IOLYF Chapter 9

Han Shao Zhou found himself reminiscing about when he and Mo Ming had first gotten together…

At that time, Mo Ming was still a student, and Han Shao Zhou had just taken over a technology company that Shengda had acquired. The company was riddled with debt and poorly managed, leaving him overwhelmed with work. But since his main business was in Chuanghai, he could often visit Mo Ming, who was studying at C University. He even bought a condo near the university for Mo Ming. Whenever he had no social engagements in the evening, he would go over for dinner. If he had drunk too much during a business dinner, he would have his driver take him to Mo Ming’s place. On nights when he had energy to spare, he would pin Mo Ming down on the living room sofa as soon as he entered the door, seeking some passionate relief. On the nights when he was too drunk, he would collapse onto the bed, and Mo Ming would patiently take care of him.

It was as if the emotional bruises and work stress he suffered during that period were all healed and relieved at Mo Ming’s place. He could barely remember how he got through those days, but he vividly recalled Mo Ming opening the door for him and cooking dinner each night. In his memory, those moments were like a warmly toned oil painting, with Mo Ming bathed in the soft light of the room. Mo Ming would always affectionately tiptoe to hug him, kissing him with a mix of tenderness and playfulness. Eventually, it became a habit. Before Mo Ming could come up to kiss him, he would push him against the wall and kiss him enough to satisfy himself.

Whenever Mo Ming’s school was on break, if Han Shao Zhou was on a business trip in a distant city or even another country, one phone call would have Mo Ming hopping on a plane to meet him. Later on, when Mo Ming signed with Xingci and began his acting career, Han Shao Zhou often found himself on the road for ten days or more, reducing the time they could spend together. But even so, they never grew distant.

Sometimes, after a night of passionate lovemaking, Han Shao Zhou would light a cigarette and think to himself that, since he had no interest in chasing after some idealized notion of true love, keeping this little guy by his side for life wouldn’t be so bad.

…

After a nap on the plane that afternoon, Han Shao Zhou wasn’t particularly sleepy. Holding the warm, soft figure of Mo Ming in his arms soon stirred up a flame in him. After trying to suppress it for a while, he couldn’t stand it anymore and got up, taking his phone with him to the bathroom.

He spent about half an hour in the bathroom, reading a few emails to cool himself down, and was just about to leave after washing his hands when his phone buzzed with a new message.

…It was from Wen Ci.

Wen Ci’s chat window suddenly appeared in the message feed.

They hadn’t been in contact for three years, but neither had ever deleted the other. It was just that Han Shao Zhou had changed phones in the meantime, refreshing the message history.

At first, Han Shao Zhou didn’t immediately realize it was Wen Ci because the contact’s name had never been changed from the nickname he had set years ago: “Future Wife.”

The cheesy nickname was a relic of Han Shao Zhou’s middle-school, lovesick puppy days. Seeing those four characters now made him cringe, and for a moment, he didn’t even connect it to Wen Ci. It wasn’t until he saw Wen Ci’s profile picture that it clicked.

Sitting on the toilet seat, Han Shao Zhou opened the message.

[Wen Ci]: I heard you were injured. Is it serious?

Han Shao Zhou instinctively reached for a cigarette but didn’t find one.

Apart from this recent message marked “just now,” the five-and-a-half-inch phone screen still displayed some of the three-year-old messages. They were the outpourings of a slightly unhinged Han Shao Zhou, who had been in emotional turmoil around the time of Wen Ci’s wedding.

[Han Shao Zhou]: Was it worth giving up everything in the entertainment industry for that guy?

[Han Shao Zhou]: I’ve been working hard to change these past few years. Please wait for me, okay? I’m trying to become the kind of person you’d admire, someone better suited for you than Gao Chen.

…

[Han Shao Zhou]: I saw your wedding photos online. Honestly, you and Gao Chen don’t look good together at all.

[Han Shao Zhou]: I’m sorry I didn’t attend your wedding today, but I promise I’ll be there if you ever have a divorce party.

[Han Shao Zhou]: I will never give you my blessing.

…

[Han Shao Zhou]: Wen Ci, I feel so miserable. Could you send me a voice message? I want to hear your voice.

[Han Shao Zhou]: If Gao Chen ever mistreats you, you have to tell me. I won’t let him get away with it.

…

[Han Shao Zhou]: I can’t stop thinking about you. What should I do…

[Han Shao Zhou]: Wen Ci, I wish you happiness. I still love you.

…

A simple flick of his finger revealed a treasure trove of embarrassing messages.

Han Shao Zhou was frustrated that these messages didn’t automatically delete when he switched phones. Seeing them now made him feel like he was looking at the ramblings of a shameless stalker. He had to give Wen Ci credit for his patience—he hadn’t blocked him, even after all that. But Wen Ci’s phone would be showing those same messages right now, and just thinking about it made Han Shao Zhou want to disappear into the floor.

Forcing himself to ignore those old messages, Han Shao Zhou typed out a response.

[Han Shao Zhou]: Just a scratch, nothing serious.

He guessed that Shen Xixi was probably the one who had told Wen Ci about his injury.

As soon as he hit send, the bathroom door suddenly swung open, and the loud noise startled Han Shao Zhou in the otherwise quiet space, causing his phone to slip from his hand.

Mo Ming, still groggy with sleep, stood in the doorway, clearly surprised. He had gotten out of bed half-asleep to use the bathroom, not realizing that Han Shao Zhou wasn’t in bed.

“Brother Han, you…” Mo Ming mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. He bent down to pick up the phone that had fallen at his feet and handed it back to Han Shao Zhou.

The phone buzzed just as Mo Ming picked it up. The screen, which had locked itself after the fall, now displayed a prominent message.

[Your Future Wife sent you a message]

Mo Ming: “…”

Han Shao Zhou: “…”

Mo Ming saw it, but still half-asleep, his eyes drooped without any noticeable emotion. He looked as lethargic as a kitten that had just woken up.

Han Shao Zhou took the phone, pinched Mo Ming’s cheek, and left the bathroom. “You can use it.”

Mo Ming frowned slightly.

He hadn’t even washed his hands yet.

Once outside, Han Shao Zhou checked the new message.

[Wen Ci]: That’s good. Be careful from now on.

[Han Shao Zhou]: Mm.

Han Shao Zhou set the phone down on the bedside table, thinking back to the look Mo Ming had given his phone earlier. The little guy must have noticed the affectionate nickname.

Any normal person would naturally assume that it was someone Han Shao Zhou was close to.

Staring at the bathroom door, Han Shao Zhou hesitated, wondering if he should explain. After all, they were in a kept relationship, so there was no need for him to be too committed to Mo Ming. But after three years together, and knowing how much Mo Ming liked him, it seemed only fair to offer some reassurance.

Mo Ming had already seemed a bit off when he came to the hospital. Han Shao Zhou didn’t know if it was because he was scared by his injury or because of what Zhao Cheng had mentioned about Shen Xixi’s cryptic comments regarding Wen Ci.

Maybe it was best to explain, especially since it was still Mo Ming’s birthday today. He didn’t want him to go to bed feeling upset.

The bathroom door opened, and Han Shao Zhou sat up in bed, mentally preparing how to approach the topic—it didn’t need to be a detailed explanation.

Mo Ming slowly made his way to the bed, yawning as he slipped under the covers, his heavy eyelids falling shut almost immediately.

Han Shao Zhou: “…”

Listening to Mo Ming’s steady, even breathing, Han Shao Zhou’s mouth twitched slightly. He instinctively reached out and nudged Mo Ming.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, Mo Ming, half-awake, opened his eyes and looked up at him with a sleepy, furrowed brow, “So tired…”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Han Shao Zhou said seriously.

Mo Ming looked even more aggrieved, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket and turning his back to Han Shao Zhou. He mumbled drowsily, “Tomorrow… let’s talk tomorrow…”

Han Shao Zhou stared at the back of Mo Ming’s head for a few seconds.

Wasn’t this guy upset?

Frowning, Han Shao Zhou felt a vague sense of discomfort. He turned off the light and lay down slowly. Bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the window, he found himself staring at the back of Mo Ming’s head, his mind a chaotic mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp.

A minute later, Han Shao Zhou couldn’t hold back any longer and reached out to turn Mo Ming around, only to find that he had already fallen asleep.

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