DBTHDCAR Chapter 74

Ning Xiaobei lifted his head from the steering wheel, his gaze distant.

“Ah-choo…”

A small sneeze escaped him. The chill climbed up the fine hairs on his arms, slipped into his collar, reminding him that the seasons had changed.

From spring to early winter; the world shifts, yet fleeting beauty remains.

He remembered: that afternoon, after picking Fan Xia up from the hospital, they hadn’t been home long when Fan Xia’s colleagues and supervisors came to visit.

Not wanting to intrude, Ning Xiaobei waved goodbye to Uncle Zhao and drove home.

Perhaps because he’d been caught in the rain at the hospital, Ning Xiaobei felt unusually tired, and as soon as he reached the underground parking lot, he couldn’t help dozing off.

Yawning, Ning Xiaobei pulled out his phone and noticed it was already past 7 p.m.. A string of unread WeChat messages flashed across the screen; aside from a couple of occasional subscriptions, they were all from Fan Xia.

Just as he was about to reply, a sudden thought struck him:

Since Dad and Uncle Zhao’s relationship had already come to light, if he now called his father’s number, would someone picking up mean that he had finally succeeded?

Heart pounding with excitement, he flipped through his contacts several times before trembling thumbs finally found Ning Jianguo’s number. He pressed the dial key.

“Beep… beep… beep…”

Ning Xiaobei held his breath, listening to the cold, mechanical tone of the ringing. His heart seemed to climb up to his throat on invisible threads.

“Beep… beep… beep…”

Hand pressed over his chest, he sniffed at the slightly blocked feeling in his nose and, through the sunroof, watched the maze of pipes coiling above the underground parking lot. His thoughts followed the pipes all the way up to his home.

Would Dad be there?

“Hello…”

A deep, elderly male voice came through the receiver.

“D-Dad!”

Tears burst from his eyes.

He covered his mouth, shouting the name he had longed to say day and night.

Elbow accidentally hit the car horn, producing a loud honk that startled passing pedestrians, but he barely noticed.

Dad… Dad is really alive… he succeeded… he really did it!

“Xiaobei?”

The voice on the other end paused.

“What’s wrong? This is Uncle Zhao.”

His heart sank.

………………

Opening the front door, Ning Xiaobei tossed his keys onto the entryway cabinet with a clatter, shrugged off his coat, and strode into the living room.

Passing by the bookshelf, Ning Xiaobei deliberately glanced over and sure enough, Ning Jianguo’s memorial photo was still there.

He closed his eyes. A sharp pang twisted through his chest; the disappointment after the earlier joy drained the last of his energy.

He sat frozen on the sofa for a long while, sighing, before turning to the wine cabinet and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

It was from his first year at Zhuo Yuhang’s company, carefully chosen from the year Ning Xiaobei was born, a gesture meant to show how much he was valued.

At one point, because of that bottle, Ning Xiaobei had harbored feelings for his boss that he shouldn’t have. Later, even after learning that he was married with a daughter, a thoroughly straight man, he still treated that bottle as a meaningful gift. He had even spent a lot of money on a wine cabinet just to preserve it properly.

Now it didn’t matter. What year the wine was, whether it was Bordeaux or Burgundy; good wine left unconsumed was a waste.

The red liquid swirled in the crystal glass. Ning Xiaobei turned on the stereo, sliced a few pieces of cheese and some Parma ham he had bought at an imported goods supermarket as a snack, and leaned back on the chaise by the sofa, drinking glass after glass.

In this world, Ning Jianguo had still not revived. The reason calls went to Uncle Zhao was because a call forwarding service had been set up—according to Uncle Zhao, he had personally arranged it for the elderly couple.

Though Ning Xiaobei had no memory of it.

Earlier that afternoon, while chatting in the apartment building, Fan Xia had mentioned Zhao Jingwen’s other two properties in Pudong and Hongqiao, suggesting that since his uncle no longer wanted to live in a nursing home, he might move there. The new apartments were spacious, and the surrounding facilities were better than the old building.

This matched the dream world scenario, where after the qipao shop thrived, Zhao Jingwen had invested in two three-bedroom apartments.

Yet Uncle Zhao still refused, saying he was used to living here and didn’t want to move; if anyone was moving, it should be Fan Xia. Fan Xia laughed, saying that in a few days he would still take the secondary bedroom, leaving the master for Uncle Zhao, just like when they were kids.

Uncle Zhao’s health and spirits had clearly improved; no more pale sickness on his face and no longer leaning on a cane. Sleeping in the secondary bedroom didn’t suit a man his size. Wang Yihong’s former apartment, whose previous tenant had moved out, could be rented by Fan Xia; living on separate floors, they could still watch out for each other. Fan Xia agreed, and that was settled.

The uncle-and-nephew pair chatted casually, unaware of how deeply moved Ning Xiaobei was listening from the side.

The real world had indeed changed for the better, but for him, it still wasn’t enough.

After finishing the bottle of wine, he still wasn’t satisfied. Ning Xiaobei opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of beer, an old brand: Shanghai Libo.

Ever since graduating and joining a foreign company, Ning Xiaobei’s colleagues had introduced him to only imported craft beers.

This local Libo was what Dad always drank. Since Dad wasn’t here, he might as well try it. When Dad returned, he’d buy a whole case for home. No, it will be ten cases, as compensation.

The snacks for drinking were already gone. Ning Xiaobei pulled out some shredded squid and peanuts, bought at some unknown time. These must have been what Dad last picked up at the supermarket. When he took them out of the reusable bag, a receipt fell out. Checking the date, it was the day before Ning Jianguo’s accident.

Seeing these things brought memories of him; he drank and cried, anyway, no one could see.

Dad’s relationship with Uncle Zhao had already been made public. The welfare and relocation housing issues were resolved. Even that brat Ding Zheyang had been reformed. Every single detail, he had poured his heart and soul into it, doing everything he could.

Yet something was still off. That last missing piece that kept Dad from coming back…what was it?

No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t figure it out.

Setting down his glass, Ning Xiaobei wiped the wine from the corner of his mouth with his fingertip, rubbed his pounding temples, and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Immersed in milky-white water, every pore opened, Ning Xiaobei sighed in relief and closed his eyes.

From his fingers to his toes, every nerve was surrounded by hot water, and it felt like he had returned to the womb. Muddled, heavy, and sinking like a yet-unawakened chaos, it was a rare moment of ease, allowing him to temporarily escape the exhaustion of shuttling between two worlds.

Outside, rain had started again at some point, pattering on the small west-facing bathroom window. On the sill sat a cactus, long neglected by its owner, never watered. It stretched its slightly shriveled fleshy leaves, greedily absorbing the moisture in the air.

Tilting his head back, his jet-black hair fanned out over the edge of the white porcelain. His face and body, soaked in hot water, glowed like a peeled shrimp. Even redder were his slightly parted lips, flushed as if with blush, yet still wet with water.

When Fan Xia came in, holding the apartment key he’d gotten from Zhao Jingwen, smelling the faint alcohol on his clothes, he had walked from the living room to the bedroom and then to the bathroom and what he saw was this.

“Xiaobei…”

Standing at the bathroom doorway, his voice dissolved into the rising steam, almost inaudible.

After hesitating for a moment, Fan Xia stepped into the bathroom and knelt on one knee beside the bathtub, tentatively placing the back of his hand on Ning Xiaobei’s forehead.

It was scorching; he couldn’t tell which was hotter, his hand or Xiaobei’s head.

“Xiaobei, get up… you have a fever. You can’t be in the bath.”

“Boss—”

Xiaobei was dazed, one hand gripping the tub’s edge, the other still near Fan Xia’s cheek, inhaling the scent of alcohol lingering on him. Fan Xia seemed to hear his own heavy breathing.

He felt he should explain a lot.

Like the call he had made earlier, which had worried Uncle Zhao, prompting him to come check on Xiaobei. Like how, after his colleagues left this afternoon, he had been sending messages nonstop, asking why Xiaobei hadn’t replied, leaving him anxious.

All that chattering, whether excuses or explanations, finally stirred Ning Xiaobei awake.

Fan Xia saw him half-awake, eyes squinting, smiling faintly—a gaze hotter than the bath water itself.

“So it was you that day…”

A strange, unexpected remark.

“Ah?”

Fan Xia tilted his head in confusion, a touch of adolescent charm showing.

Only Ning Xiaobei knew…the plum-rain season, the swaying red light, the snippets of the opera 《Eighteen Farewells》 drifting through the walls, and the moldy peonies blooming in the corner.

As the sun set, opening the door and nudging me awake, yet not fully awake. It was you.

You even complain that I kept quiet for five years, but that day, you were there too.

The steam in the bathroom, mixed with the dampness Fan Xia had brought in from outside, made him feel as if he had returned to the plum-rain season, back to that Tuesday afternoon when even the TV station was on break.

Two wet arms lifted out of the water and wrapped around Fan Xia’s neck. His camel-colored wool coat darkened instantly to deep coffee where the water soaked in. Large droplets that the fabric hadn’t absorbed yet fell onto the silver-gray floor tiles and the tops of the man’s black leather shoes.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump… the sound of their hearts beating.

Fan Xia’s eyes widened. Hesitating less than three seconds, he grabbed Ning Xiaobei’s chin and kissed him hard.

He had always been someone whose body acted before his brain. After all these years of police work, surviving so many dangerous cases, he’d relied on instincts like this.

The chaotic emotions he hadn’t been able to sort out over the past two months cleared instantly with this kiss.

Ah! So I like Ning Xiaobei!

Fan Xia finally understood what had been tormenting him all these days.

Only with Xiaobei did he feel this way.

The first meeting had been strange, the second suddenly felt inexplicably familiar. By the third and fourth encounters, every meeting made his feelings accelerate by leaps and bounds. Even seeing someone else near Xiaobei made him feel inexplicably annoyed.

I see, I see…

He also finally understood what his uncle’s impatient, disapproving attitude at the nursing home meant—the old man had already sensed his feelings!

Sensing Fan Xia’s distraction, Ning Xiaobei bit lightly at the corner of his mouth.

Fan Xia didn’t back down; he pried open his lips and returned the bite.

………………

“Xiaobei has a fever… hmm, there’s medicine at home, I’ll let him take it first. I know if the fever doesn’t go down, he’ll be sent to the hospital. Uncle, you rest first, we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll take good care of him.”

“I didn’t take advantage of him! I’m still a People’s Police Officer, okay? Have a little faith in me. Ah, Xiaobei wants water, gotta go.”

Ending the call, Fan Xia felt a little guilty.

The old fox is still sharper; Uncle really knows me inside out.

He turned his face away, staring at the camel-colored coat tossed on the living room tiles. The soaked fabric reminded him how intense that kiss had been, when almost half of him had been submerged in the bathtub.

If he hadn’t been mindful of Xiaobei’s body, he might really have taken advantage of the situation just now.

After taking another hot shower, drying his hair with Xiaobei’s towel, and slipping into Xiaobei’s bathrobe, Fan Xia padded barefoot across the lambswool rug in Xiaobei’s bedroom. He prowled around like a lion inspecting his territory, satisfied to find no trace of another man; every single thing carried Xiaobei’s scent.

He’d already checked the bathroom earlier; only Xiaobei’s and Uncle Ning’s toothbrushes and towels were there. The old Chrysanthemum brand striped towels, apart from Uncle Ning, only his uncle still used them.

Even after all this time, Xiaobei still couldn’t let go, keeping his things; so tender, it made him ache.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Xiaobei’s face, flushed pink in sleep, Fan Xia’s expression was pure satisfaction, like an unreasonable black cat who had claimed a corner of the house.

“Boss…”

Even though Xiaobei didn’t allow him to use that nickname, Fan Xia couldn’t resist.

Anyone could call him Ning Xiaobei, but only he could call him Boss.

A name that belonged solely to him, from age eleven until now.

Fan Xia idly touched the corner of his own chapped lips, still amazed by Xiaobei’s passionate response. Yet he couldn’t help worrying—he’d been drunk like that, did Xiaobei even realize it was him who kissed him? Could Xiaobei accept that the one kissing him was a man? And if he sobers up tomorrow… will he beat me up?

Let him try. If he’s going to hit me, it’ll be at least tomorrow; today he can’t reach me.

Besides, he’s no stranger to getting hit by him.

Fan Xia boldly burrowed under the covers, looping an arm around Ning Xiaobei’s shoulders and burying his face close. The lingering scent of alcohol on him carried a faint sweetness.

He turned onto his side, resting his head on his elbow, and couldn’t help but smile foolishly at Xiaobei’s sleeping face.

Who cared about men or women; he liked Ning Xiaobei, the one and only Ning Xiaobei in the world.

Uncle was right: whether Xiaobei would accept it or not, he had to chase first. Thick-skinned men are the ones who get wives.

Men in the Ning family were soft at heart, thin-skinned, and sentimental. His father was like that, so Xiaobei naturally was too.

That uncle of his, a notorious troublemaker, had apparently fought with Uncle Ning the very first time they met, and even ended up flat on the ground, totally terrified.

If even he could pursue Uncle Ning, then Fan Xia, who had been childhood friends with Boss and shared a bond stronger than gold, why couldn’t he?

The only pity was that they had reunited too late, wasting years, and now in middle age he realized that all along, he’d been waiting for him.

“I wish I’d realized sooner that I liked you.”

Fan Xia rested his head on Xiaobei’s shoulder, unable to stop recalling his own high school days.

“If I could have a chance to go back… I’d figure it out much earlier.”

………………

Author’s Note:

Time to start writing about this little couple!

But due to JJ’s rules¹Jinjiang Literature City (jjwxc) , they can’t date until university~~

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