Reply to Keats - Chap 56
56. The Leaf Drifted Back
Chen Wan’s heartbeat stopped in that very moment.
The sea was far away, yet it felt as though he were sinking once again into the abyss.
His mind briefly lost the ability to think or remain conscious. And yet, the medicine wasn’t on him.
Chen Wan remained silent. Zhao Shengge gradually became tense, as if he had returned to the Explorer, trapped and fighting to survive.
Only this time, the one holding the gun wasn’t Hu Ming—it was Chen Wan.
Soon, Zhao Shengge heard Chen Wan speak.
“Sorry.”
Zhao Shengge clenched his fists.
Chen Wan gave a bleak smile. “I do like you.”
Zhao Shengge was saved again. But then Chen Wan’s voice came, low and calm. “I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t trust me anymore, but I truly don’t have any ulterior motives.”
“I won’t bother you again. This time, I’ll keep my word.”
Zhao Shengge understood.
Chen Wan liked him, but that was all. Nothing more.
A subtle, suffocating tightness, painfully precise, slowly pressed down on his chest.
To like someone so much you’d give up your life for them, yet never intend to say it aloud—treating the exposure of a secret love as an intrusion.
Zhao Shengge’s heart stalled.
The silence between them stretched on for too long. So long that Chen Wan began to grow uneasy and helpless. He calmed himself and said, “Mr. Zhao, if you really don’t want to see me, I’ll take a separate boat back—”
Zhao Shengge didn’t want to hear any more. He interrupted, “How will you prove it?”
Chen Wan thought for a moment. With downcast eyes, he made a promise like someone confessing a mistake, “I won’t appear anywhere you might be, and I’ll delete all your contact information. You can have someone check.” He had clearly thought it through, carefully and in detail, like a report he could submit at any moment. “I’ll file a request to withdraw from the Baoli Bay project team. Future dealings with Kexiang will be handled by my partner.”
“My name can be removed from R&D, patents, and the pitch list.”
His tone was calm, as though he had rehearsed this contingency plan countless times before. That’s what a secret crush is like—you’re always prepared for it to be exposed.
After a moment’s thought, he added, “If that’s still not enough, I can leave Haishi.”
In truth, to Chen Wan, anywhere in the world was the same.
His gentle voice was like a sharp blade, cutting open his own heart, and in doing so, stabbing someone else’s to shreds.
Zhao Shengge stepped forward half a pace, drawing very close. His voice dropped slightly as he patiently repeated the question in full, “You like me. How will you prove it?”
Chen Wan paused and looked up, as if he didn’t understand. His eyes held a trace of confusion. Prove what?
From his height, Zhao Shengge looked down at him, his voice cold as he pressed, “What, even liking me was a lie?”
“No! It wasn’t.”
Zhao Shengge ordered, “Then prove it.”
Chen Wan looked up, meeting Zhao Shengge’s unreadable gaze. He pressed his lips together, troubled and anxious, and said, “I—I don’t know how to prove it.”
Because he had never planned to confess and never expected anything in return; there was no need for proof.
Zhao Shengge leaned in slightly, so close their breaths nearly mingled, his gaze fixed on Chen Wan’s lips. His voice was low. “Then think about it.”
His tone was cold and unfeeling. “If you can prove it, I’ll believe you.”
From that moment, Chen Wan’s heart began to race out of control. He forced himself to stay composed, but the feelings he had hidden for so long made it impossible to know how to begin now that everything had been exposed to the light of day.
Zhao Shengge waited a long time. He pressed his thumb to Chen Wan’s lips in a clearly suggestive way. He lowered his head even further, his lips nearly brushing Chen Wan’s, but he left the final bit of distance to him.
He wanted Chen Wan to admit it himself, to take the initiative to prove it, to break through the principles that always made Zhao Shengge want to lash out whenever he heard them, and to make a choice.
Chen Wan stood frozen, his mind in chaos. He thought seriously, then finally confessed the truth dejectedly, “I don’t know.”
“….” Zhao Shengge sighed inwardly. His tone softened a bit, and he gently touched Chen Wan’s cheek, half temptation, half encouragement. “You don’t know?”
His voice dropped lower. “You do know.”
“Try thinking.”
Chen Wan’s mind had stopped working entirely. His expression was both confused and shocked.
“You have to think seriously.” Zhao Shengge suddenly turned a little colder.
His hand was large, strong, and hot. When it touched Chen Wan’s lips, it was as if it pressed a switch.
Chen Wan’s heart skipped a beat, as though he’d been given a silent command, an irresistible kind of guidance. From deep within rose a lone courage, born of facing death. With trembling hands, he reached out and grasped Zhao Shengge’s hand.
Then he lowered his head and kissed the back of it—deeply reverent, solemn, and careful not to offend.
“….”
The kiss was light, brief, restrained yet direct, patient yet intense, pure and solemn.
Like a fallen leaf once carried away by the wind, now finding its way back to Zhao Shengge’s hand.
Zhao Shengge’s heart stirred. But he also thought: maybe Chen Wan truly didn’t know how to prove it. So he used the hand Chen Wan had kissed to cup his face, then covered his lips and kissed him deeply, forcefully. His arms wrapped around Chen Wan’s waist, squeezing so tightly it hurt.
Zhao Shengge fully pulled that lost leaf into his embrace, embedded it in his heart, and in doing so, gained an entire and complete autumn.
Chen Wan’s lips were soft and full, with an adorable curve. No candy or honey could compare; he was a thousand times sweeter than Zhao Shengge had imagined.
Like some tropical fruit—bite into it, and you’re rewarded with rich, sweet juice.
Zhao Shengge pried his lips open more forcefully, deepening the kiss.
Chen Wan kept his eyes open the entire time. Zhao Shengge’s large hand gripped the back of his neck. After kissing him for a long while, he finally let go and looked down, instructing, “At the very least, this is how you prove it, Chen Wan.”
Chen Wan was stunned. He stared at him in a daze, as if gazing upon a god, unable to snap out of it.
So, the god kissed him again.
Zhao Shengge’s kiss was deep, prolonged, and meticulous.
Chen Wan felt his heart swell, so full it was about to overflow. Every inch of it, soothed by the god before him, was slowly mending. Even his soul was being scorched and softened by those lips and tongue. His flushed lips parted slightly. “You, I…”
“Go on,” Zhao Shengge said, very gentlemanly.
Before this, Zhao Shengge had always been the one making the moves, while Chen Wan merely responded. He had been too seamless, impossible to read, not even a flicker of emotion could be discerned.
Zhao Shengge had no idea what Chen Wan truly thought, how much he liked him, or why he had liked him all this time without ever imagining they could be together.
Chen Wan took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. His emotions were surging, and the whole situation still felt unreal.
In all his long years of secretly loving Zhao Shengge, he had never imagined he’d have this kind of possibility or right to choose.
Chen Wan’s gaze darkened, laced with a subtle obsession. He asked, “Zhao Shengge, can I pursue you?”
“….” Zhao Shengge remained silent, looking at him with a somewhat strange expression.
Chen Wan did his best to keep his voice calm and steady. His tone was sincere. “I really like you. Can I give it a try?”
Zhao Shengge continued to look at him with a complicated expression, as if he couldn’t quite understand what Chen Wan was saying.
“I’ll treat you well, Zhao Shengge. I’ll do my best to be the person who treats you the best in the whole world.” Seeing that Zhao Shengge didn’t look particularly willing, Chen Wan grew anxious. After a brief pause, he added a few fake promises with a perfectly calm expression, “But I won’t bother you. I won’t cling to you shamelessly, either.”
Zhao Shengge: “…”
“If you think it’s not appropriate, I’ll stop right away. Is that okay?”
No—it was impossible. Once he’d opened his mouth and crossed this line, there was no way he could let Zhao Shengge go. It didn’t matter whether Zhao Shengge ever truly came to love him or not.
That line had always been one Chen Wan couldn’t cross, but Zhao Shengge’s interrogation had laid him bare. If he didn’t fight for it now, it would be a life sentence.
Chen Wan had nowhere left to retreat. At last, he raised the blade and, with his own hands, severed the shackles that had bound him for more than ten years.
But even so, he didn’t dare frighten Zhao Shengge.
He had no idea how much of Zhao Shengge’s tolerance and fondness for him came from the “suspension bridge effect” of surviving a disaster together, or how much of it was simply gratitude for Chen Wan’s reckless courage.
But that little bit of affection wasn’t enough. As long as there was even the slightest chance that Zhao Shengge could fall in love with him, Chen Wan wanted it all. He wanted all of Zhao Shengge.
Zhao Shengge wanted to say, “There’s no need to pursue me.” But Chen Wan’s gaze was too earnest and persistent, like he truly liked Zhao Shengge and wanted to pursue him with all his heart.
Zhao Shengge suddenly found himself curious. What would it feel like to be unreservedly favored and pursued by Chen Wan? He said, “Doesn’t seem like you like me that much.”
Chen Wan retorted urgently, “I like you a lot!”
Zhao Shengge said casually, “You didn’t plan on pursuing me before, either.”
“Before… it wasn’t appropriate,” Chen Wan replied seriously.
Zhao Shengge gave a noncommittal smile, clearly not quite convinced.
“I really, truly like you,” Chen Wan said with utmost sincerity, as if this were the most important matter of his life. Even the space between his brows creased slightly. He waited, but no reply came, so he stubbornly asked again, “Can I pursue you, Zhao Shengge?”
Zhao Shengge didn’t answer. He simply looked at him.
Chen Wan’s heart thudded erratically in his chest. The silence dragged on, sweat beading on his forehead. He mustered the courage to ask once more, “Zhao Shengge, can I pursue you?”
Zhao Shengge looked at him for a long while before finally speaking. “You can. But, Chen Wan…”
Just as Chen Wan felt a moment of relief, his heart tightened again.
Zhao Shengge said, “Let’s make one thing clear first.”
Chen Wan didn’t blink, barely dared to breathe.
Zhao Shengge continued, “I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”
“I like you too, Chen Wan.”
Chen Wan’s mind exploded, and he stood frozen.
Zhao Shengge repeated it clearly, “I like you.”
“Even though I’ve never said it before, my feelings are stronger than you imagined.”
A shockwave rippled through Chen Wan’s chest. His breath became unsteady, and his heartbeat raced. From the barren, desolate land of his heart, something began to grow wildly.
The sea was a vivid blue, like warm tides and gentle currents, surging into his eyes, threatening to drown him.
“But…” Zhao Shengge resisted the urge to kiss him. His fingers pressed firmly against Chen Wan’s face as he declared more seriously, “This time, you really made me angry. I can’t easily say it doesn’t matter. This is something that’s hard for me to move past.”
Those thirty minutes trapped in the sealed chamber—1,800 seconds—Zhao Shengge would probably never forget them for the rest of his life.
Chen Wan’s mind was still hazy. He had nothing to say in his defense, so he only pressed his lips together.
Zhao Shengge tilted his chin slightly, looked at him calmly, and said with a chilling tone, “You’ll have to pursue me seriously and wholeheartedly, if you want me to even consider saying yes.”
Chen Wan nodded vigorously.
Zhao Shengge thought he looked very obedient now, completely different from that stubborn, isolated, maddening, yet worry-inducing person in the sealed chamber. So he lowered his head again, and kissed him.
Author’s Note:
Do you still remember that leaf that drifted by chance?
