"The weather is so lovely today. It’s perfect for a stroll in the courtyard to soak up some sun." The nurse at the sanatorium knocked on the ward door, tirelessly trying to persuade the person sitting on the bed reading. "Look at how bright it is outside. You don't like turning on the lights anyway, so you might as well go sit in the courtyard for a while..."
Shen Yannan sighed. It seemed he finally couldn't endure the buzzing in his ear any longer, as he slowly got off the bed to put on his shoes.
The nurse immediately beamed, her words tumbling out even faster. "That’s the spirit! People should get out more. Staying cooped up inside without any sunlight isn't healthy..."
Shen Yannan’s movements were somewhat sluggish. As he walked out the door, he gave the nurse a long, lingering look.
Taking the hint, the nurse made a zipping motion across her lips, though she couldn't quite hide the upward curve of her mouth.
At the same time, Lu Zisheng was huffing and puffing as he followed the navigation on his phone. He was carrying a drawing board, his steps frantic because he couldn't find the right path. As he looked around, his gaze happened to fall upon the first-floor courtyard of the sanatorium.
Inadvertently, his eyes met the vacant, dazed gaze of the person who had just sat down in the garden.
With just that one look, he was uncontrollably drawn to the person before him. Perhaps "captivated" would be more accurate; he had never seen anyone who could look as beautiful as a painting simply by sitting there, silent and expressionless. In that moment, even the perimeter fence of the courtyard seemed to possess the power to enhance the aesthetic.
However, the contact was far too brief. The person didn't react to the eye contact at all. Lu Zisheng, on the other hand, found his legs moving forward out of sheer muscle memory. He hurriedly averted his gaze, but couldn't help looking up one last time to etch the name of the sanatorium into his heart.
Shen Yannan blinked slowly, not bothering to spare even a sliver of a glance for the departing figure.
His back was turned toward his own room, as if only this position in the courtyard could provide him with a shred of security.
His parents had specifically asked the doctor to choose that room for him so he could look out the window more often. They said that perhaps his mood would improve if he saw more of the scenery outside.
"Lu Zisheng, if you dare to space out for another ten minutes without making a single stroke, don't bother coming back tomorrow." A female teacher with arched eyebrows and a sharp voice walked up to him, rapping hard on his drawing board.
"Sorry, Teacher." Lu Zisheng quickly lowered his head, pulling his gaze back from the distant void. He gestured with his pencil toward the objects in front of him and made a few casual strokes on the paper, sketching out a rough outline.
*Maybe... I should go back there and check after class this afternoon.*
*I wonder if he’ll still be sitting there.*
Lu Zisheng’s thoughts drifted aimlessly.
*If he is...* he thought, *I must get to know him.*
*At least say one word to him.*
After finally finishing the thirty required sketches for the day, Lu Zisheng didn't care if class was officially over. He piled his work onto the side table, stood up, and prepared to leave.
"Excuse me, Teacher, I have something to take care of today."
He buried his head and quickly packed his things, slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his drawing board, and ran. He didn't even give the teacher, who was reaching out behind him and saying something, a chance to refuse.
He couldn't describe his current mood. He didn't even know what force was sustaining him as he ran all the way to the sanatorium in one breath. Standing before that closed ward window, he felt as though his heart had never drummed against his ribs as fiercely as it did now.
*Thank goodness.*
Before he could even catch his breath, a thought popped into his head: *He’s still here. Thank goodness.*
This time, Lu Zisheng took the time to carefully observe the contours of the other man's features. Then, uncontrollably, he tapped lightly on the window and waved.
The person sitting inside reading finally looked up at the sound.
This was the first time Shen Yannan truly "looked" at the person in front of him.
He didn't move; he just watched the other man quietly.
"Hello..."
If it were any day before today, Lu Zisheng would never have believed that he could one day be so nervous in front of someone that he’d be at a loss for words.
"...My name is Lu Zisheng. Can we get to know each other?"
Shen Yannan remained expressionless—cold, distant, as if he couldn't be bothered to utter a single syllable.
The atmosphere grew awkward in the silence.
"You..." Lu Zisheng weighed his words. He figured the other man wasn't ignoring him out of dislike—no one hates someone the first time they meet, right? He was likely just reluctant to speak to a stranger. In a stalemate like this, a compliment was never the wrong move.
"Your eyes are very beautiful."
*Your eyes are very beautiful.*
It was unclear which word struck a nerve, but Shen Yannan’s expressionless mask finally shattered. His face contorted for a fleeting second, and the book in his hand fell to the floor with a soft *thud*.
He stood up, his brain feeling as though it had been struck by a heavy club. The pain was excruciating, as if a long-buried bomb in his memory had suddenly detonated, causing the scene before him to fracture and splinter.
*"Your eyes are very beautiful... they look even better when you cry..."*
The sensation of clawing hands felt terrifyingly real. A nauseating voice circled clearly in his mind, causing Shen Yannan’s expression to turn to one of instant horror. He stood up, moving with a stiff, frantic speed. With a *bang*, he slammed the window shut, cutting off the outside world. He tried to back away but knocked over his chair, collapsing directly onto the floor.
He could no longer care about anything behind him. Trembling, he scrambled up from the floor and stumbled into the private bathroom stall of the ward. He felt a wave of nausea, but nothing came up.
*Don't come near me!*
*Please!*
*Don't come near me!!*
In his daze, Shen Yannan felt as if someone were standing behind him, ready to reach out with demonic claws and drag him back into the abyss.
*Get out!*
*Please, please, get away!*
*Get away!!*
He forced himself through the nausea to whip his head around, but there was clearly no one there. With hands that were still spasming and shaking, he wiped his face. Tears had long since trailed down his chin and dripped onto his clothes. His vision blurred and cleared in turns; he had to exert great effort to wipe away the fresh surge of tears just to catch a brief breath.
He slumped onto the tiled floor. Usually, he couldn't stand sitting on such a cold, dirty place—even if it was kept spotlessly clean.
But now, he only wished for this desperate shadow to leave him.
By the time he washed his face and walked back out of the bathroom, the electronic clock in the ward showed that over half an hour had passed. The person by the window was gone, leaving only a slip of paper tucked into the crevice of the window frame. It swayed precariously in the wind; if he hadn't come out, it likely would have been blown away.
Shen Yannan walked to the window. After hesitating for a long time, he gave it a gentle push, opened it, and took the paper.
[I'm sorry, I was being intrusive.]
There was another sentence below it, most of which had been scribbled out in black. Shen Yannan looked closely and managed to make it out.
[But I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you.]
He would never know what that boy named Lu Zisheng had been thinking as he scratched his head with a flushed face, wrote that sentence, and then crossed it out.
Shen Yannan crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trash can in the corner of the ward.
During the period of his outdoor sketching classes, Lu Zisheng made it a point to take the long way around every day just to pass by the sanatorium.
All just to smile and have a brief encounter with Shen Yannan, who sat by the window.
This simple routine seemed to have become the source of motivation that kept him going through his intensive sketching training.
"Do you know there's a huge lake nearby?" Lu Zisheng stood by the window with his hands behind his back, chatting away.
Although his unintentional comment during their first meeting had hurt the other man, this beautiful boy hadn't given him the cold shoulder because of it. This only strengthened Lu Zisheng's resolve to make up for that bad first impression.
Most of the time, Shen Yannan would listen to him, but he remained silent, offering very little in the way of facial expressions or eye contact.
"There’s a large area by the lake filled with flowers. It’s stunning. I saw so many tourists taking pictures there. It’s a pity I woke up late this morning and left in such a rush that I forgot my phone, otherwise I definitely would have taken a picture to show you."
"However, even though I didn't take a photo, I brought you a gift." Lu Zisheng leaned a bit closer to the window with a mischievous look. Shen Yannan looked up, his expression still faint, showing not a hint of surprise.
But Lu Zisheng knew that the act of Shen Yannan looking up already indicated his interest.
It seemed he had made the right bet; a beauty truly did love fresh flowers.
"Look!" Lu Zisheng’s left hand, which had been hidden behind his back, whipped forward, presenting a bouquet of white flowers to Shen Yannan.
This was the first time Shen Yannan had seen this kind of flower in person. Each tiny blossom was shaped like a little white bell, nestled among flat, oval leaves. It felt as if a gentle breeze would bring the sound of melodious bells along with the fresh fragrance.
"Do you know what flower this is? You don't, right? I specifically looked it up. This flower is called..."
"White Lily of the Valley."
As soon as those four words were uttered, both of them fell into silence.
Lu Zisheng looked at Shen Yannan in disbelief. The latter appeared quite composed, merely blinking his eyes.
Shen Yannan didn't know why Lu Zisheng was so surprised. He was still wondering if his extensive knowledge in this area had shocked the other man when he heard Lu Zisheng stammer, "You... you're not a mute?"
Shen Yannan merely let out a nasal hum in response, neither confirming nor denying.
But Lu Zisheng couldn't be blamed for thinking that way. He had been coming here for nearly half a month, and this was the first time he had heard Shen Yannan speak—even if it was only four words.
"I always thought... sigh, I was even about to go buy a book on sign language. What a mix-up..." Lu Zisheng scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed, before he couldn't help but laugh.
Shen Yannan lowered his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward almost imperceptibly.
"But you sure know a lot. I spent ages searching the internet for this bouquet just so I could show off in front of you." Lu Zisheng was incredibly honest. He pushed the flowers forward a bit more. "Do you like them?"
Shen Yannan stared at Lu Zisheng, then turned to look at the flowers. He seemed hesitant, his fingers resting on his thigh twitching slightly.
Just as Lu Zisheng had prepared himself a thousand times over for the possibility that the man wouldn't take them, and was about to lower his eyes and withdraw his hand, Shen Yannan raised his hand.
Lu Zisheng’s dejected expression vanished instantly, replaced by a squinty-eyed grin.
Shen Yannan extended his hand somewhat slowly. Just as he was about to touch the bouquet, he shifted his hand upward slightly, skillfully avoiding any physical contact between them.
He brushed the petals with his fingers, and a delicate fragrance seemed to drift into his nose. The word "thanks" hovered on the tip of his tongue, but it couldn't withstand his overthinking. After a brief moment of eye contact, he forced the word back down.
Fortunately, Lu Zisheng was already used to Shen Yannan’s perpetual silence. Hearing him utter a few words today was already a miracle. And besides...
Lu Zisheng curled his lips into a smile.
Until he left, Shen Yannan held the bouquet of white lilies of the valley in his hands, even if his hands remained in the same slightly awkward position as when he first received them.
"Shen Yannan, remember to take your medicine before dinner." A knock came from the door, followed by the nurse's voice. "Just call me if you need anything."
"I do." Shen Yannan’s voice wasn't loud, but it was audible to the person at the door.
"Hmm? What did you say?" The door opened, revealing the smiling face of a woman wearing light makeup. "What help do you need?"
This was the nurse who always looked after his medication.
"Does the sanatorium have a vase?" Shen Yannan aimlessly toyed with the flowers in his hand.
"We do, of course we do. I'll bring one right away." Shen Yannan was holding the flowers as if he were clutching explosives, which earned him a few extra glances from the nurse. She then nodded with a smile. "It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you say so many words at once."
Shen Yannan: "..."
"Thank you."
Five minutes later, the nurse pushed the door open, carrying a glass vase. She had thoughtfully filled it one-third of the way with water.
"Are these flowers from a friend? They’re beautiful." The nurse’s attitude was exceptionally good—beyond the level of mere professional duty—as she asked curiously.
"..."
Shen Yannan was silent for a long time. In the end, he couldn't figure out how he should define his relationship with the other person.
But the nurse clearly took his silence as a confirmation.
"Are these white lilies of the valley? So pretty," the nurse said to herself as she watched Shen Yannan place the flowers in the vase. "My mother loved lilies of the valley, so I’ve been around them since I was a child."
Shen Yannan nodded.
In fact, the reason he could recognize the flower at a glance was also because he had been around them a lot since childhood.
Perhaps it was because his father loved buying vibrant roses for his mother during holidays, leaving an indelible, beautiful image in the child's mind. Or perhaps it was just that spring in the residential courtyard was always so dazzling, capturing the child's gaze countless times. Regardless, whether it was the exquisite, watered domestic flowers in pots or the wild flowers growing rampantly among the weeds, they had all unknowingly become Shen Yannan’s favorites.
He liked flowers, just like countless ordinary people.
"Giving you this bouquet might mean this friend likes you very much." The nurse stood by the side, her lips curving into a smile. "Does this friend of yours know the language of flowers?"
Maybe he did, maybe he didn't.
Shen Yannan thought to himself. He didn't know; that guy was just a named stranger who insisted on coming to kill time with him every day.
But he couldn't bring himself to say that directly. He just silently took his medicine under the nurse's supervision, stated that he had no appetite for dinner, and lay flat on his bed.
When one can't sleep, the bed is the best place for stray thoughts.
Lu Zisheng might really not know the language of flowers, but he did.
What white lilies of the valley meant—how could someone like him, who had looked through all sorts of floral encyclopedias since childhood, not know?
It was just a bit of a pity that he hadn't managed to say "thank you" to the guy.
From then on, during Lu Zisheng’s rambling and tangential stories, he would occasionally hear Shen Yannan make small "mm-hmm" or "oh" sounds as a response.
To him, this was undoubtedly another shot of adrenaline, making his heart feel sweet.
"By the way, I’ve been standing outside the window chatting with you for almost a month now. When do you plan to invite me in for a seat?" Lu Zisheng leaned against the window frame, his fingers aimlessly fiddling with the bars outside. His voice sounded a bit "resentful."
Shen Yannan, with his perpetually pale face, let his gaze linger on Lu Zisheng for a few extra seconds.
"Mm." After a long while, he mumbled, "Next time."
Next time? Wouldn't that be tomorrow?
Lu Zisheng’s eyes crinkled with joy.
Shen Yannan fell silent again, listening to the other man continue his stories.
"I thought freshman year would be much easier than senior year of high school, but I’m still so busy I can barely breathe. Coming here is the only time I can really relax." Lu Zisheng sighed. "Luckily, our class monitor is generous and tolerant. Otherwise, the number of times I’ve been recorded as late would have tanked my participation grade."
"Anyway, she likes to 'reference' our homework, so we just consider it mutual aid."
Shen Yannan looked up, shifting his gaze slightly from the cover of the unopened book on his lap.
This was the first time he had heard Lu Zisheng mention someone else.
But Lu Zisheng didn't notice this small movement and kept talking.
"She signed up for this intensive sketching class too. She comes here every day, just takes a different route."
*Are they friends?*
Shen Yannan tried to capture more information from between the lines, but his nerves and senses in this regard seemed to be blocked.
He could only clearly perceive that his mood was not good.
Shen Yannan stood up.
"Are you going to rest?" Lu Zisheng asked.
In the past, Shen Yannan had used simple, blunt, and silent ways to interrupt their "conversations," so as soon as he saw Shen Yannan stand up, he generally understood what it meant.
"Alright then, I won't disturb you."
"See you tomorrow~"
Until Lu Zisheng left, Shen Yannan never looked back, sitting blankly on his bed.
Uncomfortable.
He could clearly feel that when Lu Zisheng mentioned that "class monitor" for the second time, a string in his brain began to snap back and forth, leaving him no peace.
*Tsk.*
Shen Yannan irritably scratched his hair and uncontrollably touched his face.
He was all too familiar with this feeling.
He agitatedly pulled open the drawer next to his bed—one layer, then another—but he couldn't find what he wanted.
It seemed only the vase on the other side...
Forget it.
Shen Yannan quickly rubbed the edge of the top drawer with his fingertip, as if checking for dust. He then frowned, feeling every cell in his body screaming, forcing his arm to lean toward it.
Dull pains throbbed in his head. He shook his head slightly, then raised his arm and slammed it against the sharp corner of the edge without hesitation, dragging it down a significant distance.
Blood dripped onto the floor. In the quiet room, the sound of the droplets hitting the ground was exceptionally piercing. The sharp pain successfully stimulated his other nerves, and the muddled feeling in his head lightened instantly. He closed his eyes and took a breath of relief. With his other hand, he first methodically wiped the blood from the edge of the drawer before haphazardly brushing over the edges of his wound.
A faint fragrance, unique to his pheromones, began to waft from the cut.
Shen Yannan stumbled into the bathroom, trying to keep his steps steady and unhurried. He reached the sink.
Again.
He had lost count of how many times this had happened.
He thought pointlessly: *As expected, it’s impossible to get better, isn't it?*
Splashing cold water on his face cleared his head a bit. Only then did he walk back to the bed with composure and press the remote button.
In less than a minute, the nurse appeared at the door.
"Ah!"
Even though it was no longer a surprising occurrence, she still cried out as if truly startled. She immediately stepped forward, took Shen Yannan’s wrist, and carefully examined the wound, which was about five or six centimeters long.
"Everything was fine yesterday, how..." She stopped abruptly. For these patients, let alone yesterday, even if they were fine a second ago, there were infinite possibilities for what they might do in the next.
"I'll go get the hydrogen peroxide. Sit here and don't move." The nurse looked up at Shen Yannan. He just lowered his head slightly, seemingly examining his own wound. As he had done countless times before, he avoided eye contact with anyone else.
The nurse clearly remembered the first time she had handled this situation. She had asked the boy a silly question: "Hydrogen peroxide or alcohol?"
That was the first time the patient had ever spoken. He had given her a deep look before answering with three words: "I'm afraid of pain."
That sentence carried an utterly unsolvable contradiction. He was clearly someone afraid of pain, yet he couldn't control himself from causing it.
When he turned on himself, was there ever a moment where he was involuntarily afraid of the pain?
She didn't know.
But from then on, the nurse always kept a case of hydrogen peroxide in her workspace.
"If this wound were any longer, I’d have to force you to get stitches. Maybe you could consider telling me what happened. You might feel better if you vent your troubles," the nurse whispered as she disinfected Shen Yannan’s wound.
The scent of pheromones from the wound was almost gone. His arm was bubbling from the hydrogen peroxide, mixing with the blood to turn a pale pink. It didn't look as jarring as before.
Shen Yannan rubbed his fingers together and eventually shook his head.
The nurse didn't ask further, silently dabbing the wound with cotton balls.
*Will I get better?* Shen Yannan watched the liquid dripping onto the floor, questioning himself. *If not, will it be like this for the rest of my life?*
He didn't remember when the nurse left; it wasn't an important matter anyway. By the time the cold wind outside brought him fully back to his senses, it was already night. Although it wasn't autumn yet, some leaves whose vitality wasn't quite strong enough were still blown into the ward by the strong wind. Even the curtains seemed to want to fly back to their "home."
It was already time for the patients to turn off the lights and sleep, but he was completely wide awake. He simply rolled off the bed in the dark and walked to the window.
The moment the window closed, the sounds of the world seemed to be cut off with a soft *click*.
Sitting on the floor, he could feel the coldness of the tiles even through his trousers. There were a few fallen leaves within reach.
He pulled a few toward him, then picked them up one by one, tearing them into pieces. He turned them into a dozen bits of "trash" and threw them back onto the floor—all just to alleviate the utter boredom of being unable to sleep.
Even though the act itself was already the height of boredom.
***
