, his body naked and covered in the marks of abuse. Ruan Qiuji had never regretted a decision in his life. He was skilled at killing with a borrowed knife; one more death wouldn't matter. To him, it had always been a matter of being the cleaver while others were the meat. What was so special about Qi Bailu? At worst, he could just find a similar face.
That struggling body fell backward, fingers clutching his clothes, clearly spitting out a sentence: "Ruan Qiuji, I despise you."
Just as the strength in his hands began to tighten, Ruan Qiuji suddenly snapped his eyes open. In his field of vision, the lights were bright against the white ceiling, and the IV bag above him swayed gently.
Ruan Qiuji gripped the bedsheets and pushed himself up. Qi Bailu was slumped on the sofa, asleep. He was still wearing that thin white cashmere sweater. His hair looked a bit messy, but it didn't detract from his beauty. Qi Bailu’s head was hanging low, almost resting on his own shoulder, so at the first sound of movement, he woke up instantly. His gaze met Ruan Qiuji’s on the bed.
Their eyes locked in mid-air. Qi Bailu had a headache; it took some effort for him to stand up. He froze when he saw the IV tube that had been ripped out by the bed. He walked over and pressed the call button for the nurse. Ruan Qiuji lay there watching him. Qi Bailu looked down at his hand; seeing the blood rapidly backing up into the tube, his expression turned grim. "What did you do?"
Ruan Qiuji seemed to only just realize where he was. He immediately remembered Qi Bailu’s hemophobia. Without a word, he raised his hand to pull the needle out himself. Enduring his own dizziness and nausea, Qi Bailu stopped him. He deftly removed the needle and pressed down on the already swollen puncture site.
Until the nurse arrived, Qi Bailu sat on the edge of the bed, looking elsewhere. The television was still on, playing that cooking show. The chef was demonstrating his knife skills, processing a long trout. Ruan Qiuji glanced at it once before turning his gaze back to Qi Bailu’s face. Unable to bear the scrutiny, Qi Bailu glanced back, only to see something in Ruan Qiuji’s eyes.
It was just a faint trace of a tear, but Ruan Qiuji quickly turned his face away, expressionless. Qi Bailu couldn't tell if it had really been there.
After the nurse arrived, Qi Bailu went into the ward's private bathroom without a word. He washed for a long time until he felt the scent of blood was gone from his hands. The nurse said Ruan Qiuji’s fever had broken and he could go downstairs to eat, provided he avoided cold or raw food.
It was now six in the morning. Ruan Qiuji wouldn't eat, but Qi Bailu wanted breakfast. Thus, the two of them sat in the cafeteria, silent and with nothing to say to each other. The strange atmosphere drew several glances from passersby. Qi Bailu was ill himself and had no energy to argue with Ruan Qiuji. They were eating shrimp wontons—called *bianshi* here in Xiamen. Halfway through, Qi Bailu suddenly remembered that when they first met, they had eaten wontons together.
The dining hall was quiet; because it was so early, there were few people. Ruan Qiuji finished first and set down his chopsticks to wait for Qi Bailu. Qi Bailu took small sips of the broth with his spoon. After a moment, he looked up. "I know you hate me. From now on, we’ll have nothing to do with each other."
Qi Bailu’s voice was low and raspy. Ruan Qiuji watched him without speaking. Only when Qi Bailu threw him a look demanding an answer did Ruan Qiuji speak slowly: "Who is the person in your heart, really?"
"...Does it matter?"
"It matters," Ruan Qiuji answered quickly and calmly.
He seemed to be gradually regaining his "President Ruan" composure, yet he was different. This time, there was no duplicitous facade.
Qi Bailu seemed to have nothing left to say. Finally, he said, "It's all over."
"We've known each other for four years, and this is all you have to say to me?"
"I don't know." Qi Bailu was weary of the topic. He paused, then added, "If I could do it over, I wouldn't choose him, and I wouldn't choose you. I’d want to stay far away from both of you. He hurt me, and so did you."
"Do you think I'll let you go?"
"Then there will be a second 'birthday surprise,' and a third."
Ruan Qiuji leaned forward slightly, looking into his eyes. "There won't be a next time. I'll break your legs."
The conversation began to smell of gunpowder again. Qi Bailu said, "Then let me see if you're truly that despicable."
"You're the one forcing me."
Such high-intensity possessiveness, filled with jealousy and lust, made Qi Bailu feel a stinging pain. Was he really the one who had forced him to be like this? Was he truly unmoved by the man's feelings? Qi Bailu felt sad, but he didn't let it show. He said, "I did like you."
Ruan Qiuji stared at his expression in silence. Qi Bailu continued, "You liked me once, too. Let's leave ourselves a dignified ending. Let's break up."
What was a "dignified ending"? Was what happened yesterday dignified? Ruan Qiuji found it laughable. The boy had provoked him, and now he wanted to flap his wings and fly away, pretending nothing had happened.
The lights in the cafeteria suddenly shut off all at once. Now that it was light out, there was no need for them, but the sun hadn't quite risen yet. The entire dining hall was suddenly draped in a plum-green filter, turning old and dim. More people pushed through the doors, their shadows flickering like water on the freshly mopped floor. The plum-green shadows seemed to tighten around their throats—a silent, surging wave attempting to submerge them both.
Ruan Qiuji remained silent. For the first time since Qi Bailu had known him, he was this tight-lipped.
Qi Bailu waited for a minute, taking the silence as Ruan Qiuji’s tacit agreement. He stood up, left his seat, and walked past Ruan Qiuji, straight out the door without looking back. There was no sound behind him; he knew Ruan Qiuji hadn't followed.
The early morning held a thin chill. Qi Bailu walked along the garden path and checked the time on his phone: 6:20 AM. If he caught a taxi back to the hotel now, he might still make today's shoot. Regardless, the capital lost on the film's production was Ruan Qiuji’s money anyway. He was still a bit dizzy, but he kept walking. No matter what decision Ruan Qiuji made—whether to blacklist him or put him on ice—he would bear the consequences himself. Perhaps he could go into theater, or go to Los Angeles.
The stone path was deserted. Qi Bailu walked on alone. The sun rose from behind the tall buildings, casting a pale light through the trees. The leaves were beginning to yellow in the early autumn. Just as he reached the end of the path, he heard footsteps stride up behind him. Qi Bailu didn't stop, but then a voice spoke from behind: "Bailu."
Qi Bailu slowly came to a halt. His movement as he turned was a beat slow. Ruan Qiuji had reached him before he could fully turn around. Qi Bailu looked into his eyes. There was no mockery on Ruan Qiuji’s face, nor any other expression. He played no tricks; he simply said softly, "I'm sorry."
Ruan Qiuji stood a step away. He didn't reach out to hug him, nor did he rush to kiss him. But from the heavy depth of his gaze, Qi Bailu felt something that made his heart race.
It was as if, in a fog that would never lift, someone had called out to him and said: *I found you.*
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
特需病房 | VIP Ward / Special Needs Ward | High-end hospital rooms with better amenities.
扁食 | Bianshi | A regional term for wontons, specifically in Fujian/Xiamen.
梅青色 | Plum-green | A traditional Chinese color, similar to a muted celadon or greyish-green.
封杀 | Blacklist | To ban or block someone from the industry.
冷藏 | Put on ice / Shelve | To stop promoting an artist or keep them from working without officially firing them.
Schatz | Schatz | German for "treasure" or "darling." Mentioned in the context as sounding like "teaspoon" (chashi) to the protagonist.
