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A hoarse voice softly sounded. Fu Cheng turned around, slowly raising his head to look at this person.

“Go back where?”

Zhuo Huan was speechless. He looked at the young man’s beautiful eyes and bowed his head to kiss his eyelashes. His voice had a rare gentleness—something that must be difficult to say aloud, so he could only kiss the eyes and brows of the person in his arms while murmuring in a low voice, “Alright, come back to my place. Your place is fine too.”

Fu Cheng turned his head to avoid his kiss.

Zhuo Huan stopped.

After a long silence, Zhuo Huan asked, “Do you really want to be with that woman outside?”

Fu Cheng looked up. “No.”

Zhuo Huan slowly smiled. “What exactly do you want, Fu Cheng?”

Lowering his head, not knowing what to say, after a long while, the young man turned and pressed down the door handle. The moment he opened the door, just as the crisp click sounded, Zhuo Huan’s palm pushed, and with a bang, the door slammed shut again. One hand pressed firmly against the door, the other grabbed Fu Cheng’s wrist and pulled him back.

“Can you not be like this!”

Fu Cheng: “Do you pester every fuck buddy this desperately?”

All words suddenly caught in his throat.

“No.” Zhuo Huan looked down at him. “You’re the only one.”

The world instantly became silent. Fu Cheng slowly raised his head to look at him. However, when he clearly saw that man’s face, the heart that had begun to revive was silently crushed again.

In Zhuo Huan’s eyes was still that same self-centered arrogance. It seemed he had only said it casually, or rather, even if it was desperate pestering, in the end he added a noun. Fuck buddy.

If he once had the courage to fly into the flame like a moth toward starlight, then at this moment, Fu Cheng truly felt tired.

He truly didn’t have the strength to take the initiative to ask this person, to understand this person, even just a little.

In the quiet, narrow space, their bodies pressed tightly together, their warm breaths also desperately entwined. Their breaths merged into one, as if returning to half a year ago when they were in that apartment. Separated by a thin door panel, just like now, they had involuntarily kissed the person before them.

Too similar a scene. Their gazes tangled and ground against each other. Zhuo Huan’s lips moved. He involuntarily lowered his head, just as before.

Fu Cheng pulled his lips into a curve, almost self-destructively, and met him.

Lips touched—that extremely familiar heat and breath, ambiguously entangled. Tongues mutually sucking and invading. Zhuo Huan cupped Fu Cheng’s face, his nose filled entirely with the sweet and sour scent of lemon verbena. Too familiar. The heart that had been restless for so long also calmed down. He closed his eyes, gradually increasing his strength, seriously kissing the person before him.

However, the next moment, a strong force pushed him away hard.

Zhuo Huan was caught off guard, pushed until he hit the wall. Before he could see what was happening, from the corner of his eye he only saw Fu Cheng quickly run to the sink. Then came abrupt, jarring sounds of dry heaving.

In the dim yellow restroom, Fu Cheng braced both hands on either side of the sink. He was almost vomiting out his internal organs, continuously heaving. After one minute, the sound finally stopped. Fu Cheng hadn’t actually vomited anything. While he was dry heaving, Zhuo Huan had been standing beside him the entire time, watching without a word.

Until Fu Cheng took tissues to wipe his lips, as if wanting to wipe away all the filth that had ever touched these lips, he wiped until his lips turned red.

“Fu Cheng…”

Fu Cheng raised his head.

“Are you fucking sick!”

The man stood in the corner, in the shadow of the light. His eyes were red, teeth grinding, each word squeezing out from between his teeth. “What the fuck do you mean?”

In his ice-cold heart, there wasn’t a ripple. Fu Cheng looked at the person in the mirror, his gaze calm, yet he didn’t speak.

“Fuck!”

“Are you sick?”

Reaching up to push back the hair falling over his forehead, Zhuo Huan strode around the restroom. He was extremely irritable. The nearly two months without proper sleep finally reached its breaking point at this moment—the moment when they had just kissed and the next second Fu Cheng vomited. His breathing became increasingly rapid, teeth clenched tightly. He stopped, looking at that young man.

All the sharp words came to his lips. However, just as they were about to burst out—

Zhuo Huan took a deep breath. He glanced at Fu Cheng and stormed out, slamming the door.

The door frame banged, shaking from the impact.

Five minutes later, Fu Cheng returned to his seat. Su Qiao looked at him in surprise and smiled. “Why were you gone so long, Fu Cheng? I went to the restroom to look for you two but couldn’t find you. By the way, where’s Mr. Zhuo?”

Fu Cheng sat down. “We went out to talk for a bit. He had something come up and left first.”

Su Qiao was surprised. “What about the things he bought?”

Fu Cheng opened the plastic bag and glanced inside—just some chocolate and yogurt. “It’s fine. Probably not important.”

Su Qiao nodded.

By tacit agreement, neither of them mentioned Zhuo Huan again. After finishing the meal, when settling the bill, sure enough, Zhuo Huan had already paid in advance.

Fu Cheng: “I’m not feeling well. I probably can’t help you move this afternoon.”

Su Qiao was startled. “Ah, okay. What’s wrong, Fu Cheng? Do you want me to go with you to the hospital?”

“No need.”

“Really not necessary?”

“It’s just a small problem.”

“Alright then, take care of yourself. See you another day.”

“Goodbye.”

After seeing Su Qiao into the residential complex, Fu Cheng called a car. He got out of the car composed and collected, took the elevator, took out his keys to open the door.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The thin, slender young man leaned against the door panel. He reached out and covered his face. His palms were soaked with cold moisture. Tears overflowed through his fingers. He slowly crouched down.

When Fu Cheng stood up again, it was already four in the afternoon.

He first went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, then the familiar nausea surged up from deep within his body. He vomited forcefully, more severely than any time in the past two months. He vomited out everything he had just eaten at noon. But even this wasn’t enough—by the end, it was already a mechanical physiological response.

No one knew how long passed before it all finally ended, returning to calm.

The next day was Monday. When Fu Cheng arrived at the COMAC laboratory, he heard a lab technician say, “Teacher Zhuo doesn’t seem to be coming today.”

Another person asked, “What’s the situation?”

The lab technician answered, “I heard this morning when I went to Chief Engineer Wu’s office. Teacher Zhuo has been busy with the CR939 project for two months straight, never sleeping well, exhausted every day. Today he directly requested leave to rest for a day. Chief Engineer Wu has long felt he should rest.”

“Teacher Zhuo really pushes himself. I noticed it before—he looked very haggard.”

As if he hadn’t heard anything, Fu Cheng continued following up on the simulated test flight experiments.

By the next day, Zhuo Huan came.

When Chief Designer Wu saw him, he couldn’t help saying, “Why don’t you rest two more days? I see that resting one day isn’t enough for you. Better rest some more.”

Zhuo Huan said flatly, “Not necessary. How were yesterday’s wind tunnel test data?”

Fu Cheng had just walked in. As if not seeing him, Zhuo Huan continued coordinating the final experimental data with Wu Hui.

Zhuo Huan: “For next Thursday’s test flight, Fu Cheng, first simulate three times on the computer. Remember all the data inflection points and action essentials.”

Fu Cheng: “Alright.”

In the process of manufacturing an aircraft, the designers were undoubtedly the most exhausted. And the person commanding everything, navigating for everyone, had even less time to rest.

When Fu Cheng left the COMAC factory, it was only five in the afternoon, but he knew these designers would at least be working overtime until late at night.

After taking a taxi back to the city, Fu Cheng entered the residential complex. He took out his keys, opened the door, and bent down to change shoes. His gaze suddenly caught sight of a pair of red high heels on the shoe rack beside him. Fu Cheng froze slightly. The next second, without needing to think further, a shadow directly blocked his light.

Fu Cheng looked up. “…Sis?”

A short-haired woman in work clothes stood with arms crossed, lips pressed together, staring at Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng looked at her blankly. “How did you get back?”

Fu Xiao looked at her younger brother before her. The loose summer T-shirt made it almost impossible for her to tell whether he had lost or gained weight, but she knew—her younger brother had lost weight, a lot of weight.

Biting her lip, Fu Xiao was both angry and distressed. She suppressed her anger. “Why did you hide it from me?”

Fu Cheng was stunned.

Fu Xiao: “I’m asking you a question! Fu Cheng, why did it relapse and you still hid it from me?”

Understanding her meaning, Fu Cheng lowered his head, responding with silence.

Fu Xiao was furious. “If Dr. Zhao hadn’t contacted me to tell me you went to get medicine from him again, Fu Cheng, how long were you planning to hide this from me? Look at me! Fu Cheng, I’m asking you a question!”

Fu Cheng still lowered his head, not daring to look at her.

Fu Xiao: “You’ve always been like this since childhood—never saying anything! I’ve always treated you like a real brother, and Mom and Dad always treated you like their own son. Fu Cheng, what are you doing? Why must you shoulder everything alone!” She cried from anger, reaching up to wipe her tears.

Hearing her cry, Fu Cheng quickly got tissues and handed them over.

Fu Xiao wiped her tears while saying, “What’s this about? If there’s anything that makes you unhappy, you promised—you must tell your sister. Why are you hiding it from me? I’m your family.”

Fu Cheng’s voice was hoarse. He said quietly, “I’m sorry…”

Seeing him like this, Fu Xiao felt both distressed and angry, but more than anything, heartbroken.

“Ah Cheng.” Reaching out to hug her younger brother, Fu Xiao’s tears wouldn’t stop.

Fu Cheng silently hugged her. “…I’m sorry. There won’t be a next time.”

Although she always felt she was strong, a career woman to the outside world who didn’t like to cry, this time upon learning Fu Cheng had fallen ill again, Fu Xiao truly couldn’t hold back. When Dr. Zhao called her, she didn’t even have time to go home—she directly booked the nearest flight and flew back to China.

Watching Fu Cheng tidy the room with her, Fu Xiao wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes, remembering many things.

Fu Cheng wasn’t actually her real younger brother—he wasn’t even a cousin. They were just distant relatives with the same surname.

That year, she was only nine years old when suddenly one day her parents brought home a seven-year-old boy and told her, “Xiao Xiao, this is your younger brother now. His name is Fu Cheng.”

Fu Cheng was very good-looking as a child, the type people liked at first glance. Fu Xiao didn’t reject this younger brother, but he always liked being alone. Every day after finishing homework, he would help with housework, never willing to be idle. Well-behaved and sensible, with good grades too, so their parents often compared Fu Cheng to her, wanting her to study hard.

By rights, she should have been angry—a stranger suddenly appearing to share her father and mother. But she truly couldn’t get angry because Fu Cheng was too good to her. Whatever good food there was, he gave to her first. When someone bullied her, even though Fu Cheng was shorter than her, he would block in front of her.

Sometimes she felt she wasn’t the older sister but Fu Cheng’s younger sister.

Later, when she was a bit older, hearing about Fu Cheng’s story from her parents, Fu Xiao finally understood why this younger brother never liked talking about himself, always keeping things bottled up inside.

“Xiao Xiao, little Cheng has had a hard life. His parents died early, and his grandparents passed away long ago too. He doesn’t have any particularly close relatives—just a maternal uncle and a cousin, and neither would take him. Be good to him. He’s suffered a lot of grievances. Don’t always bully him.”

Later, Fu Xiao thought that the reason Fu Cheng always refused to tell them when something was wrong was probably because he didn’t want to trouble them.

Just like five years ago, after their parents’ accident, she was the one who cried the most sorrowfully. She cried until her tears dried up. Almost all the funeral arrangements were handled by Fu Cheng alone. At the time, some relatives said behind his back that Fu Cheng really wasn’t biological—when his parents died, he wasn’t even that sad.

Even she thought so.

Until two years ago, when the investigation team suddenly announced they would no longer investigate the Rogue 318 air disaster, Fu Cheng suddenly fell ill.

Psychogenic anorexia—he couldn’t eat anything, even drinking water made him vomit. He really couldn’t hold on anymore, growing thinner day by day, so thin he couldn’t hide it anymore, and Fu Xiao finally discovered it. Only then did she realize her younger brother was extremely heartbroken, but he didn’t say anything, silently shouldering it alone. Even three years later, when even she had moved on, Fu Cheng was still stuck there, never having come out.

So she immediately helped Fu Cheng process his discharge from the military, took him to several doctors, treated him for half a year, and finally got him better.

In the evening, after tidying the house, Fu Xiao cooked porridge.

At the dining table, the siblings drank porridge together.

Carefully watching Fu Cheng drink two mouthfuls of porridge, Fu Xiao finally felt relieved. “What stage is it at now? Can you eat meals? About how often do you vomit?”

Fu Cheng was silent for a moment, then put down his bowl. “Once every day or two.”

Fu Xiao’s eyes widened. “It’s already this bad? Have you been doing what Dr. Zhao said—chewing seven times each time, being mindful of swallowing?”

“Yes.”

The anger that had subsided rolled back up to her heart. But looking at the handsome, well-behaved younger brother before her, Fu Xiao could only say, “Alright, at least it’s not the most severe stage yet. I’ve already made an appointment with Dr. Zhao. We’ll go see him tomorrow.”

“Mm…”

After a while, Fu Xiao asked softly, “Why did it relapse this time, Ah Cheng? Can you tell your sister?”

After a long silence, Fu Cheng smiled and shook his head. “I don’t want to say. I was probably just a bit sad.”

“Mm.” Having long guessed her younger brother wouldn’t say, Fu Xiao didn’t press him.

After nightfall, after chatting with her younger brother about everyday matters for a while, Fu Xiao returned to her room to sleep.

She didn’t actually fall asleep. Lying in bed with eyes open, looking at the ceiling for a while, Fu Xiao took out her phone, found a name in her contacts, and made a call.

“Hello, Regiment Commander Nie? Hello, hello. I’m Fu Xiao. Do you still remember me? I’m Fu Cheng’s older sister. We met two years ago…”

“Yes, it’s like this—I wanted to ask if you know whether something new happened with Rogue 318? Like if they found something but haven’t announced it publicly yet.”

“No? Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, just that Ah Cheng has fallen ill again. I’m having him request leave tomorrow to take him to see a doctor.”

“Ah, no problem, no problem. Don’t worry, I’m back now. I’ll take him to see a doctor.”

“You’re going to his current workplace tomorrow and can conveniently request leave for him on the way? How can I impose? Thank you so much. Thank you for taking care of him all these years. Really, thank you so much…”

The next day, when Regiment Commander Nie came to the COMAC factory, he first went to the test pilots’ lounge. He chatted with the two young men for a while, giving them some encouragement. Then Regiment Commander Nie came to the laboratory. When he arrived, Zhuo Huan wasn’t there. Although he could just tell Wu Hui or find anyone randomly, Regiment Commander Nie was rather straightforward and still wanted to tell Zhuo Huan directly.

After waiting a few minutes, Zhuo Huan and Chief Designer Wu entered the laboratory together.

Regiment Commander Nie immediately walked over. “You’re finally here. Mr. Zhuo Huan, your subordinate—Fu Cheng—has something today and needs to request leave. I’m telling you about it.”

Chief Designer Wu adjusted his glasses, surprised. “We already knew about this, Old Nie. Little Fu called this morning to mention requesting leave.”

Regiment Commander Nie was startled. “Ah, he already said so himself? Hah, I thought he hadn’t mentioned requesting leave to see a doctor.”

Zhuo Huan paused slightly, raising his gaze from the experimental materials in his hands.

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