Bo Yu was trapped deep in a profound darkness. The blurry light and shadows in his dream gradually cleared, revealing Gu Qichi’s face.

He jolted awake from the dream.

The two of them were still in the small wooden cabin in Tromsø. Tongues of fire danced in the warm fireplace, casting a hazy glow across the floor.

Gu Qichi was sleeping soundly, his head resting on Bo Yu’s arm, his breathing light and shallow. He was covered with a thick wool blanket. Because the room temperature was set quite high, Gu Qichi felt a bit warm. He struggled to kick the blanket away a little, exposing a section of his curving collarbone that cast a faint shadow under the light. Two indistinct red flushes had spread across his cheeks.

Seeing the person sleeping so peacefully in his arms, Bo Yu let out an unprompted sigh of relief. His tense muscles gradually relaxed. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Gu Qichi’s forehead.

Ever since reuniting with Gu Qichi, Bo Yu had been having this same recurring dream every night. In the dream, the past he had experienced gradually became clear, and Gu Qichi’s face was no longer blurry. Bo Yu remembered and confirmed that the “Gu” he had been searching for was Gu Qichi.

Ever since he had fully remembered, he hadn’t dreamed of this matter again. He didn’t know why, but yesterday, the dream had arrived once more as if on schedule.

The anxiety and frustration of being forced to forget everything swept over him. Bo Yu stared intently at Gu Qichi for a long while before the restless, gloomy aura radiating from him gradually subsided.

There were no cameras in the wooden cabin, and the film crew was still adjusting to the jet lag. The shooting schedule had been pushed back to this afternoon, meaning no one would come knocking on their door to disturb them for the entire morning.

In other words, Bo Yu had plenty of time today to do exactly what he wanted to do.

He lowered his eyes to look at Gu Qichi, who was still sleeping soundly on the bed. The vicious possessiveness stimulated by that dream began to grow bit by bit. Like a gloomy plant curled up in a corner, it rapidly spread its branches and leaves, firmly taking over the entire space.

---

Gu Qichi was woken up by the heat.

It felt like drowning in a boiling tide, the warm currents washing over and flushing his sensitive, fragile nerves. Gu Qichi jolted awake, trembling involuntarily. The moment he lifted his eyelashes, before he was even fully conscious, he saw Bo Yu hovering under the blanket.

His voice was muffled, still half-asleep as he groggily asked, “Bo Yu, what are you doing?”

Bo Yu lifted his head from the covers. His gaze was very heavy. He didn’t speak, but his movements were quick.

He took a bite of the soft flesh near Gu Qichi’s red mole. Gu Qichi instantly woke up, struggling to pull away, but he was pinned down by Bo Yu, unable to move.

The curtains in the room were thick, and the overhead light was very dim. The leaping flames in the fireplace provided the only bright color in this narrow world.

For some reason, Bo Yu didn’t seem to be in a very good mood. Even in the obscure light, Gu Qichi was immediately able to catch his shifting emotions.

Gu Qichi shook his head, fighting back his drowsiness, his voice slightly hoarse: “What’s wrong? Are you in a bad mood?”

This time, Bo Yu answered, though his spirits weren’t high and his voice was muffled: “I dreamed that you weren’t by my side. That I forgot you, and I couldn’t find you.”

Gu Qichi froze. He looked straight at Bo Yu, his voice trembling as he asked, “What did you dream about?”

Perhaps realizing Gu Qichi’s voice sounded off, Bo Yu let go of him, pulled him into his arms, and rested his chin against his.

He quietly recounted everything that happened in the dream. He reached out, wrapping Gu Qichi’s hand in his own, rubbing and playing with his knuckles. Watching the joints of his fingers turn from white to pink, Bo Yu’s mood gradually improved.

He even told him about the bizarre memories from that period of time.

“Did you know? I clearly remembered what you looked like, when we met, and even the first words we said to each other.” Bo Yu’s brow furrowed, looking hesitant and confused. “But for some reason, those things slowly began to blur. Not because of time, and not because of anything else.”

“I was forced to submit to ‘forgetting’.”

He reached out and stroked Gu Qichi’s face. “So I could only rely on those residual impressions to look for you.”

He didn’t mention how much time it took, nor did he mention how much energy he spent. It was just a simple phrase—looking for you—yet Gu Qichi still felt his heart tremble.

In that dream where he recalled the past, in front of his tombstone, Bo Yu had been exactly like he said: braving the wind and snow, searching for him for a very, very long time.

Gu Qichi fell silent. It felt as if a hole had been punctured in his heart, the sour, aching pain swelling and overflowing. He closed his eyes, suppressing the moisture gathering in them.

“Bo Yu, do you want to hear a story?”

Gu Qichi spoke slowly, not waiting for Bo Yu’s answer before continuing on his own.

“I had a dream too. In the dream, I died very, very early on. I saved a very cute little girl and allowed her family to find happiness. I thought no one would remember me, but surprisingly, there was an idiot who remembered me all along.”

Gu Qichi lowered his eyes, looking at Bo Yu’s hands enveloping his own. The ring on his ring finger glinted with fine light in the dim room. When the two rings pressed against each other, they occasionally made a faint clinking sound.

“He not only remembered me, but after I died, he went crazy looking for me everywhere. But a dead person can’t be found. I’m sure many people tried to advise him against it, but he had a bad temper and was always very stubborn. I guess he definitely didn’t listen to their advice, otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen him secretly hiding and crying while searching for me.”

Bo Yu felt a stir of emotion, an indescribable sense of melancholy and loss welling up inside him. Faintly, he could guess that the person Gu Qichi was talking about was him.

Yet, subconsciously, he didn’t want to admit it. Not because he didn’t want to admit that he was the one aimlessly searching for Gu Qichi, but because he was instinctively, fiercely resisting the possibility Gu Qichi mentioned—the possibility of his early death.

He had no way to accept it, let alone dare to imagine what he would do if Gu Qichi died early.

He would probably go insane.

Gu Qichi pulled his hands free, turned around, and straddled him, looking straight into his eyes.

“Bo Yu, we aren’t in a dream right now, and the two things you and I talked about won’t happen.” His hands draped over Bo Yu’s shoulders. The teeth marks Bo Yu had just left on his thigh were still visible, but his face held a posture of complete trust.

“Bo Yu, I love you very much. I won’t let you be unable to find me, and I certainly won’t leave your side.”

Gu Qichi’s voice was slow, but exceptionally firm and powerful.

A smile slowly spilled into his eyes. He shifted forward and leaned in to kiss Bo Yu’s chin.

“Don’t think so much about it, Bo Yu. Instead of worrying about when I might disappear, you can think more about where we should go play next.”

Bo Yu’s hand moved all the way up his back, slowly coming to rest on the back of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head up.

A dense rain of kisses fell upon him once more. Gu Qichi closed his eyes, his entire being enveloped, covered, and completely monopolized by Bo Yu’s presence.

Sweat evaporated into the air. He didn’t know when he had fallen back onto the bed.

Gu Qichi’s eyes were hazy with moisture, his hands weakly locked within Bo Yu’s grasp. Amidst his blurring consciousness, he heard Bo Yu’s voice echoing in his ear: “Let me kiss you a little longer. If I kiss you more, you won’t disappear.”

The flames in the fireplace suddenly surged higher, baring fangs and brandishing claws as they licked the walls, looking as if they wanted to burn everything to ashes. The tallest flame was especially brazen, leaping straight up and piercing through the top of the fireplace.

From Gu Qichi’s angle, the top of that flame was completely swallowed up by the chimney.

But he had absolutely no time to be distracted by that. All his senses were firmly controlled by Bo Yu, entirely out of his own hands.

Amidst the endless, surging waves, Gu Qichi heard Bo Yu’s voice, so low it was almost a temptation: “Wife, call my name. Say you love me.”

This was the greatest sense of security Gu Qichi could give Bo Yu.

---

By the afternoon, the film crew had finally rested and recovered their energy. The large group marched grandly to Gu Qichi and Bo Yu’s wooden cabin. They didn’t see the couple, but they did see Wen Xi, Yu Sheng, and Gu Qichi’s assistant, Luo Qianqian, at the door.

The accompanying PD found it a bit strange. Looking around, he ran over to Yu Sheng and asked, “Teacher Yu, are Teacher Gu and Teacher Bo not in their room?”

Yu Sheng looked embarrassed. “We don’t know either. Baby Xiao Chi hasn’t been replying to messages, and no one answered when we knocked.”

Wen Xi also rubbed her nose uncomfortably, not knowing what to do.

Logically speaking, having slept this long, Gu Qichi should have woken up ages ago. Why hadn’t there been any movement today? The crew had arrived to start filming; they couldn’t exactly violently break the door down.

They discussed it outside for a little while before the directing team arrived right on their heels.

Wen Xi: “…”

With Bo Yu by Gu Qichi’s side, she really had no way to manage things!

The accompanying PD wasn’t in a rush to wake them up. Instead, he went to consult with Wen Xi first.

“Manager Wen, look, do you think we could discuss things with Teacher Gu today? When they take the cable car, could they bring a cameraman along?”

Aside from the auroras, the other most worthwhile experience in Tromsø was the cable car. Looking down from high up in the cable car, one could see the entire city’s neat rows of houses and the magnificent, surging fjords.

Especially at dusk, when the golden sun sank to the west, the heavy, pale golden sunlight would fall upon the snowy mountains, dyeing the entire world orange-yellow. The rooftops would be coated in a hazy halo, making it look like a fairyland fallen to earth.

It was a highly popular spot for couples to visit.

But given Bo Yu’s personality, and the narrow confines of the cable car, the PD highly doubted that Bo Yu, who would surely want to enjoy a romantic two-person world with Gu Qichi, would ever allow a cameraman to squeeze in with them.

However, trying to film the two of them from a completely separate cable car was as difficult as ascending to the heavens.

Wen Xi was also in a tight spot. For one, she couldn’t interfere with Bo Yu’s thoughts. For another, the cable car was so small; if it were her, she wouldn’t want extra people crowding in either.

Just as the two were staring at each other in dismay, the door behind them suddenly opened, and Bo Yu walked out with his arm around Gu Qichi.

Suddenly seeing so many people—clearly waiting for them—Gu Qichi discreetly nudged Bo Yu with his elbow, silently blaming him.

It was all Bo Yu’s fault. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have overslept for so long, and then had to frantically search for clothes to cover up the marks on his body when he woke up.

“Good afternoon, Teacher Gu, Teacher Bo.” The PD greeted them, his smile a bit awkward. Since Wen Xi hadn’t spoken up for him, he had to bite the bullet and do it himself. “Um, Teacher Gu, are you… not doing hair and makeup today?”

Normally, Gu Qichi couldn’t be bothered with that stuff. Even though his makeup took very little time, filming for a whole day was exhausting, and he was too lazy to take it off later. Besides, even without makeup, the cameras couldn’t possibly capture a bad angle of him.

But considering the glaring mark on his neck, Gu Qichi wavered.

He wanted to borrow the makeup artist’s concealer.

After a brief thought, Gu Qichi quickly agreed to the PD’s suggestion. “It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll go bother the makeup artist for a bit.”

The smile on the PD’s face froze even further. He had originally just wanted to find a random topic to start a conversation with the easygoing Gu Qichi. But if Gu Qichi went off to get his makeup done, didn’t that mean he had to communicate with Bo Yu…?

Gu Qichi left with the makeup artist, leaving the PD and Bo Yu staring at each other.

PD: “Um, Teacher Bo, what do you think about letting Xiao Jiang record with you guys in the cable car later?”

Afraid that Bo Yu would refuse, the PD specifically suggested a petite female crew member who wouldn’t take up too much space. Moreover, Bo Yu was generally more gentlemanly toward women; from the PD’s observations, Bo Yu rarely picked fights with the female staff around him.

Bo Yu didn’t reply immediately. He was tall—nearly a full head taller than the PD. As he faintly lowered his eyes and glanced down at him, he exuded an irresistible, oppressive aura.

The accompanying PD looked up at him and swallowed involuntarily, intimidated by his presence.

Bo Yu withdrew his gaze. His expression was very faint, and his tone was utterly nonchalant: “No. The cable car is too small. It can’t fit a third person.”

Cold sweat broke out on the PD’s forehead as he struggled to keep fighting for it. “Xiao Jiang is very thin. She won’t take up much space.”

Bo Yu cut him off without an ounce of mercy: “We are going to kiss in the cable car. I’m not used to having a third person watching.”

PD: “?”

PD: “…”

You motherfucker. You heartless, PDA-loving dogs. The cameras are still rolling, couldn’t you be a little more subtle and wait until you get back to kiss?!