DLRAS Chapter 122 [Past]

Chapter 122: He felt like that vague moth.

The cold rain drifted down, drumming against the car windows with increasing intensity.

Chen Wengang sat in the back seat, head bowed, listening to the traffic report on the radio warning citizens to be cautious as a typhoon was about to pass through. Ahead of him lay a void, with his fate leading toward an unknown destination, yet for the moment, before the storm fully arrived, he was safe.

Huo Niansheng held his phone, typing away, then suddenly asked, “Have you eaten?”

Wrapped in Huo’s coat, Chen Wengang had stopped shivering. He gave a subconscious, “Mhm.”

The suit jacket was warm, still carrying the lingering scent of Huo’s body heat, covering his narrow, thin shoulders.

In truth, he hadn’t eaten; he simply didn’t want to be a burden. Usually, the convenience store owner let staff take home expiring food, but today the store had sold out of everything. Huo Niansheng’s expression remained indifferent, but he signaled the driver when they passed a cake shop: “Lao Li.”

The driver stepped out and returned with a paper bag and a box of chestnut cakes.

As the Rolls-Royce pulled into the garage, Chen Wengang followed Huo Niansheng into the elevator.

With every floor the car ascended, his heart rose with it.

Huo Niansheng kept his hands in his pockets, maintaining an air of leisure, as if bringing a homeless man home were nothing out of the ordinary.

The elevator opened directly into the residence. Chen Wengang stood at the threshold, constrained.

He looked down at his shoes, caked in mud and sand, and his clothes, which were far from clean—they were completely out of place in this pristine, polished environment. He watched as Huo Niansheng placed the paper bag in the foyer, bent down, and personally retrieved a pair of slippers, tossing them at his feet.

Chen Wengang realized what was happening, his mouth opening to speak, but he only managed a “Thank you.”

Huo Niansheng said, “What are you standing there for? Come in.”

Chen Wengang changed his shoes and stepped inside.

He placed his dirty shoes neatly in the entryway.

The living room was as bright as day, leaving every detail exposed. Chen Wengang took two steps forward, his heart feeling hollow, and stopped.

He truly had nowhere to go and no other choices, to the point that he had followed Huo Niansheng into the car blindly without a second thought.

It was as if the moment this person appeared, he had grabbed onto him as a straw to save his life.

But what then?

What did Huo Niansheng intend to do by taking him in?

And what could he even do at this point?

When he turned around, Huo Niansheng was following close behind, nearly startling him.

This distance had already crossed the safe boundaries of social interaction. Huo Niansheng didn’t retreat; instead, he stepped forward and reached out both hands.

Chen Wengang couldn’t help but hold his breath, feeling a thin warmth radiating onto his forehead.

Huo Niansheng lowered his head before him, supporting the back of his head to examine him in the light.

Chen Wengang tensed his body; the persistent, faint itching on his face turned into a searing, burning sensation. He frowned, trying to turn his head away, but he didn’t succeed. Strong acid would corrode muscle and skin; the doctor had removed the necrotic flesh, and he was now waiting for new skin to grow back.

The process was inherently painful, and coupled with the lack of a proper environment to recover, the wound had become repeatedly infected and never fully healed.

Now, this injury was exposed, entirely visible, before Huo Niansheng’s eyes.

The lights were harsh, making the scars starkly clear. Huo Niansheng lowered his gaze, studying Chen Wengang’s face. Where the wounds hadn’t healed, they were crusted over in sheets, forming traces of melted flesh—as terrifying as a ghost’s face, which he had tried to cover up with the brim of his hat.

He was also thin—gauntly so. A stretch of wrist peeked out from his sleeve, as if nothing remained but bone.

The thumb tucked into his hair moved slightly, brushing against his skin.

Before Huo Niansheng’s brow could even furrow, it smoothed out. He let out a soft breath, his expression remaining steady and calm.

He was neither pitying nor shocked. This indifferent attitude actually made Chen Wengang feel a measure of relief—temporary relief. He pulled away and took off the jacket he had worn the whole way, returning it to Huo. The faint, woody scent lingered in his nostrils.

It was the perfume remaining on the man’s clothing, like a damp, cold morning shrouded in thin mist.

Huo Niansheng was still the same Huo Niansheng—impeccably dressed, dashing, and stylish. Even if he had experienced things, it clearly hadn’t left a mark on him; he was still living a life of wealth and leisure. If there were any changes, he was the only one who had fallen into ruin and couldn’t get back up.

Chen Wengang’s mind was filled with chaotic thoughts until he heard the other man ask: “We’re inside now. Do you still need to wear that hat?”

He only then remembered, pausing for a moment before following instructions to take the hat off and place it on the coffee table.

Huo Niansheng stepped forward, and Chen Wengang retreated. He instinctively faced the man with the side of his face that wasn’t injured; whenever Huo moved to his right, he would turn his head away, not wanting to be scrutinized, both as a form of self-protection and a fear of being hurt again.

But he soon regained his composure and whispered, “Thank you.”

No matter what, the man had provided him with shelter in the cold, driving rain tonight. He wasn’t teasing him for amusement, nor had he tricked him into the car only to dump him in the wilderness, or mocked and humiliated him by driving to the other side of the city only to make him walk back to the wharf district.

Even if Huo Niansheng had the leisure for such things, Chen Wengang had no way to stop him. Fortunately, the man wasn’t that malicious.

Huo simply told him to sit on the sofa for a while.

Chen Wengang pulled his legs up, hugging his knees and staring into space.

The cake and the paper bag sat on the coffee table next to the hat. Chen Wengang was starving, but he had no intention of touching them rashly. This was someone else’s territory; he should follow the host’s lead and obey instructions. He was like a listless goldfish in a tank—he would only move if poked.

Huo Niansheng went to find a set of pajamas, tossing them onto the sofa: “The clothes are big, just make do.”

Chen Wengang looked up at him: “You—”

At the same moment, Huo Niansheng spoke: “Also—”

Their voices collided. Huo Niansheng yielded: “You go first.”

Chen Wengang swallowed his words: “Nothing. I forgot what I wanted to say.”

The fabric in his hands was new, dry, and soft, but Chen Wengang was covered in the smell of smoke. He merely spread the clothes out, then folded them again bit by bit. Silence descended between them, quiet as a suffocating whirlpool, spreading to every corner of the room.

It was Huo Niansheng who spoke first: “Also, I have things to do. I’m leaving.”

Chen Wengang was startled. He stood up and followed him to the door in his slippers.

Huo Niansheng turned back to ask again: “Are you sure you’ll be okay staying here by yourself?”

Chen Wengang naturally said yes. Before leaving, Huo Niansheng asked if he had a phone and took his current number.

He saved it and dialed. Chen Wengang’s phone rang with the default ringtone.

Huo Niansheng glanced at him: “Save mine, too. Call me if you need anything.”

Then he left, as if his entire trip had been just to drop a person off somewhere to stay, not even changing his shoes when he came inside.

The security door slammed shut, separating the two spaces, and the apartment returned to silence.

Chen Wengang stared at the cold iron door for a long time before turning to pace slowly back to the living room.

His gaze fell on the coffee table. The cake was still there, but since Huo Niansheng had left, it was undoubtedly for him to eat. Otherwise, it would spoil by tomorrow, or even if he put it in the fridge, the cream would melt. Master Huo would probably never touch such food again.

Chen Wengang pulled open the paper bag, which contained a tuna sandwich, a bag of raisin toast, and a bottle of fresh juice.

Following the expiration dates, he unwrapped the sandwich and ate it with the juice to fill his stomach, putting the toast in the refrigerator.

Then he sat back on the sofa.

Solitude was something he had desperately wanted, but having just left the crowd and familiar surroundings, in this apartment that felt like a glass box, the silent air was like a mass of viscous, heavy resin, slowly solidifying him within it, making it difficult to move.

After a long period of quiet, Chen Wengang, like a statue come to life, looked up and scanned the room, wondering if there was a hidden camera in any corner, then dismissed the thought as ridiculous. What could Huo Niansheng observe by locking him in here? An experiment?

Chen Wengang slowly extended a hand and took the box of chestnut cake.

He unwrapped the plastic spoon and took a scoop of cream. It was sweet but not cloying. The cake was small, only a few bites’ worth.

Chen Wengang found the trash can and threw the box away.

Then he found the light switch and turned off the main lighting, leaving only a circle of non-glaring LED strips.

The room darkened, suffused with a uniform, weak light. A moth that had snuck in lost its target, fluttering futilely along the ceiling.

Chen Wengang tilted his head, watching its overlapping shadows with his significantly impaired vision.

He felt like that blurred moth.

The weather outside could no longer be contained; in an instant, the rain poured down like a waterfall, and the sky turned pitch black as ink.

Chen Wengang rested his head against the floor-to-ceiling window to watch the rain.

This was likely the last typhoon of the year. No matter how tightly sealed the windows were, there was always a thread of chill creeping in from somewhere.

He could imagine that in such weather, the shack-like rental room in the wharf district must have already become a water curtain cave, uninhabitable.

He suddenly remembered his few possessions and the medicine he needed; they were likely soaked and ruined.

Chen Wengang’s mood was numb, not even having the strength for a bitter smile.

Such a destitute, chaotic life was something he hadn’t even experienced from childhood to adulthood. When his father was alive, he never knew hardship, and after his father passed, he hadn’t either. After his medical parole, if he had just swallowed his pride, he wouldn’t have ended up completely out of options. In the worst-case scenario, he could have privately asked Zheng Baoqiu for help, or contacted old classmates—there would have always been one or two close friends willing to lend a hand.

Huo Niansheng laughed at his sense of pride. But rather than pride, he only saw his own cowardice.

He would rather sleep under a bridge than have the courage to face those pitying, strange gazes again.

When the clock struck twelve, Chen Wengang had finished his preliminary exploration of the apartment. He looked into each open doorway, but never stepped over the line. There were likely two bathrooms—one in the master bedroom, one in the outer living room.

He needed to wash up before bed, so Chen Wengang went to the outer one. Pushing the door open, he faced the vanity, which had a huge mirror hanging on it.

He looked up once, then shifted his gaze away, bowing his head to figure out the shower, taking a hasty rinse, being careful not to touch his face.

On the vanity was a brand new set of toiletries, the kind used in hotels.

From this, he concluded that this was not Huo Niansheng’s primary residence.

Just one of the properties under his name.

The next morning at six, Chen Wengang woke up. He had lain on the sofa all night, but the longer he lay there, the more exhausted he felt, almost as if he hadn’t slept at all.

At night, his wounds flared up, the pain and itching unbearable, and he didn’t close his eyes until the early hours.

After daybreak, it was still raining heavily outside, and the light in the room was as dim as dusk.

Huo Niansheng wasn’t there, and he couldn’t guess the other man’s intentions—was he supposed to leave, or stay?

He hesitated over his phone for a long time before putting it down. Chen Wengang just went to the kitchen to take out the toast from the fridge.

An hour later, the phone rang; it was Huo Niansheng: “Are you awake?”

When he called, Chen Wengang was holding a glass pitcher, pouring water with one hand. His right eye had almost no vision, making it hard to coordinate with his left eye to judge distance. The pitcher wobbled, knocking over a slim cup. It rolled once on the table, and before he could save it, it fell.

Huo Niansheng heard the crash over the phone: “What did you break?”

The other end of the line fell into a long silence.

Chen Wengang finally spoke: “I’m sorry. The pitcher and the cup. I’ll compensate you for a set.”

Huo Niansheng said, “They aren’t worth anything. Don’t worry about it; someone will come by later.”

The rain continued until noon, when someone rang the doorbell. A capable professional woman stood outside: “Mr. Chen?”

She held several paper bags: “I am Mr. Huo’s personal assistant. My surname is Yang, or you can call me Amanda.”

Chen Wengang let her in. Amanda’s expression didn’t change as she went straight to the kitchen to check on things; the floor was clean. Chen Wengang had rummaged through the drawers without permission, used a plastic bag to collect all the glass shards, and found wide tape to wrap them in a thick layer.

Amanda saw the cuts on his hands.

Her mission turned into finding the medical kit: “Let me take care of that for you.”

Two strangers under one roof created an awkward atmosphere. Amanda tore open a package of alcohol-soaked cotton balls and rummaged through the kit for tweezers. Chen Wengang had already seen them and reached out to touch them: “Give them to me, I’ll do it myself.”

In the motion of raising his hand, he knocked over the red and white medical kit.

Standard medicine spilled all over the floor.

The bottle of iodine also shattered on the carpet. The sound wasn’t loud, but it stained the carpet, splashing into an ugly, brownish-yellow mess.

Amanda reacted quickly, squatting down to clean up the mess: “My fault, I put the kit too close to the edge of the table.”

Her trousers and high heels were also splashed with yellow spots, and Chen Wengang was closer to the table, his pants covered in them.

Chen Wengang also squatted down, his lips moving. He apologized in a low voice and picked up a box of aspirin, handing it to her.

Later, when Huo Niansheng came over, he brought a family doctor.

The doctor was in his fifties with deep crow’s feet. He turned on a penlight to examine his eye. Chen Wengang had already changed into clean clothes—the bags Amanda brought contained casual clothes purchased in his size, replacing the cheap street-market items he had worn yesterday.

In truth, in his current state, it made no difference what he wore.

“How much can you see with your right eye?”

“When there’s a strong light, there’s still a bit of light perception. Very little.”

“What about normally? If I don’t shine the flashlight directly like this?”

“I can’t see clearly…” Chen Wengang hesitated before correcting himself, “I’m not sure. Just saying there was light perception earlier might have been psychological.”

“Don’t rush, don’t be nervous,” the doctor said. “Being too tense can also affect vision. Relax, look toward this side. How about this?”

Chen Wengang sat at the dining table, while the doctor talked to Huo Niansheng over by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The two whispered back and forth, effectively shielding the person concerned from the conversation. Chen Wengang had no intention of eavesdropping. He propped both elbows on the table, vaguely feeling a gaze fall upon him.

When he looked up, Huo Niansheng had already withdrawn his gaze and returned it to the doctor’s face.

Chen Wengang saw the doctor’s shadow gently shake his head.

The medical recommendation was hospitalization to facilitate more detailed examination and treatment.

Amanda went to send the family doctor off, and the two left the apartment together.

Chen Wengang remained sitting on the dining chair. Huo Niansheng walked over and asked: “What did you two eat for lunch?”

Chen Wengang looked up at him, silent for a long moment.

On the carpet at their feet, the iodine stain remained, looking like a map and bloodstains joined together, forming an irregular shape. Huo Niansheng ignored it, but Chen Wengang was lost in thought, thinking that this carpet would have to be sent out for cleaning, or worse, the whole thing would need replacing.

It would surely be an incredibly expensive and unsightly price.

Huo Niansheng got a bit closer to him and suddenly reached out.

Chen Wengang’s reflex was to turn his head away again.

Huo Niansheng’s hand reached past him and picked up the ointment on the table—the doctor had left new medication before he left; both oral and topical medicines were lined up on the table. Huo Niansheng unfolded the instructions, read them for a moment, then unscrewed the cap and sniffed it.

Chen Wengang stared at him as if startled.

Huo Niansheng asked: “How do you apply this? Just rub it on the face, three times a day?”

As if unable to endure it, Chen Wengang suddenly pushed his chair back. He stood up: “Listen to me—”

Huo Niansheng leaned against the table, making a listening expression.

Chen Wengang moved his lips: “You were willing to take me in yesterday, and I should thank you, but…”

Huo Niansheng gave him a smile, encouraging him to continue: “But what?”

Chen Wengang said: “I don’t want to cause you too much trouble. I think… I’d better go back.”

Huo Niansheng narrowed his eyes at him: “Then why did you agree to come with me?”

Chen Wengang didn’t meet his eyes.

His vision was blurred, he had lost part of his judgment for distance, and his sense of balance had deteriorated significantly. Sometimes, just standing made him feel as if he were swaying. Several answers swirled in his mind, but each sounded lamer than the last.

Chen Wengang just bowed his head: “Forget it, let it be.”

He had already intended to say goodbye: “For the cup and your assistant’s clothes, I’ll send you the money after a while.”

Huo Niansheng laughed: “The food and drink from yesterday, the clothes on your back, the doctor’s visit just now—don’t you need to pay for those too?”

The careless gaze was like a thorn, making Chen Wengang feel fragmented and blurred before him.

In the end, he truly had nothing. Regardless of whether it was kindness or malice, apart from accepting it all, he had no room to be picky.

Huo Niansheng suddenly changed to a softer tone: “What do you have to worry about?”

He pressed Chen Wengang’s shoulders, making him sit back down, and held his chin, observing the place where his wound hadn’t healed and was still festering: “We’ve known each other; I couldn’t bear to see it, I’m just helping you look at your face. I haven’t said it’s a bother; are you playing me by going back and forth like this?”

Chen Wengang smiled bitterly: “Maybe I still feel that leaving on my own shows slightly more dignity than being kicked out.”

Huo Niansheng looked at him: “This is the first lesson you need to learn: dignity is a worthless thing.”

Chen Wengang tilted his face up, staring at him without a word.

Huo Niansheng scoffed: “What, you don’t think I’m right? If I were you, as long as there’s food and supplies, whether it’s charity or not, I’d take advantage of it as much as I could. If I truly get impatient one day and want to kick you out, wouldn’t you have broken even?”

Chen Wengang thought indifferently that there was another saying in the world: there is no such thing as a free lunch.

It all circled back to the same question: What was Huo Niansheng after?

If the person in front of him were willing to clearly state his motives, perhaps it would make him feel lighter. It was like doing business—a clearly marked price; if you have it, you make the deal; if you don’t, you call it quits. Sometimes that’s fair; most of the time, it might not be very fair.

Powerful and wealthy people always earn more easily; the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.

However, Chen Wengang’s problem was his empty pockets; he no longer had the ability to pay any other price.

In any case, Huo Niansheng made the decision for him: he would pack up and start his hospitalization tomorrow.

Naturally, he couldn’t go to the convenience store to work anymore. Chen Wengang had originally sent a message to the store owner that morning asking for leave, but after a few hours, it changed to a resignation. The store owner was a good person, but he couldn’t help but grumble a bit, saying that suddenly finding someone to cover shifts was a hassle.

After a series of apologies and thanks, Chen Wengang hung up the phone, having lost his only source of income.

This gave him a sense of suspension, standing before an abyss with the only person he could rely on. Chen Wengang glanced at Huo Niansheng. The man had taken a bottle of western liquor from the cabinet and poured a glass, leaning against the bar, listening with a faint smile as he finished the call.

Huo Niansheng suddenly asked: “When you worked at that shop, what was your hourly wage?”

Chen Wengang told him the truth, reporting a number.

Huo Niansheng smiled, his expression clearly looking down on it: “Fine. There will be plenty of job opportunities later.”

But he might not find another kind person willing to hire him. Chen Wengang thought this, but couldn’t refute it. No matter how he complained, it seemed to be a greedy hint for Huo Niansheng to see the process through to the end and plot a livelihood for him as well.

In the end, he just made small talk: “Do you have anything to keep you busy this afternoon?”

Huo Niansheng said: “No.”

Chen Wengang nodded: “Good.”

There was nothing else to say between the two.

But that day until nightfall, Huo Niansheng stayed in the apartment and didn’t leave.

Chen Wengang felt like he was sitting on pins and needles; he wasn’t familiar with the man, and felt uncomfortable no matter what. At night, he retreated to bed early as if trying to escape. Because of Huo Niansheng, he couldn’t sleep on the sofa anymore, so he stayed in the guest bedroom. The medicine he took had some sedative components, and he soon fell into a sound sleep.

After a long time, the bedroom door was knocked twice, but there was no response from inside.

The door was pushed open. Huo Niansheng walked in, carrying a glass of milk. Chen Wengang’s eyes were closed, his breathing even.

Huo Niansheng walked to his bedside and watched him for a long while.

Chen Wengang was curled into a ball, his outline barely visible under the quilt. Huo Niansheng leaned over, his gaze wandering over his face.

To avoid smearing the ointment on the pillowcase, Chen Wengang had to sleep with his right side facing up. Huo Niansheng just stared; he didn’t know how many times he had scrutinized Chen Wengang’s face, confirming it over and over, as if by looking more, the bloody, mangled wounds could disappear.

But unlike in the daytime, at this moment, Huo Niansheng’s expression turned into something indescribably complex.

Chen Wengang would never know what kind of unspeakable feeling surged in his heart when he saw him under the bridge.

Even with prior preparation, it was still heart-rending.

It was as if a hand were gripping his heart. For a moment, Huo Niansheng thought, if only money could buy everything. However, that was just arrogance. There were plenty of people with wealth rivaling a nation; money just couldn’t buy back time. Things having come to this, he could only drink the bitter wine.

But there was one thing Huo Niansheng knew.

Chen Wengang was afraid—afraid of his arrival, afraid of everything in the outside world.

How could Huo Niansheng not regret it, but he could not lose his composure. He had to be the one who remained calm, unchanging, and as steady as Mount Tai.

In the middle of the night, Huo Niansheng, sleeping in the master bedroom, opened his eyes. There were rustling sounds coming from outside.

In fact, even if there were, they were extremely slight—it was intuition rather than hearing that told him this.

There was indeed someone in the living room; a figure sat next to the bar, their thin back to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Chen Wengang had opened the bottle of liquor Huo Niansheng hadn’t finished in the afternoon, resting his arms on the counter and sipping it drink by drink.

Huo Niansheng made his footsteps heavier as he approached.

Chen Wengang discovered him: “You’re the one who said, as long as there’s food and supplies, take advantage of it first.”

Huo Niansheng nodded: “Yes, I said that.”

Chen Wengang brought the glass to his lips again. He was already drunk, his gaze hazy and unfocused, which was why he dared to be so blunt.

In the darkness, Chen Wengang didn’t find the moth from the previous day; he didn’t know where it had slipped off to.

The rain had stopped.

Huo Niansheng sighed. He reached out and took the glass from Chen Wengang’s hand.

“That still depends on the situation and the occasion. You have to undergo checkups tomorrow, so don’t drink.”

Chen Wengang was quiet, neither fighting nor grabbing.

The dangerous male aura leaned in behind him, but strangely, yesterday when he got in the car, he couldn’t stop shaking, but twenty-four hours later, this aura was quickly marked with a familiar sign, included in the scope of those he allowed to be close.

Huo Niansheng suddenly asked: “Do you remember when I went abroad before? You weren’t very old then.”

Chen Wengang countered: “Is there a difference in feeling between living abroad for a few years versus staying in the country?”

Huo Niansheng smiled and chatted with him: “It’s all the same. Someone like me just changes the place to club, drive, be around people with different skin colors, and speak languages that sound like gibberish. If I had to do it again, I wouldn’t choose to leave.”

Chen Wengang remained silent.

After thinking for a moment, he asked again: “What are the requirements for going abroad?”

Huo Niansheng raised an eyebrow, eyeing him: “What, you want to go too?”

Chen Wengang smiled: “I’m just asking. With no money to invest and no work skills, how could I get a visa?”

Huo Niansheng laughed too: “First heal your wounds. Later, you can get skin grafting surgery. I checked; there are cases with good outcomes that can even recover to be almost the same as before. How old are you? Twenty-one or twenty-two—not old enough to lose hope so soon.”

He said it as if it were just a cut from a knife. Chen Wengang bowed his head, borrowing a little of his drunkenness: “Easier said than done.”

Huo Niansheng patted his shoulder: “People have different fates; sometimes you have to accept your lot.”

Chen Wengang asked: “And after accepting it?”

A faint, mocking smile appeared on Huo Niansheng’s face: “You really believe that? You took the blame for someone else and ended up like this—how do you plan to accept that? When Zheng Yucheng’s child celebrates their first birthday, are you going to send them your blessings?”

Chen Wengang’s face showed no reaction, nor was he angry. He just got up and they exchanged goodnights.

After returning to his room and falling asleep again, Chen Wengang had a dream. In the dream, flying sand and rocks filled the air like a tornado swirling in the depths of the desert. In the terrifying sandstorm, Chen Wengang saw countless fragmented scenes. He stumbled backward, falling into an embrace in a state of weightlessness.

But his vision was blurred, and when he turned back, the world was still chaotic. Before he could see clearly who it was, he woke up to daylight.

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