That evening, Su Yiran and Gu Yunting returned home.

“Ting-ge, Ting-ge?” Su Yiran noticed worriedly that Gu Yunting had drifted off again—it was already the umpteenth time.

Gu Yunting was startled back to reality by Ranran’s voice. He came to himself and said, “Oh, I’m fine. What did you just say?”

Su Yiran, concerned, took Ting-ge’s hand and found his palm ice cold. He quickly rubbed it, warming it in his own. “You zoned out again. What were you thinking about?”

Gu Yunting resisted the pounding in his head and shook his head. “Nothing. Just something small.”

It was always like this—Ting-ge refused to cooperate. Su Yiran felt helpless. He didn’t know how to give effective help, so he could only hold Ting-ge and gently kiss him. “I was saying, what should we make for dinner tonight?”

“Tomato and egg noodles.” For some reason, that was the first thing that popped into Gu Yunting’s mind. It was what Ranran had made for him that last night before he left for Country D and returned to the Gu family.

He remembered it vividly.

Not long after, he had come back from Country D and soon made their relationship official.

It was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Gu Yunting said, “Let’s have that.” Then he thought Ranran might want something else and added, “Or we can make something different if you like. What do you want?”

Su Yiran’s thoughts were all on Gu Yunting’s condition—of course he’d eat whatever Ting-ge wanted. “I want that too. Wait, I’ll go make it.”

They hadn’t stayed home in a few days, but before coming back they’d asked the housekeeper to clean, and the fridge had been stocked with fresh vegetables, meat, and eggs—half full.

Gu Yunting didn’t let Ranran cook alone. While Su Yiran boiled the noodles, Gu Yunting whisked the eggs. When Su Yiran scooped the noodles out, Gu Yunting peeled the tomatoes.

Soon, the two of them had finished making the tomato and egg noodles together.

They sat facing each other at the dining table, each holding a steaming bowl.

Su Yiran, worried about Ting-ge’s health, had little appetite. He finished one bowl and said he was full.

Gu Yunting ate all the remaining noodles and soup, then stared blankly at the empty bowl.

Too bad—there was no more.

“Do you want more?” Seeing Ting-ge’s dazed look, Su Yiran’s heart ached. He reached across the table and gently rubbed Ting-ge’s fingers. “Don’t overeat. How about I make you more for a late-night snack?”

Gu Yunting shook his head. “No need, I’m full.” He looked at Ranran. “There’ll be plenty of chances to eat this again, right?” He was asking Ranran, but also convincing himself.

Yes—he would save it for the future. There would be time.

“Of course.” Su Yiran looked into Ting-ge’s eyes and said firmly. Then, puzzled, he asked, “Why would you worry about that?”

When Gu Yunting stayed silent, Su Yiran stood and walked over to hug him. Was Ting-ge worried about their future, afraid they’d be separated?

Su Yiran thought about what had happened a few days ago—when he’d discovered the things Gu Yunting had hidden from him in the past. From that day, Ting-ge’s condition had worsened—more frequent zoning out, more absent-mindedness.

Ting-ge already had depression. Had that shock made him more sensitive and overthinking, worsening the illness?

Su Yiran gently stroked his hair. “Are you afraid I’ll leave you because of the things you did before? I—”

Before he could finish, Gu Yunting’s body stiffened at the word “leave.” His eyes reddened, his head began to throb, and he suddenly stood up and hugged Ranran tightly, the chair screeching loudly across the floor.

Su Yiran was briefly startled but patiently soothed him. “We’ve already talked about it. I understand you. I’m not angry, I don’t blame you. I love you, Ting-ge.”

Gu Yunting trembled at the confession.

“So even if I ever get mad at you for something, I won’t leave you—at most, I’d just argue with you.” He kissed Ting-ge and smiled.

Gu Yunting’s eyes grew hot, his heart sour. He felt the urge to cry.

He suddenly scooped Ranran up into his arms and carried him upstairs to the bedroom.

…

Ten days passed in a blink.

Su Yiran had tried his best to communicate with Gu Yunting, to encourage him—but with little success. The more worried he became, the more flustered he was; the more flustered, the less he could pinpoint the root of Gu Yunting’s psychological problem.

What weighed on him most was that Gu Yunting no longer wanted to cooperate with his therapist.

Before, while not 100% compliant with Dr. Sun’s sessions, he at least participated most of the time. Now, when faced with Dr. Sun, he would often lapse into long stretches of silence.

Dr. Sun had already asked Su Yiran about everything that happened when they went back to their hometown and knew about Gu Yunting’s past actions.

But with Gu Yunting refusing to talk, Dr. Sun could only keep speaking to him, testing his reactions in hopes of finding a breakthrough.

The therapy had reached a stalemate, and Su Yiran could only patiently accompany him every day.

Outside of the therapy sessions—when he was unusually quiet—Gu Yunting still seemed normal, able to talk with people, though he occasionally drifted off, became emotionally unstable, or made sudden moves toward Su Yiran.

He could also still handle work. In recent days, Su Yiran had seen Ting-ge in the study speaking with people and processing documents. He had wanted Ting-ge to rest completely, but was refused.

That day, after returning from the hospital and eating dinner, Gu Yunting immediately said, “Ranran, I’m going to work in the study.”

Today’s therapy had been just as unproductive. Worried, Su Yiran said, “Don’t overwork yourself. Rest early. I’ll wait for you.”

“Mm.” Gu Yunting nodded. On the stairs, he glanced back to see Ranran going into the kitchen. Pausing, he went upstairs into the study.

He locked the door, unlocked the bookcase, and took out several thick books. He had already read more than half of them.

On the desk, the top book with a brownish-yellow cover was titled in black: An Overview of Parallel Universes, Membranes, and String Theory.

He’d already finished this one. Flipping through the bookmarks he’d left inside, he reviewed his notes, then moved on to the other books.

These included more on parallel universe theory, some on life sciences and the occult, and one called Daoist Mystical Canon, full of things most people would dismiss as superstition.

Besides these books, Gu Yunting had sought out many other materials and papers, consulted experts on parallel universes and the occult, and even contacted masters of metaphysics—hoping to find a way to break the predicament.

He was studying both theoretical physics and mysticism.

Lately, besides headaches, Gu Yunting often dreamed or had flashbacks.

Sometimes he even felt that he and the “original owner” were the same person—until waking or the flashback ended, when he’d regain a sense of separation.

He knew the original owner’s consciousness was gradually awakening, trying to push him out of this body—perhaps even swallow him and merge.

He had crossed over from another world. If the original came back, he might be swallowed and lose his mind entirely, or be inexplicably sent back—forever leaving… his Ranran.

The thought terrified him.

He buried himself in reading and note-taking, fighting through the pain. But the vastness of knowledge was overwhelming, making him despair.

The more he researched, the more he realized his own insignificance. Against the forces of the universe and mysticism, he was nothing—powerless.

Different timelines, transmigration, parallel worlds, souls—all these uncontrollable forces stood between him and Ranran like an unbridgeable chasm.

He dropped his pen and leaned heavily back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, feeling infinite despair and confusion.

“Ting-ge, stop working. Time for bed.” Two knocks came at the door, followed by Ranran’s voice.

Gu Yunting snapped back to reality, quickly shut his books, and locked them back in the cabinet. “Coming.”

After a moment, the door opened from inside. Ranran glanced into the study, but before he could see clearly, Ting-ge closed the door behind him.

“Let’s go.” Gu Yunting took his hand and headed for the bedroom.

Su Yiran glanced back at the tightly shut study door, thoughtful.

“You go shower first.” He pushed Ting-ge toward the bathroom. “Take a bath tonight—I’ve run the water for you. Relax a bit.”

“Okay.” Gu Yunting’s heart softened—and ached.

While he bathed, Su Yiran looked at the closed bathroom door, then slipped out to the study.

Something was wrong with Ting-ge.

At first, he truly believed Gu Yunting was working in there. But lately, he’d noticed Ting-ge trying to keep him out—as if hiding something.

He’d gone in before but found nothing unusual, except that the bookcase was locked and the computer password-protected.

Today, he had finally gotten the key to the bookcase.

Opening it, he found several books shoved inside, as if hastily.

He pulled out the brownish-yellow one—An Overview of Parallel Universes, Membranes, and String Theory.

Parallel universes? String theory?

Flipping through, he saw Ting-ge’s bookmarks and fresh notes. Clearly, this was recent.

Why was Ting-ge studying this?

The other books were also about parallel universes, the occult, life sciences, and even Daoist Mystical Canon, full of superstitions.

Physics and superstition—such extremes.

Su Yiran stared at the books, trying to find the link between them. A thought began to form, flashes of possibilities racing through his mind, but he couldn’t quite connect them yet.

“What are you doing?” A voice, pressed to the limit, suddenly came from the doorway.

Su Yiran froze. He looked up to see Gu Yunting, hair dripping, standing there in his pajamas, staring at him with a dark, gloomy gaze—eyes shadowed with despair and a hint of madness.

“I was just—” Su Yiran faltered under that stare. What was wrong with Ting-ge?

Gu Yunting slowly walked in, water dripping from his hair onto his face, like sweat—or tears. He didn’t care. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Su Yiran, breath quick and pupils wide with something like fear—or excitement.

Ranran… had finally found out?

Finally… found out.

Heh…