The hospital room was very quiet; no one spoke.

The medical equipment hummed. The faint metallic clinks of the forceps and scissors the nurse picked up and set down while changing the dressings struck Zou Yang’s nerves like a hammer with every sound.

It made him fearful and anxious.

Fan Jun looked at him but didn’t answer.

He didn’t hear that same “secret signal” from Fan Jun’s mouth.

“Don’t move around too much,” the nurse instructed after finishing the dressing change. “Haste makes waste, understand?”

Fan Jun continued looking at Zou Yang, remaining silent.

“Alright, you guys can talk now,” the nurse said with a smile as she pushed her cart toward the door. “Are you guys having a secret meeting? You had to wait for us to leave before talking.”

“We were afraid of disturbing your work,” Li Zhiyue said.

“You wouldn’t,” the nurse replied. “But don’t get too rowdy. They’re both severely injured and just starting to get better. They need lots of rest.”

The door closed.

Lü Ze pushed the door open and came back in. Perhaps sensing the atmosphere, he paused at the door before walking somewhat awkwardly to Fan Jun’s bedside. He leaned close to Fan Jun’s right ear and said, “I’m going to head back first. Xiao Bai needs his dressings changed. My dad will come by later.”

“Mm,” Fan Jun nodded.

This simple “mm” was the very first sound Zou Yang had heard from Fan Jun with his own ears since the nightmare that day, after such a long time.

It was slightly hoarse, devoid of any emotion.

It made Zou Yang’s throat tighten inexplicably.

“His breakfast is on the table,” Lü Ze pointed to the lunchbox on the table. “He hasn’t eaten yet.”

“Leave it to us, Lü-ge,” Zhang Chuanlong patted his chest.

Lü Ze hesitated, glanced around at the faces of the group, and then walked out.

Silence fell over the room once again.

After about ten seconds of silence, Liu Wenrui spoke up: “Eat…”

“Long Long will eat it.” Li Zhiyue walked over to the table, opened a few insulated lunchboxes to check, and handed the one containing steamed buns to Zhang Chuanlong.

“Why? Can’t you eat steamed buns when you’re injured?” Zhang Chuanlong asked while taking out a few of the buns.

“Go eat outside.” Li Zhiyue opened the thermos Liu Wenrui had brought and poured the pigeon porridge inside into a bowl.

The group quickly walked out, leaving only Zou Yang and Fan Jun in the room.

The silence persisted.

Fan Jun had been looking at Zou Yang the whole time. After another moment, he finally asked, “Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore.” Zou Yang’s voice cracked a bit when he spoke, so he quickly cleared his throat. “I’ve had the analgesic pump the whole time, so it really didn’t hurt much to begin with.”

Fan Jun didn’t say anything else, but his gaze remained fixed on Zou Yang, sweeping over him very slowly and meticulously.

Zou Yang hesitated for a moment, then gripped the armrests of his wheelchair and slowly stood up.

He was able to walk slowly for short periods now, and the doctor had advised him to engage in appropriate activity.

Right now felt like an appropriate time.

“Sit down,” Fan Jun said.

“It’s fine. The doctor said I need to walk.” Zou Yang slowly walked to the table, picked up the bowl of porridge, walked to Fan Jun’s bedside, and placed the bowl on the nightstand.

Then he picked up the overbed table and set it across the bed.

As he reached for the bowl of porridge again, Fan Jun beat him to it, picking up the bowl and placing it on the table. He then glanced at the chair next to the bed. “Sit.”

“Mm,” Zou Yang sat down by the bed.

Fan Jun looked at him, his eyebrows furrowing unconsciously.

“My mom was just here, right?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun didn’t answer; it was as if he hadn’t heard the question.

He just slowly raised his hand and reached toward the side of Zou Yang’s neck. Just as Zou Yang could faintly feel the warmth of his palm, Fan Jun slowly pulled it back.

“Yeah, she came and sat for a while,” Fan Jun said.

“Did she say anything?” Zou Yang glanced at Fan Jun’s hand, wanting to grab it directly, but held himself back.

“No,” Fan Jun said. “Uncle Lü wasn’t around, so she came to check on me.”

“She and Uncle Lü…” Zou Yang leaned forward, preparing to take the lid off the bowl for him.

But his hand was pinned down by Fan Jun. When Fan Jun touched the bandages on Zou Yang’s wrist, he released his grip like he had been shocked.

“They broke up.” Fan Jun opened the lid with one hand, unclipped the spoon from the lid, and slowly took a bite, looking down.

Zou Yang froze. He could guess that his mom and Uncle Lü must have had a conflict, or that his mom would resent Uncle Lü, but he hadn’t expected them to break up completely.

“Why?” he asked.

“She feels it’s her fault you got hurt,” Fan Jun stared at the porridge in his spoon. “Turning back from the first wrong step.”

Zou Yang fell silent.

These words suddenly made him somewhat afraid.

Given his mom’s speech patterns and way of expressing herself, she wouldn’t say something like that to Fan Jun.

Those words came from Fan Jun.

The porridge smelled delicious.

For most of this period, Fan Jun had been eating the hospital’s nutritional meals, which were so bland they barely had any salt.

He never felt anything about it; whether it had taste, whether it was good or bad, he just ate it.

This hospital bed was the entire scope of his perception. In the dimness, there was no sound, no pain, and he had no idea how much time had passed.

Today, after those two mouthfuls of porridge, his sense of taste finally returned.

This tiny bit of savory flavor slowly seeped in, unsealing the dullness of his body.

He began to hurt.

His head, shoulders, chest, arms, back… the throbbing, sharp, piercing pains, and some dull aches deep inside his body.

Zou Yang sat silently on the chair beside him. His complexion was better than it had been half a month ago.

Previously, when going for a checkup, Fan Jun had forced Lü Ze to push his wheelchair “past” Zou Yang’s room.

Through the crack of the slightly open door, he could only catch a fleeting glimpse of Zou Yang’s pale face and the blood-stained tubes by his bed.

Strictly speaking, Zou Yang wasn’t hurt as badly as he was.

But Zou Yang shouldn’t have been hurt at all. Not even a little bit.

Fan Jun was the only one who should have been injured or even killed by Fan Gang that day.

“Fan Jun,” Zou Yang called out to him.

“Mm,” Fan Jun replied.

“My mom found out. I…” Zou Yang said, “I must have said something while I was unconscious.”

“…Mm.” Fan Jun put down the spoon and turned to look at him.

Zou Yang was just like this; never tactful, never beating around the bush.

“When she came over today, did she really not say anything to you?” Zou Yang asked.

“No, she just sat for a while. Lü Ze was there too.” Fan Jun looked away, back to the porridge.

Sister Shan really hadn’t said anything. The only thing she asked was if he was feeling any better.

That alienated concern mixed with conflicted feelings—so many emotions tangled together.

Sister Shan wasn’t a very expressive person; she couldn’t say it out loud.

But Fan Jun could feel it.

After this incident, everything was different.

They couldn’t go back to the starting point, and the path forward had been destroyed.

“Then what’s wrong with you?” Zou Yang asked.

Upon hearing those words, Fan Jun’s left chest began to throb with pain. The pain pierced from beneath the wound, beneath the muscle, from a deeper place, stabbing outward through the unhealed injury.

What’s wrong with you?

Such a simple question, yet impossible to answer comprehensively.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Zou Yang said.

“I know.” When Fan Jun spoke, his voice was already completely hoarse.

It wasn’t my fault.

It was Fan Gang’s fault.

Everything of mine that was destroyed was Fan Gang’s fault.

Everyone knows it wasn’t my fault.

Even Uncle Lü feels it’s his fault—that he shouldn’t have moved back to Nanzhou Ping where he and Aunt Li grew up, allowing Fan Gang to track them down…

But how could everything that had already happened, everything that caused such severe consequences, be covered up by a simple “it wasn’t your fault”?

The physical wounds, the psychological trauma.

Whose injuries could simply pass with a single sentence about whose fault it was?

Zou Yang had already given him a beauty like an illusory dream.

And after all this, to ask Zou Yang to spend so much time with him, to chase an “afterward” with no visible hope…

He couldn’t do it.

“Let’s not talk about this,” Zou Yang said. “Focus on recovering. I haven’t finished my lessons yet, Coach.”

Fan Jun slightly turned his face and looked at him.

“I know your injuries will take a long time to recover,” Zou Yang said. “Just extend my classes.”

“I probably,” Fan Jun said softly, “won’t be a coach anymore.”

“Why?” Zou Yang was a bit surprised.

“Your classes can be transferred to Lü Ze. He teaches pretty well,” Fan Jun said. “He also can’t out-argue you.”

“I’m asking you why?” Zou Yang stared at him.

“I don’t know to what extent I can recover,” Fan Jun said. “And I can’t rely on Uncle Lü and Lü Ze forever…”

“It’s fine. If you can’t be a coach, you can do something else,” Zou Yang said. “I’ll be with you.”

Fan Jun looked at him. It took a long time before he finally said, “Zou Yang.”

“Mm,” Zou Yang responded.

“…Give yourself some time,” Fan Jun said.

“Time for what?” Zou Yang leaned back in his chair, looking at him.

Time to cool off.

Time to think.

Time to regret.

So much time, yet not a single reason Fan Jun could directly say out loud.

“You didn’t come…” Fan Jun said in a low voice, lowering his head to scoop up a spoonful of porridge, “…to save anyone.”

Zou Yang fell silent.

“In all my life…” Fan Jun forced out the words with difficulty through his hoarse throat. He had barely spoken in the past month, almost forgetting how.

He organized his emotions. “Even though… I’ve also met too many good people. I don’t want anyone else to… sacrifice anything for me anymore…”

We were never people from the same world to begin with.

Even if Sister Shan got together with Uncle Lü, we wouldn’t have much interaction.

We should have just been casual acquaintances who merely knew each other’s names.

After saying this, Fan Jun didn’t look at Zou Yang again.

He only felt his eyes grow sour and swollen, even starting to ache.

He had to pick up the bowl and drink large gulps of porridge, ruthlessly swallowing down the sharp, sour ache that felt like it was piercing straight through his brain to the top of his head.

“How long.” Zou Yang asked.

What?

Fan Jun had no voice left, but he could still feel his lips trembling.

“How long do you think it will take,” Zou Yang said, “for me to go from liking you to not liking you?”

Fan Jun didn’t speak.

“What you said that day, were you serious?” Zou Yang asked again.

“Yes,” Fan Jun answered.

Zou Yang was silent for a very long time before finally saying softly, “I understand.”

Without waiting for Fan Jun to react, he slowly stood up from the chair.

Liu Wenrui, who was watching through the glass on the door, immediately pushed it open. “What is it?”

“Help me up,” Zou Yang said.

Liu Wenrui quickly walked over, supported Zou Yang, and helped him into the wheelchair. During the process, he kept turning his head to look at Fan Jun.

But Fan Jun kept his head down; Liu Wenrui never managed to make eye contact with him.

“Let’s go,” Zou Yang said from the wheelchair. “Let’s take a walk in the garden downstairs.”

“Mm,” Liu Wenrui pushed slowly. Just as they were about to exit the door, he finally couldn’t hold back. “Fan-ge?”

“Mm?” Fan Jun responded.

“We’re leaving,” Liu Wenrui said.

“…Mm.” Fan Jun nodded.

Fan Jun’s voice was very low, carrying a tremble.

Hearing it made Zou Yang feel terrible, his fingers shaking along with it.

He never thought coming to see Fan Jun would end up like this.

It was supposed to be just a point in the story, but it suddenly became the ending.

He couldn’t describe what he was feeling at the moment.

Shock, sorrow, anger, incomprehension… all of them were there, but they were all very subtle.

Perhaps he had already made too many assumptions without realizing it. On one hand, he didn’t know Fan Jun that well, but on the other, he understood his personality far too clearly.

Right now, what he felt mostly was heartache.

Fan Jun had decided to carry everything he believed he should carry alone.

Zou Yang just felt lost.

His heart was completely empty.

His mind was also empty—unable to cope, with no direction.

The sun was already shining in the hospital’s small garden. Liu Wenrui pushed him into a patch of sunlight.

“Get some sun. You haven’t seen the sun in a month, right?”

“Mm.” Zou Yang slowly tilted his head back. The wounds on his neck pulled painfully, but he continued to tilt it back until the sunlight covered his face completely.

He closed his eyes against a field of gold.

The last time he sat in a wheelchair with his head tilted back like this, he was looking at the moon.

The night there was a moon next to Fan Jun’s face.

How long had it been since then?

It turned out it was only such a short amount of time.

Liking someone only takes such a short time.

Then what about going from liking to not liking?

When they returned to the room, Mom was sitting by the bed, sleeping with her head resting on it.

Hearing the noise, she quickly sat up straight and turned her head.

“Got some sun?”

“Mm,” Zou Yang nodded.

“Your face is all red,” Mom smiled. “Comfortable?”

“Comfortable,” Zou Yang also smiled.

“Auntie, we’re going to help Zou Yang take a shower,” Liu Wenrui said. “He stinks.”

“Bullshit, I get wiped down every day,” Zou Yang said.

“You’re relying on us right now, give your mouth a rest,” Liu Wenrui said.

Zou Yang sighed.

“This thermos… why did you bring it back again?” Mom asked.

“We took it out to buy Zou Yang some wontons,” Li Zhiyue said. “He insisted he wanted the wontons from that place near our school. They don’t deliver, so Zhang Chuanlong made a trip to buy them.”

“He ran that far?” Mom said.

“It’s fine,” Zhang Chuanlong said. “I practice martial arts, after all.”

“What the hell are you?” Liu Wenrui’s voice rose.

“Auntie, did Zou Yang show you the artistic photos we took? In mine…” Zhang Chuanlong gestured, lifting his leg and raising his hand above his head. “I can kick this high.”

Mom looked up at his hand, then down at his leg, taking a long time before replying, “Oh, you kick… very high?”

“Mm,” Zhang Chuanlong nodded.

Li Zhiyue laughed so hard he coughed.

Fortunately, with this interruption, Mom stopped focusing on what was going on with the thermos. Liu Wenrui pushed Zou Yang into the bathroom.

“There were too many people just now, so I couldn’t ask you,” Liu Wenrui turned on the water and sprayed the showerhead into a bucket on the floor. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Don’t spray that directly at me,” Zou Yang said.

“Cut the crap,” Liu Wenrui said. “If you don’t behave, I’ll spray it on you.”

“It’s nothing,” Zou Yang sighed softly.

Liu Wenrui carefully helped him take off his hospital gown and asked in a low voice, “Did your mom say something to him?”

“No, she didn’t say anything,” Zou Yang said. “She just went to see him.”

“He must have felt something, right?” Liu Wenrui helped him stand up. “I’m pulling your pants down.”

“Don’t say it like… who’s the pervert here?” Zou Yang said.

“Even if your mom didn’t say anything, their interaction definitely isn’t the same as before,” Liu Wenrui pulled down the pants of his hospital gown. “He can definitely feel it. Your mom was right not to visit all this time. By going… but not going seems abnormal too…”

“Stop trying so hard to figure it out,” Zou Yang said.

“So what’s going on between you two now?” Liu Wenrui asked.

Zou Yang didn’t say anything.

“Broke up?” Liu Wenrui pressed.

Zou Yang took the hanging face towel, wiped his face, and then pressed it against his eyes.

Don’t cry.

Zou Yang, why are you such a crybaby.

…

“It’s okay to cry,” Liu Wenrui gently rubbed his back. “If you cry it out now, your eyes won’t be red when you go out later. If you finish crying, you’ll still have to go out with red eyes…”

Zou Yang handed the towel to him.

“Huh?” Liu Wenrui froze, leaned close to his face, and looked. “You didn’t cry?”

Yes.

He didn’t cry.

His chest felt so blocked, so painful.

Yet, surprisingly, he couldn’t cry.

Perhaps his mind was empty of thoughts, or perhaps everything that had been suspended in the air had finally crashed to the ground. Zou Yang suddenly felt calm.

He even lost his sense of time.

Liu Wenrui and the guys came and went. The semester started. He took half a month off, which connected right into the National Day holiday…

His birthday was coming up.

He could be discharged from the hospital.

The days simply slipped by imperceptibly, carrying a pain that Zou Yang could no longer feel.

“You can rest at home for a few more days before going back to school,” Zhang Chuanlong said. “The whole department knows about what happened. A legend of surviving a near-death experience.”

“Let me look something up.” Li Zhiyue took out his phone.

“Look up what?” Zhang Chuanlong asked.

“If there are any drugs that make you mute,” Li Zhiyue said.

“Just speak your mind,” Zhang Chuanlong said. “Are we friends or not?”

“Shut up,” Li Zhiyue said directly.

“The paperwork is all done,” Liu Wenrui walked into the room. “My car is in the parking lot, we can go.”

“I want to…” Zou Yang glanced at his mom standing nearby, “…go to Fan Jun’s room first.”

Mom didn’t speak; she just nodded.

The guys grabbed his things and accompanied him into the elevator, down a floor, transferred to another elevator, and up again.

Zou Yang wasn’t feeling particularly anxious, but his heartbeat inexplicably sped up.

As they passed the nurse’s station, a nurse called out to them. “Hey? You’re Xiao Fan’s friends, right? You’ve been here before. Are you getting discharged?”

“Yes, today.” Zou Yang nodded.

Just as he was about to keep going, the nurse stopped him again. “Fan Jun was discharged last week.”

“What?” Liu Wenrui immediately walked over to the reception desk. “He’s discharged? His injuries were worse than Zou Yang’s, how could he be discharged earlier than him?”

“He was in a hurry to leave, and his condition barely met the requirements,” the nurse said. “We couldn’t persuade him otherwise. He signed the papers and left.”

Zou Yang didn’t listen to whatever else Liu Wenrui said to the nurse. He took out his phone and quickly sent a message to Fan Jun.

[Zou_yang] You were discharged?

From the time he left the inpatient department until he got into Liu Wenrui’s car, Fan Jun still hadn’t replied.