It was too long.
Though it was only a few flights of stairs, the journey felt far too long.
Su Jingming gripped the key, missing the keyhole several times. The more anxious he became, the more violently his hands shook.
Standing behind him, Wen Yan made no move to help. Su Jingming didn't know how long he tried before he finally slid the key into the lock, turned the cylinder, and pushed the door open.
Su Jingming froze. The door opened only a crack; from his angle, he could only see a corner of the living room. Drenched in sweat, he instinctively reached up to wipe his forehead. As his hand let go of the door, a gust of wind blew it open wide enough for an adult to slip through.
His hand paused mid-air. He stood dazed before the door, taking in the sight of the familiar living room. Beer bottles and cigarette butts littered the floor, and the air was thick with the smell of mold.
Since Su Qicheng had jumped, no one had set foot in this place except for the police during their investigation. The traces of Su Qicheng’s existence remained exactly as they were.
Su Jingming took a deep breath. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and a sharp, throbbing pain began to pulse in his temples.
He hissed, pressing his fingers against his head, his eyes wide with terror.
Wen Yan spoke then. "Are you starting to remember?"
His voice wasn't exactly gentle; it carried a hint of coldness.
Su Jingming didn't answer. He walked into the house as if possessed. Every step was a monumental ordeal for his body and mind. Images flashed through his brain, a sudden onslaught that was difficult to process.
*"Su Jingming, you're exactly like your mother!!"*
*"Stop hitting me, Dad, please stop..."*
*"Cry! Why won't you cry?!"*
*"If you weren't my son, I would have beaten you to death long ago."*
*"It's all your fault. Why are you so talented? Why don't you just die?"*
*"Su Jingming, why don't you just go die?"*
*"Jingming, Papa loves you..."*
Su Jingming’s breathing grew rapid and shallow. He braced his left hand against the dining table, his right hand clutching his forehead tightly.
"Stop it..." Su Jingming rasped, his voice hoarse. "You didn't love me at all..."
It was unclear who he was talking to.
Seeing him trapped in an endless abyss of his own making, Wen Yan reached out to pull him back, but Su Jingming violently shoved him away. "Don't touch me!"
His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a level of suppressed agony Wen Yan had never seen before. He swayed on his feet, looking as though he might collapse at any second.
Wen Yan endured a heart-wrenching pain of his own. The corners of his eyes reddened, and for a long time, he couldn't force out a single word.
Su Jingming remained lost in the depths. His head felt as if it were splitting open, the pain unbearable. He gripped the corner of the table with a death grip as the voices in his ears and the images in his mind became clearer and clearer.
Suddenly, he looked toward a corner of the living room.
He seemed to see Su Qicheng kicking and punching his younger self.
The sight of his younger self begging for mercy made his entire body freeze.
Su Jingming instinctively rushed forward, but the vision vanished instantly.
Turning around, Su Jingming saw his teenage self being struck hard across the face by Su Qicheng.
The sharp sound of the slap echoed painfully in the quiet living room.
Su Jingming hadn't cried or made a scene. Su Qicheng, holding a liquor bottle, looked at him with a mix of resentment and disappointment. "It's your fault! Everything is your fault, Su Jingming!!!"
From beginning to end, Su Jingming had never understood what he had done wrong.
Su Jingming’s eyes welled with tears. Even though the blow had landed on his past self, he couldn't feel any physical pain—only the phantom sting of the memory.
Turning back once more, he saw Su Qicheng sitting on the sofa, guzzling hard liquor. He was holding a photo of Su Jingming as a young boy, stroking it over and over with his thumb. He kept muttering under his breath, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's my fault, it's all my fault."
At this point, Su Jingming no longer wanted to argue about who was right or wrong.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the Su Qicheng on the sofa took a final drag of his cigarette, stood up, and walked to the window.
Without a moment's hesitation, he climbed over the sill and jumped.
Then came the screams and the blare of sirens.
Su Jingming collapsed onto the floor, covering his face with both hands as tears leaked through the gaps between his fingers.
Wen Yan knelt behind him, gently patting his back. "It's all over now."
Hearing his voice, Su Jingming seemed to cry even harder, his sobs becoming uncontrollable.
He remembered.
He remembered how Su Qicheng had looked lying in a pool of blood, eyes wide, staring back at him.
The blood beneath his feet seemed to rise, threatening to drown him.
He remembered that day, how he had walked home full of anticipation and hope.
He hadn't had the chance to call Su Qicheng "Dad" one last time.
He hadn't had the chance to tell Su Qicheng that he had found someone he really liked, that he wanted to share the only piece of luck he'd had in years.
It was all too late...
For as long as Su Jingming cried, Wen Yan stayed behind him, offering silent comfort.
When his sobs finally subsided, he kept his hands over his face and called out in a muffled voice, "Wen Yan."
"I'm here."
Wen Yan had waited so long to hear that name.
A single month had felt like a dozen years.
Su Jingming sniffled, not knowing where to begin.
It was Wen Yan who spoke first. "Do you blame me?"
"No." Su Jingming shook his head. "I can't thank you enough. How could I blame you?"
One must eventually learn to accept the truth.
It was Wen Yan who had lit up his world bit by bit, and Wen Yan who had led him out of the abyss.
Perhaps Wen Yan didn't realize it, but he had already succeeded; he had become Su Jingming’s light, inseparable from him.
Wen Yan pulled him up. Su Jingming leaned unsteadily against him, scanning the cluttered, filthy home. He pursed his lips; Su Qicheng’s departure felt as though it had happened only yesterday.
Su Jingming bent down and picked up the beer bottles scattered at his feet. A thick layer of dust had settled on the floor. Wrinkling his nose, he found a broom and began to sweep, bit by bit.
Wen Yan tried to help several times, but Su Jingming only silently shook his head.
Outside the window, the twilight faded, replaced by the descent of night.
By the time Su Jingming finished cleaning the house, it was nearly one in the morning. He instinctively rubbed his aching wrists. The house finally looked the way it used to.
Su Jingming stood dazed for a long while. Having not spoken for so long, his voice was incredibly raspy. "Wen Yan, do you think he'd be happy now that I've cleaned the place?"
"He would be."
"Su Qicheng... at the end of the day, he did raise me." Su Jingming tried to force a smile, attempting to speak in a light tone. "After my mom left, he changed a lot—so much that I couldn't understand him. But as I grew up, I started to feel like maybe it wasn't such a big deal... Hey, Wen Yan, the house is clean now. It won't ever be a mess again."
Yes, it would never be a mess again.
There would be no more beer bottles and cigarette butts covering the floor.
The air would no longer hold that foul stench.
It should have been something to be happy about, yet he couldn't find any joy in it.
Su Jingming and Wen Yan walked out of the residential building. The sky was brilliant with stars. The quiet, long alleyway always felt secretive at night. They walked with fingers interlaced, their shadows stretched long by the dim streetlights, hiding in the darkness.
Once outside the building, Su Jingming seemed much more relaxed. He took a deep breath and asked Wen Yan, "Where to now?"
Wen Yan arched an eyebrow. "I don't know." He paused. "Do you want to go back?"
Cheng Hui had called many times to urge them back, but Wen Yan hadn't told Su Jingming.
The thought of returning to that place where Cheng Hui was made Su Jingming feel uneasy all over.
Despite her being his closest relative, Su Jingming felt an unconscious, internal resistance toward her.
Wen Yan asked, "Your mother plans to take you away with her. What do you think?"
He squeezed Su Jingming’s hand slightly, wanting to tether him firmly to his side.
Su Jingming replied, "What is there to think? Of course I won't agree. She left so cleanly back then. Now that I'm not sick or in pain, can she really restrict me?"
"Mm, true."
"Besides, wouldn't she feel uncomfortable having me around?" Su Jingming’s words were airy. His tone was so ordinary and calm, as if he were discussing something completely inconsequential.
Wen Yan couldn't describe the feeling in his heart upon hearing Su Jingming say that.
It was a sour, numbing sensation mixed with bitterness.
How much disappointment must his little hero have endured to speak so calmly?
Seeing that Wen Yan hadn't replied for a while, Su Jingming lightly rubbed his thumb against Wen Yan’s palm. Wen Yan looked down at him, his gaze so deep it felt as if Su Jingming might fall into it.
"Su Jingming," Wen Yan called softly.
"Yeah?"
"Want to kiss?"
Without waiting for a response, Wen Yan leaned down and captured Su Jingming’s lips.
In that instant, Su Jingming’s mind went so blank he forgot his own name. All he could hear was the sound of rapid breathing and Wen Yan’s low, husky voice.
Wen Yan’s kiss was just like the man himself—gentle and intoxicating.
Su Jingming’s head spun from the kiss; his mind felt like a display of exploding fireworks.
His clumsy response only prompted Wen Yan to deepen the kiss.
It wasn't until Su Jingming was nearly out of breath, looking at him with reddened eyes and a slightly aggrieved expression, that Wen Yan finally let him go.
He let out a low chuckle and took Su Jingming’s hand, sliding on the gift he had prepared long ago.
A cold ring was slipped onto the middle finger of Su Jingming’s left hand, quickly warming to his skin.
Su Jingming stared at the plain silver band in a daze. "Wen Yan, I didn't think you were the type for this."
"Mm." Wen Yan ruffled his hair. At some point, an identical ring had appeared on Wen Yan’s own left middle finger. "Happy birthday, my hero."
A belated birthday wish for a belated Su Jingming.
*Happy eighteenth birthday. I want you to be happy forever.*
Su Jingming’s heart felt swollen with emotion. He instinctively gripped Wen Yan’s hand, looked up, and asked seriously, "Wen Yan, can we kiss again?"
Wen Yan blinked in surprise. His grip on Su Jingming tightened. He hadn't expected such a request. With eyes curved in a smile, he leaned down and pressed a very light kiss to Su Jingming’s lips, then whispered into his ear, "Don't tempt me."
