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Was life worth living?
Seven years ago, Jiang Xiaoshuai asked himself that question as he lay in bed, possessed by the memories of the week prior. At the time, he lived with his grandmother in Shanghai, and hadn’t yet graduated from university. Life had been peaceful back then— simple and boring, but comfortable. His grandmother raised him in a quiet town full of love, and school seldom troubled him. Then, in seven days, his life fell apart.
In seven short days, Jiang Xiaoshuai became a shadow of himself. His handsome appearance turned sickly. He hardly ate, slept, or socialized. He attempted to mask his feelings to avoid worrying his grandmother— waking up after three days in the hospital had worried her enough— but his best act couldn’t hide how broken he felt on the inside. Hollow. A complete shell of who he used to be. And there didn’t seem a way out, except dying.
As the days went by, it seemed as though no other alternative would free him from the pain he felt. And what first started as a silly hypothetical became a lingering temptation. Besides, what made life worth living, anyway?
Seven years had gone now, and Jiang Xiaoshuai began seeing glimpses of a life he felt could fulfill him. A few years shy of turning 30, and at last, he felt like perhaps it had all been worth it. If spending hours alone in his room, questioning the worth of his existence, led him to Guo Chengyu’s arms, then he could say he lived his life without regrets. And it all began with Wu Suo Wei, his best friend, who in less than a year, had become his beacon of strength.
Ever since he had landed on a bed in his clinic, everything in Jiang Xiaoshuai’s life fell into place. It felt right. Like maybe his patients hadn’t lied when they said he had a purpose in their community— he wasn’t as replaceable as somebody had made him believe.
But that feeling left as soon as it came. Jiang Xiaoshuai couldn’t accept happiness at face value. Not that he wouldn’t— he couldn’t. Because he learned that happiness always hid pain underneath, like a Trojan horse of some kind. And after the disaster that happened from his past mistake, he promised he’d never open his gates again.
The last time he allowed domestic joy through the gates of his heart, Jiang Xiaoshuai suffered at the hands of Meng Tao. Shortly thereafter, he lost his closest friends. And though he knew Guo Chengyu and Wu Suo Wei were different, Jiang Xiaoshuai still worried about his relationships’ untimely end.
Beneath his smile hid a spout of anxiety— a seedling of doubt and fear that one day, it would all disappear. Once more, he’d face abandonment, left with only the familiar emptiness of echoing loneliness and fatigue. His pride wouldn’t admit it, but Jiang Xiaoshuai didn’t want to return to the old life he once swore he loved. The life that, time and time again, he reassured his concerned grandmother and weary clients pleased him.
“My career is my priority,” he’d say. “I prefer living in solitude.”
In truth, his delicate heart desired nothing more than company— a home. The feeling of safety he hadn’t felt since he fell asleep in his grandmother’s arms at six while sickened with the flu. And now that he had it, he couldn’t accept it. Perhaps because he feared it’d hurt more if he allowed himself unrestrained happiness. Though he had to admit, restricted happiness often robbed him of pleasure and peace.
Chatting with Wu Suo Wei, cuddling with Guo Chengyu, opening his clinic every morning, shit, even bickering with Chi Cheng… It felt oddly limited. As though Jiang Xiaoshuai wasn’t fully present. He coasted somewhere else, caught between cherishing the moment and refusing to surrender to the interim tenderness. As if the moments spent together constantly escaped from his grasp. And no matter how fast he ran, they always ran faster.
That’s how three years had passed since he met Wu Suo Wei. Two years since he began dating Guo Chengyu. A year since they became official. Seven months since Guo Chengyu had moved in. Two months since they’d been engaged.
In the blink of an eye, another year had come and gone.
The beginning of January brought snow that colored the ground white with its touch. As such, the newly expanded clinic saw an influx of patients who suffered from the painfully dry cold. With the extra space and staff, the usual chaos Jiang Xiaoshuai managed declined. For the first time, his shifts didn’t end in stiff muscles and overworked joints. It was a positive change— mostly.
Everyone knew how much workload Jiang Xiaoshuai bore on his shoulders. He suffered from migraines and body aches from the stress. Who knew what adverse effects he’d suffer in the long run? Sharing the labor with his staff blessed his body in ways that should’ve relieved him. However, Jiang Xiaoshuai felt discomforted by the stillness of the clinic.
The waiting room of patients had emptied into a peaceful open space of leisure, with staff available at every corner. Clients entered and left at a reasonable pace, keeping an effective and balanced rhythm— one that left silent spaces in between shifts for shadows to lurk above him. Like clockwork, they lingered. Even as dates slipped past his mind, his body remembered. He only needed to see a simple ad for a limited edition cologne for New Year to remind his body what it once endured seven years ago.
That morning, Jiang Xiaoshuai woke up disoriented. On a rare occasion, Guo Chengyu had gone to work before him, leaving him in their king-sized bed alone. Arising in an empty room was nothing special. After all, Guo Chengyu often had business trips lasting as long as a week. Yet, strangely, Jiang Xiaoshuai felt disheartened by his absence, more so than usual. The feeling all but disturbed him. Jiang Xiaoshuai hated feeling vulnerable— he hated his desperation for Guo Chengyu’s company even more. He swore to himself he wouldn’t rely on anybody for comfort again. He built a tough, proud persona to keep others out. Yet, old fox Guo Chengyu snuck his way into his stubborn heart, regardless.
Despite his onslaught of nausea, Jiang Xiaoshuai pushed forward and set about his day. As he stretched his limbs, he fought hard against the flashbacks of his past relationship. He wanted to erase the reminders of the broken person he abandoned inside— the one he left ignored and wounded. Alone. Neglected. Because, although Jiang Xiaoshuai finally cut down that old tree, its rotten roots remained buried deep. The idea of confronting them frightened him… to accept just how deeply they had ingrained into the ground.
Jiang Xiaoshuai wasn’t ready to put all of the work required for healing yet. He felt too fragile and ashamed. And he worried what Guo Chengyu would say when he realized how entirely fractured Meng Tao had left him. That an understanding of the situation hadn’t resolved Jiang Xiaoshuai’s heartache. Instead, it left him frustrated— impatient and guilty.
After three years of Guo Chengyu’s patient pursuit and persistent affection, the ghost of his past life continuously lingered. Somehow, Guo Chengyu’s attention hadn’t fended it away, and Jiang Xiaoshuai couldn’t figure out why. All he could do was remind himself that Guo Chengyu wasn’t Meng Tao. He had done more than enough to prove that. To Guo Chengyu, unlike Meng Tao, Jiang Xiaoshuai actually meant something.
Sometime along his route to work, his stomachache dispersed. Upon arrival, his regular clients and staff members greeted him with gentle smiles that Jiang Xiaoshuai gladly returned. With that same energy, he did his rounds, stopping by to extend his help towards everyone as usual.
“Dr. Jiang, it’s good to see you again,” Aunt Zhao— a regular patient at the clinic— said.
Jiang Xiaoshuai smiled. “Auntie, have you been watching over your health? Why are you here so soon?”
“I came to pick up the vitamins you prescribed me last week. You must’ve seen lots of new patients and forgotten this old lady. Your clinic is popular nowadays! Everyone wants to see the handsome Dr. Jiang!”
Jiang Xiaoshuai laughed, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Not about the compliment, but about his ignorance. It wasn’t in his nature to forget details on his patients’ health charts, especially prescriptions and appointments. He deemed it unprofessional and, admittedly, disrespectful. A patient already sacrificed the little comfort they had with hope of relieving their ailments. The least he could do was remember their treatment plans.
“I’m sorry, Auntie, I guess I’ve been distracted this morning,” he said. “Your prescription is ready. I’ll cover the cost this time.”
Aunt Zhao shook her head with a chuckle. “Nonsense! Do I look like I can’t afford it? Even after preparing so many red envelopes, I still have enough money to spend.”
Her words sent a great sense of unease to Jiang Xiaoshuai— one similar to what he felt after seeing the cologne ad.
He quickly shrugged it off and continued the conversation, completely disregarding the anxiety that simmered in his chest. Maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, it would fade.
Soon after Aunt Zhao, Jiang Xiaoshuai finished his check-ins. Then, he retreated to the back of the clinic, smiling absentmindedly to himself as he counted and organized the medications in the storage room. The repetition eased his mind and kept the unnerving thoughts at bay. With great focus, he counted all the boxes. Once finished, he counted them again. And then again. Over and over until he felt satisfied.
Unexpectedly, as he annotated a number on his clipboard, the door slammed open, revealing an out-of-breath Wu Suo Wei. He scanned the room before his eyes landed on the floor, where Jiang Xiaoshuai sat with at least ten different bins of medications, all neatly organized. With his presence alone, the room brightened tenfold, as if sunrays pierced through the walls and illuminated it with a golden glimmer.
“Wu Suo Wei! So you do know where I work,” Jiang Xiaoshuai said with a playful grin. “Too busy getting screwed to see your master, are you?”
Wu Suo Wei’s ears burned red as he huffed in annoyance. “Who’s getting screwed?! You haven’t been answering my messages. I thought you got murdered, so I ran here to see if you were still alive.”
At his words, Jiang Xiaoshuai patted the pockets of his coat only to realize his phone had gone missing. In fact, he might’ve forgotten it at his apartment. He seemed to be quite forgetful that morning.
Rather than voicing his clumsiness, Jiang Xiaoshuai laughed and shook his head. Hearing Wu Suo Wei’s voice made his morning a little brighter. It grounded him— made him feel safe and comforted.
“Alright, enough. What do you want? Chi Cheng’s bank statements?”
Wu Suo Wei remained silent for a brief spell, stunned at Jiang Xiaoshuai’s question. Then, he dropped to the floor, in front of Jiang Xiaoshuai, with an enthusiastic expression on his face. His mouth stretched into a smirk as his big brown eyes widened with hope; through them, Jiang Xiaoshuai could see his own reflection.
For a brief minute, a chilling, impulsive thought ran through Jiang Xiaoshuai’s body. The thought that today could be the last day he ever saw himself through them. That, perhaps, the next time they ran into each other, Wu Suo Wei would think of him with such disdain, he wouldn’t fathom to glare in his direction.
“How did you know? What did Guozi tell you?”
Wu Suo Wei’s question brought him back to his kind reality. That fateful day hadn’t yet arrived. His current problem wasn’t related to Wu Suo Wei turning his back on him. In actuality, his dilemma involved a slip of his tongue.
Jiang Xiaoshuai froze once he realized he had spoken too much. In fact, Guo Chengyu hadn’t told him much about Chi Cheng and Wu Suo Wei’s latest disagreements, only that Chi Cheng had been investing his 10 yuan allowance and gaining profit in secret. No matter how much Jiang Xiaoshuai had begged, Guo Chengyu didn’t trust him enough to share more of the latest gossip. He didn’t even know how Guo Chengyu had come across such information.
Initially, Jiang Xiaoshuai felt betrayed by Guo Chengyu, but seeing how fast he exposed his forbidden knowledge, he understood why Guo Chengyu had his reservations. For future purposes and gossip, Jiang Xiaoshuai knew he had to redeem himself. He’d hate not knowing the latest dramas.
“Told me what?” Jiang Xiaoshuai asked, feigning ignorance. “You’re always bickering about finances. What else could you want?”
Wu Suo Wei answered with silence. Jiang Xiaoshuai softly sighed in relief, having cleared his own name. However, Wu Suo Wei mistook his sigh as one of judgement.
“This time, he’s really wronged me,” he huffed. “Chi Cheng opened a second bank account to hide all of this money from me. What kind of person makes thousands from 10 yuan? Why does he need this money, anyway? You really can’t trust men these days. I might’ve never found out if it weren’t for Guozi.”
If it had been any other time, Jiang Xiaoshuai would’ve inquired for more details, and shared his theories with Wu Suo Wei. However, his mind struggled to concentrate through his lack of energy and lethargy. He felt caught in a blur. All he managed as a response was a low hum as he pulled forward a plastic bin full of antibiotics to count them.
Following Jiang Xiaoshuai’s silence, Wu Suo Wei looked around the room in confusion.
“Say, what are you doing here?”
“I’m organizing our inventory.”
“How many have you done? All of these?”
Jiang Xiaoshuai looked in the direction Wu Suo Wei had pointed at. Then, he shook his head. “No, I haven’t done those yet. I’ve only done the three bins on my left.”
With furrowed brows, Wu Suo Wei turned his head to the side like a confused puppy.
“But those also look pretty organized…” he mumbled under his breath. “Xiaoshuai, didn’t Guozi adapt a computing system to do the organization for you?”
“They’re too confusing to use. Besides, they aren’t as reliable…”
Wu Suo Wei narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he watched Jiang Xiaoshuai fidget with the medication packaging. His change in demeanor alarmed Wu Suo Wei. Concern swiftly replaced his poor temper, and his voice softened.
“Shuai, recently… Did Guozi do anything to upset you?”
Usually, Jiang Xiaoshuai would throw a snark remark like, “As if that weasel could ever make me emotional. I dare him to try!” But that time, he couldn’t put up his usual stubborn act. He missed him too much to pretend that his mood was indifferent to Guo Chengyu. In fact, of everyone, he affected Jiang Xiaoshuai’s emotions the most. With Guo Chengyu’s presence, flowers within Jiang Xiaoshuai bloomed, and with his absence, they withered.
“Chengyu wouldn’t bully me to that extent,” he answered in a soft tone.
He stared down at the bins and reminisced about the days Guo Chengyu’s construction company took over his clinic amid expansion. On one of those days, Guo Chengyu sat him down on the very floor he currently sat on, and explained how the new system worked. Guo Chengyu was excited but patient— relieved by the idea that Jiang Xiaoshuai wouldn’t need to count the boxes again.
He didn’t have to do that, but he did. For Jiang Xiaoshuai.
With a fond smile, he looked at the medicine. “He…he really treats me well.”
The sudden confession only discomfited Wu Suo Wei further. Throughout their years of friendship, Jiang Xiaoshuai had avoided speaking so honestly about Guo Chengyu. He was much too shy and private— not nearly as shameless as Wu Suo Wei and Chi Cheng— to say what he felt when he felt it. Heck, after many years, Wu Suo Wei could probably count in one hand the amount of times he’d seen Guo Chengyu and Jiang Xiaoshuai kiss.
“Shuai—”
Jiang Xiaoshuai glared at him. He hated talking about himself. Whenever someone poached too close to his heart, his first reaction was to fend off the intruder, like a mother bear protecting her cub. He couldn’t precisely say when the habit first appeared; when he started despising others seeing the depths of his soul. Even now, his skin prickled with goosebumps.
“If you’re not going to help me count the boxes, then stop bothering me. I have a lot to do.”
Wu Suo Wei scanned the room. If he agreed to count boxes, he might be there the whole day, especially under Jiang Xiaoshuai’s meticulous gaze. Thus, he quickly stood and bid his goodbyes, leaving the little doctor in the cold, barren storage room on his own.
In Wu Suo Wei’s absence, Jiang Xiaoshuai continued his work in a silence that felt almost deafening. The longer he spent counting endless boxes, the louder the silence got. After a while, his hands began shaking and his chest tightened so much, it became hard to breathe. He recognized the feeling— he had experienced it plenty of times before. He just didn’t understand why it was happening now.
Before anxiety consumed him, he placed the bins back at their designated spots with desperation. As he slid them one by one, his movements became sloppy. In turn, as he inserted the last one in its slot, the plastic handle sliced his palm like a blade.
“Fuck,” he uttered under his breath.
The wound pulsed as blood threatened to spill. In a hurry, Jiang Xiaoshuai walked straight to the first aid kit near the consultation room. With shallow breathing, he grasped it and locked himself in the bathroom.
There his struggle continued. He had no reason to panic, but he moved with urgency, as if danger waited for him nearby. His perception of reality twisted. Suddenly, Jiang Xiaoshuai felt stuck between his present self and the self he used to be years ago when he had attempted suicide. As a result, his vision blurred and his hands shook so much, he dropped anything he grabbed.
The sound of the running faucet bounced off the walls of the empty bathroom. Jiang Xiaoshuai cringed, finding himself hating the noise. He placed his hand beneath it, watching how the water diluted the color of the blood and guided it down the drain. The more he observed, the further he strayed from his body. Then, echoes of the past took hold of him.
A recollection of bitter memories flew through his mind like birds before a stormy night. When the breeze blew hard and the scent of rain tainted the air. Leaves, overwhelmed by the strength of the wind, let go of the branches they sat on only to collapse under its pressure.
Jiang Xiaoshuai was a leaf, fighting against memories that sent him toppling forward with suffocating lungs. And the memory of the night he had lost his virginity was a force to be reckoned with— a hurricane.
They had freshly celebrated eight months of their relationship when Meng Tao brought up sex again. Jiang Xiaoshuai, who had turned 18 a month prior, managed to avoid the conversation until that point. But that night, something told him Meng Tao wouldn’t let in.
After dinner, Meng Tao had coaxed him into his house. At first, Jiang Xiaoshuai was uncertain, but when an hour had passed and Meng Tao made no sexual advances, he relaxed. Then, suddenly, sweet-smelling droplets fell on his lovely face and into his nose. Within minutes, a devastating heat extended throughout his body, weakening his muscles and turning his thoughts into a thick fog. With his very last strength, he begged. But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Memories blurred after that. All he remembered was excruciating pain, blood, and aches throughout his body. He remembered the sound of rushing water from the bathtub while Meng Tao scrubbed his body with determined eyes, muttering the word ‘filthy’ under his breath as blood pooled beneath Jiang Xiaoshuai’s pale, silken skin. He felt too frail to protest. With shaken eyes, he counted the passing seconds.
In his pain, Meng Tao saw beauty— soft pink oil paint across an empty canvas, glass tears on freshly fractured marble. Tears, which Meng Tao wiped with a smile on his face. As if he fought a battle and came out victorious, and Jiang Xiaoshuai, his prized possession, was the polished trophy he conquered.
Jiang Xiaoshuai had counted 480 seconds until Meng Tao stopped scrubbing. Through the dense fog, he saw Meng Tao crying and apologizing. He told Jiang Xiaoshuai that love was passionate and fierce. As a man, he couldn’t hold back any longer. That if they planned on being together long term, it had to happen. He begged for forgiveness and promised it’d feel better next time.
Jiang Xiaoshuai was young, and stupidly naïve. He didn't know any better. Through Meng Tao, he experienced many firsts. Beyond their relationship, he hadn’t explored much at all.
So, Jiang Xiaoshuai— believing he found bliss in the teacher who recognized his potential— fell for his lies. He trusted Meng Tao. After all, he had no reason to believe he’d lie to him. Jiang Xiaoshuai loved him so much. Even after experiencing trauma at Meng Tao’s hands, in the ignorance of youth, Jiang Xiaoshuai remained obedient and silent.
Four years went by in a bittersweet haze.
Four years, Meng Tao spent manipulating and grooming Jiang Xiaoshuai like clay to fit his taste. Simultaneously fooling him into believing that true love behaved in such a demanding way. Four years of following Meng Tao’s ridiculous standards— of Jiang Xiaoshuai changing his way of life to please Meng Tao and his OCD.
Jiang Xiaoshuai loved purely, entirely, massively. He loved with his entire being. Even enduring unimaginable pain time and time again to please Meng Tao. And when he cried and begged, Meng Tao drugged him into silence.
But Meng Tao said he loved him, too.
He told Jiang Xiaoshuai he loved him so much that he couldn’t resist. Meng Tao said he wouldn’t touch him otherwise. Then, he’d threaten to pursue someone else who wouldn’t dare reject or speak up against him, and it scared Jiang Xiaoshuai to pieces. Thus, he endured.
Yet, no matter how much he had suffered in silence, Meng Tao still…
The shock of the water turning cold startled Jiang Xiaoshuai right back to reality. He had dissociated for so long, his fingers resembled prunes. He blinked a few times before turning off the faucet and patting his hands dry. Still, his vivid recollection of the past had turned Jiang Xiaoshuai’s world askew. He could hardly differentiate his left from his right.
With a trembling hand, he reached toward the triple antibiotic ointment. After multiple failed attempts, Jiang Xiaoshuai resorted to opening the packet with his mouth. As he tugged with one hand and pulled with his teeth, the packaging tore completely open, sending sticky fluids everywhere.
The mess made Jiang Xiaoshuai’s heart falter. Panic set in as he stared at the liquid dripping softly onto the floor. Slowly, Jiang Xiaoshuai looked down at his scrubs in muted horror. He could feel heavy drops in his hair, and on his face. It was a mess he had encountered before. As a doctor, he’d run into worse accidents. But with his reality altered, the feel of the substance made him feel oddly and utterly disgusted.
And absolutely filthy.
Horrified, Jiang Xiaoshuai stumbled as he stepped away from the mess. Adrenaline kicked in as he panicked. His chest began hurting as a sharp ringing filled his ears. Before long, he dashed towards the bathroom, where he cleansed his skin until he couldn’t feel it anymore.
Guo Chengyu arrived at the clinic sooner than he usually did after work. That day, he had an important client, who his father had assumed would be hard to agree with. However, concluding their contract went smoother than expected, leaving Guo Chengyu with extra time on his hands. Without hesitation, he decided to visit Jiang Xiaoshuai.
The staff had long since grown accustomed to his icy presence. As soon as he stepped foot in the clinic with Li Wang in tow, two nurses approached them with small, timid smiles.
“Guozi, welcome back,” the taller nurse said.
Guo Chengyu nodded as a greeting and gestured to Li Wang with his head towards the reception desk. Immediately, Li Wang nodded, walked over, and placed two large bags with boxes down. In the meantime, Guo Chengyu scanned the clinic, hoping to glimpse Jiang Xiaoshuai’s curly black hair. Yet, he failed to find him.
“It’s from the Thai restaurant 31 kilometers away,” Li Wang gleamed. “Dr. Jiang was really pleased with it last time. Guozi made sure he brought enough for everyone.”
The nurses didn’t respond as excitedly as they typically did. After busy hours of treating the sick, they appreciated Guo Chengyu’s kind gestures. That time around, they averted their gazes and spoke in soft tones.
“Thank you so much, Guozi.”
Guo Chengyu picked up on their lukewarm reactions and fixed his sights on them.
“What’s the matter?”
Despite growing used to Guo Chengyu’s cold, yet calm temperament, the nurses felt intimidated by the deep tone of his voice. The younger, taller nurse took a step backward, whereas the older one, having worked in the clinic since its grand opening, remained firm. She gulped thickly, finally gathering the courage to meet Guo Chengyu’s gaze.
“Actually, Guozi,” she began with slight hesitation. “Dr. Jiang is behaving strangely again.”
With newfound interest, Guo Chengyu stood straight. Sensing the seriousness of the topic, he turned to Li Wang.
“Take the desserts to the breakroom,” Guo Chengyu said.
“Yes, Guozi,” Li Wang replied. He turned to the younger nurse, who perked up in her spot. Without another word spoken, she excused herself and walked away with Li Wang.
Then, Guo Chengyu strolled over to the empty small porch behind the clinic for privacy. He leaned against the wall, his legs crossed, watching the older nurse follow along until she stopped a few inches away from him. He didn’t say anything at first. He simply pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and a lighter. Only after he lit it and took a deep inhale did he nod for her to continue.
“Guozi, ever since I’ve worked with Dr. Jiang, I noticed that whenever New Year approaches, he gets increasingly anxious. I am aware he has OCD, but it’s usually contained until this time of the year. But Guozi’s typically on business trips around this time, so you might not have noticed.”
Guo Chengyu nodded while deep in thought. What she said didn’t surprise him much; of course, he noticed such things too.
Guo Chengyu had always been perceptive. Observant. He supposed he had his father to thank. While his mother taught him to be pleasant, his father taught him to be sharp. Precise. Intentional about his every move, like playing in a game of chess, and assume everyone did the same.
He learned that every relationship, every conversation, every greeting— had value and purpose. Each one a move on the board. Inching closer and closer to his king. One wrong move could cost him the whole game. Thus, he treated every interaction from the start as a game strategy. He scrutinized people’s every move, like a predator before they pounced on their prey.
His first greeting to Jiang Xiaoshuai hadn’t been different. Guo Chengyu had spoken and behaved in a way that coaxed Jiang Xiaoshuai to reveal all he needed to know. Guo Chengyu had teased him just as he would anybody attractive. But unlike everyone else, Jiang Xiaoshuai didn’t budge. Even so, Guo Chengyu felt delighted. He loved all he came to find out about Jiang Xiaoshuai.
His strength. Resilient, unlike any other, albeit a little unsteady.
His self-reliance. Confident, yet hesitant around those who got too close.
His intelligence. Wise beyond his years, though adorably naïve.
His attractiveness. Beautiful like a flower— a wilted flower— who had seen many springs and winters, and persevered.
The harshness of the winters displayed itself in Jiang Xiaoshuai’s obsession with cleanliness. Guo Chengyu noticed how he lined up his files perfectly and alphabetically. He counted everything twice and repeated certain movements until they felt “just right.” Even at home, those traits persisted. Jiang Xiaoshuai had a routine— a ritual of sorts— he followed with exact precision every day.
Then, eventually, Guo Chengyu learned where those traits stemmed from and who was to blame. Just thinking about the scumbag made his jaw clench. If only he had met Jiang Xiaoshuai 11 years ago, before he met Meng Tao, or at least, four years later, when—
Guo Chengyu straightened up after being confronted with a random realization.
“Who else knows about this?” Guo Chengyu asked.
“Amongst the new staff, nobody. The older staff have noticed a few of his quirks, but nothing serious.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. If anyone dares to gossip about him, I’ll deal with them directly.”
Using the bottom of his leather shoe, Guo Chengyu snuffed out his cigarette. On a hunch, he marched in broad strokes towards what used to be Wu Suo Wei’s bathroom. His concern was palpable. Anybody who dared look his way would feel startled by his stern aura.
Guo Chengyu burst through the door and strutted towards the shower, sliding the curtain open in one harsh, swift movement. There, he saw Jiang Xiaoshuai in a fetal position, hugging his knees as he rocked himself and scratched his arms. His clothes clung to his lithe body as he trembled beneath the hot water.
Despite the loudness with which Guo Chengyu moved, Jiang Xiaoshuai hadn’t reacted. He stared right ahead, at nothingness, as he shook his head in a daze.
Guo Chengyu looked at him with a softened gaze. Jiang Xiaoshuai looked so small, pitiable. It shattered his heart to see him so broken.
“Shuai Shuai,” Guo Chengyu whispered as he kneeled beside the bathtub. “Let’s go home, hm?”
Jiang Xiaoshuai shook his head frantically, still averting his gaze. “Filthy…” he said with a stutter. “I have to keep scrubbing.”
Guo Chengyu chuckled lightly. “I doubt you’ll get much cleaned with your clothes on.”
As he said that, Jiang Xiaoshuai glanced down and noticed that he indeed had his clothes on. He hurried to take them off, but struggled in his efforts. Guo Chengyu motioned to help, but Jiang Xiaoshuai cowered. Seeing him recoil made his heart stop beating. Even when they first met, Jiang Xiaoshuai didn’t fear him. Yet, Meng Tao’s memory tainted Jiang Xiaoshuai’s reality with poison. As a result, he perceived Guo Chengyu as a threat.
“Baobei, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
For a few beats, they both remained stagnant. In that moment, Guo Chengyu felt the world fade into nothing but a whisper, and all that mattered was Jiang Xiaoshuai.
Jiang Xiaoshuai, whom he swore to protect— who had been wounded and betrayed time and time again. Who never allowed himself a moment of rest. He cared and loved the world, even when nobody had cared and loved him.
Jiang Xiaoshuai gave and gave and never took, exhausting himself beyond his limits. Even as his body crumbled beneath him, he pushed further until he couldn’t anymore. And he did it all gracefully. With a charming smile and effervescent confidence. Simultaneously, a childlike innocence, believing the world was worthy of his kindness.
Someone with the softness and compassion of Guo Chengyu’s mother. Someone as astute and humble as his father.
That’s why Guo Chengyu couldn’t stay idle after the truth had slipped out of Jiang Xiaoshuai’s trembling lips. An incident that brought him too much shame to speak about it while sober. A crime that had pushed Jiang Xiaoshuai to suicide, and when that failed, he ran from the city that had betrayed him. The hurt must’ve been so extensive to overpower the love he had for his grandmother, whom he had unfortunately left behind.
“Baobei…Let me help you.”
Upon his insistence, Jiang Xiaoshuai turned to look at him. He analyzed Guo Chengyu, scanning him as if he didn’t recognize him. His thick black lashes gave way from the weight of his tears. They clustered together and stuck to his flushed cheeks. With those heavy lashes and quivering lips, he scrutinized Guo Chengyu. Lost and confused, yet hopeful and yearning for the touch of home.
His breath stuttered when Guo Chengyu’s warm hand cupped his cheek. Rough, calloused fingertips that once fought and strangled many, now lovingly held the supple beauty of his lover. With the graze of his thumb, Jiang Xiaoshuai relented to his touch. At last, in slow movements, Guo Chengyu removed his heavy clothes. As soon as he placed the wet clothes aside, Jiang Xiaoshuai reached for the soap and brush with trembling hands.
Guo Chengyu didn’t dare stop him. If scrubbing his pristine skin made Jiang Xiaoshuai feel better, then he’d allow him to do so. But it still hurt and worried Guo Chengyu. His sharp features carried a mellow expression, though a furrow on his brow displayed his true feelings of concern. Jiang Xiaoshuai was his weakness; when it came to him, Guo Chengyu lost his constraint. He didn’t behave as calmly and collected as usual. He had been in a plethora of insane situations, yet only Jiang Xiaoshuai got a rise out of him.
It had been that way since the very beginning.
Jiang Xiaoshuai was the first person Guo Chengyu had ever liked. He wanted to learn everything about him— his ins and outs, his peaks and valleys, his curves and edges. He wanted to protect him from harm— to be his shield in a world that threw daggers.
That’s why Guo Chengyu had brought Meng Tao to his knees and made him beg for forgiveness— to stop that bastard from haunting him. To destroy that weak and insecure past, thereby tearing down the gates to Jiang Xiaoshuai’s heart. Then, Jiang Xiaoshuai would be free and completely his.
Yet, despite rendering that scumbag disabled, the damage he dealt to him was far too extensive to heal easily. Even now, Jiang Xiaoshuai scrubbed his skin red because he felt his presence etched onto his porcelain skin. The very skin that extended down to his fingertips and healed those that it blessed with its touch.
Two minutes of seeing Jiang Xiaoshuai digging into his skin was more than Guo Chengyu could take. With a grimace on his face, he placed his large hand over Jiang Xiaoshuai.
“Not like that,” he said. Gently, he grabbed the brush from the slender hand. “After this, stop scrubbing. You’re not dirty, so don’t clean yourself anymore.”
With a hesitant nod, Jiang Xiaoshuai agreed. With every gentle caress from Guo Chengyu, Jiang Xiaoshuai whimpered. Tears cascaded down his eyes incessantly, blending with the pouring water from above. Soft sobs escaped his body as he curled further into himself. If only he could shrink small enough to disappear. He couldn’t handle any more of the flashbacks or obsessive thoughts.
Despite his lack of confidence, Guo Chengyu persisted with his soothing touches. As he went, he spoke comforting words.
In Jiang Xiaoshuai’s fragility, Guo Chengyu saw the tender remnants of a harsh storm. A soft and pure orchid, buried beneath inches of snow, requiring care and protection. By the time Guo Chengyu reached the orchid, the storm had passed and the snow had melted. He only witnessed the morning dew on wounded, yet sophisticated flower petals, and the distress hidden behind their majestic colors. Against the odds, the orchid survived and moved forward on his own.
Slowly, his placid tending brought Jiang Xiaoshuai out of his delusions and back to safety. Those domineering foreign hands that scorned and degraded him ceased to exist. And Meng Tao had been reduced to just a nightmare Jiang Xiaoshuai once had in his sleep. He felt grounded. Safe. Clean.
“Thank you,” Jiang Xiaoshuai whispered as Guo Chengyu wrapped a warm bathrobe around his slim figure. He tied it until it was snug on his body— until it drowned him in smooth cotton and Guo Chengyu’s strong cologne.
“Shuai Shuai,” he said with a small smile. He placed a hand on his cheek and caressed with his thumb. “Between you and me, there’s no need to say thank you. Loving you is loving me too. Only by keeping you happy can I be happy.”
Jiang Xiaoshuai tried hiding his smile by biting his lip, but his cheekbones still rose to his eyes. Guo Chengyu was far too good for him. He never expected Guo Chengyu to be so romantic. He managed to surprise Jiang Xiaoshuai at every turn, reminding him how dedicated he was to nourishing their relationship. At times, it overwhelmed Jiang Xiaoshuai, who wasn’t always sure how to reciprocate. When it came to romance, he didn’t have much experience. When he met Wu Suo Wei, he still believed Meng Tao’s words: love between men was aggressive and purely physical. Romance and tenderness could only exist when a woman required it. Yet, Guo Chengyu’s sole existence contradicted everything he was told.
Guo Chengyu placed a light peck on his forehead. “Let’s go home, baobei.”
As much as he wanted to, Jiang Xiaoshuai knew he couldn’t.
“My patients…”
Guo Chengyu shushed him. He pressed a finger to his lip before pulling him into a hug. “That’s why we hired the staff, right? I’ll go check on everything before we leave.”
At his words, Jiang Xiaoshuai wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed.
“Don’t leave.” His voice was hardly audible— meek and trembling. “I’m scared.”
Those words… That resilient orchid, who braved through the seasons, allowed his guard to fall. He didn’t need Guo Chengyu’s embrace to survive, but he wanted it. Because treating damaged petals was much harder on his own.
“Then, I’ll hold you until it all goes away.”
Guo Chengyu was true to his word. He held Jiang Xiaoshuai tightly to his chest in the bed within the staff’s break room. With his ear pressed against Guo Chengyu’s chest, Jiang Xiaoshuai listened to the beat of his heart. It soothed and reminded him how genuinely loved he was by someone who may or may not be his forever. But that future was far ahead. Right there, within those minutes, they were together. It was more than Jiang Xiaoshuai felt he deserved.
“I’m sorry... After all these years, I’m still like this.”
“Silly.” Guo Chengyu ruffled his hair and pinched his cheek. “Being yourself is all I ask for.”
From his spot, Jiang Xiaoshuai lifted his head and turned towards Guo Chengyu, who looked back at him with kind eyes. His brown hair fell over his eyelids in a way that Jiang Xiaoshuai found particularly endearing.
It was a soft look reserved only for him to see.
It made him feel so special. Appreciated. Seen. Like a precious jewel, gleaming, waiting to be found under rubble. Or, maybe, like a daisy among dozens of roses in a garden, craving the serene shine of the moonlight.
Somehow, Guo Chengyu chose him out of many, even though Jiang Xiaoshuai had nothing to offer. Just how many people had tried conquering Guo Chengyu’s heart? Yet, it belonged to him now.
Without another second to spare, Jiang Xiaoshuai’s face inched toward Guo Chengyu’s. There, for a moment, he paused, allowing their lips to graze. They often did that— teased each other in some form of a tug and pull game. More often than not, it was Jiang Xiaoshuai’s resolve that broke first. His patience as a doctor couldn’t match the patience of a scheming mastermind.
He’d always end up chasing Guo Chengyu’s taste— his breath, his caress, his whisper— as if Guo Chengyu was the water that soothed Jiang Xiaoshuai’s parched throat. Even his proud mouth faltered under the extreme pleasure Guo Chengyu subjected him to. Pleasure, he’d been told, didn’t exist. Every night, Jiang Xiaoshuai begged Guo Chengyu to drown him in his body. To kiss him more, touch him further. To thrust in deeper. And Guo Chengyu always did because he loved him.
Something in Jiang Xiaoshuai pulsed as he licked his lips. With his action, he touched Guo Chengyu’s lips too, resulting in the most charming smirk Jiang Xiaoshuai had ever seen.
He couldn’t hold back any longer. Upon Guo Chengyu’s lips, he pressed a fleeting kiss. And as usual in their teasing game, he pulled Jiang Xiaoshuai forward for more.
Guo Chengyu’s hand gripped the back of his neck tightly, almost as if scared to let him go, as he allowed their lips to collide. Jiang Xiaoshuai, as sensitive as ever, moaned almost instantly. No matter how many times they kissed, he couldn’t get used to the feeling of thousands of butterflies flying amok in his stomach. It made his toes curl every time.
Their tongues battled fiercely for minutes at a time, only withdrawing to take quick breaths. If it weren’t for the sake of respect and privacy, Guo Chengyu would’ve mounted Jiang Xiaoshuai already. But since they couldn’t, he forced them apart before things escalated.
Their dilated pupils reflected their shared future as they looked into each other’s eyes. There, Jiang Xiaoshuai saw that promising life that brought him joy. Homemade meals. Late night kisses. Unfiltered laughter. His husband. His home.
A forgiving smile. A soothing voice. A warm bed.
Kept promises. Shared tears. Sacred whispers.
There. All there. A moment away.
With tearful eyes, Jiang Xiaoshuai smiled. He loved him so much. Fuck. He didn’t want to lose him— this— their shared time together, the long spells of silence, the frustration and annoyances. The love.
He wanted forever. He needed forever. Another heartbreak would surely kill him. And if he were to die, he wanted to die by Guo Chengyu’s side. Watching the last sunset, hands clasped, as the universe stopped turning on the last night on Earth. Such desires were scary to Jiang Xiaoshuai. He hadn’t experienced them before, not even with Meng Tao. Yet, what scared him most was the possibility that Guo Chengyu didn’t desire it too.
Suddenly, Jiang Xiaoshuai felt Guo Chengyu pushing a finger against his forehead. “Already thinking too much again, little chick?”
Jiang Xiaoshuai swatted his hand away and scowled. But with a pretty face like his, he couldn’t intimidate anybody, especially not Guo Chengyu. He adored teasing Jiang Xiaoshuai, if only to see the pout and furrowed brows. He knew that only the things that anger you are the things you care about.
“None of your business!”
Guo Chengyu chuckled. “Anything and everything about you will always be mine; of course it’s my business.”
Jiang Xiaoshuai loved Guo Chengyu’s flirtatious comments, but he wouldn’t admit it. Thus, flustered, he huffed and aimed a punch towards his chest. However, Guo Chengyu caught it with ease and pulled him forward.
“Always means always. Even if you told me you didn’t love me anymore, I wouldn’t give you up.”
As expected from someone with a honeycomb mind, Guo Chengyu had figured him out. He knew him to the depths of his soul in a way nobody else did. To have someone understand you, even without uttering a word, was a blessing. Finally, Jiang Xiaoshuai understood.
If he was a leaf, and Meng Tao a storm, Guo Chengyu was the tree he could rely on. As long as Jiang Xiaoshuai held tight, the wind couldn’t sweep him away. The arrogant tree with crusted bark stood steady and proud. It accepted the leaf’s many deaths and births. Through all the seasons, it awaited his return. And in fact, the tree’s roots were the ones that had entangled themselves with his heart, holding it together when he felt it pulverizing. The protection allowed for that leaf to transform into the flower the tree always knew it was.
Noticing his change of expression, Guo Chengyu ran a comforting hand down his back.
“What are you thinking of, baobei?” Guo Chengyu asked in a whisper.
“Nothing much, really,” he replied.
His voice, a soft lullaby that eased Guo Chengyu’s heart with its melody. Then, he laughed. As he did so, tears fell from his crescent eyes. Unlike the ones in the shower, they were tears of relief. Finally, Jiang Xiaoshuai felt the overwhelming feeling of unrestricted bliss.
When his laughter died down, Jiang Xiaoshuai placed a placid kiss on Guo Chengyu’s lips. For a few seconds, he lingered, savoring the taste of home. And when they parted, Jiang Xiaoshuai grinned.
Then, from his supple, soft lips he uttered the words that, seven years ago, he could only dream of saying. The words that answered the question that held him back from truly living. The words Guo Chengyu had longed to hear.
“Husband, you make my life worth living.”
At last, Jiang Xiaoshuai had bloomed.