Morning came again.

Gu Yuanting hadn’t slept a wink all night. He sat there blankly, holding the still-sleeping Ranran in his arms, his heart aching unbearably.

Last night, although Ranran hadn’t resisted or struggled, he had bitten his lips hard and refused to give him the slightest cooperation or response.

Ranran hated him now…

Didn’t want to speak to him, didn’t want him to hold him, didn’t want him to kiss him. It was only after Ranran fell asleep that Gu Yuanting had managed to secretly pull him into his arms.

His chest tightened painfully. He realized he had been too naïve before. He had thought that even if Ranran hated him, he could endure it, that they could muddle along together, and that, over time, things would smooth over and become harmonious.

But now—never mind hatred—even the slightest bit of displeasure from Ranran was enough to make him feel like he was dying inside.

Looking at the person in his arms, he longed for contact, carefully leaning in to steal a kiss while Ranran was still asleep.

But just before he could touch him, Ranran suddenly stirred, as if waking. Startled, Gu Yuanting sprang back like a frightened spring.

His sudden movement actually woke Su Yiran for real. Rubbing his eyes, Ranran blinked at the man before him, instinctively smiling and about to say “good morning,” but then remembered their current situation and immediately pulled back both his greeting and his smile.

…And then he saw that Ting-ge’s eyes were red.

Su Yiran: “…”

Sigh. If this was the case, why had he done all those things to begin with?

Ranran’s heart ached; he wanted to kiss Ting-ge, but for the sake of the bigger picture, he kept his face stern, ignored him, and turned over to face away.

Gu Yuanting’s nose stung, his eyes sore and burning. He forced a smile. “M–morning, Ranran. I love you.”

Su Yiran’s heart trembled, but he said nothing and didn’t move.

From behind, Gu Yuanting leaned forward to gently kiss the fair skin of Ranran’s nape. Earlier, he had failed to steal a kiss, which had left him disappointed, so now he sought small comfort.

This time, Ranran didn’t dodge—he couldn’t bear to—but still didn’t respond.

After kissing for a while, Gu Yuanting seemed to draw a little strength and felt slightly better. He whispered in Ranran’s ear, “Get up? I made something delicious for you.”

No answer. Ranran stayed curled away from him.

Gu Yuanting had no choice but to get out of bed himself, head drooping, and leave the room. The door closed, and the lock clicked.

As soon as the sound faded, Su Yiran turned over, looking toward the door, and sighed silently.

When Gu Yuanting returned with breakfast—century egg and pork congee, potato cakes, and some side dishes—he found Ranran in the exact same position as when he’d left.

Pausing at the doorway, he carried the tray over and spoke softly. “Ranran, come eat breakfast? I made your favorite potato cakes.”

Ranran didn’t move or respond.

Anxious he might still be hungry, Gu Yuanting tried to sound upbeat. “Come on, Ranran, you didn’t eat much yesterday. You must be starving.” Setting the food down, he reached out to help him up.

Su Yiran didn’t resist, allowing himself to be guided into a sitting position. He glanced at the steaming breakfast beside him, then turned his head away. “I’m not eating,” he said flatly.

Finally, he had spoken—but the words were like a bomb dropped in Gu Yuanting’s heart.

“What… what do you mean, not eating?” Gu Yuanting asked hoarsely, as if unable to comprehend.

Ranran lowered his head, saying nothing.

Dizziness swept over Gu Yuanting. Was Ranran planning to starve himself?

His whole body began to tremble; a sharp pain stabbed at his temple. His voice shook. “Don’t… don’t like this breakfast? I–I’ll make something else. Fried rice? Or egg pancakes? Okay?”

Seeing him like this, Ranran’s heart ached, but he kept his calm demeanor. After all the buildup, he finally administered the “strong medicine”: “If you don’t unlock me, I won’t eat.”

Ranran truly meant to starve himself.

Moisture welled uncontrollably in Gu Yuanting’s eyes, his heart pounding painfully. After a frozen moment, he suddenly jolted as if waking from a nightmare and hurriedly unlocked the handcuffs and chains. Red-eyed, he leaned on the bed, pleading, “I–I unlocked it, Ranran, you… you…”

Seeing the wetness in his eyes, Su Yiran’s heart quivered. He cupped Ting-ge’s face and gently brushed his thumb over his damp lashes. “Ting-ge…”

Gu Yuanting’s lips trembled; he could only murmur, “Ranran… eat, please…”

Su Yiran kissed him, then picked up the congee. “See? I’m eating. Don’t worry.”

Gu Yuanting slowly relaxed. When Ranran finished both the congee and the potato cakes—truly hungry after barely eating yesterday—he smiled. “All done. It was delicious. I really liked it.”

Relieved, Gu Yuanting found himself smiling back.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Ranran took his hand and led him downstairs.

While Ting-ge ate, Ranran sat beside him, occasionally stroking his hair, rubbing his ears, or squeezing the back of his neck. The touches calmed him, and soon his breakfast was gone.

“My phone?” Ranran asked. “Can I have it now?”

Gu Yuanting froze, terrified of another hunger strike, and rushed to find it. “Ph–phone.”

Taking it, Ranran didn’t immediately call Dr. Sun. Instead, he embraced Ting-ge, kissed him gently, and stroked his back. “Don’t worry. I lied earlier—I wouldn’t really starve myself. Because… I love you too much to leave you. But you’re sick, and we can’t just stay locked in here. We need a doctor, understand?”

Gu Yuanting’s panic eased a little. “Then… are you still mad at me?”

Another kiss. “No. I stopped being mad long ago—I was just pretending.”

He held Ranran close, burying his head in his shoulder. “Don’t ignore me again.”

“Okay,” Ranran promised, patting his head.

After a quiet moment, Gu Yuanting kissed him again—starting light, then deepening as Ranran responded. Finally, Ranran pulled away and explained, “I’m going to call Dr. Sun now to discuss your condition.”

He nodded reflexively, but when he realized what that meant, Ranran was already on the phone.

Dr. Sun… his condition… those books!

Once Ranran and the doctor talked, it wouldn’t take long—maybe today, maybe tomorrow—before the truth came out.

He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t lock Ranran away.

Pain stabbed his head again; he forced the agony down. These headaches were coming more often now… and he could feel it—his time was almost up.

Those books Ranran had found, all the research he had sponsored—even projects on parallel universes—were useless. Before the vastness of the cosmos, he was nothing. There wasn’t enough time left to study further.

Maybe tomorrow, or with the next wave of pain, he would lose to the original owner of this body. The original would return and take Ranran. He would be driven out… back to his own world.

But in his own world, he was already dead.

…He would simply vanish.

Even if he could control Ranran now, what was the point? Life and death were beyond his grasp.

“Tomorrow, let’s go to the hospital again, okay?” Ranran’s voice was bright—Dr. Sun had sounded confident about progress.

Gu Yuanting nodded blankly.

The rest of the day, Ranran noticed Ting-ge drifting into silence again, distracted, uneasy. He stayed close, trying to keep him calm.

That night, Gu Yuanting dreamed again.

This time, unlike before, the dream was clear from start to finish—no fog, no missing pieces.

In the darkness before dawn, he woke drenched in sweat, panting. His head throbbed violently, as if the original owner was mocking his weakness.

The original was coming back. He was going to die.

Shaking, he got out of bed.

“…Ting-ge?” Ranran murmured drowsily.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Gu Yuanting touched his face softly.

Thinking he was just going to the bathroom, Ranran drifted back to sleep.

Gu Yuanting stood watching him for a long time.

The original would kill him and take Ranran, and he could do nothing.

His body trembled again. He bent down and kissed Ranran hard, then turned and left the room.

Downstairs in the dark, his eyes adjusted. His gaze landed on the fruit knife in the living room fruit bowl.

Even in the night, its silver blade gleamed coldly.

Ranran was his.

Even if it meant perishing together with the original, he would never let anyone else have him.

No one.

He’d tried suicide before—it had felt… almost good.

Maybe he really was meant to stay in the dark, unworthy of touching the sunlight.

His trembling hand slowly reached for the knife.