DLRAS Chapter 127 [Past]

Chapter 127: Are you living with Huo Niansheng now?

Chen Wengang had already come to realize that, imperceptibly, his reliance on Huo Niansheng had crossed a necessary threshold.

It was not merely a material dependency, but a domestic and even spiritual one. Huo Niansheng had gradually become the single, solitary lifeline he could grasp. Originally, when he was entirely on his own, he seemed to manage well enough to scrape together the courage to survive; now, he was no longer so certain.

He was like a dollop of gray, bleak paint, while the other man was a vibrant, bright hue that continuously bled into him, very likely merging them into a brand-new color. Yet, no one could guarantee that the outcome would be a good one—it was entirely possible that in the end, it would yield nothing more than a tangled, indistinguishable mess of pitch black.

Huo Niansheng rescued him and supported him. Beyond all doubt, everything warranted Chen Wengang feeling profoundly indebted and grateful to this benefactor.

The next question was: how long would a person’s patience and goodwill last?

When would he lose interest in this endeavor?

Chen Wengang withdrew his gaze, but Huo Niansheng remained staring at him. That intense, burning gaze pinned itself to his back, impossible to ignore. Chen Wengang stood rooted to the spot, making no movement. He waited quietly, sensing the man’s breath drawing closer from behind until two arms wrapped him into an embrace.

Huo Niansheng slowly slid his hand just below Chen Wengang’s Adam’s apple to undo a button, kissing his ear with an intent that required no explanation.

Chen Wengang let out a soft sigh.

Reaching out, he first flipped the switch on the wall, plunging the room into the dimness of twilight.

It wasn’t pitch black, but the contours of the room had already grown indistinct. Only then did he turn around, lifting his chin to meet Huo Niansheng’s lips.

Chen Wengang was gathered up onto the bed, his hand groping to find and catch Huo Niansheng’s. That hand was slender and powerful, the knuckles bearing thin, rough calluses. He laced his fingers through the other’s, their hands suddenly tightening, twisting closely together. After a long while, their vision slowly adapted to the darkness, beginning to discern outlines and shadows. In the gloom, Huo Niansheng bent a leg, pressing kisses along his sweat-slicked body.

Chen Wengang had considered that living his life like this—merely striking the bell as long as he remained a monk—was ultimately not a long-term solution.

He had thought about it many times, but human inertia was simply too vast. In the end, he not only relied on Huo Niansheng’s care, but even found himself wanting to claim more. He needed a sanctuary from the wind and rain, and Huo Niansheng provided it; he needed the daily necessities of life, and Huo Niansheng settled them for him.

Even when it came to spiritual solace and physical pleasure, what he received from the man had already exceeded normal boundaries.

Outside the window, it began to rain—a spring drizzle that pattered softly and densely against the glass pane.

Chen Wengang held Huo Niansheng close, resting his chin upon the man’s shoulder.

Huo Niansheng seemed to quite enjoy this sudden, proactive display of intimacy, hooking an arm around his waist while stroking his hair. Cradled in the crook of his arm, Chen Wengang felt as though he were soaking in warm water; for a brief moment, he couldn’t recall a single grievance.

The Zheng family, Zheng Yucheng, the court trials and imprisonment, the betrayal, fear, shame, and injury—all of it seemed incredibly far away.

The only things that surfaced in Chen Wengang’s mind were the face of his mother he had seen in photo albums, and the silhouette of his father’s back as he held his hand on the very first day of primary school registration before walking out of the school gates. The teacher had organized them into two parallel rows, and he had stood in that unfamiliar line, anxiously glancing left and right.

In the adjacent line, he suddenly spotted his childhood friend, Lu Chenlong, who bared his teeth in a grin, causing Chen Wengang to let out a sudden sigh of relief.

Then, in the blink of an eye, over a decade of years swept past like the wind, leaving not a single trace behind.

He made a sudden leap across time to the present, crashing straight back into reality.

After a brief reflection, Chen Wengang suddenly asked Huo Niansheng—

“Do you still remember when we first met?”

Huo Niansheng replied, “I remember, of course I remember.”

He then countered, “Do you remember it yourself?”

Chen Wengang said, “I remember you wore a black bow tie.”

Huo Niansheng remarked, “Then your memory isn’t half bad. How should I put it, I even stood up for you back then—have you never remembered me fondly for that?”

Leaning against his arm, Chen Wengang murmured, “My apologies. Back then, it was entirely due to my own ignorance; I didn’t know how to appreciate your kindness.”

Unsure of what memory had surfaced, Huo Niansheng let out a low rumble of laughter from his chest, though he didn’t voice it. Both seemed to be catching glimpses of that past scene from their respective memories, yet neither put it into words. Suddenly, Huo Niansheng leaned out of the bed, reaching over to click on the bedside lamp.

The room instantly lit up.

Withdrawing his hand, he resumed tapping and patting Chen Wengang’s back in a slow, casual rhythm.

Chen Wengang shielded his eyes from the sudden illumination; while the lamp’s glow wasn’t overly intense, the angle still sent a sharp sting through his eyes.

Yet, a smile played on his lips as he spoke: “As for now, I certainly know how to appreciate your goodness. But if you ever come to your senses and feel that I’ve become a nuisance, just tell me directly. When that time comes, we can each go our separate ways without making things look too ugly. What do you think?”

Upon hearing this, Huo Niansheng’s movements paused briefly. Before he could speak, a low roll of thunder rumbled outside.

Once the thunder passed, the rain continued to pour heavily. Huo Niansheng patted him once more: “It’s fine. Not a nuisance. I don’t find you a nuisance at all.”

No matter whether it looked beautiful or ugly, life had to be lived.

From Huo Niansheng’s perspective, he perhaps could not entirely put himself in the other’s shoes to comprehend what the reality of severing ties with the Zheng family actually signified for Chen Wengang. Ultimately, humans are social creatures meant to survive within the unit of a family. At nine years old, Chen Wengang had lost the one he formed with his father; he had strained to integrate into another, and he had once been recognized and accepted there.

Now, that layer of identity had been stripped away time and again. In the end, nothing remained but himself.

For a period of time following this, Chen Wengang developed a certain vague sense of loss and humiliation.

More than grief, however, it manifested as a persistent inability to figure out where exactly he belonged.

Take the housekeeper, Auntie Meng, for instance—her family structure was distinct and stable. She rambled daily, keeping the domestic situations of each of her children constantly on the tip of her tongue: two grandsons, one about to start kindergarten and the other due for primary school, though the non-local admission fees were simply too exorbitant, prompting constant complaints from her son and daughter-in-law. Additionally, her daughter was pregnant with twins. She had even accidentally let slip her underlying thought of considering whether to return to her hometown to help raise the grandchildren once they were born. The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her blunder; Chen Wengang merely offered a small smile, feigning that he hadn’t caught the implication.

Huo Niansheng was even less of a question. There were numerous rumors surrounding his background, but at the very least, no one would ever deny that he was a young master of the Huo family. During holidays and festivals, he would return to the ancestral estate, where his uncles, paternal cousins, and the ancestral hall dedicated to their forebears awaited. He might possess zero interest in this entire system, and he might harbor a deep-seated aversion to certain relatives, but regardless, they remained a family bound together by blood.

Naturally, speaking of blood ties, Chen Wengang did occasionally recall his paternal uncle, Chen Zeng.

His uncle and aunt were inherently snobbish people. Back when everything was sailing smoothly, they were naturally incredibly affectionate. It was just that now that he had become a liability, Chen Wengang understood perfectly well that they would probably prefer it if he never showed his face again. His paternal cousin had married, and undoubtedly had her own household to look after.

As winter gave way to spring, the days visibly grew warmer by the day.

The damp, freezing weather passed, ushering in the bright, gentle days of March—the most pleasant season of the year—as the roadside trees downstairs erupted into clusters of crimson clouds.

Chen Wengang fell into a daily habit of crossing off the dates on a desk calendar. As he kept scratching them out, he suddenly realized that the Qingming Festival was nearly upon them.

This habit hadn’t existed last year; it had been cultivated right from this year’s Lunar New Year. A cashier at the supermarket had gifted him a dull gray desk calendar, and since he happened to be preparing for surgery at the time, he had used it to log his surgical schedule. Once the entries accumulated, he simply began using it as a notepad.

Shuttling back and forth from the hospital, these were the only two belongings he habitually carried with him: the notebook he used for sketching, and the desk calendar he used for jotting notes.

Unexpectedly, it proved to be quite practical. Flipping it open from the very beginning, beneath the corresponding dates of each month, Chen Wengang had noted down in tiny handwriting what examinations he needed to undergo and which medications he had taken. Although a printed date accompanied every single page of his medical records, those receipts and reports had accumulated into a thick binder by now, requiring a good half-day just to flip through. Having a visually direct reminder simply made things a bit easier.

Once the recovery period for his reconstructive surgery passed, Chen Wengang observed his reflection in the mirror, noting that the deformity of his right ear had indeed been significantly mitigated.

The scars across his face remained uneven, requiring skin grafts, with the first procedure scheduled to be arranged two months later.

He didn’t particularly care either way; at the very least, he found himself better able to accept his own appearance.

Chen Wengang even began to take the initiative to step out of the house more frequently.

He didn’t actually venture very far. Rummaging through his wallet, he remembered he originally possessed a borrower’s card for the municipal library, which had gone missing. It wasn’t a major issue, though—he simply approached the staff, paid a five-yuan processing fee to have a replacement card issued, a task completed in less than two minutes.

The main branch of the library was located over by the municipal government, which was somewhat distant; fortunately, there was a branch library situated near the apartment complex.

Chen Wengang went there to borrow books to read.

The volumes he brought back home were all massive tomes, stacked solidly upon the sofa and coffee table, carrying considerable weight. Auntie Meng’s educational background wasn’t high, which naturally instilled in her a respectful yet distant curiosity regarding them. Whenever she cleaned the rooms, she frequently asked Chen Wengang what he was reading.

Chen Wengang would explain it to her, and she would nod with an air of mock gravity, though she still failed to comprehend it, before moving on to ask about the next book.

In truth, his reading choices were highly eclectic and unselective; one volume might delve into physics, while the next could be a work of philosophy. Most possessed a heavy academic nature with awkward, tongue-twisting titles, and a fair number were entirely in foreign languages. Auntie Meng could only click her tongue in amazement, praising him for his immense scholarship in an exaggerated tone.

Chen Wengang didn’t actually comprehend every single word either, but it was undeniable that these books served as an excellent way to pass the time.

He did occasionally leaf through popular fiction, though he would skim through them at a rate of ten lines at a glance, finishing them right on the spot at the library.

After reading a few of them in such a hurried fashion, he ended up mixing up the names of several protagonists. The plots were thrilling, but once the excitement faded, they all seemed to arrive at the same destination by different routes. He would immerse himself in those worlds of instant gratification and clear-cut vengeance, yet by the final conclusion, while everything appeared perfectly fulfilled, it also felt as though nothing had truly been gained.

Gradually, Chen Wengang lost interest in them, preferring instead to daze off while confronting the philosophical musings of past thinkers.

His posture while reading was remarkably quiet; sitting by the window, he could remain completely still for an entire afternoon, changing his position at most a single time.

Auntie Meng even grew slightly envious, remarking that her grandson simply despised studying, wishing that he might become a bit more fond of learning once he grew older and wiser.

Chen Wengang merely smiled, stating that different people possessed different personalities, and as long as a child could grow up healthy, that was enough.

Looking at him, Auntie Meng amended her stance, conceding that there was truth in that logic.

When Huo Niansheng returned home and caught sight of these books, he merely told Chen Wengang not to ruin his eyesight.

However, this seemed to make him realize just how boring it must be for Chen Wengang to remain cooped up at home, prompting Huo Niansheng to increase the frequency with which he took him out.

They didn’t just frequent restaurants for meals; whenever time permitted, they also visited museums to view exhibitions, headed to theaters to attend concerts, and even caught premiering films. Between them, whether stemming from their physical intimacy or their daily companionship, a bond that bordered closely on tenderness had actually developed.

At the very least, as of right now, Huo Niansheng had shown no signs of growing weary of this relationship.

Sometimes, Chen Wengang would draw connections to his past dates with Zheng Yucheng.

It wasn’t for any other reason than the fact that they had, after all, done identical things back then—such as watching movies; surely no couple had ever dated without ever catching a film. However, Huo Niansheng would never purchase popcorn or cola; he wasn’t like Zheng Yucheng, who insisted on consuming those sickly sweet things.

Nor would Huo Niansheng ever eat fast food like hamburgers; he would invariably book a formal restaurant either before the show started or after it concluded.

Conversely, Zheng Yucheng harbored zero interest in those highbrow concerts, preferring instead to enthusiastically choose to watch sports matches live at stadiums.

These comparative details seemed to highlight the stark differences in their characters, yet Chen Wengang deliberately refrained from placing the two of them together for comparison.

He found himself thinking of Zheng Yucheng less and less.

He hadn’t run into Zheng Yucheng by chance again; however, with the increased frequency of his outings, it was inevitable that he would cross paths with other acquaintances.

On one occasion, Chen Wengang accompanied Huo Niansheng to have morning dim sum. Just as they arrived at the main lobby, they encountered a family of three walking toward them.

The husband and wife stepped forward to greet Huo Niansheng, accompanied by a young boy around ten years old who addressed Huo Niansheng as “paternal cousin-uncle.”

Standing behind Huo Niansheng, the party didn’t even notice Chen Wengang at first.

Every time he stepped out of the house, Chen Wengang would firmly don a hat and a mask, doing his utmost to minimize his presence. Huo Niansheng’s tall frame blocked their fields of vision. Within that family, the male host wore a casual blazer, bearing the demeanor of a successful individual; he had presumably just returned from a vacation, his skin tanned to a bronze hue. He exchanged a couple of sentences with Huo Niansheng before his son pointed at Chen Wengang, crying out in curiosity.

The male host swiftly barked a reprimand at his son.

He introduced himself as Huo Zhenfei, Huo Niansheng’s paternal cousin, before unobtrusively shaking hands with Chen Wengang.

As both parties had booked tables in advance, they sat separately, yet Huo Zhenfei took the initiative to head over to his cousin’s table.

Chen Wengang could discern that they had official matters to discuss, though the contents weren’t particularly confidential. Huo Niansheng placed their order, and they chatted over their meal about the upcoming board of directors reelection, discussing the candidates intended to be pushed forward and the core business sector reforms of two subsidiary companies.

Chen Wengang kept his gaze lowered, focusing entirely on his own thoughts, until Huo Zhenfei finally turned back to him near the end: “Are you currently living together with Huo Niansheng?”

Unsure of what answer he ought to provide, Chen Wengang’s chopsticks paused for half a beat mid-air.

Huo Niansheng answered on his behalf, his tone entirely casual: “Yeah, what about it?”

Huo Zhenfei offered a nod toward Chen Wengang. “No offense intended; I’ve always been aware of your situation.”

Since they were dining indoors, it was naturally inconvenient to continue wearing a mask and a hat, allowing Huo Zhenfei to get a clear view of Chen Wengang’s face.

He didn’t make a scene out of it, merely stating with immense courtesy: “Niansheng has troubled himself quite a bit over you. If it weren’t for my hectic work schedule, I would have liked to find an opportunity to visit you earlier.”

Chen Wengang offered a hesitant word of thanks.

Seeming to dispel Chen Wengang’s misgivings, Huo Zhenfei immediately explained, as if the thought had just struck him, that it was precisely because he and Huo Niansheng shared a close cousinly relationship that he was aware of his existence, whereas the rest of the Huo family wasn’t actually all that clear on the details.

Chen Wengang could tell that Huo Niansheng did indeed possess a certain baseline of trust regarding this man.

Huo Niansheng would interject with a bit of banter at appropriate moments, but at the very least, he didn’t directly refute the other’s words.

Throughout this dim sum meal, Chen Wengang remained constantly observant, reading their expressions and tones.

From his personal perspective, he preferred to maintain an excessive degree of wariness toward Huo Zhenfei. The man didn’t behave poorly—he was perfectly polite—but individuals of his sort were visibly typical old veterans of the corporate world; they would voice three parts of their intent while withholding seven, talking in circles and never willing to speak plainly.

Listening to him speak required one to keep their nerves taut, forcing them to continuously deduce what underlying implications he harbored.

Huo Zhenfei displayed no aversion, disdain, or any inkling of blame toward Chen Wengang.

His phrasing was framed as sincerely as possible, yet his underlying point remained crystal clear: he was offering a reminder that given Chen Wengang’s identity and past experiences, remaining by Huo Niansheng’s side and appearing in public with him like this would inevitably invite gossip and criticism from others.

Particularly paparazzi and journalists—to put it bluntly, he feared they would swarm around them like flies drawn to scent.

Upon hearing this, Huo Niansheng merely let out a scoff. “Paparazzi? Is this your first day learning about them?”

Huo Zhenfei countered, “Times change. You can’t entirely disregard what other people think forever.”

Huo Niansheng laughed, “What other people? Which other people?”

Feigning annoyance, Huo Zhenfei rambled on for a bit longer before stopping within proper bounds, returning to the table where his wife and child sat to resume his meal.

Once Huo Zhenfei departed, Chen Wengang had a fairly solid grasp of the situation.

He teased, “He wants to advise me to know my place and leave on my own accord?”

Huo Niansheng smiled. “How did you manage to catch that implication?”

Chen Wengang kept his eyes lowered, the tips of his chopsticks pressing against his plate. A few stray bones remained on the plate; frowning slightly, he simply set his chopsticks down to the side.

Huo Niansheng slanted his captivating eyes, giving him a knowing smile. “Oh? You have money now anyway. Do you want to leave?”

Chen Wengang raised his eyes to look at him, only to freeze for a moment, because the expression within the man’s eyes could practically be described as tender.

Huo Niansheng posed the question once more: “Do you want to leave? To go where? Are you planning to abandon me?”

An involuntary curl touched the corner of Chen Wengang’s lips as he shook his head.

Huo Niansheng poured him some tea. “So let him say what he wants. Who does he think he is anyway? Why bother paying him any mind.”

Chen Wengang noted, “Isn’t he your paternal cousin?”

Huo Niansheng remarked nonchalantly, “Yeah, but he isn’t my old man.”

Yet, Chen Wengang’s heart didn’t grow any lighter because of this, feeling instead as though dark clouds were massing over his head, heavily pregnant with a storm of lightning and rolling thunder.

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