UAAG CH79

Dawn was just breaking when the phone on the nightstand rang. Instinctively, she quickly turned off the alarm and continued sleeping. Two seconds later, Fu Xiao snapped to attention. She opened her eyes, looking at the familiar ceiling, realizing she was no longer in England.

She was home.

Having just returned to China yesterday, she had to get up early today. Her brain was groggy, but Fu Xiao’s mind was very alert. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth. However, as soon as she opened the door, she smelled the faint fragrance of rice.

She walked to the dining room in surprise, just as Fu Cheng was bringing out two bowls of porridge.

Fu Xiao: “What time did you get up?”

Fu Cheng: “Just half an hour early. Sis, want some porridge?”

The siblings sat at the table together to eat breakfast.

Watching Fu Cheng drink the porridge spoonful by spoonful, Fu Xiao finally breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem as serious as she’d imagined.

She would never forget how Fu Cheng looked the first time he fell ill two years ago. He was so thin he was almost just bones. When Fu Xiao received the news and went to the military base to pick him up, her younger brother was emaciated, his face so pale it had almost no color. Yet when he saw her, he still smiled at her, telling her not to worry.

How could she not worry!

She took Fu Cheng to many hospitals—the United States, England. Finally, after his condition stabilized, they returned to Shencheng to continue recuperating.

After finishing breakfast and changing clothes, Fu Cheng was still a bit hesitant. “Sis, I already went to see Dr. Zhao last week. I already got medicine.”

Fu Xiao glared at him. “No way. Come with me for a proper checkup again!”

“…Mm.”

At the private hospital, they first did a CT scan, an MRI, and some blood tests. In the afternoon, Fu Xiao brought her younger brother to see Dr. Zhao.

Dr. Zhao was a young doctor in his thirties. Although not old, he was quite renowned in treating anorexia. After carefully examining the scans and test results, he prescribed some medicine and several bottles of nutritional supplements. Already acquainted with these siblings, Dr. Zhao looked at Fu Xiao, then at Fu Cheng, and said helplessly, “AN—this type of illness—actually doesn’t have a very high relapse rate, only about 0.5%-3.7%, and the male relapse rate is even lower. Most AN patients I’ve seen developed the illness due to excessive dieting, so even after temporary recovery, as long as there’s a trigger, there’s still a possibility of relapse. But Fu Cheng, you’re different. Your psychogenic anorexia was triggered by the sudden death of family members causing extreme emotional depression.”

Setting the test results aside, Dr. Zhao said, “I’ve also discussed this with your sister. My suggestion is that you find a psychologist for proper counseling. Of course, I made this suggestion two years ago. I hope you’ll take it this time.”

After leaving the hospital, Fu Xiao was still recalling the doctor’s words. “Ah Cheng, why don’t we find a psychologist?”

Hearing this, Fu Cheng smiled helplessly. “Sis, you know what I truly need.”

Fu Xiao froze. After a while, she said, “What if they never recover Rogue 318?”

Fu Cheng was silent for a moment. “It’s fine.”

Fu Xiao looked at him, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say.

They spent all day at the hospital—seeing doctors, getting IV drips. By the time they left, it was already evening.

Taking a taxi back to the residential complex, they got out at the intersection.

Fu Cheng held a black plastic bag printed with the hospital logo in his hand. Fu Xiao reminded him to eat properly while opening a food delivery app on her phone. “Tonight doesn’t count—it’s too late, we’ll just order takeout. But starting tomorrow, I’ll cook for you, understand?”

Fu Cheng: “Sis, how long did you take off?”

Fu Xiao: “Why? One week. But don’t think you can escape. If your health hasn’t improved by the end of this week and you’re still vomiting, I’ll take another week off to watch over you properly!”

Fu Cheng: “…”

Fu Xiao complained, “Sigh, if only I hadn’t used up my annual leave early this year. When I went on my honeymoon with your brother-in-law this year, we played a few extra days and used up the annual leave together. Now look—I originally kept seven days of annual leave, planning to come back for your birthday next month to spend it with you. Now forget your birthday—the leave might not even be enough.”

“It’s fine. I’m doing well, sis. Go back in a couple days.”

“How can that be okay? I need to watch over you. I can’t let you continue like this.”

Fu Cheng smiled, his eyes crinkling, his voice gentle. “I’m not that bad. You came back this time and saw for yourself, and you heard what Dr. Zhao said today. Everything’s still okay—not that serious. Plus, if you don’t go back, you’re leaving your husband alone in England. That’s not good. I’m fine. In a couple days…”

His voice suddenly stopped. The smile on Fu Cheng’s face froze. He looked at the man standing under the streetlight not far away. After two seconds, he turned his head, smiled again, and said to Fu Xiao, “In a couple days, go back to England.”

Fu Xiao also saw the man standing at the entrance of the residential complex.

The sky was gradually darkening. The streetlights on both sides of the road lit up. That model-like man stood by the roadside, leaning against a Ferrari, hands in his pockets, smoking while looking up at them. This area was full of upscale residential complexes with excellent greenery. Dense summer foliage provided shade, and the noisy cicada chorus resonated through the towering trees. The man casually clipped his sunglasses to his T-shirt collar. His slightly long hair was tied behind his head in a small ponytail. He lowered his head slightly, and the fine strands of hair at his forehead fell by his neck. His eyes were quietly silent.

He kept looking silently at Fu Cheng.

Fu Xiao: “Your friend, Ah Cheng?”

After a long while, she finally heard her younger brother’s soft reply. “Mm.”

“Sis, you go up first.”

Fu Xiao frowned, wanting to understand the situation clearly, but seeing her younger brother’s gentle gaze, she fell silent for a moment and nodded. “Alright.”

Fu Xiao took the plastic bag with the medicine from Fu Cheng’s hand, turned, and entered the residential complex.

Fu Cheng walked over.

“Teacher Zhuo,” his voice calm, his expression as usual without much change, he asked, “Why did you come?”

Zhuo Huan didn’t answer but looked at Fu Xiao’s retreating back. “Who’s that?”

Fu Cheng: “My older sister.”

Zhuo Huan glanced at him, slowly straightening his body. “You requested leave today.”

Fu Cheng said flatly, “Mm, I remember requesting leave from you this morning.”

“Requested leave to go to the hospital?”

“…”

“What illness?”

Fu Cheng looked up at him and asked, “Is it related to you?”

Zhuo Huan’s gaze shifted. He held the cigarette between his fingers, looking steadily at the young man before him. After a long moment, he clicked his tongue lightly. “Walk with me.” After speaking, he threw the extinguished cigarette butt into a nearby trash can, then stepped forward and walked away.

He walked under the streetlights, step by step leaving the bright areas, walking toward the darkness not illuminated by the streetlights. Without looking back once, just saying those words, as if it were natural to know the person behind him would definitely follow. However, this time, Fu Cheng stood in place. He silently watched as Zhuo Huan walked farther and farther away.

Zhuo Huan turned back. “Fu Cheng.”

Fu Cheng suddenly froze.

“What are you doing? Come here.”

“…”

“I’ll dock your pay.”

“…Mm.”

Fu Cheng followed.

Because the surrounding area was full of upscale residential complexes with low plot ratios, walking along the pedestrian path, they soon reached an artificial lake. On an August evening, the night breeze carried humid heat. It had just rained in the morning, so it wasn’t too stuffy. The air was filled entirely with the acrid scent of earth.

Zhuo Huan had both hands in his pockets. “How are preparations for next week’s test flight?”

Fu Cheng: “No problem. I’ve already confirmed three times.”

“Will your illness affect the test flight?”

“No.”

The artificial lake echoed with monotonous, repetitive frog calls. No one spoke. The air had a moment of silence.

After a long while, Zhuo Huan asked, “What illness do you have?”

Fu Cheng slowly raised his head, his gaze immediately meeting those clear, cold, penetrating eyes. His throat seemed choked. Words were difficult. After a long time, he said quietly, “It’s not a serious illness, and it’s not related to you.”

The two walked a few more steps.

Zhuo Huan: “How did you get psychogenic anorexia?”

His pupils contracted sharply. Fu Cheng looked at him in shock and turned around. The next moment, his fingers clenched, and he turned to leave. Zhuo Huan cursed under his breath, then grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing, Fu Cheng!”

“What does my illness have to do with you?!”

Looking at the young man’s cold, angry gaze, Zhuo Huan suddenly fell silent. After a few seconds, he asked irritably, “Am I not fucking concerned about you?”

Fu Cheng: “When did I ever need your concern?”

Zhuo Huan gripped Fu Cheng’s wrist tightly, amused by his anger. “Are you fucking sick…”

The last two words didn’t come out, drowned in the young man’s reddening eyes.

His heart silently skipped a beat. A thousand different feelings surged like a flood, quickly rippling through his heart. Irritation, helplessness, anger, regret—too many strange, unprecedented feelings all came crashing out at once. Zhuo Huan looked at Fu Cheng’s reddening eyes. His lips moved, but he didn’t know what to say.

Fu Cheng turned to leave again.

But he still gripped his wrist tightly.

“Last time in the restroom when you vomited, it wasn’t because you felt disgusted kissing me…” It should have been a definite, confident tone, but in the end, Zhuo Huan fell silent for a moment and added two words: “Right?”

Fu Cheng didn’t turn back. After a long while, his voice was muffled as he responded, “Mm.”

Zhuo Huan: “What’s really going on with that illness?”

Fu Cheng forcefully shook off his hand and stepped forward to leave.

“…Fuck!”

The man strode after him, grabbing his hand again. “Nie Xiang said your illness is related to Rogue 318. Is it because of Rogue 318? That person surnamed Fu who died?”

A huge anger suddenly surged in his heart. Fu Cheng looked up at him, his tone intense as he asked back, “Don’t you already know? You look at something three times and remember everything. You’ve always known that my family was on that plane. You knew from the very beginning. And now you’re asking me?”

Zhuo Huan’s lips pressed together slightly, but he still asked, “…Was it your father?”

Fu Cheng laughed. Eyes red, he squeezed out each word from between his teeth. “Yes. You know everything. Yes, my father died in that air disaster. My mother was on it too. I have anorexia. You know all this. And I’m just someone who slept with you, someone you fucked—a fuck buddy. So I have no right to tell you what to do, no right to interfere with your life. But what about you, Zhuo Huan? Are you sick! Why do you care about me? What does my business have to do with you?”

For the first time, Zhuo Huan was rendered speechless, staring at him blankly.

Finger by finger, he pried this man’s hand from his wrist. Fu Cheng looked at him without blinking. He could have humiliated him back in the same way, but looking at this person’s face…

He couldn’t say it.

Fu Cheng fell silent.

He lowered his head, his expression hidden by his falling hair.

After a long time, he seemed to have calmed down.

The evening breeze blew past. Fu Cheng: “Mm, my anorexia is because of the Rogue 318 air disaster. At first it was just emotional buildup. Later, when they confirmed they wouldn’t salvage the plane and ended the investigation, it suddenly erupted.” He paused, looked up, and asked, “…Anything else, Teacher Zhuo?”

The young man’s gaze was quiet and calm, like a stagnant pool of water, looking at him without any ripples.

Zhuo Huan’s lips parted but didn’t speak.

Fu Cheng looked at him deeply, then stepped away.

He walked one meter, two meters, farther and farther. Zhuo Huan just watched. Suddenly, he gritted his teeth and chased after him.

“Fu Cheng!”

As if hearing nothing, Fu Cheng continued walking forward.

Zhuo Huan chased up and blocked his path. “Fu Cheng!”

Going around the person in front of him, the young man’s expression was calm, like a puppet on strings. His heart was dead—he wouldn’t be moved again, so he wouldn’t be hurt again, wouldn’t feel sad again.

Zhuo Huan followed him. “Don’t be like this.”

Don’t be like what?

In a daze, he suddenly wondered what was wrong with him, what Zhuo Huan wanted him to be like.

“Don’t be like this, okay?” Grabbing the young man’s arm, Zhuo Huan said hoarsely.

Fu Cheng slowly raised his head, looking at the man before him with slightly red eyes and a hoarse voice. After a long while, he said, “Actually, I’ve never told anyone. My parents shouldn’t have been on that flight. I was the one who suggested they change flights. They were originally taking a flight at dawn the next day. I told them my teacher was on Rogg 318—he was the captain of Rogg 318. My dad said, that’s perfect, he could change flights. That way, when I went to pick them up at the airport, I could also see my teacher and have a reunion with him.”

Word by word, Fu Cheng spoke softly, as if just talking about some trivial matter.

Yet tears fell.

He cried silently, thought about it, and asked Zhuo Huan, “Did I kill them?”

His heart stopped beating in that instant.

A rusty, dull knife ground at the flesh of his heart again and again. He had never, at any moment like now, felt such heartache for someone, loved someone. Zhuo Huan reached out and pulled this thin, slender young man into his arms. By his ear, in a gentle voice, he said, “It wasn’t you.”

Fu Cheng: “Do you think the Rogue 318 air disaster was related to Captain Qi Zhifeng?”

Suddenly realizing who Qi Zhifeng was, Zhuo Huan said, “Before seeing the plane wreckage and finding the truth, no one is guilty. I’ve never suspected the possibility of the captain’s suicide.”

Fu Cheng: “Oh, I suspected it.”

Zhuo Huan froze, lowering his head to look at Fu Cheng. There was no expression on the young man’s handsome, beautiful face. He quietly looked up at Zhuo Huan. “You want to know why I have psychogenic anorexia? I’ll tell you. Because I killed my parents. Because in all these years after the air disaster, I’ve suspected more than once whether the captain—whose son died, whose wife was severely injured and comatose, who was drowning in debt—couldn’t withstand the mental pressure and chose to commit suicide with the plane. Even though this person was my teacher, even though this person was someone I once admired most, even though he was so good to me… but I suspected him. I suspected him more than once.”

“Zhuo Huan, I’m disgusting. I disgust myself.”

“So I don’t dare see a psychologist. I don’t dare tell anyone.”

“Didn’t you want to know? Then I’m telling you.” Pushing away this person’s embrace, Fu Cheng looked at him. “You said I put on an act like everything’s fine on the surface, but actually, what kind of person I am, I know myself. Yes, you’re right. I’m disgusting. As a person, I’m disgusting.”

After saying all this matter-of-factly, Fu Cheng’s expression was indifferent as he stepped away.

“Fu Cheng…”

The man’s hoarse voice rang out on the quiet path.

His wrist was grabbed from behind. The next moment came a tight, suffocating kiss.

When their tongues touched, the sour taste of tears at the corners of their mouths rolled onto the tip of the tongue together. The bitter taste of smoke from the man’s mouth eroded all sensation. There was a moment of shock. Slowly, Fu Cheng closed his eyes and extended his tongue to kiss back. Breaths entwined, saliva making wet sounds. He kissed this person in the slightly warm night breeze until he was almost suffocating before letting go.

Lips parted, gasping for breath, before Fu Cheng could come back to his senses, he was pulled into an embrace.

Zhuo Huan lifted his chin, forcing him to look at himself.

Their eyes met. A few seconds of silence.

Zhuo Huan: “Come back.”

Fu Cheng: “Come back where?”

Zhuo Huan lowered his head to kiss his lips. “Be together.”

Fu Cheng’s lips moved.

Zhuo Huan lowered his eyes, saying softly, “…I love you.”

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