Why Does First Love Feel This Sweet? - Chapter 4

Chapter: 4  Shadows and Silk

Fearful that Sheng Yi would be too hungry to wait, Rong Yu made two bowls of noodles as soon as they got home, hitting Sheng Yi’s taste buds with surgical precision.

The peeled tomatoes had been simmered into a rich, sweet-and-sour red broth. The cubed beef brisket was stewed until silky and tender; one bite released a burst of savory fragrance. It was a simple bowl of tomato-beef noodles—light and warming—ensuring that even if eaten quickly, it wouldn’t upset a delicate stomach.

Sheng Yi drank every last drop of the soup. His stomach was officially conquered. When he set the bowl down, the way he looked at Rong Yu had completely changed.

Exhausted, Sheng Yi fell asleep on the sofa almost immediately. Rong Yu carried him upstairs.

Sheng Yi was a heavy sleeper, remaining completely oblivious as Rong Yu lifted him, leaning submissively into the crook of the man’s arm. It had been this way since they were children; Sheng Yi was the most lighthearted person Rong Yu knew—at times even a bit thoughtless—always trusting the world, and trusting him, without reservation.

As if playing a “life simulation” game, Rong Yu skillfully maneuvered the boy’s long limbs into pajamas and tucked him snugly under the quilt. Sitting by the bedside, Rong Yu watched Sheng Yi’s defenseless sleeping face. When the boy’s eyes were open, he was like a friendly puppy—clear, bright, and full of spirit. But with his eyes closed, his hidden fragility surfaced, creating a sickly, beautiful aesthetic that made one want to protect him at all costs, as if he might shatter if not held carefully.

Rong Yu reached out lightly, brushing away the stray hairs covering Sheng Yi’s eyes. It had been two months since Rong Yu last cut his hair; it was getting long again.

Rong Yu had slept deeply the previous night, but he hadn’t slept well. For three years, he had fallen asleep to the sound of Sheng Yi’s breathing. Last night, without that faint sound by his ear, he had spent the whole night dreaming of losing him. In the dream, Sheng Yi never woke up, and Rong Yu had to personally cover that silent face with a cold white sheet.

Rong Yu wasn’t a man prone to tears; he wasn’t even sure what they felt like. But a realistic, choking sensation had stifled him from deep within his nose, as if he were being cast into the deep sea. Headache, hypoxia, and a physical exhaustion so profound he lacked the strength to even open his eyes.

He curled his fingers and lightly grazed the bridge of the boy’s straight nose. With a mix of helplessness and an unconscious sense of satisfaction, he whispered, “You trust me this much?”

Lost in his own dream, Sheng Yi could not answer.

“Hang-hang,” Rong Yu called out softly.

His hand slid down, resting over the boy’s thin, slowly rising chest. He carefully felt the weak heartbeat beneath his palm, feeling like a traveler in a dark, stormy night, shielding a flickering flame.

…

The dream was like a fine hook, pulling up a soft thread of memory.

Sheng Yi dreamt of a precious fragment of the past. In the dream, he was very small. There was a mulberry tree in his courtyard with sharp, twisted branches like a demon’s claws. From the big house behind him came the sound of a man and woman arguing loudly. He crouched under the tree, picking handfuls of dark purple fruit until his fingernails were stained with sweet, sticky juice.

“Xiao Yu, come inside!” someone shouted nearby.

He looked up and saw a moving truck parked outside the villa across the way. Adults in blue uniforms were carrying luggage inside. The iron gates of the two houses faced each other. Outside the opposite gate stood a clean, fair-skinned little boy. Even from a distance, Sheng Yi could see the boy’s long lashes; he looked like an angel.

The boy stood on the road with his head down, lips pressed tight, looking both sad and stubborn.

“Sweetie, even if you wait here, Zhou-zhou won’t follow us,” Tang Yun knelt before little Rong Yu, coaxing him gently. “Zhou-zhou is old now. He can’t move here with us. Your father’s friend will take good care of him.”

This villa area was near the mountains. It was beautiful but inconvenient, so it was mostly populated by wealthy retirees; children were a rare sight. Sheng Yi thought happily: I’m going to have a friend.

Tang Yun tried to persuade him for a long time, but Rong Yu stood silent at the gate, refusing to enter the new house. Knowing the boy was stubborn, Tang Yun eventually gave up; she wasn’t a parent who coddled. She stood up to let him think it through on his own.

As she turned to leave, she saw the boy from across the street running over with a handful of mulberries.

“Who’s Zhou-zhou? Your dog?” The boy was naturally sociable, speaking to Rong Yu with a bright smile. “My name is Sheng Yi. What’s yours?”

“His name is Rong Yu. We just moved in. You two will be neighbors from now on,” Tang Yun smiled. “I’ll have to ask you to look after him and play together.”

“Don’t worry, Auntie. I’ll cover him from now on.” Sheng Yi was half a head shorter than Rong Yu, yet he already carried himself like a big brother. Tang Yun couldn’t help but laugh and nod.

After she left, little Rong Yu remained cold and distant. He glanced at Sheng Yi’s stained, dirty hands holding the mulberries and took a step away. Sheng Yi acted like a little adult, “coaxing” Rong Yu with an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Rong Yu acted as if he couldn’t hear him, ignoring him completely.

The autumn afternoon sun was harsh. Sheng Yi’s throat went dry from talking. Suddenly, he blurted out, “Aiya, don’t cry anymore. Let’s go play in your yard…”

Before he could finish, the stubborn child finally looked up. His beautiful little face was flushed bright red. In what seemed like a burst of embarrassed anger, he snapped, “I’m not crying.”

Sheng Yi recognized the tsundere streak immediately and teased him on purpose: “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I cry all the time. My mom says it’s not shameful for kids to be crybabies…”

“I’m not!” Fuming, Rong Yu turned and ran into his new yard, thinking this person was absolutely insufferable.

But that night, he saw the “pest” again. In the middle of the night, Rong Yu was huddled under his covers, suppressing tears for the Golden Retriever he had grown up with, when he heard a pitter-patter of pebbles against his window.

He pushed the window open to find the pest wearing a small backpack, perched like a monkey on the large tree directly opposite his window. “Crybaby,” Sheng Yi whispered with a grin. “Are you crying under your blanket?”

Rong Yu instinctively wiped his dry eyes and whispered back, his ears red, “Are you crazy?”

“How’d you know?” the pest chirped shamelessly. “I just caught a cold yesterday, haven’t recovered yet.” As he spoke, he sniffled back some snot, making Rong Yu knit his handsome brows in disgust.

“I’ve got something good for you!” Sheng Yi swung his backpack around and unzipped it slightly.

What ‘good thing’ could this pest possibly have? Rong Yu thought, looking away dismissively, yet his bright black eyes couldn’t help but peek at the mysterious bag.

“Whimper…” A tiny yellow puppy poked its head out.

“!”

“Cute, right?” Sheng Yi boasted. “My mom just got me the pup. Have you heard of Golden Retrievers? They grow up to be huge!” He waved the puppy’s paw at Rong Yu. “If you open the door and let me stay in your room for the night, I’ll let you play with him.”

“I don’t even like dogs,” Rong Yu huffed, though he was staring intently at the puppy.

Two minutes later, Sheng Yi was quietly ushered into the bedroom.

Rong Yu played with the puppy on the carpet for most of the night. When he finally looked up, he found the pest had unceremoniously sprawled across his bed, sleeping like a pig. Rong Yu, a germaphobe, was worried the boy would drool on his quilt. He got up to wake him, only to see a patch of fair skin on Sheng Yi’s back where his shirt had ridden up—marked with several long, thin bruises.

At dawn, Sheng Yi woke up to find Rong Yu asleep on the carpet, hugging the dog. Feeling a bit shy, Sheng Yi left the dog behind for him to play with. He asked tentatively, “Xiao Yu, can I come sleep here again?”

“No,” Rong Yu replied, standing at the door with the dog, stubbornly refusing.

But later, through countless nights, Rong Yu opened the door for Sheng Yi again and again.

…

Sheng Yi opened his eyes to find the adult Rong Yu sleeping beside him. The boy from the dream had grown; the slightly upturned, beautiful eyes still carried traces of the past, but the softness was gone, replaced by the sharp, defined angles of a man. Though this handsome face still felt a bit strange, Sheng Yi found he didn’t mind the proximity. Instead, he felt a soul-deep familiarity.

He quietly lifted the quilt, pulling a bit of it over the man lying toward him. He turned to face Rong Yu, studying his features.

“Xiao Yu.”

So that really was what he used to call him. No wonder it felt so natural.

Suddenly, the man opened his eyes. Rong Yu hadn’t been asleep.

Sheng Yi froze as a wave of inexplicable embarrassment washed over him. He shifted his gaze away, pulling the quilt up to hide half of his burning face.

“What is it?” Rong Yu’s eyes shimmered in the dark.

“I dreamt of some things from the past,” Sheng Yi whispered.

Rong Yu observed him quietly. “What did you dream?”

Sheng Yi grinned mischievously. “Xiao Yu, were you a crybaby when you were little?”

“Then you probably had a false dream,” Rong Yu replied expressionless.

He really hasn’t changed, Sheng Yi thought. He smiled and asked, “Were we neighbors as kids?”

“Yes. We first met when we were seven,” Rong Yu said slowly, lost in his own memories. “That night, you brought Xiao Jie to throw stones at my window.”

“Xiao Jie? Was that the Golden Retriever?” Sheng Yi hadn’t remembered the dog’s name in the dream. He poked his head out of the quilt. “Where is he now?”

Rong Yu watched him in silence, waiting for the next question. Sheng Yi’s heart raced as he gathered the courage to ask: “Xiao Yu, what happened three years ago?”

Rong Yu didn’t have to think; he seemed prepared to answer this at any time. “There was a fire. Your father and Xiao Jie… they didn’t make it out.”

“…” Sheng Yi’s lashes trembled. “And my mom?”

“She passed away when you were twelve.”

Sheng Yi instinctively grabbed Rong Yu’s shirt. “And me?”

“That day was your eighteenth birthday,” Rong Yu sat up against the headboard, looking at his gripped shirt. “You were out celebrating with friends. You got a call from the police, and on the way back, you were in a car accident.”

Before getting the answer, Sheng Yi had imagined a dozen tragic possibilities. Car crashes and fires were within his expectations. Because he had amnesia, he thought he could accept the loss of these people calmly, like hearing about an old piece of clothing he no longer remembered.

But hearing it now, his body began to shake uncontrollably. He felt cold—chilled to the bone, as if drenched in ice water. He gripped Rong Yu’s clothes tightly, seeking comfort from his only remaining tether to this world.

Rong Yu pried his fingers away one by one, only to fold Sheng Yi’s icy hands within his own. His hands weren’t particularly warm either.

Sheng Yi leaned closer, resting his head near Rong Yu’s leg. After a long silence, he whispered, “When it happened… were you there?”

“No,” Rong Yu said in the same calm tone.

Neither of their hands grew warmer; instead, Rong Yu’s hands were chilled by Sheng Yi’s touch.

Sheng Yi desperately wanted to see Rong Yu’s face, so he looked up. Rong Yu’s eyes were narrow and dark, like ice lurking in the shadows. All sorts of colorful emotions could be hidden perfectly within that blackness, much like a dangerous yet captivating night.

He heard Rong Yu say in a very light tone, “At that time, we were no longer friends.”

Sheng Yi’s heart skipped a heavy beat. We broke up? How could he have let go of such a good friend? Does that mean Rong Yu stayed by his hospital bed for three years even after they had a falling out?

With Rong Yu’s face hidden in the shadows, Sheng Yi couldn’t see his expression. He sat up, grabbing the man’s hand urgently. “Xiao Yu, I’m sorry. I apologize. Whatever I did wrong in the past, I’ll definitely change for the better from now on.”

Completely caught off guard, Rong Yu froze. His manufactured composure cracked under Sheng Yi’s blunt honesty.

“Can we make up?” Sheng Yi shook his hand, pleading anxiously. “Rong Yu, you’re the only one I have left. If you’re unhappy about something, just say it all now, and we’ll fix it immediately.”

Rong Yu studied his serious expression, his eyes deepening. “If it really was your fault, how do you want to fix it?”

Sheng Yi thought about it. Other than getting a beating, he didn’t have many options. He was penniless; only this broken body was left to offer. But even after all that, he was still afraid of pain.

He patted the back of Rong Yu’s hand, feeling a bit guilty, and advised earnestly, “Xiao Yu, look. Although we’re in a ‘fake’ marriage, we’re technically a couple now. Can we use a… gentler, post-marital way to resolve things?”

“Hmm, I suppose so,” Rong Yu played along, lowering his head for a few seconds of thought. When he looked up, his narrow eyes were slightly squinted. He cast a meaningful, almost tangible glance over the bit of collarbone exposed by Sheng Yi’s pajama collar.

“Let me sleep [with you]?”

“???”

Sheng Yi didn’t react at first. Hearing such a “wolfish” request from Rong Yu’s angelic face made him wonder if his own thoughts were too filthy or if his ears were malfunctioning.

Today was truly an eye-opener. Who knew that someone with such a “cold” aura could talk so dirty? Thank goodness the curtains were drawn; Sheng Yi closed his eyes in the darkness, his face burning red.

Damn. Sheng Yi felt the heat on his face. His mind was still stuck at eighteen, while this man had fully developed the maturity of a twenty-one-year-old. It wasn’t even the same level.

He was so embarrassed he couldn’t find a comeback. The melancholy of the tragic truth was completely scattered; in his eyes and in the room, only Rong Yu existed.

In the mysterious darkness, Sheng Yi felt the man’s strong arms brace against the bed by his legs. With a cool breath, Rong Yu leaned in close. “A wedding night is indeed a perfect time to practice post-marital conflict resolution.”

Sheng Yi was frozen as if under a spell, dazed by the dangerously approaching warmth, seeing that face that flickered between the dream and the present. The boy in the dream seemed to have two faces: by day, he was pure as ice and snow; by night, he shed the mask of kindness to become a demon that lured people in.

Sheng Yi’s heart began to race. Cool fingers extended along the bedsheet, brushing against his own. He heard a sexy, whispered breath in his ear:

“I’ll be a little gentler… okay?”