It's been a long time. Part 2

"What?" Gu Zhuoyan guessed with amusement. "Don't tell me you already got a marriage license abroad?"

After a few seconds of silence, Zhuang Fanxin waved his hand. "We broke up."

Gu Zhuoyan said in a gentlemanly manner, "My mistake for asking. Don't mind me."

"It's nothing... we're just chatting." Zhuang Fanxin wasn't being sarcastic at all; in fact, he was quite serious with his gossip. "Why did you break up with your previous partner too?"

Gu Zhuoyan's reply was clever: "Then I'll strive to make it work this time."

"This time" referred to Wen Lin. Zhuang Fanxin understood. He poured tea for both of them, raised his cup, and said, "There's not much I can do to help, so how about this: I'll make sure there's definitely no more overtime."

The waiter came in a few times, and the scene he saw was one of a room full of warmth, with the two of them chatting happily. When it was time to pay, they even argued for a bit over who would cover the bill.

Walking down the long corridor, Gu Zhuoyan and Zhuang Fanxin entered the elevator, one after the other. The elevator doors were so polished and bright that after they closed, even a single strand of hair was clearly visible.

Gu Zhuoyan leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. The reflection in the doors was sharp. He suddenly asked, "Did you get taller?"

Zhuang Fanxin was also staring at the doors. "177, no exaggeration this time." But the height difference between him and Gu Zhuoyan hadn't shrunk, which meant the other man had also grown a bit taller. "I've gained weight, too."

"You have?" Gu Zhuoyan narrowed his eyes slightly. "You still look quite thin."

Zhuang Fanxin had gained ten jin, going from being so skinny his ribs were visible and bony to the touch, to being a person of average thinness with a slender frame. When they reached the ground floor, he wrapped his coat tightly and walked out. Gu Zhuoyan lagged behind, always maintaining a one-meter distance from him.

At the entrance, the valet had already brought the car around. Seeing there were two of them, he even helped open the passenger-side door. Gu Zhuoyan stopped in front of the car, noticed the tip of Zhuang Fanxin's nose quickly turning red from the cold, and asked, "The north is pretty cold, huh? How did you get here?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "By taxi."

Gu Zhuoyan said briskly, "Want a ride?"

"Thanks, then." Zhuang Fanxin got into the passenger seat. The moment the door closed, the distance between him and Gu Zhuoyan shrank instantly. He turned his head, dazed and mechanical. Unsure if it was the blast of warm air or something else, a numbing trance washed over his entire body.

"Where are you staying?" Gu Zhuoyan asked.

Zhuang Fanxin replied, "The Sofitel Hotel."

Gu Zhuoyan didn't say anything, just tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. The ride was awkwardly silent; there was no laughter, no lively conversation. He turned on the radio to fill the silence, and an old song by Jacky Cheung immediately flowed out.

My heart slowly aches, slowly grows cold, slowly waits in vain for my lover...

It was as if someone had requested it specially for him.

Gu Zhuoyan turned it off and drove the rest of the way to their destination in silence. He braked, turned off the engine, and unbuckled the passenger seatbelt with a click. After all that, not getting out of the car immediately would have seemed shameless. Zhuang Fanxin pushed the door open. "Well—"

The phone on the center console lit up. Wen Lin, who had just gotten off work, sent another apologetic text to Gu Zhuoyan. Zhuang Fanxin glanced at the screen. The background was a lush banyan tree, with Bond standing beneath it.

He was the one who had taken that photo. He never thought Gu Zhuoyan would still be using it. He asked, "Bond is now..."

Gu Zhuoyan answered, "He's already eleven."

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Gu Baoyan must be all grown up too."

Gu Zhuoyan said, "She's in university."

"How is Grandpa Xue?" Zhuang Fanxin asked. "Is he still living in Rong City?"

Gu Zhuoyan said, "He moved in with my grandfather. They look after each other now that they're older." He leaned back flush against the seat. "Grandpa told me he tried to persuade you before the breakup. You must have been under a lot of pressure back then."

Zhuang Fanxin gave a small smile. "I didn't really have a mind of my own back then. It actually had nothing to do with anyone else. No amount of sugarcoating will help. The truth is that I chose my family and my dream, and gave up on our relationship."

Gu Zhuoyan licked his lips. "It's getting late."

"Well then, bye-bye. Drive safe." Zhuang Fanxin got out of the car, his feet hitting the solid ground as he walked away, step by step. As he passed the front of the car, he didn't dare to glance at the windshield. He gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead. The engine behind him remained silent; the quieter it was, the more nervous he became.

He was somewhat lost in a daze. The old man had passed away, Bond had become an old dog, and Gu Baoyan was a young woman. They themselves had grown from boys into men. This was the time that had been lost between them.

Gu Zhuoyan stared at the hotel entrance, where people were coming and going. Zhuang Fanxin had already gone inside.

He remained slumped in the driver's seat, unmoving. He took a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and took a long, hard drag. He couldn't help but laugh, which made him choke and cough violently. But without pausing, he took one drag after another, coughing, inhaling and exhaling smoke, and laughing all at the same time.

Wasn't it hilarious?

Zhuang Fanxin tossing out an "I hope you've been well" to him—it was just too damn funny.

His heart had been stabbed through, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound. It had ached for an untold amount of time before finally scarring over, and now Zhuang Fanxin, the very executioner, was telling him he'd "been well."

All evening, appearing calm and peaceful, Gu Zhuoyan and Zhuang Fanxin had chatted and laughed, reminiscing without so much as furrowing a brow. They were like old classmates at a reunion, or colleagues making polite conversation at a social event—poised and proper to perfection, with neither of them revealing the slightest crack in their facade.

They pretended everything was calm, asking about each other's exes and future plans. Yet, there were some questions they didn't even dare to touch.

Why did Zhuang Fanxin's affections change?

Where did Gu Zhuoyan end up going to school?

If the jewelry company was so important, why abandon it to return to the country?

Will he really get together with Wen Lin?

How long are you back for—a year, three years, five years?

Is it really as you've shown, that there are no hard feelings left, that love and hate have long been forgotten, that we can see each other, sit down, and trade drinks as if everything is a closed chapter, as if we've closed the book on each other?!

Neither Gu Zhuoyan nor Zhuang Fanxin dared to ask. Their gazes met, each of them gentle and polite, inadvertently dredging up the past while maintaining a precise control. Any more, even a fraction, and the scar would likely tear open, revealing the raw, bleeding flesh that had been hidden for ten years.

Gu Zhuoyan stubbed out the cigarette and lit a second one. Only then did the muscles in his body begin to relax. The car was already thick with smoke. He opened the door, exhaled a puff of white smoke into the cold air, and lit a third cigarette, then a fourth, smoking endlessly.

Outside his suite, Zhuang Fanxin kept his head down, rummaging through his bag for his key card. His phone, documents, the gum and eyedrops he always carried, a tangled knot of earphone cords—he could feel everything but the key card.

The more he searched, the more frantic he grew, his face flushing red with exertion. He dumped the entire contents of his bag onto the floor and knelt outside his door, searching through the pile with both hands. 'Where did it go? I'm sure I put it in here. Why can't I find it?' he muttered over and over, like a hysterical madman on the verge of a breakdown.

Pat. A tear fell onto the back of his hand.

With his head hung low, Zhuang Fanxin raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face.