SITS CH48

Chapter 48: In Memory

Flowing water does not turn foul, and a door hinge does not rot from worms.

A home lived in regularly carries human vitality, making it far less prone to falling into disrepair.

Shen Man’s old family home sat inside an aged factory residential compound. It was here that Shen Man and his laolao had lived together for over a decade.

The building followed the architecture of old worker dormitories: eight stories tall, devoid of elevators. Down in the communal courtyard, residents grew patches of seasonal fruits and vegetables, though out of season, only wilted, frost-bitten leaves lay strewn across the soil.

Parking the car, Shen Man and Xu Zhouye headed upstairs together.

Along the way, they crossed paths with several neighbors. Some faces were unfamiliar, but others recognized Shen Man instantly.

“Man-man is back!” An auntie in her seventies living on the floor below Shen Man, carrying a wire grocery basket freshly back from the market, called out in delighted surprise.

“Auntie Chen,” Shen Man said. “Grocery shopping?”

“Yes! The children came back yesterday. Are you by yourself? Come over to my place for dinner tonight, Auntie will wrap dumplings for you.” Auntie Chen remained as warmhearted as ever.

“No, thank you,” Shen Man said. “I came back with a friend. Thank you, Auntie, and Happy New Year.”

Only then did Auntie Chen notice the tall, broad-shouldered young man standing beside Shen Man. Xu Zhouye possessed a sweet tongue, greeting her with a sunny, radiant smile: “Hello, Auntie Chen!” He immediately stepped forward to take the heavy grocery basket from her grip, asking which floor she lived on and offering to carry it up.

Auntie Chen beamed like a blossoming flower, waving her hands in protest, explaining that she still needed to pick up a few other sundries.

Social grace was truly an innate gift. Within barely a few sentences, Auntie Chen had taken an immense liking to the sunshine-bright Xu Zhouye, deeply glad that Shen Man had brought a friend home for the New Year.

At least he wasn’t spending it alone.

Shen Man was well-known throughout the residential factory grounds; people simultaneously lamented his tragic fate while admiring his stubborn resolve to make something of himself.

“I’ll be on my way then. If anything comes up, or if you run short on supplies, just come downstairs and let me know,” Auntie Chen said.

“Alright,” Shen Man replied. “Goodbye, Auntie Chen.”

Shen Man’s apartment was on the fifth floor. Without an elevator, they had to climb slowly.

The stairwell was narrow and dim, forcing Xu Zhouye to duck periodically to avoid grazing the low overhangs.

Arriving at the doorway, Shen Man produced a key to unlock the rusted iron door.

With an agonizing creak, a plume of dust billowed into the air, sending both of them coughing into their sleeves.

Shen Man stepped inside and pushed open the window, allowing crisp winter air to flood the stale room. A thick blanket of dust coated the floorboards; taking merely two steps left behind a crisp trail of footprints.

Xu Zhouye looked around, taking in the apartment Shen Man had inhabited for over ten years.

It was a standard two-bedroom, one-living-room unit. The living room was compact, connected directly to the dining area, with the two bedroom doors facing each other. To the right of the entrance lay the kitchen, which opened out onto a modest balcony.

Ordinary and unremarkable, bearing no outward grandeur.

Yet Xu Zhouye felt its profound uniqueness. His gaze came to rest on the wall, where a small framed photograph hung. Though veiled beneath layers of dust, Xu Zhouye recognized the figure at a single glance.

It was Shen Man in his youth.

With tender, boyish features, he stood beside an elderly woman, tilting his head slightly, smiling with unadulterated happiness.

That was a smile Xu Zhouye had never once seen on Shen Man: bright like the warm sunshine of early summer, pure, without a solitary shadow of gloom.

Xu Zhouye reached out, his fingertips gently wiping away the dust obscuring the faces in the frame. He thought that the best decision he had made this year was choosing to fly thousands of kilometers back from the distant north, accompanying Shen Man back into his memories.

Cleaning was a colossal undertaking, strenuous even for two grown young men. One could only wonder how long Shen Man had spent tackling it all alone year after year.

Both donned face masks, one mopping the floors while the other wiped down surfaces. Xu Zhouye mopped with meticulous care, even fishing out several small childhood toys from the crevices behind the sofa cushions: miniature cars and tiny action figures. Bending down, he scooped them up.

One toy car was painted pink, looking quite charming. Xu Zhouye looked at the toy in his palm, then glanced toward Shen Man expressionlessly scrubbing down the dining table, unable to hold back a soft chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” Shen Man asked.

“Nothing,” Xu Zhouye said. “Found some treasures. Ge, give them to me, okay?”

He waved the toys in his grasp.

Shen Man hadn’t caught what they were: “What is it?”

“Just some little toys,” Xu Zhouye pleaded with playful sweetness. “Give them to me, please?”

Shen Man finally saw them clearly. Indeed, they were childhood playthings he had once tinkered with. He had no idea how Xu Zhouye had managed to unearth them; this apartment had been purged and thoroughly cleaned multiple times, with obsolete clutter tossed long ago, yet these surviving relics had ended up discovered by Xu Zhouye on his very first visit.

One could hardly deny it was fate.

Shen Man said, “Take them.”

Xu Zhouye let out a happy cheer, carefully stashing the toys into his coat pocket.

By the time the cleaning concluded, it was nearing six in the evening. Xu Zhouye stood by watching Shen Man make the bed.

“Tonight… you sleep in the bed, I’ll take the sofa,” Shen Man said. “The other bedroom doesn’t have a mattress, it’s unusable.”

“No way, that sofa is so small, how could you sleep there?” Xu Zhouye countered. “Since when does the host take the couch while the guest gets the bed? I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

The sofa was tiny. For two young men standing over 1.8 meters tall, their legs couldn’t even stretch out straight, and turning over meant rolling straight onto the floor.

Shen Man moved to argue, but met Xu Zhouye’s unyielding, stubborn expression.

After a beat of silence, Shen Man murmured, “How about we squeeze together?”

Xu Zhouye: “…” The suggestion came so abruptly that Xu Zhouye didn’t even process it for a second.

Shen Man said, “Disgusted by me?”

Xu Zhouye: “No, no, no—works for me, totally works!!”

Of course it worked; it worked beyond his wildest dreams. Back in Europe they had shared a room, but slept on distinct twin beds. Xu Zhouye hadn’t dared fantasize about lying in the exact same bed with Shen Man, let alone having Shen Man propose it himself…

Watching the kaleidoscope of emotions shifting across Xu Zhouye’s face, Shen Man’s eyes held an amused half-smile: “Want to go find some food?”

Xu Zhouye nodded vigorously: “Let’s go!”

Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, and in a modest county town, many storefronts had already shuttered their doors for the holiday.

The two strolled through the quiet, hollowed streets, finally managing to locate a lone noodle stall still open for business, ordering two piping-hot bowls.

The air was bitterly cold, their breath crystallizing into white plumes. Shen Man wore no beanie, the tips of his ears freezing red, peeking through strands of hair. Sensitive to the chill, his free hand remained curled deep inside his sleeve as he ate slowly.

Beside him, Xu Zhouye inhaled his entire bowl in just a few massive bites. Still unsatisfied, he called for a second bowl.

Shen Man tilted his eyes up to watch him.

Xu Zhouye asked, “Ge, can you get full off just one bowl?”

Shen Man: “…Yes.”

Each bowl held a generous 150 grams of noodles topped with a fried egg. He had never realized Xu Zhouye was such a voracious eater.

“Feels like the noodles here taste better than back at the base,” Xu Zhouye remarked.

“Yeah. Everything is hand-kneaded here,” Shen Man said. “Naturally tastes better.”

No wonder. Chewing the braised beef, Xu Zhouye beamed with satisfaction: “Delicious!”

Thoroughly sated, the two took another slow walk.

The street was empty, devoid of passersby. Finding an appealing pebble by the curb, Xu Zhouye kicked it along the road as he walked. Hands tucked into his pockets, Shen Man strolled beside him, pointing toward the far end of the avenue: “My parents used to work over there.”

Xu Zhouye looked over, spotting the arched gate of an industrial factory.

The entrance was imposing, bearing the faded grandeur of its golden era, though it now carried an unmistakable air of desolation.

“It was very bustling when I was little, but barely anyone remains now. Most young people want to leave for the big cities,” Shen Man blew warm air into his cupped palms, rubbing them together. “They only return during the New Year.”

Xu Zhouye asked, “Are we sweeping laolao‘s grave on New Year’s Day?”

“Mm,” Shen Man said. “Let’s head out early to avoid traffic.”

Xu Zhouye agreed.

After washing up that evening, Shen Man climbed into bed early. Hating the cold, and with both the radiator and air conditioner barely functional in the old apartment, he bundled into fluffy brown pajamas, burrowing into the blankets without even glancing at his phone. With the quilt pulled halfway over his face, only a pair of dark, rounded eyes remained exposed, quietly tracking Xu Zhouye.

Amused by his guarded look, Xu Zhouye asked, “Is it really that freezing?” He himself wore only a thin T-shirt, wandering around the room for half the evening without feeling a thing.

Shen Man’s voice came through the duvet, thick and muffled: “You aren’t cold?”

Xu Zhouye tugged at the neckline of his shirt, glancing down: “It’s fine.”

Shen Man: “…”

He went silent, retreating even deeper into the covers like a dejected snail.

Finishing up in the washroom, Xu Zhouye climbed into bed as well. He and Shen Man each had an individual quilt, with a heavy extra blanket draped across both tops; it looked thick and substantial, hardly looking like something that would let a chill through.

“Really that cold?” Xu Zhouye asked.

Shen Man said nothing, keeping his eyes shut in feigned sleep.

Knowing he was wide awake, Xu Zhouye nudged him gently with his foot: “Ge?”

Still no answer, only the figure inching slightly further beneath the duvet, leaving merely half a forehead and a stray tuft of hair exposed to the room.

Xu Zhouye pondered for a second, tentatively extending his foot beneath Shen Man’s quilt—only to be struck dumb the second it slipped inside. Beneath Shen Man’s covers, there was zero residual warmth, feeling cold as an ice cave.

He knew Shen Man was sensitive to the cold, but hadn’t realized it was this severe.

“What are you doing?” Feeling Xu Zhouye’s movement, Shen Man muttered in displeasure.

Xu Zhouye blinked: “Ge, can we share a single quilt?”

Shen Man: “?”

Lying through his teeth without batting an eye, Xu Zhouye coaxed: “I’m cold, let’s squeeze closer together.”

Before Shen Man could voice a reply, the boy had already slid straight into Shen Man’s bedcovers.

Shen Man instantly felt a furnace-like body press close to his side. The temperature beneath the quilt surged upward by several degrees—Xu Zhouye was practically a living radiator.

“Ge,” lying tucked beneath the same quilt, Xu Zhouye’s frame rested flush against Shen Man, heat seeping through thin layers of sleepwear straight onto Shen Man’s skin. “Sleepy now, turning off the lamp.”

Shen Man said, “Turn it off.”

The light vanished in a flash, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness.

Deprived of vision, tactile sensations grew razor-sharp. Feeling stifled, Shen Man poked half his face out from the covers. Xu Zhouye lay flat beside him, their arms resting against one another. Even with just that contact, the heat was abundant; at the very least, the bedding no longer felt like a frozen tomb devoid of warmth.

Winter had always been like this for Shen Man: his feet remained icy long after getting into bed, waking up shivering in the middle of the night. Across all these years, he had endured it until it simply became second nature.

The two lay quietly in the dark.

Xu Zhouye broke the silence: “Ge, how long did you live here?”

“Until graduating high school,” Shen Man said. “Went pro right after.”

The timeline lined up. Xu Zhouye murmured, “I see…”

“I don’t come back often, though,” Shen Man added. “My laolao passed away in this apartment. I don’t like coming back.”

This was the very first time Shen Man had proactively spoken of his family. Xu Zhouye said softly, “It must have been heartbreaking back then?”

“It was alright,” Shen Man said. “Not as devastating as one might imagine.”

The ceiling hung low; lying flat on the mattress, it felt oppressive and close in the dark. His gaze unfocused against the shadows, memories flooding his mind unbidden.

Beside him, the boy’s breathing suddenly quickened slightly. Xu Zhouye caught the subtle shift in Shen Man’s state.

“Ge,” Xu Zhouye called his name softly, “Shen Man?”

Shen Man didn’t speak.

Xu Zhouye rolled onto his side, straining to trace the faint outline of Shen Man’s features through the gloom.

“Mm,” Shen Man finally made a sound, his tone remarkably calm and detached, exactly like his everyday cadence. “Just remembered a few things…”

Xu Zhouye: “What did you remember?”

Shen Man said, “Remembered that when I left that morning, waipo told me to put on an extra layer, but I didn’t listen.”

Xu Zhouye: “…”

“A student, always in a rush,” Shen Man murmured. “Even after I made it downstairs, she was still calling out from the fifth-floor window: ‘Man-man, take a jacket! The temperature drops next week, don’t catch a cold.’“

He closed his eyes.

That Friday, the temperature had indeed plummeted. Pouring rain shattered the lingering heat to pieces. Shen Man carried no coat, nor an umbrella, dashing home through the storm with his backpack held over his head. Before turning the key in the lock, he had been rehearsing excuses for when his grandmother scolded him.

Yet the instant the key turned the lock and the door swung open, Shen Man’s world violently collapsed.

Right inside this apartment, upon the cold floorboards just a few paces away.

The only person in the world who loved him unconditionally had departed in a hurried rush.

The heavens poured torrential rain, yet no one would ever bring him an umbrella again.

Shen Man said, “By the time I returned, waipo had already passed. Out there in the living room. Discovered by no one for three or four days…”

Reaching this point, horrifying fragments of memory flashed through his mind, causing his entire body to shudder violently.

Sensing the tremor, Xu Zhouye carefully, tentatively reached out his arm, encircling Shen Man’s shoulders: “Ge?”

Shen Man’s body stiffened faintly, but he did not resist… pulled firmly into Xu Zhouye’s embrace, resting his forehead against Xu Zhouye’s chest.

“Ge.” The boy’s voice was laden with helpless sorrow, like a bystander witnessing a tragedy with zero power to rewrite the script, able only to offer his own physical warmth to help him survive this endless, freezing winter.

“It’s fine,” Shen Man whispered softly. “It’s all in the past.”

It’s all in the past—those words were something Xu Zhouye could never bring himself to say.

No one had the right to tell Shen Man that it was all in the past. Shen Man could comfort himself with those words, but Xu Zhouye could never use them to appease his pain.

“I’m here,” Xu Zhouye gently caressed his back. “I’m right here…”

Shen Man whispered, “Mm. Thank you.”

Thank you, Xu Zhouye.

The room settled into stillness, breathing gradually slowing until Shen Man seemed to have fallen asleep.

Xu Zhouye breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Lowering his head to gaze at Shen Man’s tranquil sleeping face at close range, he couldn’t resist pressing a feather-light, tender kiss upon his forehead.

Shen Man’s eyelashes fluttered imperceptibly, before settling back into unbroken peace.