Okay.

Before returning to China, Zhuang Xianyang had already drafted his resignation letter. With his father plagued by illness and his mother old, how could he return to the country and live with a peaceful mind.

As a son, he had to take care of them in the few years to come. The long-haul flights back and forth were not a solution, and it was unreasonable to keep delaying his work at his unit. As a father, Zhuang Fanxin had never experienced any hardships growing up. At just seventeen, even if he were to inherit the company, he first had to finish his studies. Only he, the father, could help manage it.

For reasons both logical and emotional, staying was truly unrealistic, and going to the USA was even more imminent. Zhuang Xianyang had discussed it with Zhao Jianqiu in advance. The current situation was urgent, and they didn't have the luxury of hesitation or delay, so the couple jointly decided to immigrate.

Zhuang Xianyang was a painter who had traveled through most of China in his youth—Harbin, Shanghai, Suzhou and Hangzhou. The cities he had lived in were countless. Zhao Jianqiu grew up abroad, so her situation was similar. After they married and had a child, they settled in Rong City. They hadn't moved because of Zhuang Fanxin's schooling, but they didn't have a very deep concept of "roots."

Leaving, traveling, for people in the arts, was sometimes like changing the water for a wilting flower—it invigorated the spirit.

That afternoon after returning to China, Zhuang Xianyang immediately went to the Art Academy to submit his resignation letter. All procedures were handled quickly and simply. Zhao Jianqiu had already dealt with her work on hand and contacted a design studio in the USA she had collaborated with for many years.

Zhuang Xianyang had been under immense pressure lately. He was dejected and listless in the hospital late at night and forced a smile in front of his parents. Only after reuniting with his wife and son did he slowly regain some of his vitality. Today, someone came to look at the house. He accompanied them on a tour inside and out, explaining repeatedly that the house didn't matter, but he was very reluctant to part with the garden his wife had so meticulously created.

Following them out the door, he saw Gu Zhuoyan and Zhuang Fanxin standing outside. Zhuang Xianyang greeted them, "Xiao Gu, you're back? I heard from Fanxin that you went home for winter camp?"

"Uncle," Gu Zhuoyan replied.

He had never felt so worried and fearful, as if he weren't facing Zhuang Xianyang and Zhao Jianqiu a few steps away, but some life-reaping demons. Even so, he walked a little closer and asked for confirmation, "Uncle, Auntie, you're immigrating?"

"Yes, we're leaving the day after tomorrow," Zhao Jianqiu said.

Zhuang Xianyang smiled, a smile that held three parts regret and helplessness, but the remaining seven parts were unwavering determination. He said, "I originally thought it would be Fanxin seeing you off in a year. I didn't expect the order to be reversed. You two should say a proper goodbye these next two days."

Gu Zhuoyan hadn't given up. "Will you come back in the future?"

Zhuang Xianyang considered for a moment. "No one can predict the future, but it's highly likely we won't be coming back."

The harsh sun was high in the sky, but it was actually bitterly cold. The chilly air made Zhuang Fanxin's nose tingle and his temples throb from the suffocating feeling. Not coming back. Those four simple words had just announced his prison sentence.

Zhuang Xianyang and Zhao Jianqiu went back inside. There was no one else in the alley, leaving only Gu Zhuoyan and Zhuang Fanxin facing each other in silence. Gu Zhuoyan felt waves of dizziness wash over him. Staggering, he asked with a tremor, "Zhuang'er, will you come back in the future?"

Zhuang Fanxin covered his face. Before he could make a sound, Gu Zhuoyan forcefully pulled his hands away. "Will you come back in the future?"

Gu Zhuoyan asked again and again, repeating the question over and over, yet tyrannically giving Zhuang Fanxin no chance to answer. He was afraid, afraid that what Zhuang Fanxin said wouldn't be the answer he wanted to hear. Even if that answer had only a one-in-a-thousand chance, he was too scared to hear a single word of it.

This wasn't right. Not right at all.

While waiting for his flight, Gu Zhuoyan had thought, and he had thought on the plane too, that if Zhuang Fanxin really had no choice but to leave early, he would just wait. He'd wait until he graduated high school in a year, and he'd go over to study too. After four or five years, he and Zhuang Fanxin would return to China together and continue living according to their original plan.

But if Zhuang Fanxin was immigrating and not coming back, what was he to do?

Gu Zhuoyan stopped asking. He skirted around the obstacle, saying wishfully, almost deceiving himself, "Even if you immigrate, once your grandpa's condition stabilizes or improves, you can still come back, right?"

Zhuang Fanxin answered so softly, "I—"

"There are also holidays." Gu Zhuoyan didn't let Zhuang Fanxin finish. He was still scared, insecure to the extreme. "I can fly over to see you during the holidays. We can call, video chat... there's always a way, right?"

A warmth spread through his chest. Zhuang Fanxin came over and hugged him, just like how he used to bully people, his two thin arms wrapping around him tightly. He lowered his head, inhaling the scent of Zhuang Fanxin's hair, and his consciousness was suddenly drained. He swayed.

Gu Zhuoyan's fever had spiked to 39 degrees. The illness had taken root last night, from the cold, from the anxiety.

Zhuang Fanxin helped him back to his own house nearby and put him on the bed. Half-packed clothes were thrown on the end of the bed, and luggage was spread out on the floor. Gu Zhuoyan caught a glimpse of it and, delirious from the fever, kept calling Zhuang Fanxin's name, repeatedly saying, 'don't go'.

Undoing the thick down jacket, Zhuang Fanxin realized Gu Zhuoyan was wearing a shirt and tie underneath. He instantly knew how rushed the other must have been to get back. After taking off a few layers of clothing, Zhuang Fanxin tucked Gu Zhuoyan in with a blanket and wiped his cheeks with a damp towel.

His skin was scorching hot, flushed with a feverish red, only his lips were pale. Gu Zhuoyan was too weak to open his eyes. He fumbled, his hand reaching out from under the covers, using its last bit of strength to grip Zhuang Fanxin's wrist.

Zhuang Fanxin gripped his hand back. In the meantime, Zhao Jianqiu brought hot water, and Zhuang Xianyang had a nurse come from the clinic to administer an IV drip. He still didn't let go, even under the watchful eyes of others.

The room was quiet. The drip of the IV fluid was heavier than breathing. Zhuang Fanxin took a mouthful of water, leaned over, and fed it into Gu Zhuoyan's mouth bit by bit. After a few repetitions, even in his daze, Gu Zhuoyan reacted. On the last sip, Zhuang Fanxin's tongue was bitten unexpectedly.

"Ow!"

"Serves you right for it to hurt."

The resentment in his words was clear. Zhuang Fanxin didn't retort. He kicked off his slippers, slid into the covers, and lay down pressed against Gu Zhuoyan's feverish body. He wrapped his arms around Gu Zhuoyan's waist, stroking his abdomen, his hip bones. When he tried to get up again, he was held tightly.

"I'll get you something to eat," Zhuang Fanxin said.

"I don't want to eat." Gu Zhuoyan squinted at him, a genuine craving and a naked reluctance all poured into his gaze. "I just want one sentence from you."

Will you come back in the future? He had asked so many times, too afraid to hear the answer. Now, with a small needle in the back of his hand, the liquid in the IV bag dripping away, he realized that the seconds and minutes were also flying by.

Zhuang Fanxin had been thinking constantly, from the moment Zhuang Xianyang told him the whole family was immigrating until now. He had thought about it so much he'd broken down countless times.

His grandfather was giving him the company. After finishing his studies, he would become a jewelry designer—this was his childhood dream. In the future, Zhuang Xianyang and Zhao Jianqiu would be there too, along with his grandmother. His parents, relatives, career dream, even his grandfather's dying wish—every single crucial weight was placed on one side of the scale.

Zhuang Fanxin was in agony. He tried to be a bastard, to just leave and not agonize over it. But after Xia Wei informed him of the news, he clutched his phone, waiting for an interrogation, for a scolding, waiting for anything at all. Only then did he realize he was completely incapable of being detached. When Gu Zhuoyan's call came, he answered it. Beneath his calm and restraint were his disheveled hair, a lower lip bitten until it bled, and the corner of his clothes, pulled and ruined.

Zhuang Fanxin didn't sleep a wink all night. When the dew was heavy in the dead of night, he secretly slipped out of the house and stood in the alley. It was so dark, he could only stare at the light coming from the intersection. After staring for a long time, his vision blurred.

He wandered around, walked to the side of the street, and leaned out to scrutinize every passing taxi. A driver mistook him for a fare and stopped. Seeing him shake his head, the driver cursed at him for being nuts before driving away.

At four-thirty in the morning, with fewer and fewer cars and people passing by, Zhuang Fanxin finally waved his hand, got into a taxi, and rushed to the airport. He searched everywhere in the airport terminal. Ground staff asked if he needed help. Travelers stole glances at him. He turned and ran countless times, but the person he was waiting for never arrived.

At that moment, for that one night, Zhuang Fanxin was like a lost madman. He wanted to see Gu Zhuoyan, to tell Gu Zhuoyan that he wasn't going anywhere. Filial piety, dreams, studies—he could give them all up. However, when dawn broke, he was left with only exhaustion and helplessness. He finally stood in the airport terminal and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

Zhuang Fanxin took a taxi home. On the highway, he could see the distant horizon. The sun slowly rose in the east, as red as his eye sockets. All the burdens and responsibilities he faced had not disappeared. Rationality returned, pressing down like heavy shackles. He had to continue this one day of the countdown.

Getting out of the car, he happened to run into Xue Maochen, who was standing at the intersection on his way back from morning exercises in the park.

"Xiao Zhuang," Xue Maochen called him with a smile. He didn't ask where he was coming from so early in the morning, nor did he ask about the tear stains on his face. He only said, "Sister Hu is off today. Why don't you join me for some breakfast?"

A small roadside stall had just fired up its stove. It was just the two of them, one old and one young. Steam rose from the Rouyan soup. Zhuang Fanxin kept his hands down, not picking up his chopsticks, quietly staring at the fine droplets of oil floating on the soup's surface. Xue Maochen, on the other hand, ate with relish. After drinking half a bowl of soup to soothe his lungs, he felt comfortable, and his voice became a bit gentler.

"Leaving?" the old man asked.

Zhuang Fanxin's eyelashes fluttered. "Yeah. My parents said they'll handle the procedures gradually, we're going over first."

"That's how it should be. Your grandpa's situation is urgent." Xue Maochen had heard the gist from Zhuang Xianyang. Although all feasts must come to an end, after being neighbors for so many years, there was still some reluctance to part. He recalled, "When I first moved here, you were just an elementary school student, so tiny. Your parents saw that I was lonely living by myself and always had you bring me good things to eat and drink. And you, you'd bring over a bowl of soup and spill half of it, carry over a box of pastries and drop half of them. You ended up feeding all the stray cats."

Zhuang Fanxin pursed his lips. "You still remember all that."

"I remember. I remember it all," Xue Maochen said. "Later, when you were in middle school, at the most rebellious age, you'd use bringing me food as an excuse to sneak out and play. That year you went to the countryside to sketch, you didn't come back when you were supposed to. The teacher from the art studio called your dad, and your dad drove all night to drag you back."

The old man recounted many things. As Zhuang Fanxin listened, his expression gradually relaxed, as if his crumpled heart was slowly regaining its blood flow. After reminiscing over the years, Xue Maochen said, "We all have to part someday. You have to go back to be with your elders, and when I get to a certain age, I'll have to go back to be with my children. That's why I remember everything."

Zhuang Fanxin looked up and met Xue Maochen's old but bright eyes. "Xiao Zhuang," Xue Maochen smiled at him, "Sooner or later, people have to rely on memories to maintain their connections. My wife, I miss her very much. My daughter who is far away from me, I think of her too. But as time goes on, even through life and death, when we can't see them, when we just can't see them anymore, we can only think of them."

"Grandpa," Zhuang Fanxin asked, "But what if I want to see them? What if I want to always be able to see them?"

Xue Maochen said, "I want to do morning exercises with my wife, to take walks together in the evening, but I can't. Your grandfather is still lying in a hospital bed; hoping he'll recover immediately is something even the doctors can't do. There are many things in this world that can't be done. You choose the more important thing and put aside the less urgent one. Who goes through life without regrets?"

Zhuang Fanxin's Adam's apple bobbed, unable to speak. He was in too much pain.

But he hadn't given up hope. "Right now, my grandpa is the most important. But in the future, many years from now, I'm willing to give up everything else for what I'm putting aside now."

Xue Maochen asked, "So you plan to tell Zhuoyan that you'll come back for him in the future?"

Zhuang Fanxin looked at him in astonishment. After days of torment, his senses had become too dull to discern anything. Xue Maochen wiped his mouth. He already knew about the two boys' situation. It had been strange when Gu Zhuoyan transferred to Rong City. Though his daughter and son-in-law had hidden it from him, he had asked Gu Pingfang about it early on.

"Xiao Zhuang, do you like Zhuoyan?" Xue Maochen asked.

Zhuang Fanxin nodded desperately. "I like him! I really, really like him!"

Xue Maochen asked again, "You said you'd spend the winter vacation with me this year. Does that still count?"

Zhuang Fanxin faltered. He was leaving the day after tomorrow. He said guiltily, "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I broke my promise."

"You probably also promised Zhuoyan you'd spend the New Year with him, promised him you'd go abroad to study together after high school graduation, promised him you'd live together in the future. Maybe when you youngsters get romantic, you even promised a lifetime together. Right?"

Right. Zhuang Fanxin had promised many things. Spending the New Year together—Gu Zhuoyan had made a hasty trip back just to stay, but now he was leaving. They had agreed to study abroad together—Gu Zhuoyan was staying an extra year for him, but he was leaving early. He had promised to tell his parents about them, something he still hadn't brought up...

Gu Zhuoyan did what he said he would, overcoming all obstacles to make their relationship whole. But he had promised so much, and he hadn't fulfilled a single thing.

Zhuang Fanxin mumbled, "How can I be so terrible."

"Xiao Zhuang, this isn't your fault. Everything happens for a reason, and you couldn't have predicted or changed it," Xue Maochen said. "But you should understand one thing: precisely because you don't know what will happen in the future, you shouldn't make promises lightly."

The world could turn upside down in just one short month. Who could predict what would happen in a year? Or in several years?

Xue Maochen said, "Don't make any more promises to Zhuoyan. Once or twice, he'll tolerate it, but he'll also be hurt. He caused a scene at the airport last night and waited bitterly all night. This time, he chased you back from a thousand miles away. What about next time? For one uncertain 'future' from you, he'll wait three to five years, think about it for three to five years, maybe even fall out with his family again or even affect his prospects. What if, for various reasons, you can't follow through again? What would he do then? He isn't that strong."

"Xiao Zhuang, your relationship hasn't been that long. If you separate now, you'll still have beautiful memories to accompany you." Xue Maochen's eyes also reddened slightly. "If you truly like each other and can't forget one another after you part, then when you've both matured in the future, you will eventually find your way back to each other."

Zhuang Fanxin shook his head, crying. He didn't know what to do.

Xue Maochen said one last time, "If you're not sure you can do it, if you can't predict the future, then don't make promises to the person you care about."

The sky had completely brightened.

"Xiao Zhuang, break up with Zhuoyan."

The IV bag was gradually emptying. Zhuang Fanxin sat up, holding Gu Zhuoyan's hand. He peeled off a few strips of tape and removed the IV needle. Gu Zhuoyan was sleeping soundly, his breathing deep. His fever hadn't completely subsided.

Zhuang Fanxin sat by his side, watching TV with the sound muted. Stephen Chow's A Chinese Odyssey was playing on the screen. Halfway through, Gu Zhuoyan slowly opened his eyes.

The two of them leaned against each other and watched the movie. Neither of them spoke, only listening to the people in the film.

Towards the end, Zhi Zunbao and Zixia Fairy were in a standoff on the city wall. The room fell completely silent. Fortunately, music started to play. It was that classic old song, "Love of a Lifetime."

Zhuang Fanxin reached for the clothes thrown at the end of the bed, folded them neatly on his lap, stacking one piece after another. He looked down and said, "I didn't make it into the top ten of the grade for the final exams. Forty-sixth, that's still okay, I guess."

Gu Zhuoyan's heart began to panic. Having waited until now without saying anything, he could probably guess the outcome. "You're not folding those right. It takes up too much space," he said, trying to change the subject. He shook the clothes out. "I saw Sister Hu always folds them in half first."

"You need to be on the IV for at least three days, and remember to take your medicine," Zhuang Fanxin said. "We're going to the airport the day after tomorrow. My dad has already booked a car. You're not feeling well, you don't have to see me off."

Gu Zhuoyan said, "I'm already fine. What time are you leaving that day?"

Zhuang Fanxin didn't answer his question. "I'm going straight to university, so I'll be your senior. After graduation, I'll manage my grandpa's company, being both a designer and the boss. I probably won't even have time for vacations."

Gu Zhuoyan stared intently at the TV screen. Zhi Zunbao walked towards Zixia Fairy and they embraced. "Does Stephen Chow still make movies these days? Although I don't like watching movies, I know all his famous works."

"Knowing you for the past six months," Zhuang Fanxin said, "I'm content."

"Love of a Lifetime" reached its crescendo. In the bitter sea, love and hate churn...

Gu Zhuoyan put on his shoes, grabbed his down jacket, and fled. "My grandpa doesn't know I'm back yet. I'm going back to see him."

He walked out desperately. After opening the door, Zhuang Fanxin turned his head to look at Gu Zhuoyan's retreating back, swallowed the acrid, sour bitterness, and choked out with his last bit of composure, "Let's end it here."

Gu Zhuoyan took a step out.

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Let's break up."

Bang. The door closed.

The song continued intermittently. You at the horizon, drifting beyond the white clouds.

After lovers part, they never return.