Yan Chen lay on the steering wheel.

Soon, the car was covered in a layer of white snow, and the interior became dim. The warm air blowing from the vents repeatedly carried the lingering fragrance of roses.

The long-lost peace of mind made him reluctant to leave.

Unconsciously, he closed his eyes, as if he had entered a long dream.

In the dream, there were rolling waves, silent snow-capped mountains, and countless tears and screams, chaotic and noisy. In the end, it all returned to a lonely and slender figure, gradually moving away.

Yan Chen wanted to call out his name, to ask him not to leave, but his throat was hoarse and he couldn’t speak. His stomach churned painfully, like a raging river.

He tried to chase after him, but his hands and feet were bound by invisible ropes. No matter how hard he struggled, it was futile. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

His cheeks felt cold, with a slight stinging sensation seeping into his skin. Yan Chen struggled to open his eyes, only to see a vast expanse of white.

The snow was falling so heavily.

He raised his hand to pinch his throbbing temple, but a warm palm stopped him. Then he saw his older brother and sister’s concerned faces above him, and heard Qi Wenxing shouting “Doctor” at the top of his lungs.

Medical staff immediately surrounded him for examination. Yan Chen felt dizzy and couldn’t breathe properly. It took him a few minutes to realize that he was lying in a hospital, the reason being carbon monoxide poisoning in the idling car.

Fortunately, the car was equipped with GPS. Yan Jin, who hadn’t received a response from Yan Chen after regular contact, immediately used the location system to find him. If he had come a little later, Yan Chen’s life might not have been saved.

Now that the examination showed no major issues, the Yan family finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Yan Heng pulled up a chair and sat by the bedside, saying with emphasis, “Let’s not talk about how you’re mistreating your body. He wouldn’t know, and even if he did, do you think he would be worried? He would probably think you’re too extreme and scary, and want to stay even further away from you?”

Yan Jin leaned against the armrest, sighing softly, “Next time you want to commit suicide, choose an environmentally friendly method. The big G has been modified too much, with too large a displacement.”

Yan Heng could only stare at her helplessly.

Yan Jin shrugged, her patience exhausted. “If you’re a man, just be straightforward. If you can risk your life, why can’t you dare to pursue? “

Yan Heng disagreed, “You can’t force feelings.”

“How can there be feelings if you don’t take action?” Yan Jin rolled her eyes. “In the past few years, the things they’ve said to each other don’t even add up to what we’ve said. What’s the point? If they keep this up, they’ll still be in the same place in five years.”

“They shouldn’t have continued their relationship in the first place.”

“It’s easy for you to say that. How about you and Qi Yue separate for a few years and try?”

“… “

Seeing that the two were about to argue, Qi Wenxing quickly interjected, coaxing them out of the ward to discuss.

Yan Chen closed his eyes wearily, his throat dry as if swallowing knives.

The oxygen mask felt tight against his cheeks, and he wanted to take it off. But as soon as his hand touched the mask, it was forcefully slapped away.

He opened his eyes to see Qin Muye pinching the edge of the oxygen mask, pulling it away slightly, then letting go with a snap.

The elastic cord snapped the mask back over Yan Chen’s mouth and nose.

“It’s too early to pull out the oxygen tube now,” Qin Muye said. “Let’s talk about it in sixty or seventy years. I’ll handle it myself by then.”

“… I didn’t intend to commit suicide,” Yan Chen’s voice sounded muffled and unconvincing under the oxygen mask.

Qin Muye looked at him steadily.

Yan Chen closed his eyes again. “This time, it was really an accident.”

Qin Muye asked, “What about next time?” he said, “When do you plan to be in the ICU next? I’ll clear my schedule to attend your funeral.”

As soon as Qi Wenxing returned to the ward, he heard this and clicked his tongue. “Muye, stop it.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Qin Muye crossed his arms, adopting the same sarcastic tone as Yan Jin. “Should I inform Yi ge about your funeral?”

“Muye!” Qi Wenxing reprimanded in a low voice, “Why are you getting more annoying as you talk!”

Yan Chen just opened his eyes slightly, looking at Qin Muye. “Don’t tell him about today.”

Qin Muye chuckled, “Why not? You know him best. If he knew you were risking your life for him, he might agree to reconcile with you.”

Yan Chen’s voice grew louder, but he repeated, “Don’t tell him.”

He didn’t want to burden An Yi with any thoughts, nor did he want An Yi to compromise out of kindness being held hostage by morality. Moreover, this time was truly just an accident, and there was no need for An Yi to know.

Qin Muye didn’t promise.

So a few days later, at the simple banquet organized by Lin Yuming for An Yi, after drinking three glasses, Qin Muye casually mentioned Yan Chen’s hospitalization. He had no sense of guilt whatsoever.

The hotpot bubbled and splashed, scalding An Yi’s hand.

An Yi tightened his grip on the chopsticks, feeling a sudden chill in his heart.

He asked, “Is it serious?”

“If it had been an hour later, he would have had no chance,” Qin Muye said, looking across the hotpot’s steaming heat. “He was found outside your residential area, unconscious in the car.”

An Yi found it even harder to breathe now, his face turning pale.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Qin Muye said. “Yi ge, I’m not advising you to get back together with him. It’s up to you what kind of relationship you have with him. I just want to say one thing about this matter. If you decide not to turn back, don’t give him any hope, not even as a friend.”

Lin Yuming asked more directly, “Is there really no room for reconciliation between you and him?”

An Yi wanted to answer “yes”, but when the words reached his lips, he couldn’t say them.

He was now very conflicted, his mind in turmoil.

He thought he had already moved on.

His career was improving, the gaps in his education were being filled, he had moved back to his old house, and he had a cute and healthy cat… His life was many times richer and more peaceful than the days of hardship before. He believed that even without a romantic relationship, he could still live well.

But hearing news of Yan Chen again, he still couldn’t calm his heart.

The person who had been plucked from his heart’s core by time, when they met again, still stirred his emotions. The bits and pieces he thought he had long forgotten about the other person began to resurface the moment their eyes met, like dying embers reignited by a glance.

Just as tides follow the moon, it’s instinct, it’s a pattern.

Back home, in the white porcelain plum vase on the coffee table, the champagne-colored roses had bloomed, revealing the tender and layered heart of the flower.

He sat in front of the sofa, his thoughts in turmoil.

On the carpet, leaning on the edge of the coffee table, his head resting on his arm, he stared at the flowers for a long time.

He remembered the time when he and Yan Chen were neighbors in Jin Hai, he often received such a small bunch of flowers.

Every time he threw them into the trash can, Yan Chen would pick them up, carefully place them in a vase, and take care of them. Even if the petals eventually withered and fell, he was unwilling to throw them away.

This made An Yi feel that Yan Chen was a contradictory person.

Clearly, he was a pampered young master, so how did he understand how to take care of delicate roses and shelter a stray kitten?

But since he could take care of flowers and plants so well, why couldn’t he take care of himself and kept ending up in the hospital?

His phone buzzed twice, and An Yi’s gaze fell on the incoming call number on the screen, his heart pounding.

He sat up straight, just about to answer, but the call was quickly hung up from the other side.

An Yi waited for five minutes, but the ringtone didn’t come again. His finger hovered over the screen for a long time, and he pressed the callback button.

The phone rang twice, and the call was answered, but no one spoke.

An Yi called Yan Chen’s name twice, and after a series of rustling noises on the other end, Yan Chen’s hoarse voice, with a hint of disbelief, sounded in An Yi’s ear: “An Yi?”

“…mmh,” An Yi gripped the phone tightly, “Are you looking for me?”

Another silence followed.

After a while, Yan Chen’s voice trembled slightly with a drawn-out tone, once again through the waves, into An Yi’s ear: “I miss you so much, I miss you…”

He repeated the same words incessantly, just like the scene in the hospital room that day when he hugged An Yi and said goodbye.

Every time An Yi thought of that night, he felt bitter and sad.

He asked Yan Chen, “Are you feeling better?”

Yan Chen didn’t answer, still saying “I miss you” to himself. An Yi asked him again, “Have you been drinking?”

This time, Yan Chen said “yes.”

An Yi asked him how much he had drunk, but Yan Chen, evading the question, started saying he missed him again. After a while, Yan Chen’s voice drifted away, and after a burst of noise, An Yi heard what sounded like Yan Chen vomiting.

An Yi grabbed his phone and keys, changed his shoes, and went out.

The snow from the past few days had already melted halfway, and he hailed a taxi on the roadside, giving the address of Yan Chen’s Villa. He didn’t hang up the phone the whole time, but it remained silent on the other end.

An Yi felt uneasy in this silence.

He urged the driver to go faster, and the gate system at the villa still recognized his information. An Yi had the taxi driver drive straight to Yan Chen’s doorstep.

The villa was brightly lit, standing in the night, looking warm yet lonely.

An Yi rang the doorbell, but no one answered. He directly opened the electronic lock of the gate, entered the password, and the door opened.

He rushed into the villa, searched upstairs and downstairs, but didn’t see Yan Chen’s figure. However, he found the phone that was still in the middle of a call on the sofa in the living room on the first floor.

An Yi hung up the phone, took the phone, and walked to the adjacent living room.

He saw the sunroom, which was also brightly lit, through the French windows. It was a space that Yan Chen had specially built in the garden to cheer him up after An Ya left.

Most of the plants in the room were planted by An Yi himself.

Counting, An Yi had left here for nearly five years. Unexpectedly, after five years, even in winter, what he saw was still a lush green.

He pushed open the door of the sunroom, and the wind chimes hanging above made a soft sound.

The wind chime was hung up by him personally.

He still remembered that Yan Chen found this wind chime noisy and ugly, but he always liked to playfully press him against the door afterwards, listening to the wind chime jingling non-stop.

An Yi pushed aside the large leaves of two birds of paradise and walked around several lush bamboo plants. Finally, in the corner, he found a curled-up figure.

“Yan Chen?”

An Yi called him softly.

Yan Chen sat huddled in the corner, motionless, burying his head in his arms, his breathing heavy, like a wild beast whimpering in the deep night.

His right hand held his left elbow, his left hand extended halfway, hanging over a withered young orchid.

An Yi walked over, intending to pat his shoulder and wake him up, but his gaze was suddenly caught by Yan Chen’s wrist.

—There was thin, dark red scabs, at first glance, looked more like a red string tied around the wrist.

He lowered his head and looked closely. On the withered leaves of the orchid, he found a few dried, glaring bloodstains.

In an instant, An Yi’s heart stopped.

The temperature of his blood seemed to drop to freezing point.

“Yan Chen…”

An Yi’s face turned pale as he grabbed Yan Chen’s wrist and pulled it closer.

He saw another, rougher scar, running above the new wound. Because it had been a long time, it had faded to almost the color of the skin and was not very noticeable.

“What is this… Yan Chen?” An Yi choked on his words.

Yan Chen raised his eyes in a daze, and at the sight of An Yi, tears immediately filled his bloodshot eyes under his disheveled black hair.

With red eyes, An Yi asked, “What are you doing?”

Yan Chen stared at him without blinking, and after a while, he said in a choked voice, “I’m sorry.”

He lowered his eyes, looked at the withered orchid in the pot, buried his face deeper into his arms, and said in a muffled voice, “It seems like I can’t save it.”

^[1]Author’s note: 

This is too melodramatic! Why is it so melodramatic, I can’t stand it! Don’t turn on the air conditioning in winter when sleeping in the car!