The Long Night - Chapter 19

After that meal, the two of them didn’t exactly become friends. Whenever Yan Liao saw Chen Sitiao, he was reminded of a certain incident, and a phantom pain would flare up in a very specific, awkward place on his body.

Naturally, there was no time to participate in the skateboard club. Yan Liao wasn’t fond of exercise anyway, and Tang Shaocheng was so busy he even turned down an interview invitation from the Student Union. Aside from classes and work, the two spent every waking moment together.

The winter felt interminably long, as if they were living through a private Ice Age.

In mid-January, following final exams, there was a two-week short term dedicated to elective courses. Because New Year’s Eve fell early this year, the university—in a rare display of humanity—moved all classes online.

Tang Shaocheng didn’t plan on going home for the winter break. He couldn’t take the legal profession qualification exam until his senior year, so for now, he acted more like Li Yiyun’s assistant.

The workload was heavy and complex: occasionally taking clients for forensic appraisals, making calls to the court from dawn till dusk, or accompanying his boss on business trips. Since there were no high-speed rails to the remote, mountainous regions they visited, ten-hour bus rides were a common occurrence.

In his past life, Tang Shaocheng had been a notorious workaholic. Every night, he was the last to leave the office, and his colleagues would tease him for “staying up with the eagles.” During holidays, he always volunteered for duty so others could reunite with their families. Before he met Yan Liao, he almost never took a day off.

“If you’re not going back, then I’m not going back either.”

Yan Liao padded back into the room in thick cotton slippers. Having just washed his hair, his wet bangs clung to his forehead, and tiny droplets of water still hung from his thick, long eyelashes. “Let’s spend the New Year here together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Tang Shaocheng, currently focused on his computer at the desk, pulled out a tissue and handed it over. “Go home for the New Year. Your parents haven’t seen you in five months.”

Yan Liao absently wiped his bangs, his eyes misty and bright. He rested one hand on Tang Shaocheng’s shoulder. “But I can’t leave you here all alone. Why don’t you come home with me?”

He spoke his mind plainly, without overthinking the implications.

The two were wearing matching grey cotton pajamas. In such close proximity, Yan Liao often fell under the illusion that they had been living together for many years.

Tang Shaocheng hit save, shut down the computer, and let out a soft sigh. “How would that look?”

Yan Liao fell silent, reflecting. Tang’s family lived just upstairs; “kidnapping” their son to his own home probably wasn’t the best move.

He knew now that Tang Shaocheng’s relationship with his mother wasn’t close. He never saw them talk on the phone, unlike his own parents, who ordered him to report on his life every few days.

“Don’t worry. Are you afraid I can’t take care of myself?” Tang Shaocheng smiled, then cautioned him, “When you go back, don’t mention us to your parents. Let’s wait until graduation.”

On a holiday meant for reunion, one naturally craves companionship, but Tang Shaocheng had no desire to go where he wasn’t welcome—even if it meant facing his own mother.

A trace of disappointment and confusion flickered across Yan Liao’s face, and he gave a muffled “Oh.”

He understood and could accept this logic: one only gains a voice once they have financial power. Coming out would have to wait until he was independent.

Tang Shaocheng stood up and ruffled Yan Liao’s hair, his fingers lingering as he frowned. “It’s still wet. Go dry it properly.”

“I’ll just let it air dry.”

Yan Liao was too lazy to hold the hairdryer. He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the soft bed, his voice muffled by the plush duvet. His arms and legs were sprawled out like a frog’s. The big bed was far more comfortable than his dorm bunk; he could toss and turn without restraint.

He hadn’t enjoyed a full minute of comfort before he was scooped up by the waist from behind.

Tang Shaocheng was amused by his sheer laziness. “Sleeping like this will give you a headache.”

“I’m not afraid of headaches!” Yan Liao protested, clutching the edge of the bed in a desperate last stand, burying his face in the blankets to create more friction.

He looked like the last chick in a game of “The Eagle Catches the Chick,” gripping the sheets for dear life. However, the expected struggle to the bathroom didn’t happen. Tang Shaocheng brought the hairdryer to the bedside, pulled Yan Liao over, and let him rest his head on his lap.

As the warm air blew through his hair, Yan Liao’s eyes grew half-lidded and dreamy. He felt strong, slender fingers gently massaging his scalp. It was ticklish but incredibly soothing. Faint spots of light danced on his eyelids like fireflies.

Perhaps drying his hair wasn’t so bad after all.

Drowsy, he wrapped his arms around Tang Shaocheng’s waist. Amidst the hum of the dryer, he murmured, “I wish I never had to do anything for myself again.”

“Lazy pig,” Tang Shaocheng teased. He pinched Yan Liao’s earlobe and gave the back of the younger man’s neck a comforting squeeze.

Yan Liao hugged him tighter, nuzzling his face against Tang’s stomach through the pajamas. He curled his lips into a smile. “Then you’re the culprit who turned me into this.”

Since his last “scolding,” Yan Liao had been incredibly well-behaved. He had tucked away his habit of talking back or being stubborn, becoming quite fond of acting spoiled instead.

Sometimes, too sleepy to open his eyes in the morning, he would make Tang Shaocheng carry him to the bathroom. He would obediently open his mouth like a child at the dentist, fill it with minty bubbles, and after rinsing, stand on his tiptoes to steal a kiss.

This winter, it snowed for nearly half a month, turning the world into a freezing, white expanse. Inside, the heating was on, and it wasn’t cold, yet Yan Liao would still get scolded whenever he walked barefoot: “Go put your shoes on.”

That was the downside of living together. But as long as he got to eat delicious meals every day, he could tolerate the nagging.

Without realizing it, Yan Liao had grown accustomed to the pristine state of the house. It wasn’t until Tang Shaocheng went away for a two-day business trip that Yan Liao looked at the mess he had created and realized just how much housework there was to do.

Once he actually started cleaning, he realized how exhausting it was. Compared to his own attempts, he realized it was a magnificent feat that the other man could “make the mirrors so clean” and “iron clothes so they looked brand new.”

Yan Liao figured that since Tang Shaocheng’s birthday was September 22nd—the very last day of Virgo—he was naturally a perfectionist with a obsession for cleanliness. Even so, he felt a pang of guilt. I can’t keep depending on him like a useless person, he thought. With that sudden burst of resolve, he took action.

Yan Liao started following cooking videos. After much effort, his food went from “inedible” to “edible,” only to revert back to “wait, this might be toxic” and eventually failing entirely. He began sweeping diligently, but after two days, Tang Shaocheng thoughtfully bought a robot vacuum. He started washing dishes, and Tang Shaocheng brought home a dishwasher. He tried to do the laundry, stared at the washing machine for a while, and decided to return that job to its rightful owner. He even tried to use his mind to replace the heater. He failed.

So far, his most successful contribution was sliding into bed early to warm up the sheets so that Tang Shaocheng would have a cozy spot when he finally lay down.

He refused to let an electric blanket into the house; otherwise, his “employment” as a bed-warmer would face an early winter.

As they lay in the warmth of their shared body heat, Yan Liao mused, “I think you’re better than my dad.”

Tang Shaocheng smiled, pleased. “Good boy.”

…But when Yan Liao, in a moment of playful inspiration, called him “Daddy” and burrowed into his chest, Tang Shaocheng stopped smiling. The “child” was still young and didn’t understand the lethal power of those words. A wildfire nearly ignited right then and there. What a sin, Tang thought.

Only after Yan Liao fell asleep would Tang Shaocheng steal kisses—from his forehead to his chin, and on each eyelid. No matter how he looked at him, he found Yan Liao adorable. Even the soft sound of his breathing felt like a goldfish blowing bubbles.

He couldn’t see him enough, couldn’t kiss him enough. His entire heart was held in Yan Liao’s hands.

On a weekend when Tang Shaocheng wasn’t working overtime, the weather warmed up beautifully. In the evening, they went to an amusement park.

Yan Liao wasn’t afraid of the roller coasters or the pirate ship. He even tugged on Tang’s sleeve, demanding “one more round.” However, when they reached the haunted house, his face turned deathly pale. He spent the entire time with his eyes squeezed shut, sprinting through the attraction.

What was supposed to be a thirty-minute walkthrough took only ten because of his frantic pace.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

They sat on a bench in the rest area. Yan Liao was still breathless, asking the question with total sincerity.

Tang Shaocheng paused. In the past, he would have said “no” without hesitation. But having experienced rebirth, the world seemed far more magical—and terrifying—than humanity knew.

After a moment of thought, he nodded gravely. “I do.”

Yan Liao bit his lip. He had been looking for comfort but ended up scaring himself more. He couldn’t shake the image of the skull he’d seen under the eerie green lights. He moved closer to Tang Shaocheng and asked, “Are you afraid?”

“If there are ghosts, there must be gods or similar beings as well. So, there’s nothing to fear.”

“Is there anything you are afraid of?” Yan Liao leaned in, his thick lashes nearly brushing Tang’s cheek.

“What do you fear?”

Two days before New Year’s Eve, Tang Shaocheng saw Yan Liao off at the high-speed railway station. Although they only needed to scan their IDs to enter, many people were still queuing at the ticket window to get a physical stub as a memento.

“Next time, we’re going back together,” Yan Liao said, his jaw tight. He was still brooding over it. “Even if things aren’t great with your mom, you can’t just stay away for four years.”

In his previous life, Tang Shaocheng had done exactly that. He didn’t want to think about it now. He simply nodded and said, “We’ll see next time.” He checked Yan Liao’s luggage one last time. “Be careful not to lose anything.”

Despite usually being the mature adult, Tang Shaocheng felt a tightness in his throat as he watched Yan Liao, wearing a woolen hat, push his suitcase through security and turn back every few steps to wave.

He suddenly remembered something Yan Liao had once said: “The moment you turn your back, I start missing you.”

Before your silhouette even leaves my sight, the moment you turn away, I am already missing you.

On the day before Spring Festival, Tang Shaocheng was still at the law firm.

He was organizing files for a case Li Yiyun was currently handling. A worker named Zhao Yong had struggled to survive after his wages were withheld; he left a suicide note and jumped into a river.

“This project was contracted by the Qin Group?”

Tang Shaocheng flipped through the documents. He had no memory of this in his previous life; it hadn’t been a major case back then. The Qin family’s influence in this province was absolute—even in other cities, their presence was everywhere.

“Yes. Qin Li is the type who wants a piece of every industry,” Li Yiyun said, holding a coffee cup as white steam curled upward. “The client is the deceased’s family. They want compensation, but since the suicide didn’t happen at the factory, the amount is limited.”

“But,” Li Yiyun continued, pointing to copies obtained from the police, “there’s a suspicion that Zhao Yong didn’t commit suicide. It might be murder. The suspect is a colleague named Wang Zhongfeng, who joined the company only two months before the incident.”

“After Zhao Yong died, Wang resigned and has recently vanished.” Li Yiyun set down his coffee, lit a cigarette, and gestured to a folder. “Here are some photos we collected.”

Tang Shaocheng shook his head, muttering that “suspicion isn’t evidence,” but he began flipping through the photos anyway. Most were of Zhao Yong and Wang Zhongfeng together; one showed them with their arms around each other’s shoulders, looking like friends.

He kept flipping until his gaze froze.

In an instant, his expression turned dark.

It was a photo of Wang Zhongfeng leaning over to tie his shoelace. Zhao Yong stood beside him holding a sun umbrella—not like a friend, but like a subordinate serving a superior.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that as Wang bent down, his pant leg rode up, revealing a distinct tattoo on his calf.

A green snake wound from his ankle up his leg, its tongue flickering with murderous intent.

In that moment, Tang was transported back to the bench at the amusement park, the screams of the roller coaster echoing like waves in the distance, and Yan Liao asking, “What do you fear?”

The world went silent. Fear crawled up his spine like cold tentacles.

In his past life, Tang Shaocheng’s reason for studying law was simple: it was the best major at the best school. He had always been the type of person who succeeded at whatever he did.

The moment he truly felt moved by the profession was during his first case after getting his license. As a junior lawyer representing ordinary people, he remembered a client clutching his hand and sobbing after a victory: “Lawyer Tang, thank you for saving me.”

The word “save” carried immense weight. From that day on, he vowed to uphold his professional responsibility, and he did it well, helping every client to the best of his ability. He believed in the law, in logic, and in justice.

Until Yan Liao was hurt and no culprit could be found.

The police had interrogated Yan Liao repeatedly. The only leads were: “They wore masks, only their eyes were visible, no scars, nothing special.” There were no breakthroughs.

Except for one detail Yan Liao mentioned days later: “That man stepped on my hand.”

The shocking scars on his hand couldn’t be hidden. It took days for him to recover the memory, speaking slowly: “I saw a tattoo on his ankle. A green snake.”

The police pushed for more, and Yan Liao had to repeat the trauma over and over: “He smashed a wine bottle, pressed my hand into the glass, and ground his foot into the back of my hand.”

He had lain in that hospital bed, able only to move his mouth, repeating those words until Tang Shaocheng couldn’t bear it anymore and forced the police to leave.

Hearing those words spoken so calmly was enough to break Tang Shaocheng’s heart; he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Yan Liao to live through it.

Time, like a fast-climbing vine, reached from the past into the present.

In the dead of winter, standing before the floor-to-ceiling window looking out at a peaceful world, Tang Shaocheng broke into a cold sweat.

Before the upheaval, the last memory of peaceful times was a bright, sunny spring day.

“Why are you willing to love me?”

“Actually… at the beginning, it was because you were willing to love me.”

I love you as if I am loving the version of myself that was never loved. I love you more than I love myself.

Green snake tattoos were common enough; the police hadn’t used it as a primary filter back then. He couldn’t definitively conclude the two events were linked.

“The Qin family… they aren’t simple. Who knows what’s behind them.” Li Yiyun pointed to a teapot—pitch black with no reflection—and smiled meaningfully. “Let the police handle the investigation. We’ll stick to the evidence.”

There was still time.

Tang Shaocheng clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. As long as he stayed away, as long as he didn’t interfere in this matter—

But then he thought of Yu Xing’s mother, her eyes bloodshot from crying. “Lawyer Tang, save him, he’s been locked up… he didn’t go willingly, he’s not insane…”

He had graduated from the best law school and worked at a top firm, surrounded by mentors who held their ideals high and encouraged him to dedicate himself to justice.

Yet rarely did anyone say this to him—

Li Yiyun patted his shoulder. “Why should we wade into muddy waters? If we can’t afford to offend them, can’t we just hide? Who would risk everything to go against them? The law… well, everyone has their own fate.”

Tang Shaocheng gradually calmed down as he listened to Li Yiyun’s voice.

The event was still far off.

He still had time. If the truth was indeed what he suspected, he at least had the chance to make a better decision this time.