DLRAS Chapter 134 [Past]

Chapter 134: He raised his head, and the person in front of him was Huo Niansheng.

Sometimes, Chen Wengang calculates the time, and the results are always startling. Time passes like a white horse galloping past a crack in a wall; before he knows it, seven years have gone by.

Seven years is enough for a child to grow from birth to primary school, enough for a person’s cells to complete a full cycle of metabolism, and enough for a marriage or a romance to face the inevitable weariness and growing pains. They say that even the most loving couples face a “seven-year itch.”

Even between him and Huo Niangsheng, there are quarrels and noise.

To be precise, in the last two years, their friction and contradictions have only increased.

All these years, Chen Wengang has lived in the mountain villa with Halley.

Huo Niangsheng never suggested he move out, and Chen Wengang tacitly avoided the topic. On one hand, it was for Halley—what had started as a casual conversation became a self-fulfilling prophecy; he couldn’t bear to take the dog away, but he couldn’t bear to part with it, either.

On the other hand, Chen Wengang realized that he, too, had become dependent on this reclusive life.

There was no need to socialize, no need for small talk, no need to worry about the gazes or expressions of strangers.

In the mountains, there is no sense of time. The life of the bustling city had become blurred and nihilistic to him, already feeling like a distant, alien world.

He was like an unsociable and stubborn traveler who, even when famished and thirsty, would rather bypass town after town to walk alone in the wilderness.

Of course, excessive reclusiveness is not a long-term solution. Huo Niangsheng, likely afraid that Chen Wengang would brood himself into some new ailment, still tried every possible way to drag him out from time to time. He took him to new restaurants, to see new films and exhibitions.

As for the rest—amusement parks, stables, shopping malls—they had been to all of them.

Huo Niangsheng once rented out an entire yacht club, leaving the beach empty of anyone else, as if there were only the two of them left in the world.

They had met many people and encountered many things, slowly accumulating a wealth of memories, both good and bad, too numerous to count.

They had moments of embracing, kissing, and intimacy; inevitably, there were also quarrels, cold wars, and periods of indifference.

It was autumn again, and each autumn rain brought a deeper chill.

The temperature on the mountain was even lower, cooling down much faster than in the city.

Chen Wengang was wrapped in a thin blanket, reading in the study as usual, when Halley suddenly stood up, wagging its tail as it went to the door.

At the same moment, Chen Wengang heard familiar footsteps. He put down his book, and a moment later, Huo Niangsheng pushed the door open.

Chen Wengang looked up, his eyes tracking Huo Niangsheng. Huo Niangsheng walked in and went straight behind him. He bent down, wrapping his arms around Chen Wengang and the back of the chair, kissing his ears intermittently.

Chen Wengang understood; he smiled, stood up, and helped him take off his coat and loosen his tie.

They said nothing, simply kissing.

He didn’t know what Huo Niangsheng had been busy with lately—they hadn’t seen each other for three or four days. Chen Wengang shooed Halley out to play by itself. He kissed Huo Niangsheng’s brow bone, his fingers tracing his eyes and temples. They swapped positions, and Huo Niangsheng pulled him onto his lap.

The thin blanket fell to the floor.

There was some movement in the study, and after a long while, it returned to silence.

Chen Wengang went to draw the curtains. Outside, the sky was still bright, though the sun was nowhere to be seen; thin clouds diffused the white light.

He returned to the sofa. Huo Niangsheng stood up, took something out, and flicked it in front of Chen Wengang as if teasing him.

In his hand was an open box, and inside the black velvet lay a ring.

It shimmered with silver light.

Chen Wengang’s heart skipped a beat. He looked down and saw it clearly, but his reaction was remarkably calm.

Huo Niangsheng seemed completely unaware, saying to himself, “Try it, see how the design is.”

Chen Wengang didn’t speak for a while. He lowered his eyes, his gaze not on the ring, but rather scrutinizing the hands before him—

Wide palms, dry skin, fingers long and powerful, with a few light calluses in the crevices—every feature made these hands look resilient and reliable. He was intimately familiar with Huo Niangsheng’s hands. These hands had cooked for him, changed his bandages, patted his back, stroked his hair and cheeks, and touched every inch of his body. They had given him comfort and pleasure.

Just watching them, Chen Wengang briefly lost himself in thought.

He thought about the last time he met Huo Niangsheng. How should he put it? It wasn’t an argument. On the contrary, it was in the throes of intimacy, when Huo Niangsheng held him close and asked if he wanted to be with him.

What did “being together” mean?

In what sense?

Didn’t they count as being together now?

Chen Wengang had organized his thoughts for a long time, but couldn’t find a proper answer.

At the time, Huo Niangsheng had sensed his hesitation and waited patiently, but perhaps Chen Wengang’s silence lasted too long, and Huo Niangsheng gave a self-deprecating smile. Huo Niangsheng told him not to struggle over it, joking that words spoken in bed shouldn’t be trusted, and that they should just sleep.

For the past two years, apart from the most boring gossip rags, most reporters no longer bothered to chase Huo Niangsheng’s affairs—because there was no fresh material to dig up. He was willing to be with a disfigured person; so be it. All the laughter that could be had had already been had.

Huo Niangsheng had dragged his feet for so many years; his “major life event” remained unresolved. The so-called marriages had been dangled before the public repeatedly, always just rumors, and even his most speculated “confidante” had come out to clarify that they were just long-time friends.

Eventually, everyone lost patience. Most people believed that Huo Niangsheng truly wasn’t the marrying type. Psychological experts analyzed that this reflected the impact of his original family on him; children, consciously or unconsciously, emulate their parents’ behavior patterns…

Huo Niangsheng had brought the ring today; he still wore a playful smile on his face, but there was an unusual weight behind his actions.

Chen Wengang regained his focus. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of a high building, so dizzy that he had to try to gloss over the moment.

Huo Niangsheng moved to the front, grabbed his left hand, picked up the ring, and slipped it onto his ring finger, pressing it all the way to the base.

As if scalded, Chen Wengang quickly pulled it off and gently placed the silver circle back into Huo Niangsheng’s palm.

He found an excuse: “I’m left-handed; it’s inconvenient to wear things on this hand.”

Huo Niangsheng pulled up his right hand and forced it on there instead: “Then wear it on this side; it’s the same.”

Chen Wengang’s gaze fell back to his own hand. The skin had traces of corrosion, leaving rough scars; the right hand was worse than the left. He had undergone skin graft surgery, but one or two surgeries weren’t enough to cover all the scarring.

Because he had suffered too much, he hadn’t continued, and it remained as it was now.

Chen Wengang flattened his right hand and held it up before his eyes, admiring it for a few seconds.

He imagined he wasn’t in the study, that outside wasn’t the desolate daylight, but rather the lawn in the courtyard, just after a birthday party. The sky was pitch black, the crazed guests had dispersed, servants had cleared away the leftover food and trash, removed the tables, and the stage speakers had been powered down, leaving the lawn quiet and spacious. Multicolored lights flickered overhead, flashing on and off. A breeze blew, and he looked up. The person before him was Huo Niangsheng—a slightly younger Huo Niangsheng than the one now.

Huo Niangsheng slipped the ring onto his finger, confessed his feelings, and asked him if he wanted to be together.

If it were that time, Chen Wengang could have answered this question without wavering.

He also imagined them picnicking by the sea, Huo Niangsheng and him laughing and playing; they spread a cloth under a parasol, taking apples, cola, dried squid, and sandwiches from a basket; he imagined them dancing at their graduation prom, he happily pulling Huo Niangsheng into the dance floor amid the teasing gazes of others; he imagined them bickering for a lifetime until they were both white-haired.

The boundary between imagination and reality gradually blurred. The golden beach withered, the prom curtains faded; they were far from having walked that far. Before him was only Huo Niangsheng’s face, watching Chen Wengang with a profound, complex, and silent gaze.

Chen Wengang pulled the ring off once more and said, “Keep it for someone else.”

Huo Niangsheng pressed his hand down, nonchalantly but unmistakably: “It wouldn’t fit anyone else. Besides, who else would I have?”

Chen Wengang said stubbornly: “It wouldn’t fit me either.”

Huo Niangsheng crouched before him: “It’s just a little gift. Tell me why it doesn’t fit.”

Chen Wengang fell silent, then gave a faint smile: “Someone else once put a ring on me, too. Guess who he married later.”

Huo Niangsheng’s expression turned cold and desolate. He reached out to touch the top of his hair.

Chen Wengang continued: “Let’s just lay it all out. I know you’ve been incredible to me… but don’t bind your life to mine. You have money and power; who couldn’t you find better on the outside? In my current condition, with a face like this, and still having the nerve to think about romance and vows—I feel ridiculous. I live one day at a time; whether I have these things or not makes no difference to me. I’m sorry, it’s my fault.”

Huo Niangsheng closed his eyes and put the smile back on his face: “Fine, fine, then forget it.”

He closed the box, put it away, and tucked it back into his pocket. The jewelry box was a bit large, not really suitable for a trouser pocket, clearly bulging against the fabric. When Huo Niangsheng arrived, he had probably kept it hidden in his coat pocket.

Chen Wengang saw this, and deep down, he couldn’t bear it. He felt a sense of loss, yet felt as though he were surrounded by obstacles.

It is easy for a person to realize when they have done something wrong, but knowing what is right is truly not easy.

Huo Niangsheng showed no obvious signs of displeasure; he just chatted for a few more moments, then stood up and said he was returning to the city.

Halley ran up the stairs, then confusedly followed Huo Niangsheng back down. Huo Niangsheng bent down to stroke it, telling it he was leaving. Halley pricked up its ears, its tail stopped wagging, and it stared at his retreating back as he left in a hurry.

It heard Chen Wengang call its name from the second floor, shook itself out, and ran back upstairs.

Chen Wengang slowly crouched down, cupping its black-and-tan head in both hands.

There was a stinging sensation at his neck, and he reached up to touch it; it seemed the tooth marks from Huo Niangsheng’s bite still remained. Huo Niangsheng had held his leg in the crook of his arm; the sensation and warmth he had left behind still lingered, even though the man was already out of Chen Wengang’s sight.

After a while, a housemaid came to ask what Chen Wengang wanted for dinner.

Staff had come and gone in the villa several times, and the maid he had been closest to, named Xiao Ping, had resigned—she had been admitted to an adult university, and Chen Wengang had even congratulated her. When she left, she took with her the only time he had ever opened his heart to someone.

After Huo Niangsheng took the ring away, Chen Wengang never saw it again; he didn’t know what had become of it.

But later, even Huo Zhenfei called Chen Wengang, asking him what he was really thinking and what Huo Niangsheng was thinking.

It seemed that after Huo Niangsheng passed thirty-five, his cousin had gradually developed an attitude of resignation—whether he married or had children, or even if he followed the ancients in “marrying a plum tree and keeping a crane as a son,” the family would just have to accept it and decide to let nature take its course. The problem was, if Huo Niangsheng were truly carefree, that would be one thing; in Huo Zhenfei’s eyes, he was being tripped up by the obstacle that was Chen Wengang, unable to move past it no matter what.

Huo Zhenfei asked Chen Wengang if he didn’t think their “playing hard to get” relationship was bizarre.

Chen Wengang didn’t get angry; he simply asked Huo Zhenfei if he didn’t feel like a meddlesome patriarch from a television drama.

The two couldn’t see each other’s expressions, communicating only through their voices.

But perhaps as they grew older, the hostility wasn’t as sharp as the words appeared.

Over the years, whether Chen Wengang was proactive or passive, he had eventually come to understand more about Huo Niangsheng’s family relationships.

In this conversation, he was calm and communicated with Huo Zhenfei. For the first time, Chen Wengang voluntarily told Huo Zhenfei that while he sometimes didn’t approve of the man’s behavior and attitude, he could understand it, which at least showed that Huo Zhenfei was standing in Huo Niangsheng’s corner. Regardless of whether he was a good cousin or not, it was clear that he did indeed view Huo Niangsheng as a member of the family, which was why he would meddle in his affairs time and time again. Actually, it was good; it was better than Huo Niangsheng being forever alone, with no one to care or ask after him. If everyone surnamed Huo only cared to make a joke of him, Chen Wengang would be the one feeling chilled and indignant for him.

Upon hearing this, Huo Zhenfei’s temper also subsided.

His voice sounded a bit hoarse and weary, as if he had talked too much in meetings during the day.

He told Chen Wengang that he understood what he meant. Huo Zhenfei admitted that he shouldn’t, and didn’t want to, interfere too much in his cousin’s private life; it was only because he was too anxious that he had urged Chen Wengang to give it serious consideration. The turmoil of the first few years had left everyone feeling exhausted just watching them. No matter what, Huo Niangsheng was pushing forty now. For a man of this age, as long as he was doing okay, he should usually be at a stage of career success and domestic stability; the yearning for this was a natural instinct.

Huo Zhenfei added that even if Huo Niangsheng had a unique personality and didn’t pursue building a family in the traditional sense, Chen Wengang already occupied a huge part of his life, and that was indisputable. To have come this far, to say “let go” and actually do it—anyone could see that wouldn’t be easy. Being unable to advance or retreat was the most painful thing—not to mention Huo Niangsheng, at least that was what he himself thought.

Chen Wengang remained silent for a long time.

In the end, both sides had said what they needed to say, and they hung up politely.

Support me on Ko-fi