Reply to Keats - Chap 59
59. Afraid of the Sunrise
Zhao Shengge was strong, but not without tenderness.
He personally set off countless fireworks for Chen Wan.
More brilliant than those over Victoria Harbour. Chen Wan treasured it, as if the radiance of his entire life had been condensed into this single night.
When it burned out, there would be nothing left.
Clinging to his only piece of driftwood, Chen Wan gasped for breath, fragments of memories and images flashing through his mind: the deep-blue night sea from the ship’s deck, the football field and swimming pool at Yinghua’s main campus, the fireflies on Mount Kadoorie, the fence on Xiaolan Mountain…
Time blurred and scattered, but every path led to Zhao Shengge.
The man who had lit the spark gripped his throat, chest heaving, voice hoarse. “Chen Wan, why do you put me on such a high pedestal? What am I, some kind of ornament?”
Chen Wan stared wide-eyed at his face. “I know now. You’re not.”
Zhao Shengge was real. Tangible.
Expressionless, Zhao Shengge tightened his grip. “Doesn’t look like you know.”
Chen Wan was nearly choking. “I-I do.”
Zhao Shengge then eased off slightly. He brushed Chen Wan’s face and looked at him with an expression deep, complex—bordering on pity and something lasting.
Until this moment, no one had ever looked at Chen Wan like that. It was a gaze that made him feel as though his heart was growing new flesh, piece by piece.
“Zhao Shengge.”
***
At dawn, when Chen Wan stirred, Zhao Shengge also woke.
Grumpy from sleep, he buried his face in the crook of Chen Wan’s neck. But when Chen Wan patted his back, he stilled. His arms instinctively wrapped around Chen Wan’s waist, like a beast guarding its prey.
It surprised Chen Wan, how someone as composed and formidable as Zhao Shengge, as immovable as a mountain, could need so much tenderness and reassurance once it was over.
If Chen Wan shifted even slightly, Zhao Shengge would furrow his brow in his sleep.
So he stopped moving, choosing instead to gently pat his back or run his fingers through his hair. Zhao Shengge was like a wolf returning to a warm den, sleeping peacefully.
In moments like this, Chen Wan felt like handing over the softest, sweetest part of his heart, letting Zhao Shengge bite into it and do with it as he pleased.
He gazed quietly at Zhao Shengge’s face. He resembled his childhood self, but not quite.
When Zhao Shengge opened his eyes, Chen Wan was shielding them from the light with his hand.
The bed curtains hadn’t been drawn properly in their haste last night, and sunlight streamed in. Zhao Shengge hadn’t slept well. Chen Wan had wanted to get up and pull the curtain, but Zhao Shengge was sensitive to movement. So instead, Chen Wan simply held his hand above his eyes. His palm was soft, like a layer of cozy cotton resting gently over Zhao Shengge’s eyes.
Zhao Shengge didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Outside the window, the sun had risen high, scattering light across the sea.
In the golden morning glow, Zhao Shengge understood two things.
First, Chen Wan must love him very much.
Second, in Chen Wan’s world, Zhao Shengge held absolute sovereignty.
Once Zhao Shengge was fully awake, the softness he’d shown while sleeping disappeared. He reverted to his usual self—reserved, composed, reliable. Sitting up and leaning against the headboard, he said to Chen Wan, “Come here.”
Chen Wan obediently leaned closer. Zhao Shengge reached out to check his forehead; there was no fever. What they’d done last night had definitely been excessive.
Zhao Shengge’s arms were long and strong—more sensual and reassuring than in any of Chen Wan’s dreams.
Chen Wan stealthily touched him.
Zhao Shengge asked, “What?”
Chen Wan shook his head, then asked, “You still have this?”
The Cartier lighter sat on the nightstand, next to a few books.
Zhao Shengge gave an “Mm” in response, picked it up, and lit a Julieta cigarette, biting it between his lips.
Leaning back against the headboard with the cigarette in his mouth, Zhao Shengge looked both aloof and unbearably sexy. Chen Wan stared at him, eyes dark and unblinking.
Zhao Shengge met his gaze, then removed the cigarette and held it out to him.
Chen Wan didn’t take it with his hand. He parted his lips and bit down lightly on the filter, straight from Zhao Shengge’s fingers.
Zhao Shengge raised an eyebrow but held it for him patiently. His fingertip brushed across Chen Wan’s dry lips. Only when Chen Wan exhaled a ring of smoke did Zhao Shengge take the cigarette back.
In the dim room, lit only by the orange-red glow, the two of them quietly finished the cigarette together.
Chen Wan asked, “Are we getting up?”
Zhao Shengge had no appointments that morning, but Fang Jian had messaged in the group chat about something he needed to discuss with Zhao Shengge and Xu Zhiying in the afternoon.
The model for the Ting Island expedition had been completed, and Fang Jian had already assigned Chen Wan his tasks as well.
While reminding Zhao Shengge of this, Chen Wan took the opportunity to sneak another touch of his arm.
But this time, Zhao Shengge caught his wrist with a reverse grip. He looked down. “Second time, Chen Wan.”
Did he really think Zhao Shengge hadn’t noticed?
Chen Wan blinked. “I was just taking a look.” He’d already memorized the wrist and finger measurements.
Zhao Shengge didn’t mind. He gave a low chuckle, flipped the covers off, got out of bed, and without bothering to put on clothes, walked barefoot into the bathroom.
Afraid he’d catch a cold, Chen Wan followed him in with a robe and draped it over his shoulders.
Zhao Shengge: “…”
While Zhao Shengge washed up, Chen Wan glanced at the brand of his aftershave.
Downstairs, someone had already prepared lunch.
Watching the housekeeper’s silhouette as she left, Chen Wan stiffened slightly. Suddenly, despite how bold he’d been the night before, he felt a little embarrassed and said in a quiet voice, “So the auntie works for your family?”
“Mm.”
“You had her take care of me in the hospital back then?” His voice was tinged with surprise.
Zhao Shengge looked at him quietly. “Why do you think?”
Chen Wan said, “I don’t know.” As far as he was concerned, he and Zhao Shengge had only been acquaintances at the time.
“Couldn’t have someone I don’t know taking care of you.” Zhao Shengge glanced at him and pointed out plainly, “Chen Wan, you’re good at taking care of others, but not yourself.”
Chen Wan froze. Then, unexpectedly, warmth surged through his body—a warmth that traced all the way back to that time in the hospital. Only now, much later, did Chen Wan finally feel it.
Or perhaps it was the fireworks over Victoria Harbour last night that had stayed with him, still warming his heart.
Zhao Shengge got up and carried the dishes to the kitchen to load them into the dishwasher. Chen Wan suddenly pulled him back, lifted his head, and asked directly, “Zhao Shengge, do you think I did well last night? Did you like it?”
His expression was serious and earnest, without the slightest hint of a smile. He seemed determined to get an answer.
It was rare for Chen Wan to be this straightforward. Zhao Shengge raised an eyebrow, considered for a moment, then answered with a question of his own, “Chen Wan, do you think I did well last night? Did you like it?”
“…”
Chen Wan had been bold when asking, but now, being asked the same question, he suddenly felt sheepish and a bit speechless. Sometimes, people don’t even know how certain words manage to escape their mouths so easily.
Zhao Shengge didn’t press him. He walked into the kitchen, and when he came back out, he stood in front of Chen Wan, bent down, looked directly into his eyes, and said seriously, “Chen Wan, you’re unparalleled.”
A flush instantly spread across Chen Wan’s face.
His heart pounded; his hands clenched.
Zhao Shengge tilted his head slightly, admiring the sight for a moment, then leaned in to kiss lips even redder than his face.
Though Zhao Shengge’s expression remained calm and detached, his arms held him with unmistakable strength. The contrast between his emotionless face and the intimacy of his actions made it all the more stirring.
Chen Wan felt a slight sting from the bite and tried to cling to him again. But Zhao Shengge gently pressed down on his shoulder and said, “Chen Wan, time to go.”
Fang Jian had already sent a flurry of documents in the group chat. Chen Wan was taking Zhao Shengge to Minglong.
Before leaving, Chen Wan bent down at the shoe cabinet to retrieve Zhao Shengge’s leather shoes. Zhao Shengge pulled him up and, imitating his gesture, bent down to pick up Chen Wan’s shoes, placing them neatly by his feet.
Chen Wan was startled, unsure of the meaning.
Zhao Shengge pointed at him and said, “Chen Wan, if you keep acting like this, we’ll do it again right here.”
“…”
Chen Wan opened his mouth but couldn’t figure out how Zhao Shengge could say things like that so naturally. Though, to be fair, he had already forgotten that it was he himself who, just the night before, had shamelessly admitted to always bringing condoms when going to pick up Zhao Shengge.
They took the same Central Interchange route as the previous night.
There were no fireworks over Victoria Harbour in the daylight, but the layers of light and shadow had already been etched into Chen Wan’s memory.
The blue bilingual road signs lined the way—Queen’s Road was a right turn, straight ahead led to Admiralty Cathedral.
From now on, every time Chen Wan drove down this road, he would remember Zhao Shengge holding his hand in Admiralty, kissing him on Findlay Road, and saying “Thank you, Chen Wan” in Repulse Bay.
Autumn in Haishi was brief. The sea no longer held summer’s clarity, but the sky was deeply blue. There was no traffic in the underwater tunnel. Today, the Hong Kong Golden Classic channel was playing “Postman.”
The Cayenne arrived at Minglong just as the lyrics played, “Watching the butterfly fail to cross the edge of the world.” Zhao Shengge got out of the car.
Chen Wan held the steering wheel with one hand, smiling through the open window as he waved goodbye. The lazy autumn sunlight spilled over him, bathing him in a golden, sweet tenderness that softened even the corners of his eyes and brows.
Zhao Shengge walked a few steps, then turned back. He bent down and looked in through the car window. “Chen Wan.”
“Hm?”
The radio was playing, “You are a thousand mounds of snow, I am the long street; afraid that when the sun rises, we’ll both disappear.”
Zhao Shengge looked into his eyes. After a moment’s thought, he said, “You heard what I whispered to you at the end of last night, didn’t you?”
Chen Wan paused, a subtle warmth creeping up behind his ears, though his expression remained calm.
He had always been 100% honest and obedient with Zhao Shengge, but this time, he raised his brows slightly and asked, “What did you say?”
Zhao Shengge raised an eyebrow too, looked at him for a moment, then straightened up, hands in his pockets. “If you didn’t hear it, then I’ll say it next time we do it.”
Chen Wan gave a helpless smile as he watched him walk away, thinking, Then I’ll say it.
On the way back to Kexiang, he passed a flower shop. There were only hydrangeas, no peonies. They were out of season now.
Chen Wan went to the next shop.
The grapes were already ripe. He tasted them himself, wondering whether this meant he had truly won Zhao Shengge over.
He thought again of those words: You are unparalleled.
Unparalleled meant one of a kind, the best, the most beautiful.
Chen Wan was traditional. Confessions should be serious, formal, and grand. Whatever others could offer, Zhao Shengge deserved more.
Fortunately, the next flower shop had peonies. Chen Wan picked a bouquet and asked for some stationery. He wrote down everything he wanted to say to Zhao Shengge. He was certain Zhao Shengge would be greatly surprised.
With that thought, he walked out of the shop holding the flowers, just in time to see a flock of white doves take off from Bauhinia Square, flying into the open blue sky.
Chen Wan smiled and got into the car. As he turned the key, the radio had already reached “A Letter from Keanu Reeves,” though it no longer sounded sorrowful.
“Even knowing we’re worlds apart, I still slip my love into an envelope each day.”
Now that the letter was written, it was time to send it.
Chen Wan carefully adjusted the flower wrapping. His phone rang. He picked it up and glanced at the screen.
After a long pause, Chen Wan turned off the engine.
Outside the window, the flock of doves had already descended again. They hadn’t managed to fly higher. He placed the bouquet on the passenger seat with a hint of regret, opened the glove box, took out a pill case, and swallowed a few calming pills.
