Song Nanxing and Shen Du forcibly brought the two men out together.
Shen Du found some rope and tied them up, while Song Nanxing called Han Zhi.
Fifteen minutes later, Han Zhi arrived at the gymnasium with a large group of people, and Chu Yan arrived two minutes after him.
Seeing the two brothers tied up, neither of them had the energy to argue about how Song Nanxing and Shen Du managed to enter the cordoned-off campus.
Their expressions were grave as they contacted various teams, pulling up the lists and urgently recalling the missing people who had already returned home by visiting their addresses one by one.
Meanwhile, the personnel on-site quickly sent the two dazed brothers to the medical center, tightly sealed off the entire gymnasium, and began re-screening all missing persons.
Chu Yan stood silently on the side, her face dark as she made calls.
Han Zhi, busy as he was, took a moment to glance at Song Nanxing and Shen Du, guessing why they had appeared at the gymnasium.
He just patted Song Nanxing’s shoulder wearily and said, “You guys can head back first. There might be some things later on we’ll need to explain to you.”
The scene was chaotic and tense.
Song Nanxing knew that staying there as two ordinary people would only add to the mess, so he left together with Shen Du.
Chu Yan returned after finishing her call, saw Song Nanxing’s retreating back, and asked Han Zhi, “You just let them go like that?”
Han Zhi pinched his fingers together, twisted them forcefully, and snorted softly, “What else could we do?”
Chu Yan stared silently at Song Nanxing’s slowly disappearing figure.
*****
Song Nanxing returned home, feeling utterly drained and hollow.
Back in the tense and chaotic gymnasium, his mind hadn’t had time to dwell on much.
Now, in the quiet, the scenes kept replaying vividly in his mind.
He went to splash cold water on his face, forcing himself not to think about it, but the more he tried to suppress the memories, the more stubbornly they insisted on resurfacing.
The name “Du Shilin” and the repeated “Xingxing” played like a haunting melody in his ears.
That illusory sense of happiness was like poisonous maple syrup, emitting a sweet yet deadly fragrance that tempted him to return.
What’s wrong with giving in to it?
Then he could reunite with his mother and never have to face loneliness alone again.
Song Nanxing painfully covered his ears and crouched down, his back arching taut like a bow stretched to its breaking point.
His tightly clenched lips leaked out broken sobs.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door.
Shen Du’s voice came through, gentle and full of concern, “Xingxing, are you alright?”
For a moment, Song Nanxing was dazed.
No response came, so Shen Du asked again, “I bought some booze. Want to drink a little together?”
Song Nanxing shook his head, grasping the edge of the sink to stand up with difficulty, his voice hoarse, “Alright, wait for me, I’ll be out soon.”
He slapped his face and plunged his head under the faucet for a while.
The chaos in his mind cleared a bit under the cold water’s sting.
He raised his head, roughly wiped his dripping hair with a towel, and forced a smile at the mirror, trying to look less awful.
Afraid Shen Du would worry outside, he didn’t linger.
Adjusting his expression, he opened the door and stepped out.
Shen Du was waiting on the balcony.
When Song Nanxing came over, Shen Du silently opened a bottle of beer and handed it to him.
Standing side by side, Song Nanxing clinked glasses with him and joked, “With your drinking capacity, pace yourself.”
Shen Du gazed at him, then suddenly covered his eyes with his hand and said softly, “You don’t have to smile when you don’t want to. You look very sad.”
The warm palm over his eyes, Song Nanxing blinked in the darkness.
The faint smile at the corner of his mouth slowly flattened and collapsed.
He didn’t pull away.
The comforting darkness brought a moment of peace, allowing the long-suppressed emotions to finally pour out.
“At first, I was really happy.”
He spoke slowly, hoarsely, almost choking, “I thought… I really found her.”
Warm liquid fell.
One drop, two drops, three.
Like damp rain hitting Shen Du’s palm.
It was a strange feeling Shen Du had never experienced before.
He stared at the fragile human in front of him.
The shadow at his feet writhed slowly and helplessly.
A doubtful voice sounded, “Cried.”
“So sad.”
“Don’t cry.”
The little octopus and the puppet cautiously crept closer, staring at him but not daring to approach.
Shen Du withdrew his hand, gently rubbing the damp hair and holding the tense back to pull him into a hug.
“You will find her.”
Song Nanxing rested his forehead against Shen Du’s shoulder.
His still-wet hair clung faintly to his neck as he responded softly.
The damp scent of oranges drifted into Shen Du’s nose—whether from shampoo or body wash, he couldn’t tell.
He took a deep breath.
Shadows stirred in the darkness.
Shen Du lightly patted Song Nanxing’s tight back.
Song Nanxing’s body slowly relaxed.
He buried his face against Shen Du’s chest, inhaling the faint sea breeze scent, allowing himself to briefly sink into the other’s warmth.
After a long while, he withdrew from Shen Du’s embrace.
Having shown this moment of vulnerability, his ears flushed faint red, and he didn’t dare meet Shen Du’s eyes.
He merely clinked glasses again and drained the bottle.
As his soft body moved away, Shen Du curled his fingers slightly, reluctant.
His gaze fell on Song Nanxing’s throat, watching the adam’s apple roll repeatedly.
Song Nanxing was oblivious, grabbing another beer and opening it on his own.
Shen Du silently kept him company.
They quickly finished two dozen beers, most of which went into Song Nanxing.
His face flushed red, ears burning, and his thin body swayed unsteadily, barely able to stand.
Shen Du caught him in time.
Song Nanxing was only half a head shorter than Shen Du.
When he lifted his face, his nose bumped against Shen Du’s chin.
His eyes quickly grew moist, and he muttered in complaint, “Your chin is so hard, it really hurts.”
Completely unaware that if he tilted his head up, Shen Du could easily kiss his lips.
Shen Du’s gaze lingered on his full, rosy lips for a moment before wrapping his arms around his waist and guiding him to the bedroom.
“You’re drunk. I’ll take you to rest.”
Song Nanxing obediently allowed himself to be half-carried, half-supported to the bedroom.
Seeing his hair still damp, Shen Du recalled some useless human knowledge he’d read somewhere—sleeping with wet hair would cause a cold or headache.
He let Song Nanxing lean against the headboard, then fetched the hairdryer to dry his damp hair.
As the warm breeze blew on his face, Song Nanxing became a little more clear-headed.
He actually had a good tolerance for alcohol and wasn’t truly drunk.
He had just deliberately indulged himself in a dazed, thoughtless state.
Now, resting against Shen Du, his fingers gently running through his hair with a soft touch, there was a lazy kind of magic.
His chest, once filled with emptiness, now felt full again as if infused with warm water.
He raised his face and met Shen Du’s patient, gentle eyes.
Shen Du finished drying his hair and turned off the dryer.
“Get a good night’s sleep,” he said.
As the warm body moved away, Song Nanxing felt a sudden reluctance.
Shen Du tucked the blanket over him and turned off the light before leaving the room.
Song Nanxing lay awake in the dark, listening to the sound of the door opening and closing next door.
He turned over quietly.
The alcohol seemed to be wearing off, but he still couldn’t fall asleep.
At that moment, the bedroom door creaked open.
The puppet slowly peeked its head through the crack, cautiously watching Song Nanxing.
The little octopus lay on top of his head, its blue body emitting a faint glow.
Song Nanxing couldn’t pretend not to see.
He propped himself up on his elbows, looked over at the puppet, and waved his hand.
The puppet’s hollow black eyes widened slightly and it carefully climbed onto the bed.
Song Nanxing skeptically touched its stiff wooden body and muttered, “Well, I guess I can tolerate hugging it.”
He pinched the little octopus’s tentacle and placed it on the pillow, then held the dazed puppet in his arms and curled up under the blanket.
The puppet’s hard wooden body stretched and softened in his embrace.
Shen Du, satisfied, held him tightly and kissed his long-coveted full lips, smiling gently, “Good night.”
*****
Perhaps because of the alcohol, Song Nanxing slept very well.
When he woke, it was already noon.
Several missed calls were on his phone—Chu Yan’s.
He recalled the incident at the gymnasium and furrowed his brow, but the suffocating feeling like his chest was sealed in cement was gone.
Assuming she wanted to discuss the gymnasium situation with him, Song Nanxing called her back.
Chu Yan seemed to have been waiting for his call.
When she answered, she spoke decisively, “Are you home? There are some things I want to discuss with you in person.”
“I’m here,” Song Nanxing replied.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Chu Yan hung up after saying this.
Before five minutes had passed, the doorbell rang at Song Nanxing’s place.
He quickly changed clothes to open the door.
Just as he reached the door, he remembered the puppet and the little octopus were still in the bedroom.
He hurried back to remind his two guests and closed the bedroom door before opening the door.
Chu Yan was dressed in black combat gear, her ponytail high and tight, her military boots thudding heavily on the floor.
Song Nanxing invited her into the living room, poured her a glass of water, and waited for her to speak.
She studied him for a long moment as if weighing something.
After a long silence, she said, “After receiving your report yesterday, Han Zhi and I immediately organized teams to visit every household on the list.
Two batches in total brought back 213 missing persons, but only 56 were successfully recalled.”
Song Nanxing raised his eyes, “The families refused to cooperate?”
Chu Yan shook her head, her voice heavy, “The remaining 157 are all still missing, along with their families.”
To bad his sister wasn’t there in his moment of fragility 🫠