SITS Ch20

Chapter 20: Nightmare

Although everyone on the team knew the rumors about Shen Man bullying teammates were fabricated, due to several trending topics, the league officials still dispatched staff to look into the specifics a few days later.

The officials approached Yang Shanhe first, questioning him in private to ask whether the claims of Shen Man bullying him were true.

At this point, if he threw dirty water on Shen Man, Shen Man wouldn’t be able to clear his name even with a hundred mouths. Yet when the moment truly arrived, Yang Shanhe realized he didn’t actually hate Shen Man as much as he had imagined. Though reluctant to admit it, in his heart he even worried a little about Shen Man, secretly muttering to himself wondering if Shen Man had genuinely beaten up Xu Zhouye.

Fearing he was too intimidated to speak out, the officials repeatedly asked whether Shen Man engaged in any rule violations, but Yang Shanhe denied them all.

“I never said Shen Man bullied me,” Yang Shanhe said. “I only said he has a bad temper. Having a bad temper isn’t the same as bullying people, is it?”

Seeing his firm stance, the official staff dropped the matter.

And the next person to be investigated was Xu Zhouye.

As one of the rumored victims of bullying, he appeared even more innocent when questioned: “Shen Man hasn’t touched a single finger of mine.”

The officials pushed the photo of him sitting beside Shen Man with tearful, misty eyes in front of him.

Looking at the photo, Xu Zhouye grinned: “Have you had breakfast? I bought some sticky bean buns yesterday, let me grab one for you to try.”

Official staff: “Ah?”

Twenty minutes later, the misunderstanding was cleared. Wiping tears from their eyes, the official staff stepped out of the conference room together with Xu Zhouye.

Shen Man happened to pass by. Still unaware of what had transpired, he casually asked what was going on.

Watching the staff leave, Xu Zhouye said earnestly, “Clearing ge‘s name.”

Shen Man understood: “The league sent people?”

Xu Zhouye said, “Yeah. Now nobody can talk bad about you, right?”

Shen Man let out a faint laugh: “Not necessarily.” Even with an official clarification, there would still be conspiracy theorists claiming the league was biased just to protect their star. Having seen and heard so much of this discourse over the years, he was able to remain completely unshakeable now.

“Ge is heading out?” Xu Zhouye noticed Shen Man had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Mm, have some errands,” Shen Man said.

“The sun is scorching outside, want to take an umbrella?” Xu Zhouye asked.

“No,” Shen Man said. “Too lazy to carry it.”

It hadn’t rained in nearly half a month, and the heat outside was blistering. The moment Shen Man pushed open the door, a wave of sweltering heat hit him square in the face. With high humidity compounding the high temperatures, it felt as though a steaming, wet towel were draped over one’s face, making breathing difficult.

Taking a step forward, Shen Man stepped onto the sun-baked, scorching ground.

On a weekday morning, the cemetery was practically deserted.

Decade-old pine trees flanking the path grew lush and verdant, filtering out most of the sunlight and adding a touch of cool shade.

Holding a bouquet of fresh flowers in his arms, Shen Man descended a flight of stone stairs and stopped before a tombstone.

The tombstone was kept very clean, the photo on it displaying an elderly woman with kind, gentle features. Shen Man bent down, gently setting the bouquet of fresh flowers before the tombstone, softly calling: “Waipo.”

Eight years ago today, the grandmother who raised Shen Man passed away unexpectedly, making this day the anniversary of her death.

Shen Man took out water and a towel, wiping away the dust on the gravestone bit by bit. As he wiped, he softly recounted trivial matters of his recent daily life, saying he was living very well and telling her not to worry.

“I miss you a little,” Shen Man whispered. “If you miss me too, come visit me in my dreams.”

Over all these years, he rarely dreamed of her.

Shen Man lowered his gaze with a tender expression, standing beside the tombstone for a long time, until the sweltering heat baked his clothes mostly damp with sweat.

“Waipo, I’m heading out now,” Shen Man said, glistening beads of sweat dotting his forehead and the tip of his nose. “I’ll come visit you again next time.”

He turned around, but hadn’t walked more than two steps before spotting a slender figure standing in the tree shade not far away. He quickly made out the person’s appearance: it was Lu Ni.

Shen Man: “…” He hadn’t expected Lu Ni to be here.

Seeing him remain still, Lu Ni took the initiative to walk over, calling out softly, “Man-man.”

Shen Man said, “Why are you here?” He had thought she already left.

“Wanted to visit your grandmother.” Lu Ni was carrying a bag of items. “I dreamed of her a while ago and heard her say it was a bit cold down there, so I wanted to burn a couple of clothes for her.”

Shen Man: “You believe in this kind of thing?”

Lu Ni laughed softly, “Didn’t believe when I was young. Now that I’m older…” she had started believing after all.

“Go ahead then, I’m leaving.” Shen Man gave her a nod.

Lu Ni called, “Man-man.”

Shen Man: “What is it?”

“Regarding that matter, I was in the wrong,” Lu Ni said. “They told me… I should have come back back then.”

Faced with Lu Ni’s guilt, Shen Man appeared utterly indifferent. Looking at Lu Ni, his tone was as calm as if discussing someone else’s affairs: “You don’t need to apologize. It was your choice, and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Lu Ni: “…”

“Leaving.” Shen Man took a step.

“Man-man!” Lu Ni wanted to call him back, but Shen Man walked swiftly, vanishing from sight in practically an instant.

The extreme heat made his already agitated heart all the more restless.

Shen Man felt burning hot, the T-shirt he wore nearly drenched through with sweat.

But even so, he hadn’t forgotten to pull his mask up over his face, so when he returned to the base and took it off, his entire face was flushed crimson.

His appearance gave Xu Zhouye quite a scare: “Ge, are you alright?”

The 23-degree air conditioning made the house feel like an ice cellar. Shocked by the cold draft, the redness on Shen Man’s face rapidly receded, turning starkly pale.

“It’s fine, just too hot outside,” Shen Man said. “I’m going back to my room to shower.”

“Make sure the water’s warm,” Xu Zhouye said, looking at his complexion with deep concern. “Don’t catch a cold.”

Shen Man said, “Mm.”

The hot water washed away the sticky sweat and restless gloom. Propping himself against the wall, Shen Man drew in a long, deep breath. It was hard for him to ever like summer—perhaps because the person he cherished most in his heart had died in the season when the sunlight was at its most brilliant.

After showering, toweling his damp hair, Shen Man sat on the edge of the bed staring blankly into space.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window to his right lay the lush, verdant garden, where blooming roses cascaded down the wall like a colorful waterfall.

A season brimming with vibrant life.

Shen Man felt a little cold, listlessly collapsing back into bed. He wanted to close his eyes, but unpleasant memories kept surfacing in the darkness, forcing him to open them again.

Turning his gaze back toward the stark white ceiling, Shen Man felt only bone-deep exhaustion.

That evening, nobody caught sight of Shen Man. Ever since returning to his room from outside, he hadn’t stepped foot out again.

Come dinner time, Xu Zhouye hesitated over whether to call Shen Man out to eat, but ultimately gave up. It was his first time seeing such an expression on Shen Man’s face—weary, detached, pitch-black pupils utterly hollow; even when looking directly at someone while speaking, it felt as though he couldn’t take that person into his eyes at all.

This was a look Xu Zhouye had never seen before, sending a tight pang through his chest.

Shen Man clearly needed some time alone. Xu Zhouye thought that disturbing him would only be a nuisance.

The night grew deep, yet Shen Man couldn’t sleep.

His body was utterly exhausted, yet his mind remained wide awake. He dragged himself out of bed and went to the kitchen, rubbing his throbbing head.

Opening the fridge, he grabbed a can of chilled beer, popped the tab, and took a big gulp.

Clutching the can, he spaced out in place for a bit. Turning around, he was startled; a silhouette stood against the dark, its shadow stretched long and eerie by the faint light source.

The very first thought that popped into Shen Man’s head was that those creepy stalker fans had somehow slipped inside again. Taking a step back, he dropped into a defensive posture: “Who is it?”

The shadow reached out and flicked on the adjacent light.

“Xu Zhouye?” Shen Man asked in surprise. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

It was already three in the morning.

Xu Zhouye said, “Had coffee in the afternoon, having a bit of trouble sleeping.” Looking at Shen Man, he asked softly, “Ge can’t sleep either?”

“Mm,” Shen Man acknowledged.

Both fell silent, the atmosphere stiffening slightly.

Hesitating for a moment, Xu Zhouye whispered, “Ge, you didn’t eat dinner, did you?”

He truly hadn’t, but he wasn’t hungry, so Shen Man shook his head: “Not hungry.”

Xu Zhouye said, “…I went for a run tonight, and happened to pick up that crispy little yellow croaker from the other day for you along the way.”

Along the way? How could that possibly be ‘along the way’? That restaurant was leagues away from their base, not to mention the queue time. In this suffocating heat, it was anything but a casual errand.

Shen Man pursed his lips.

Assuming Shen Man didn’t want to eat, Xu Zhouye felt a touch of dejection. Lowering his head, his voice dropped: “It’s fine if you don’t feel like eating.”

“Thank you,” Shen Man said. “I happen to be hungry.”

Xu Zhouye was overjoyed.

Shen Man thought to himself: if Xu Zhouye didn’t have such a gorgeous girlfriend, he would’ve suspected Xu Zhouye had feelings for him.

But he knew he had countless fans, and fondness came in many varieties; he wouldn’t flatter himself into assuming it had to be romantic love.

The little yellow croakers were reheated and remained delicious. Shen Man held one in his mouth, chewing slowly.

Sitting beside him with his chin propped in his hand, Xu Zhouye watched him eat, feeling that Shen Man nibbling on the fish looked like an elegant cat, endearing to death.

Yet the kitty didn’t seem to be in a good mood. Although his face was as expressionless as always, there was an added layer of weariness and detachment compared to usual.

Xu Zhouye badly wanted to know what happened that afternoon, but didn’t know how to ask.

“Went to the cemetery this afternoon to visit my grandmother,” Shen Man, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke up—perhaps thanks to the delicious little yellow croakers. “Ran into my mom, too.”

Xu Zhouye thought inwardly: No wonder he’s in such a bad mood.

Shen Man took a sip of beer, his tone flat: “My grandmother was actually in quite good health. But one day she took a fall at home—a very bad one. I was boarding at school back then. By the time I came home, she was already gone.”

An understatement of a tone, yet the words spoken made it impossible to feel lighthearted.

“The weather was so hot,” Shen Man said. “The police said she had been lying on the floor for at least three days.” Taking another sip of beer, he continued, “Later, the neighbors helped handle the funeral.”

Xu Zhouye: “…”

“Enough of that,” Shen Man said. “It’s pointless to dwell on.”

Xu Zhouye desperately wanted to offer some comforting words, but when they reached his lips, language felt far too flimsy. Flimsy as if encountering a man about to freeze to death in the dead of winter, while holding only a thin scrap of cloth in one’s hand—draped over him, it could only shield against a few stray snowflakes.

Xu Zhouye’s throat felt dry. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse: “Ge, don’t be sad.”

Amused by his expression, Shen Man let out a faint laugh: “It’s alright. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

Xu Zhouye looked at Shen Man quietly.

The sorrow in his eyes affected Shen Man. Xu Zhouye said, “Ge, it must have been so hard on you back then.”

Shen Man’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. Dodging the question, he muttered: “…Tired.”

Setting down the beer can, he yawned: “I’m heading to sleep. What about you?”

Xu Zhouye said, “I’m heading to sleep too.” He still had countless words of comfort he wanted to say to Shen Man, but at this moment they seemed utterly out of place, leaving him no choice but to swallow them down, a suffocating bitterness rising from the depths of his throat.

Just as a listener, he already felt this much heartache; how on earth had Shen Man felt back then?

Shen Man waved his hand, turned, and walked away.

Whether the alcohol took effect or the food helped his tense body unwind, returning to his room, Shen Man finally fell asleep.

The sleep quality was poor, lingering between dream and waking reality.

Fractured images interwove like shattered shards of a mirror. He felt as though he had returned to that afternoon when he was fourteen, pushing open the front door of his home all alone.

What should have been etched deeply into memory was instead blurred. He could no longer recall the horrifying scene clearly, only vaguely remembering the terrified screams of the neighbor auntie.

He had stood in the long hallway, the air thick, sticky, and sweltering, clogging his nostrils and making the simple act of breathing unimaginably difficult. Someone called the police, onlookers gathering in circle after circle. Amidst the coming and going, he stood motionless in place the entire time, having forgotten even when he finally left.

The suffocating stench of decay and clamorous commotion became indelible components of the memory: the terrified weeping of children, the sympathetic murmurs of adults, and the stern inquiries of the police.

It was like a bird’s-eye view from an outsider’s perspective.

Yet in this perspective, Shen Man himself was uniquely absent.

He had deliberately forgotten himself—forgotten himself back on that sweltering afternoon, in that corner swarming with flies and maggots.

Then came the funeral.

Swift and simple. The neighbors helped him pick a burial plot; the sole thing worth celebrating was that Shen Man at least had the money to purchase that plot.

The black-and-white photograph of the elderly woman on the tombstone looked unfamiliar in the dream, filling Shen Man with an eerie sense of fear as he looked upon it.

“Man-man.” Suddenly, someone called his name.

A familiar voice, a familiar cadence, as if comforting his terrified self.

“Man-man.” In his hazy dream, someone gently placed a hand atop his head with light, soothing pressure, coaxing the frightened child in local dialect: “Yao’er, go to sleep.”

Shen Man mumbled indistinctly, “Waipo.”

“Waipo is here,” the voice said. “Yao’er, don’t be sad, Waipo is here.”

Shen Man curled into a tight ball, choking with tears: “Waipo, I miss you so much.”

He missed her so terribly.

“Waipo misses Yao’er too.” The elderly voice was gentle and benevolent. “Misses my Yao’er… don’t be afraid, Waipo is here…”

The terror was dispelled.

Shen Man smoothed his furrowed brows, murmuring as he called out to the old woman. The terrifying nightmare that plagued him was finally chased away by love.

Shen Man sank into a deep, peaceful sleep.