ICSTC CH24: Tidal Warning

The Mercedes slowly pulled into the underground garage, its headlights sweeping across the walls before it parked steadily in its spot, the engine shutting off.

Chi Zhiyue did not return to the family’s main residence, but drove to the apartment where he lived alone. It was a newly developed residential complex with a low occupancy rate. The garage was sparsely populated with only a few cars, making it look exceptionally empty.

Once the car’s engine completely stopped, the surroundings instantly plunged into extreme silence.

Chi Zhiyue pushed the door open and stepped out of the driver’s seat.

During the few steps from the garage to the elevator, his eyes remained glued to his phone screen.

22:15

[Luo Ye]: I’m home, what about you?

[Chi Zhiyue]: I just parked my car.

[Luo Ye]: Okay, I’m going to play games then. Bye bye~

[Luo Ye]: [Yellow Bean wearing sunglasses emoji]

[Chi Zhiyue]: Okay [Heart emoji]

[Luo Ye]: This heart… [Awkward sweating emoji]

[Chi Zhiyue]: If you don’t like it, I won’t send emojis anymore [Pitiful emoji]

[Luo Ye]: [15s voice-to-text] Ah, my bad, it’s the first time someone sent me this so I’m a bit unused to it. You can send it if you want. Wait, the game is starting, if you need anything say it, I’ll check it later.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Okay [Smile emoji]

During the time the elevator went up, Chi Zhiyue listened to that 15-second voice message repeatedly. By the time he reached his front door, he could already recite it by heart.

As he scanned his fingerprint on the lock, he listened to it one more time.

“Ah, my bad, it’s the first time someone sent me this so I’m a bit unused to it…”

Luo Ye’s voice was very crisp; his speaking pace quickened in the second half, but it remained clear. Like a gentle narration on a late-night radio station, it slowly echoed through the empty and quiet corridor.

“So cute.”

The corners of Chi Zhiyue’s mouth never dropped from start to finish. He long-pressed the voice message and added it to his favorites.

He put away his phone and opened the door to his home.

As the lights flicked on, a clean and minimalist living room was fully illuminated. The overall color scheme was dominated by pure black, white, and gray, accented with a few warm wooden tones that neutralized the coldness.

The apartment was slightly larger than his place at the main residence—three bedrooms and two bathrooms.

Chi Zhiyue’s room was at the far left end of the living room. The floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows faced a frontline river view. The river water shimmered with fragmented reflections in the night, looking gentle and tranquil.

Chi Zhiyue took off his coat in the bedroom and went to take a shower first.

After coming out, he poured himself a glass of hot water and used his computer to process the administrative approvals for tomorrow.

In a flash, it was 11:30 PM.

Chi Zhiyue rolled his sore wrists and instinctively picked up his phone.

Coincidentally, Luo Ye had sent a message a few minutes ago: Easy win, I’m going to sleep, bye bye.

Chi Zhiyue held up his phone and quickly replied: Good night.

[Luo Ye]: Oh, you’re not asleep yet.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Just finished with work.

[Luo Ye]: DFG is doing work-from-home now too?

[Chi Zhiyue]: It’s not DFG’s work, consider it a side hustle.

[Luo Ye]: Ah, okay, good luck with your side hustle bro.

[Luo Ye]: I’m sleeping first, gotta go meet Lan Ju tomorrow [Laughing out loud emoji]

The smile on Chi Zhiyue’s lips dropped by about three degrees. His fingers unconsciously tapped on the mousepad on the desk.

After a few seconds of silence, he typed a reply.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Why don’t you come meet me?

[Luo Ye]: ?

[Luo Ye]: Didn’t we meet today?

[Luo Ye]: I even hugged you.

[Chi Zhiyue]: So you remember.

[Chi Zhiyue]: You left right after hugging me, I thought you were sleepwalking so I didn’t dare to mention it [Looking down poking fingers emoji]

[Luo Ye]: ?

Luo Ye was clearly struggling with how to reply. The “typing…” indicator at the top of the chat box repeatedly appeared and disappeared.

After about two minutes, he finally replied to the latter half of the sentence.

[Luo Ye]: What’s the big deal? You said what you said, we hugged, and it’s not like I said I regretted it.

[Chi Zhiyue]: That’s good.

[Luo Ye]: Going offline.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Good night.

The chat page fell completely silent, with no new messages popping up.

But Chi Zhiyue didn’t exit the app. Resting his elbow on the desk, he pressed his knuckles against his lips, half-concealing the uncontrollable upward curve of his mouth.

He softly mumbled the last few words: “Didn’t regret it…”

As he repeated it, he started to chuckle softly.

It really was Luo Ye’s style—carefree, making moves without regrets.

“Alright, it seems I still don’t quite understand him.”

Chi Zhiyue stood up and turned off the reading lamp on the desk.

He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the road where a car slowly drove by only every few minutes. His fingertips slid through the ring hanging on his chest, rubbing it carefully.

Everything was very quiet.

It was exactly like that secluded corner before they parted ways.

Only then, there was a warm embrace, chaotic heartbeats, and Luo Ye’s scent, so he hadn’t felt much of the silence.

That hug was an unexpected surprise today. The warmth belonging to Luo Ye had long been blown away by the evening breeze, but he still remembered the words spoken when they let go.

After the hug ended, Luo Ye had tilted his face up and smiled at him, his tone light and cheerful: “Thank you, go home early, see you next time.”

That smile was so vivid—so vivid that just thinking about it put Chi Zhiyue in a great mood.

He walked slowly to the bedside and turned off the floor lamp.

The moment the light went out, a wave of intense pain suddenly struck. Like a red-hot steel needle, it pierced directly from the back of his head into the deepest part of his mind, shooting straight through the center of his brows.

The familiar, agonizing pain made Chi Zhiyue’s body sway, and he collapsed directly onto the bed.

Thud!

After the muffled sound, the pain began to spread as usual. From a single needle, it morphed into countless needles, spreading from the back of his head throughout his entire skull. Every stab precisely hit his most fragile nerves.

Chi Zhiyue frowned deeply. His lips turned pale from him biting them, and they were soon bitten bloody. Fine beads of blood fell drop by drop onto the light-colored quilt.

He instinctively wanted to grab something to steady himself, but there was nothing in front of him. He could only kneel on the bed, curling his body into a tight ball, pressing down hard on his temples.

The pain was too severe—so severe that his body trembled slightly, starting from his shoulders, spreading to his arms, and down to his fingertips.

“Ugh—”

His throat couldn’t even force out a complete groan before it was abruptly cut off by another wave of pain.

The pain this time was different from before. It was no longer a continuous, endless torture, but an attack that flared up every few minutes.

Each wave was fast and urgent, like shards being forcefully squeezed out from the depths. Each shard had rough spikes, splitting his spine from his skull downwards, whipping every inch of his skin.

In a daze, he seemed to see a shadow standing in front of him. It wasn’t very tall, with a thin figure, and the facial features were unclear.

Yet, the moment he saw it, Chi Zhiyue’s pain eased considerably, allowing him to raise himself up a bit and gasp for air.

“You…”

He opened his mouth, but just as he uttered a single word, countless voices flooded his ears.

Someone was crying, someone was laughing, someone was calling his name.

That figure lingered, even reaching out a hand towards him, getting closer and closer.

Closer and closer, closer and closer.

Chi Zhiyue suddenly opened his eyes. Blinding morning light shone in from outside, and only then did he realize that day had broken.

He had slept through the night lying on his bed in that curled-up posture.

Chi Zhiyue frowned and got up. Holding onto the bedside, he walked to the bathroom, leaned on the edge of the sink, and raised his eyes to look in the mirror.

The face in the mirror wasn’t as deathly pale as he imagined, nor were his eyes bloodshot. If it weren’t for the broken skin on his lips, he almost would have thought yesterday was just a nightmare.

Why? Chi Zhiyue thought to himself as he turned on the faucet and splashed his face with cold water.

Usually, after a pain episode, he would suffer numerous aftereffects the next day, such as dizziness, a hoarse throat, and a loss of appetite.

But this time felt just like waking up from a regular nightmare. His body was still light, he could still stomach breakfast, and the final scene remained vividly fresh in his memory.

Something deep in his mind had cracked open, and that scene seemed to fit perfectly into a certain spot.

After breakfast, Chi Zhiyue told the doctor about this, and then told Xu Menghua. Afraid that the two elders at home would worry too much if they heard about his headaches, he decided to communicate with Xu Menghua first.

On the other end of the phone, Xu Menghua thought for a moment and said, “Did something stimulate you yesterday?”

Chi Zhiyue put the phone on speaker while clearing the dishes. “No, it was a very normal date.”

Xu Menghua pondered for a moment, saying uncertainly, “Alright, then I don’t know either.”

Chi Zhiyue let out a chuckle. “If you knew everything, you could be the doctor.”

“Anyway, this episode today counts as a good thing,” Xu Menghua said cheerfully. “No aftereffects and having visuals means your memory is slowly recovering.”

Chi Zhiyue put the dishes in the sink and walked back to the living room to wipe the table, his tone calm. “Maybe. We’ll have to see if this time was a coincidence or an inevitability. If it happens like this again next time, then it proves my memory is indeed recovering.”

“If not, it just means you got lucky this time.”

“Right.” Chi Zhiyue nodded. “So I’m still asking the doctor. I’ll let you know once he replies.”

“Okay.” Xu Menghua paused, her voice raising a pitch and becoming playful, “So are you still going on a date tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I might have to see the doctor, then drop by the store.” Chi Zhiyue recalled that he hadn’t mentioned this to Luo Ye yet. He wiped his hands and opened WeChat. “Oh, I have to let him know.”

Xu Menghua instantly got excited and teased, “Ooh~ You couldn’t resist reporting to the ‘sister-in-law’ first thing in the morning, how sweet. Then I won’t bother you guys~ Bring ‘sister-in-law’ along to the parent-teacher meeting next time~”

“Just focus on your classes.” Chi Zhiyue hung up the phone with a smile, but he didn’t send the message.

It was a bit early right now—6:30 AM, when office workers and students were just waking up. Chi Zhiyue didn’t know if Luo Ye was awake, so he waited until he left the house to send the text.

When he reached the company lobby, the doctor replied, telling him to find time to come in for a checkup and get some painkillers prescribed.

The doctor said much the same as Xu Menghua: this was clearly a precursor to memory recovery.

[Dr. Liu]: It might be even more painful moving forward.

[Chi Zhiyue]: That doesn’t matter, I really want to recover my memory.

[Chi Zhiyue]: I feel like that person must be very important to me.

[Dr. Liu]: I’ve encountered patients like you, but I must clarify first. You think it’s a person, but it might not actually be a person. It could be an object from the past, or a small animal. After all, many people pin their hopes for life on small things.

[Dr. Liu]: Because your feelings were so intense, it becomes a “person” in your heart that can comfort you.

[Chi Zhiyue]: So that’s how it is.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Then I want to find it too.

Even though last night was agonizing, with the pain surging from the depths of his memories like a rising tide, washing over his consciousness and his breath…

The figure left behind when the tide receded was distinctly warm. Just being near it caused the pain to abruptly stop.

Chi Zhiyue was certain that even if that figure wasn’t a human, it must be something he had once cherished deeply—cherished so much that he couldn’t bear to attach any past suffering to it.

Which is why it was always warm whenever it appeared.

Chi Zhiyue set a time to see the doctor. Just as he was about to turn off his phone, a new message popped up on the screen.

[Luo Ye]: Eating breakfast, what’s up?

Chi Zhiyue’s fingers paused, and he switched to the chat interface.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Nothing major, just saying [Good morning emoji]

[Luo Ye]: Good timing, I didn’t ask you yesterday, when are you free?

[Chi Zhiyue]: Not tomorrow, and not on the 9th either, I have plans.

[Luo Ye]: That’s fine, I have plans on the 9th too.

[Chi Zhiyue]: That’s good.

[Luo Ye]: I’ll pick a time and contact you then.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Okay.

[Chi Zhiyue]: You can contact me normally too.

[Luo Ye]: A-ight.

[Chi Zhiyue]: Did you meet up with Lan Ju?

Luo Ye looked up.

At this moment, Lan Ju had just devoured seven bamboo steamers of soup dumplings like a whirlwind. With a bit of broth still at the corner of his mouth, he was looking down and wiping his face.

Luo Ye looked back down at his own half-bowl of beef vermicelli: “…”

Not only did he meet him, he was witnessing a competitive eating group stage match.

Luo Ye replied: [Yeah, he’s eating right across from me. He has a day off work today.]

Luo Ye thought for a moment, took a picture of their table, and sent it over.

Seeing him taking a picture of the dining table, Lan Ju swallowed the dumpling in his mouth and asked without thinking, “Are you reporting to Pengpeng again?”

Luo Ye shook his head, typing as he casually replied, “No, it’s to someone else. Right, about Pengpeng…”

“Don’t worry,” Lan Ju immediately guessed what he wanted to ask and cut him off. “I’ve checked on him for you. Pengpeng has been eating well, sleeping well, and studying well these days. You don’t need to worry.”

Lately, after getting off work every day, Lan Ju would take a big detour to visit Luo Peng at their house before heading home.

Luo Ye was endlessly grateful for this. “Thanks for the hard work, Brother Ju. I’ll treat you to lunch this afternoon.”

“It’s nothing, no need, no need.” Lan Ju scratched his chin embarrassedly. “But I’ve been really craving steak lately. Passed by a place yesterday and was dying for it. But really, no need, no need at all.”

Right now, Lan Ju was acting exactly like a young person being handed a red envelope during the New Year.

On one hand, out of politeness, he had to say he didn’t want it; but at the same time, he was pulling open both layers of his pockets.

Luo Ye was in a good mood and readily agreed. “No problem, I’ll arrange it right away.”

Lan Ju’s eyes lit up. He immediately put down his chopsticks and cupped his fists towards Luo Ye. “Young Master Luo is different now that he’s got that autograph. You don’t even blink when paying the bill anymore.”

“Right, right.” Luo Ye nodded vigorously. Just thinking about the autograph put him in a beautiful mood.

When his mood was beautiful, his ears popped out.

The other people in the breakfast shop were all ordinary folks. Seeing someone suddenly pop out ears while eating for the first time, they thought he was just that blissful from eating the vermicelli and hurriedly told the boss, “Is the vermicelli that good today? Get me a bowl.”

The people in line behind them chimed in, “Get me a bowl too, boss, and a steamer of dumplings.”

“I want vermicelli soup too…”

…

Luo Ye was busy reminiscing about the autograph, completely unaware that he had just sold several bowls of vermicelli soup. “I put the autograph by my bed before going to sleep. Looking at it made me happy, looking at it again made me happier, I almost stayed up all night.”

Lan Ju shook his head. “You’re still too calm.”

Luo Ye: “What do you mean?”

Although Lan Ju wasn’t a fan of the band, he understood the feeling and was terribly envious. “If I could buy an author’s personal autograph, I’d be thrilled to death. If she wrote a dedicated short piece for me, I’d dance on my boss’s head.”

Luo Ye: “…You can dance?”

Lan Ju: “? Is that the main point?”

“You’re so lucky,” Lan Ju put down his bowl and sighed one last time.

Luo Ye wiggled his ears sheepishly. “Actually, I didn’t do anything.”

He mostly had Chi Zhiyue to thank for this, which was why he had been so quick to hug him yesterday.

After the hug, Chi Zhiyue was clearly stunned, not saying a word for a long time. It was Luo Ye who broke the silence.

But it made sense. Chi Zhiyue had always been the one taking the initiative. Now that he had taken the lead, anyone would be caught off guard.

The more Luo Ye thought about it, the funnier it got. He really liked that expression on Chi Zhiyue’s face—a bit bewildered and shocked, followed by a low chuckle a few seconds later.

If a single sentence could make this guy so happy, it seemed he should make sure to talk more when planning their next dates.

Just as he was thinking about this, Lan Ju asked, “What are your plans for these next few days?”

Luo Ye opened his phone memo and said, “Just editing videos, seeing if there are any messages from friends, then buying some local specialties to keep up the pretense, and after that, I’ll go home.”

Lan Ju laughed. “That bro-con of a brother of yours is going to be overjoyed hearing this.”

Luo Ye’s cat ears perked up as he asked, “Has he been unhappy lately?”

“He’s behaving well, but his tail is always drooping. He hasn’t been happy at all.”

Luo Ye frowned, imagining a lonely Luo Peng sitting at the dining table, his tail drooping listlessly behind him as he ate his food in silence.

Just the thought of it made him uncomfortable. This kid really was…

“It’s only been a few days and he’s already like this. It’s a good thing you’re fine, otherwise, who knows how depressed he’d get,” Lan Ju said, taking a bite of a soup dumpling. “But why won’t you let me tell him about this?”

Luo Ye sighed and replied, “What if the situation changes? What if I run into some real trouble? Wouldn’t he feel even worse then?”

Lan Ju felt this made sense and nodded. “True. Then I won’t say anything, you just show up yourself.”

Luo Ye not only had to show up, but he had to show up healthy and in excellent condition; otherwise, Luo Peng would definitely nag him for a long time.

So these past few days, Luo Ye had been sleeping quite early. After editing his videos, he’d go to bed at nine or ten, eat breakfast the next day, and then go for a walk outside or exercise in the hotel gym for half an hour.

After a few days, his health was much better than before, and there was also good news—his follower count had unexpectedly broken 500,000.

Although the person he was looking for still hadn’t reached out to him, this meant that the videos he posted in the future could reach even more places.

He posted a screenshot of the 500k milestone on his Bilibili feed, and several old fans rushed to send their congratulations.

Luo Ye replied to a few top comments, then posted a unified thank-you reply before exiting the app to continue editing his new video.

On the afternoon of the 8th, Luo Ye checked out of his room and took the subway home.

He bought some souvenirs on the way, arriving home at almost 4:30.

Pulling his suitcase, Luo Ye walked into his residential complex, looking down at the new video he had just published, the corners of his mouth rising from time to time.

As expected, his premium sponsor fans came to the fan group to send messages. Luo Ye replied patiently.

[Qingqing is not Qing]: Thank you thank you! The next video should be out next week, I’m pretty free lately.

[Tang Bo Huhu]: Yay, squatting and waiting.

[Ginger Doesn’t Eat Scallions]: Really watched Qingqing grow up, old fans are in tears (tears in my eyes fam), food doesn’t even taste good on days without updates.

[Qingqing is not Qing]: Hhh, you have to live your life well even on days without video updates. There are a lot of little blessings in life, I hope everyone can be happy and joyous in your real lives.

Just as he refreshed the page, a new verification request for the sponsor fan group popped up.

He casually tapped it open and immediately stopped in his tracks.

[@A Branch of Spring requests to add [Qingqing’s Kisses Group 1]. Verification reason: Hello, I am A Branch of Spring, congratulations to our Qingqing for reaching 500,000 followers.]

__

Author’s Note:

Chi Zhiyue, you rascal, using your alt account to act all “our family” hahahaha, typing out things you can’t say normally!

The alt account is so wild, there are all sorts of “Baby Qingqing”, “Teacher Qingqing” later on. When his cover is blown, he’ll just act completely coy and ask: “Qingqing, can I have a kiss (qin qin)?”

Qingqing will be so flustered by his act that he won’t be able to speak, only nod—