Qian Wang remembered how he had done something similar when he was young. He had secretly taken a kitten from his classmate’s grandmother’s house, and on the way home, he had felt torn with guilt and hesitation.

On one hand, he felt that his house might not be suitable for keeping a cat, but on the other, he secretly guessed that his dad, mom, sister, and little sister didn’t really like small animals. In the end, he was too scared to show up at home, so he ended up sitting in the small grove behind the neighborhood, with his backpack on, until late at night.

The situation now was similar. His phone had just run out of battery, and Qian Wang didn’t know why he was so nervous and conflicted. He sat on the steps by the roadside behind the shop, holding the two little ones that had already fallen asleep. He didn’t even have the courage to return to the shop, or rather, he didn’t have the courage to face Zhao Ziqiang.

The apartment building only had one front entrance, and if he strained his neck, he could just about see the window on the second floor of the restaurant. Qian Wang craned his neck and looked for a while, then slightly curled up again. The night wind was still quite cool. He used his arm to shield the little dogs in his arms, sitting there rigidly.

In front of him was a quiet little alley, and across the road, a wolfdog was tied up. It lay there lazily, occasionally lifting its eyelids to glance at this human, who, like it, had to sleep on the street.

The hands of the watch seemed to move particularly slowly. Qian Wang really wished they would hurry up and pass twelve o’clock, so that after Zhao Ziqiang fell asleep, he could quietly go upstairs. As for the other matters… he would leave them for tomorrow to figure out.

He waited… and waited.

After turning around and looking up for what felt like the umpteenth time, the lights finally went out. He sighed in relief and slowly stood up. Despite trying his best not to move his arms too much, the two little ones still woke up. However, strangely, they continued to timidly rest their chins on Qian Wang’s arm.

Qian Wang smiled, stretching his stiff legs and neck, and slowly walked toward the restaurant door.

Zhao Ziqiang was standing at the door. All the lights in the restaurant were off. He was smoking a cigarette, one he felt he had quit for a long time, his eyes slightly lowered as he leaned against the shop door.

Qian Wang froze in his steps, with a childish impulse to sneak behind the tree trunk at the roadside.

Yet, he was still spotted. The puppy in his arms yawned and whined, prompting the other one to bark in response.

When Zhao Ziqiang heard the sound, he turned his eyes toward it. Upon seeing Qian Wang half-hidden behind the tree, he wasn’t surprised. He walked over casually as if taking a stroll, and the sight of the tall man, over 1.8 meters, made the whole scene unexpectedly amusing.

Qian Wang didn’t know what to do, unsure whether to give the puppies in his arms to Zhao Ziqiang or keep holding them.

Zhao Ziqiang, on the other hand, was remarkably calm. When he saw those puppies, he paused for a moment, then a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Are these Dandan’s?”

Qian Wang’s heart was pounding, it wouldn’t stop until he let his nerves settle.

“Mm.”

Zhao Ziqiang’s expression softened.

“It’s hard to raise them here. They can only stay upstairs, it’s too pitiful.”

“They’re still young, so… it should be fine.”

Zhao Ziqiang took the two little Dandans and turned to walk into the restaurant. Qian Wang, seeing that he didn’t seem particularly moved, wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved, but he followed closely behind, step by step.

Puppies are creatures that sleep once they’re full. The little Dandans were like that; as long as they weren’t hungry, they would sleep soundly.

They went to the nearby supermarket and bought some baby formula. On the way, they also got a milk carton. Back at the store, they laid down some old clothes contributed by Qian Wang to make a bed for the puppies, then prepared the formula and fed them.

Qian Wang moved around in circles like a child who hadn’t yet learned how to help. He couldn’t get involved, nor did he know what to say.

It wasn’t until Zhao Ziqiang settled down and watched the puppies scramble to lick the milk from the plate that Qian Wang found something to say.

“Uh… I’m not sure what breed they are.”

Zhao Ziqiang gave him a strange look but continued to watch the puppies’ actions.

“Isn’t this Dandan’s? Then it’s just an ordinary street dog.”

“Well, you never told me about Dandan.”

“It wasn’t anything important, so why should I tell you?”

Qian Wang was at a loss for words. He wanted to say, “It was the dog we bought and raised together,” but he was afraid that bringing it up would remind Zhao Ziqiang of those unhappy times. Yet, he also secretly wanted Zhao Ziqiang to remember. The conflicting emotions only made him more awkward, and in the end, all he managed to say was something even more clumsy.

“But now I know.”

Zhao Ziqiang tilted his head, looking at the box eaves, with no visible emotion as he calmly replied,

“So?”

Qian Wang’s courage and frustration surged in his chest. He blurted out:

“And I found that MP3.”

At this point, the puppies had eaten enough. Zhao Ziqiang carefully removed the plate, placed the two little ones back in the box, and moved it to the wall. Only then did he turn around and look at Qian Wang.

“I, I mean…”

Zhao Ziqiang’s gaze carried an indescribable meaning. In fact, even Zhao Ziqiang himself couldn’t quite understand how he was feeling at that moment—just that it wasn’t frustration, that much was certain.

Qian Wang, gathering his courage, continued:

“My point is…, we had seven years. During those years, I really liked you, liked you so much. Then… then later, I made some irreparably stupid mistakes and hurt your heart. I’m really sorry.”

His eyes dimmed slightly as he continued:

“After that, I… I came to terms with everything, and I was really upset with myself. I wanted to apologize, to bring you back, but I… I didn’t know how to go about it. I ended up using all the wrong ways…”

Qian Wang swallowed hard, his voice trembling with emotion as he continued:

“I… I… You know me, I’m an idiot. I need others to teach me everything. When I was in school, my grades were good, and people always said I was well-mannered, of good character…

But all I really wanted was to be with you. You taught me what it means to have feelings, what love is…

..I’m sorry, I realized it too late, but… but look… we still have many years ahead of us. Let me try harder, okay? Don’t give up on me, please don’t give up on me.”

Zhao Ziqiang never took his eyes off Qian Wang’s face, just as Qian Wang never once looked up to meet his gaze.

Zhao Ziqiang realized that his breathing had once again become rapid after a long pause, the kind of urgency that came from deep within, stirred by a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

The room was dimly lit, the wooden floor stretched beneath them. Qian Wang stood by the armrest of the sofa, just a meter away from Zhao Ziqiang.

One drop, two drops…

Zhao Ziqiang found it hard to believe that the man who had never truly learned how to feel sadness was now shedding tears.

The bitterness in his heart deepened, that same emotion that had been building ever since he discovered that Qian Wang had found Dandan and the MP3. Slowly… it spread like mist.

Gradually, forcefully.

He realized, to his dismay, that the emotions he had so hard sealed away were beginning to stir again, restless with every movement of the person before him.

Zhao Ziqiang subconsciously swallowed, his lips moved as if to speak, but in the end, he didn’t respond, leaving only the words:

“It’s getting late, you should sleep.”

He turned and walked back into the room, closing the door behind him.

Qian Wang’s eyes were damp. He lowered his head, gazing at the tears that had fallen onto his toes, and smiled, his lips curving slightly.

“And… I love you.”

He turned off the last light, and darkness instantly swept in. After a moment of stillness, his eyes could only make out vague shapes.

Zhao Ziqiang’s door was tightly closed. Qian Wang didn’t know if the other man’s heart was still the same, but he felt an unprecedented sense of helplessness. The tall man sat down on the couch, slowly pulling his legs up.

Tired from the day, sleep overtook him, and dreams soon followed.