DLRAS Chapter 6

Chapter 6: I know the little friend Uncle adopted.

Zheng Baoqiu blinked, still not quite understanding, but she seemed to take it as some strange unspoken dynamic between men, so she did not fault Chen Wengang for acting on his own initiative. The shop assistant handed over a long, slender box tied with a dark ribbon, which Chen Wengang took and held for her.

Their errand was finished, but when Zheng Baoqiu went shopping, “getting straight to the point and heading straight home” was practically non-existent.

The old saying, “Since we’re already here,” perfectly captured her mindset across every shopping mall on earth.

Sure enough, she immediately dragged Chen Wengang along, pacing through more than half the shopping center on foot.

Holding up the clothes, Zheng Baoqiu asked, “Help me look at these. Is this lace denim jacket better, or that embroidered satin one from just now?”

Chen Wengang studied them seriously for a while before saying they both looked nice, just in different styles.

Displeased that his advice was entirely useless, Zheng Baoqiu decided in the end to take both.

Chen Wengang acted as a walking bag rack, trailing along as she stopped and started. Not a single brightly lit display window could escape her hawk-like gaze. The family driver had dodged a bullet by staying behind at the pet center to watch the dog, and it was little wonder her two biological older brothers had refused to accompany her.

Chen Wengang, on the other hand, did not mind spending the time with her.

Back when he first arrived at the Zheng family, Zheng Baoqiu was just a little girl in first grade who tore a small butterfly patch off her dress to give to him to play with—from that moment on, Chen Wengang viewed her as a younger sister in his heart. Over all these years, he had always treated her with a generous, gentle indulgence.

To Zheng Baoqiu, among the sea of older brothers in the family, he was the only one she could confide in without reservation.

Although Zheng Yucheng treated her decently, his relationship with her mother and second brother was delicate, making him unsuitable for deep conversations. Zheng Maoxun was a thick-headed, clueless straight man; trying to pour out her feelings to him would only infuriate her.

Only Chen Wengang was reserved and steady. Any secret entrusted to him was safe.

As for Mu Qing… forget Mu Qing. He was the primary target of Zheng Baoqiu’s constant complaints.

In truth, she disliked this cousin—who was only a year older than her—the most. But she only voiced this privately to Chen Wengang, feeling that Mu Qing was excessively scheming, using her to pass messages ever since they were children. Once a grudge was planted, she found him increasingly grating, and everything he did rubbed her the wrong way.

The two strolled along while chatting away in low voices, mostly with Zheng Baoqiu talking and Chen Wengang keeping her secrets.

As the conversation went on, it circled back to the person she despised. The moment Mu Qing came up, Zheng Baoqiu even began counting how he made a point to pick the exact same styles of new releases as Chen Wengang every single quarter, complaining that he would turn around and sneer sarcastically the moment they clashed outfits.

Chen Wengang thought about it for a good while, but could hardly recall those stale old grievances.

Speaking purely of that, he had no complaints himself. Every quarter, many luxury brands sent their new collection lookbooks to SVIP households for priority selection. In all fairness, the Zheng family had never deliberately shortchanged him when it came to everyday living. If Zheng Bingyi had not been footing the bills, far from clashing outfits, he would not even have had the chance to touch these luxury labels; to bicker over such things was utterly pointless.

As they walked past a menswear boutique, Zheng Baoqiu insisted on dragging Chen Wengang inside.

On a whim, she declared she was going to pick out a couple of unique pieces for him that would never match anyone else’s. The brand’s aesthetic, however—looking at first glance like an overturned paint palette—was so eccentric that Chen Wengang had to hand the neon hoodie back to the shop assistant, finding it utterly unwearable.

Finally, he located what might have been the only basic white dress shirt in the entire store and asked, “How about this one?”

Zheng Baoqiu shook her head like a rattle-drum. “No, no, absolutely not. That’s way too plain.”

Chen Wengang nearly pleaded with her. “What do you actually want? Turn me into a Christmas tree?”

Her dark, grape-like eyes scanned back and forth, eventually settling on a silk shirt printed with dragons and phoenixes.

She egged Chen Wengang on to try this grand, border-line-gaudy designer piece. “If you’re going to try something, try that one!”

Chen Wengang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, while Zheng Baoqiu teased and wheedled him, claiming that handsome men existed solely to serve as clothes racks.

Two or three other customers in the store were already turning their heads to watch the scene, and the female assistant beside them pressed her lips together to stifle a smile.

“Sir, you have such fair skin. Go ahead and give it a try—there’s no obligation to buy.”

In the end, Chen Wengang relented and reached out his hand.

Zheng Baoqiu beamed with delight.

Before his hand could touch the shirt she held, another hanger was proffered from the side. “How about trying this black one?”

Zheng Baoqiu whipped her head around, a sudden mix of shock and delight on her face. “Cousin! What a coincidence, how come you’re here? When did you arrive?”

It was a voice intimately familiar beyond measure.

As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up.

Chen Wengang felt as though he had plunged headlong into a dream.

He took in the newcomer’s appearance—tall and upright, practically matching the height of a mannequin, wrapped in a brown checkered hunting jacket. His dark hair was brushed back diagonally, and those amorous, peach-blossom eyes always carried a hint of mockery, cutting the very figure of a textbook playboy.

It was, unmistakably, Huo Niansheng.

Caught completely off guard, he had walked straight out of distant memories, appearing before Chen Wengang in the flesh.

A ringing sensation pierced Chen Wengang’s ears.

The thing inside his chest no longer felt like a heart; it had been replaced by a pacemaker, its deafening, clamoring rhythm surging against his eardrums until he could hear nothing else.

Time rewound frantically frame by frame. Every frame of the film carried Huo Niansheng’s smiling face—playful, wild, gentle, sinister—flashing and cutting across his vision like a rapid montage, finally freezing on the man before him who looked at him with unfamiliar eyes.

Huo Niansheng sized him up with keen interest.

Noticing nothing amiss, Zheng Baoqiu pulled Chen Wengang to her side. “Cousin, do you still recognize him? This is—”

Huo Niansheng gave a slight smile, his eyes sparkling with amused light. “I know. The little friend Uncle adopted.”

Instead, he turned to ask Chen Wengang, “Still remember me?” As he spoke, he reached out his hand. “We met at banquets back then.”

A beat too late, Chen Wengang recovered his wits and hurriedly offered his hand into his.

Their hands met in a fleeting, superficial handshake and pulled apart at once.

The heat radiating from Huo Niansheng’s palm burned his skin.

Chen Wengang lowered his eyes. Huo Niansheng’s fingers were prominent at the joints, long and powerful, with distinct blue veins. Along the sides of his index finger and in the webbing between his thumb and index finger were calluses—traces left behind by years of shooting practice. He remembered that he used to go shooting often and was a crack shot.

Ten years. He and Huo Niansheng had been separated by death for ten years—more than 3,600 days and nights that had felt impossible to endure.

Now, standing beneath these harsh, glaring lights, Chen Wengang feared that speaking another word would bring a flood of moisture to his eyes.

It was supposed to be a dream come true, yet a sticky layer of cold sweat broke out across Chen Wengang’s back, sending a shudder running through him.

“How could I forget?” When he raised his eyes again, his voice was remarkably calm. He smiled faintly. “Young Master Huo, it’s a pleasure.”

“I’m just a few years older than you. You can do what Baoqiu does and call me Cousin,” Huo Niansheng made polite conversation. “I remember you were quite close with Zheng Yucheng. Back then, I always saw the two of you tucked away together. Didn’t he come out with you today?”

“We’re just shopping, why invite him?” Zheng Baoqiu cut in. “He and my second brother only know how to spoil the mood.”

“So what did you buy?” Huo Niansheng shifted his focus back to her.

“A bit of everything. We’re looking at clothes right now.” Zheng Baoqiu urged Chen Wengang to try them on again.

“Maybe we should skip it,” Chen Wengang offered a strained smile. “I’ll try next time. Today…”

He cleared his throat before managing to say he was tired. Zheng Baoqiu naturally refused to believe him, assuming he was just trying to wriggle out of it. Huo Niansheng also watched the show with teasing amusement. She snatched the black shirt from Huo Niansheng’s hand without even looking and pulled it off the hanger.

Both shirts were shoved into Chen Wengang’s hands.

Chen Wengang abruptly changed his mind. He turned toward the fitting room, stepping inside and locking the door behind him.

Hanging one shirt on the hook, he braced himself against the door. After a few seconds, his knees slowly gave out, and the other shirt slipped to the floor.

He was not actually tired; rather, his heart had grown uncomfortable moments ago, pounding away in erratic chaos. Years of experience with panic disorder gave him an ominous premonition. He had never imagined he would have an episode at a time like this.

Unfortunately, most of the time it gave no warning, offering no advance notice. It was often like this: just a matter of seconds, striking out of nowhere.

His hands and feet went numb; his limbs refused to obey commands. A dull ache radiated from his chest straight to his back, leaving him breathless and utterly sapped of strength.

Chen Wengang knitted his brows. What was even harder to endure was the indescribable terror, as though he were trapped alive inside a grim, damp tomb. In his hallucinations, he caught the faint whiff of moist, rotting earth, could almost feel rats scurrying past him, could almost imagine maggots crawling and multiplying across his skin.

The dread of death bore down on him, tightening like a net, stripping away his ability to breathe stroke by stroke.

Outside, unaware of anything amiss, Zheng Baoqiu chatted with Huo Niansheng.

She asked her cousin, “How come you’re back already?”

Huo Niansheng replied, “What, not welcome?”

“Of course not! It’s just that everyone said you were busy expanding business out in Zhang City, so I thought it’d be a while before we saw you.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, Huo Niansheng cast his gaze toward the fitting room, answering nonchalantly, “It’s not like I traveled hundreds of thousands of miles to fetch scriptures.”

Zheng Baoqiu laughed out loud. “True enough, it’s just the neighboring city. You could commute back and forth every day if you wanted.”

After chatting with her for a short while, Huo Niansheng suddenly checked his watch. “Why hasn’t your Wengang-ge come out yet?”

Only then did Zheng Baoqiu realize the delay. “He couldn’t be feeling too embarrassed and slipped out the back, could he?”

Huo Niansheng glanced toward the fitting room twice. Just as he took a step toward it, the phone in his pocket rang out.

Glancing at the screen and seeing Yu Shanding’s name, he turned and stepped out of the boutique to take the call outside. Once finished, he returned to say his goodbyes to Zheng Baoqiu, explaining that something had come up and he had to leave.

“Alright then, go take care of business.” Though slightly disappointed, Zheng Baoqiu waved him off. “I’ll go check on Wengang-ge.”

On his way out, Huo Niansheng paused in his tracks and called over a male shop assistant. “Fitting Room 3. Go in and take a look.”

A panic attack typically lasted anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour. Chen Wengang had lost track of time when he heard someone knocking on the door from outside.

A voice came through: “Is someone in there? Do you need any help?”

Groggy and disoriented, unsure whether he had made any sound, he lifted his hand with immense effort and knocked once on the inside of the door.

The male assistant unlocked the door with a key. Startled by the sight inside, he dropped to one knee. “Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Hauled to his feet by the assistant, Chen Wengang recovered a little and managed to speak. “Low blood sugar.”

He was helped out into the boutique, where a small crowd gathered around him instantly.

Surrounding Chen Wengang, they had him recline halfway on the sofa to rest. Distraught, Zheng Baoqiu looked somewhat pitiful caught in the middle of it all, wanting to call an ambulance one moment and trying to ring the driver the next. Chen Wengang stopped her, saying it wasn’t necessary and reassuring her that he was fine.

He knew his own condition all too well; it was autonomic nervous system dysfunction, a disorder for which even a hospital could offer little immediate remedy.

The shop assistant brought over complimentary mints and chocolates intended for guests. Chen Wengang popped one into his mouth, letting a bittersweet richness spread across his tongue.

Chocolate offered no actual medicinal relief, providing only a minor mental comfort through sugar, but it still made him feel marginally better.

He lifted his heavy eyelids. The lighting remained blindingly bright and harsh, but that familiar figure was nowhere to be seen among the crowd.

Huo Niansheng had left early, which came as no surprise.

The fact that he hadn’t stayed behind to watch the spectacle actually made Chen Wengang feel more at ease.

In his previous life, Huo Niansheng had seen him at his most wretched; through every injury and illness, Huo Niansheng had accompanied him to seek treatment. Even so, no one would want their very first reunion with their lover to resemble an epileptic seizure—it was hardly an attractive picture.

After resting for a few minutes, his bodily functions stabilized with no further issues. Full of guilt, Zheng Baoqiu insisted they call an end to the shopping trip.

The shop assistant brought over the clothes retrieved from the fitting room to check on them.

No longer in any mood to try them on, Zheng Baoqiu waved a hand dismissively, but Chen Wengang spoke up: “I’ll take the black one.”

“Certainly,” the assistant replied. “Would you like a fresh piece from the back?”

“This one will be fine,” Chen Wengang said.

Zheng Baoqiu handed her credit card over without hesitation, but Chen Wengang had no intention of spending her money and offered to pay himself.

As it turned out, neither of them needed to argue. The assistant smiled and politely declined: “The gentleman who was with you earlier has already settled the bill.”

“For this black shirt?” Zheng Baoqiu asked to confirm.

“For this piece, plus the two items you both picked out earlier—three pieces in total.” Wearing a professional smile, the assistant added, “He mentioned that you two may pick out whatever you like today. Aside from these, anything else you’d like will be billed directly to his account.”

Chen Wengang was taken aback, while Zheng Baoqiu accepted it with total ease: “Alright then, pack them up for us, please. We don’t need anything else.”

The assistant deftly handled the silk, folded the garments, and placed them inside a branded paper bag.

As she handed the bag over, she added, “By the way, that gentleman also asked me to pass along a message.”

“What did he say?” Zheng Baoqiu asked casually.

“He said this gentleman will undoubtedly look good in whatever he wears.”

—

Author’s Note:

“As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up” is adapted from a passage describing death in the Book of Job. The original text reads: As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up: So man lieth down, and riseth not: till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep. (Job 14:11–12)

Support me on Ko-fi