Archive of Our Own

The moment his eyes open, Mo Ran knows something is wrong. This is not his bed. He sits up and, as he looks around, realizes that this is not his bedroom either. Just as he’s racking his brain trying to figure out if he got drunk last night and hooked up with someone he can’t remember, something catches his eye on the nightstand—a piece of paper that’s folded and standing, its front turned to face him. GOOD MORNING, MO RAN it reads. Bewildered, Mo Ran looks around the room again, thinking that this must be some kind of joke that someone set up. But the room is silent and it seems like he really is all alone. He reaches over to pick up the folded paper, which is blank save for the writing on the front. Beneath it lies a thick notebook, the words READ ME FIRST emblazoned in bold, black letters on the cover.

Mo Ran’s brow furrows at all these strange occurrences, one after another, as he picks up the notebook and opens to the first page. Instantly, he recognizes the rushed, messy scrawl of his own handwriting, which perplexes him even more. He doesn’t remember writing this. He starts reading.

Dear Mo Ran,

Hello—it’s Mo Ran. I know you must feel very confused right now. I’ll try to explain some stuff, but I’m not very good with words. I know you think that you’re 22, but you’re not. At the time of my writing this, you’re 25. Chu Wanning—yes, your boss—is your boyfriend and you have been dating and living together for three years. You don’t remember any of this because on December 17, 2020, you were hit by a car and hospitalized with a brain injury. You have severe short-term memory loss and can’t remember things from day to day. I’m sorry.

Mo Ran looks up from the notebook, thinking this whole thing sounds absolutely insane. He got hit by a car, three years have passed without him knowing, he lost his memories, and he’s dating and living with Chu Wanning? With a look of abject disbelief on his face, Mo Ran turns the page. He finds several newspaper clippings and doctor’s reports, and as he looks through each one, he notices that every single entry contains his name.

YOUNG MAN IN A COMA AFTER BEING HIT BY A CAR: Mo Ran, a twenty-two-year-old employee of Xue Corporation - COMATOSE MAN SHOWING NO SIGNS OF RECOVERY FOUR WEEKS AFTER ACCIDENT: Mo Ran, victim of a hit-and-run, is still - GOOD NEWS FOR MO RAN: the twenty-two-year-old man who was injured in a hit-and-run accident last month has woken up with - POLICE SAY TEXTING WHILE DRIVING IS TO BLAME FOR HIT-AND-RUN THAT DESTROYED A YOUNG MAN’S LIFE: Mo Ran, twenty-two, has woken up from a four-week coma, but test results declare that he now suffers from severe short-term memory loss as a result of—

Mo Ran’s head is pounding and he slams the book shut. Someone must be playing some sort of sick joke on him, but he can’t shake the nagging feeling that this whole thing is way too elaborate for that, plus he can’t think of anyone who would orchestrate something like this. He props his head up with a hand and tries to think if maybe he pissed-off some one-night stand that he never called back. A few faces come to mind, but he can’t believe any of them would put something like this together as part of some petty revenge.

Xue Meng is his closest friend, but his revenge style is very straightforward and usually entails things like name calling, a punch to the arm, or a headlock. Xue Meng would never go to this much trouble just to mess with him.

Mo Ran looks around this strange room again. It’s neat and tidy and decorated minimally: white walls and traditional wooden furnishings. He notices that post-its are stuck on the front of each drawer, labeling each one: shirts, pants, underwear, socks, sex toys—Mo Ran’s gaze comes to a halt. If anything’s going to get him out of bed, it’s that. As he stands, he catches a glimpse of himself from across the room in a rectangular mirror that’s mounted above a chest of drawers. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Mo Ran freezes as he stares at his reflection, then approaches the mirror, each step slow and cautious.

His cheeks are more well-defined and the angles around his jaw sharper than he remembers. His hair is a little longer and more shaggy than the short, streamlined cut he should have. The person looking back at him in the mirror definitely looks a little older and more mature than he should, as if he magically aged overnight. Mo Ran reaches up to rub his face with his hands as if to confirm it’s real, and feels the rough prickle of morning stubble against his fingers. Mo Ran closes his eyes and slaps his cheeks, hoping that, if this is all some terrible dream, a few good smacks will wake him up. He opens his eyes and sees that the face staring back at him in the mirror has not changed. He pauses in thought, then pulls the hem of his boxer briefs away from his body to check what’s going on down there. He’s relieved to find that nothing seems to have changed in that neck of the woods.

Next, he walks across the room and starts pulling drawers open, one by one, and sees that the contents of each match their respective label. Robotically, he tosses on a clean change of clothes and, as he does, he notices that his center of balance seems to be off—he has to place a hand on the dresser to steady himself as he pulls on his pants.

He goes back to the mirror and, as he stares into it, notices that a tuft of his hair is sticking up at an odd angle. When he reaches up to press it down, he feels a raised bump behind his hairline. His fingers knead softly along the slight protrusion as they trace along the line that definitely shouldn’t be there. Mo Ran steps toward the mirror to look more closely, pushing his hair back to reveal the thin trail of a scar that is carved into his scalp, a well-defined line that stretches from one side of his temple to the other. Another scar, this one less prominent, zigzags across the skin of his forehead.

Mo Ran feels sick to his stomach.

He rushes back to his bed and grabs his cell phone to check the date: April 9th, 2024. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as he registers the year—2024, not 2020 like it should be. His hands and fingers shake uncontrollably as he opens a search engine and types “what is today’s date.” He has to start over several times to even type the words correctly. Of all things to be the most upset about, it’s his fingers fumbling to type that finally causes panic to rise heavy in his chest like a pot boiling over.

When the search confirms that today is indeed April 9th, 2024, he tosses his phone back down, not wanting to see it. He notices that the notebook is still lying on the bed where he left it, and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing, as he sits down and picks it up. Maybe if he keeps reading, it will help explain some more of this and calm his currently out of control nerves. With trembling fingers, he turns past the pages he has already read, then sees something wholly unexpected.

Chu Wanning: born August 9, 1988. Ten years older than you. You met him before the accident. He was a software engineer at Xue Corporation and you were hired onto his team as an entry-level programmer. You always thought he hated you, but after the accident, he visited you in the hospital nearly every day. You became friends and then you fell in love. I don’t know when.

As Mo Ran looks up from the notebook, Chu Wanning’s face materializes in his mind. Sharp, angular features and a cold, lofty air that’s almost ethereal. Slanted phoenix eyes that are capable of pinning you down with a harsh glare if you do anything wrong.

Mo Ran ignores the heated tension that seems to have pooled in his belly from thinking about Chu Wanning and returns his attention to the notebook. He realizes that there are pages and pages that tell about Chu Wanning, each with slight variations, be it the pen that was used or the neatness of the print—as if these were entered over a long period of time.

No siblings or immediate family, but he is very close with Xue Zhengyong and his family.

Likes sweets. Can’t handle any sort of spicy food. He likes food a lot, especially anything you cook for him.

Likes to eat savory tofu pudding with seaweed and dried shrimp for breakfast–don’t tease him about it or he’ll make you eat it too.

Favorite color is white.

Favorite flower is haitang.

Messy. Terrible at keeping up with laundry. You’ll have to pick up after him, but you don’t mind.

Can’t really cook, but he does make the best wontons.

Allergic to cats but likes dogs.

Likes to read. Doesn’t really have a favorite book because he likes so many.

Likes to build things. Good at putting things together.

Doesn’t really like TV, but he’ll curl up with you to watch a movie.

Blushes easily.

You’re his first relationship.

Speaks harshly at times but has a very kind heart.

Has a cinnabar mole behind his left ear that’s sensitive when kissed.

Despite himself, Mo Ran finds that a dopey grin has spread across his face as he reads about Chu Wanning, but as soon as he realizes it’s there, he forces it down. This is Chu Wanning after all—his boss who loves to point out all of his shortcomings and make him run himself ragged fixing every single inconsistency in his work. The person who makes it a habit to call Mo Ran into his office and lecture him on the importance of work ethic and attention to detail, yet never notices once when Mo Ran does something right or actually meets a deadline ahead of time. Chu Wanning, who looks like he’d never deign to think about things like dating and love, much less sex.

With a frustrated sigh, Mo Ran flips through the rest of the book and finds that the pages are filled with entries—one for every day over the past three years. Some are very short and some are long, but they all have one thing in common. Every entry, without fail, talks about Chu Wanning, and at the end of each one, the same words appear, over and over again, like a mantra: He loves you.

Mo Ran flips ahead to the very last entry, the one from yesterday, April 8th, 2024. He reads it, then closes the notebook and looks up at the door. He’s afraid to open it; by doing so, he feels like this will become all too real, but on the other hand, he figures he can’t hide in this bedroom all day. Besides, whatever’s waiting for him on the other side can’t be any stranger than what he’s found in here.

Mo Ran takes a deep breath, pushes the door open, and walks past a few doors and down the hall, which opens up to a tidy living room. There’s a gray sectional sofa with a large, circular coffee table in front of it. On one wall, sliding glass doors lead out to a balcony, and on another stands a huge bookshelf, its shelves crammed full. There’s a kitchen table in the space between the living room and the kitchen, and on top of it sits the skeleton of an enormous, unfinished puzzle—the border filled in but the inside only partially complete. Beyond that is the kitchen, where two wooden stools are nestled snugly against an island. Inside the kitchen, a tall, slender man has his back to Mo Ran and is presently occupied with the task of cooking something on the stove.

Without even needing to see his face, Mo Ran can easily guess who it is—of course it’s Chu Wanning. His dark hair is cut short at his nape and broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist.

When Mo Ran worked for Chu Wanning, he wasn’t unaware of how attractive he was, especially given how handsome his sharp face and slanted eyes looked when scolding him. Of course Mo Ran couldn’t help but notice how well his shoulders filled out the crisp white shirts he liked to wear and how his well-fitted dress slacks drew attention to his long, lean legs. Of course he couldn’t help but notice how his dark leather belts accentuated his slender waist—the circumference of which Mo Ran could easily wrap his hands around if he wanted to.

Now, Mo Ran is standing and staring while Chu Wanning cooks in the kitchen, and finds that he doesn’t know what to say or do next. He hears Chu Wanning mumbling under his breath about not lazing in bed too long. Then, as he turns to reach for something behind him, he catches sight of Mo Ran, who instinctively takes a defensive step back. Fuck. He’s been spotted. Should he drop down to the floor and hide under the table or just turn tail and run back into his bedroom? Before he has a chance to choose either, it’s too late—his eyes meet Chu Wanning’s. But what he sees in those eyes isn’t cold or laced with anger or judgment, and it doesn’t strike fear into Mo Ran’s heart. It’s gentle. Comforting. And Mo Ran finds that, for some inexplicable reason, he feels instantly at ease and drawn to that gaze. He takes a step forward, then another. Even though Mo Ran can’t remember Chu Wanning ever looking at him like this in the past, looking into his eyes feels like coming home—though not a home Mo Ran’s ever known before.

And then, Chu Wanning smiles at him. He actually fucking smiles, and it’s soothing, like a cool breeze on a summer day, and when he speaks, the sound isn’t harsh to Mo Ran’s ears, but warm and deep, like a wave lapping gently against his feet as his toes dig into velvety soft sand. “Good morning, Mo Ran.” he says.

Mo Ran doesn’t move and he doesn’t speak. Silence hangs in the air between them. Say something, a voice inside his head urges him, but he’s never been one to think fast on his feet and he also feels like he may have entered some sort of alternate time-space dimension where his super-strict boss cooks and speaks kindly. What Mo Ran finally ends up blurting out is, “Chu Wanning. You—you wear cashmere?”

It’s probably not the best opening line he could’ve chosen. But also not the worst. In his defense, he’s only ever seen Chu Wanning at work in a white button-down shirt and tie. The sight of him cooking while wearing a white cashmere sweater is disconcerting to say the least. Although, if he’s being honest, nothing about this day has been remotely close to anything he could’ve ever expected. Except at least the sweater Chu Wanning is wearing is white. So that’s something.

Chu Wanning, for his part, doesn’t seem shocked by Mo Ran’s outburst in the least. He simply responds, “I’m just finishing up breakfast. Would you like coffee or tea?”

This whole situation definitely calls for an industrial sized cup of coffee. Or a shot of espresso injected right into his veins. But he’ll settle for drip. “Uh…coffee. Black, no sugar.”

Chu Wanning gives a small, encouraging smile. “I know.”

“Oh. Right.” Because apparently they’ve been doing this every day for three fucking years.

Mo Ran steps into the kitchen, the island helping to buffer the space between himself and Chu Wanning. He doesn’t take his eyes off Chu Wanning for even a second, and notices that the way he carries himself is easy. Graceful. Even taking a cup down from the cupboard and pouring steaming coffee into it is like poetry in motion. As Chu Wanning sets the cup down, he doesn’t put any demands upon Mo Ran–doesn’t tell him to sit, doesn’t tell him to speak. In fact, he seems calm and perfectly willing to give Mo Ran all the time he needs—yet another direct contrast as to how Mo Ran remembers Chu Wanning being.

Trying to acclimate this version of Chu Wanning, who seems gentle and kind, with the cold and austere one that exists in Mo Ran’s memory, seems a completely incongruous task, so he decides it’s best, for the time being, to not think about it too much. Instead, Mo Ran simply sits down and picks up his cup of coffee. His first sip is smooth and warm and the taste is soothing and familiar. The coffee, coupled with Chu Wanning’s soft demeanor, makes Mo Ran feel like maybe he can let his guard down, just a little bit. “Thanks,” he says as he glances up over the wafting steam. “It’s perfect.”

Chu Wanning gives a quick nod, then busies himself with mixing up a concoction that makes Mo Ran’s mouth water–soy sauce, vinegar, chili oil, garlic, scallions–all things he loves. Neither of them speak, but the silence amidst the clinking sounds of Chu Wanning mixing doesn’t feel awkward to Mo Ran. In fact, this whole scenario–being in a kitchen with Chu Wanning and watching him fiddle with whatever it is he’s cooking while Mo Ran just sits there drinking coffee–doesn’t seem as foreign to him as it should. It feels like what he’s supposed to be doing. Like what he does every day. But that doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes any sense.

Mo Ran decides that he might as well try redeeming his conversation abilities, so he asks, “Whatcha making over there?”

Chu Wanning dries his hands on a dish towel as he answers simply, “Wontons.”

Mo Ran immediately responds, “I love wontons.” He realizes only after he’s spoken that he’s probably stating the obvious again. Chu Wanning must already know he loves wontons.

But, if he does, he doesn’t say a thing about it, and informs instead, “They’re ready, so I’ll get you a bowl.” He stirs the sauce into the freshly strained wontons and sprinkles extra chili oil and chopped scallions on top–just the way Mo Ran likes it. He sets the delectable looking dish down in front of him, along with a napkin and chopsticks.

“…Thanks.” Mo Ran utters slowly. Chu Wanning turns to fiddle at the counter, busying himself with fixing his own breakfast, then pours himself a cup of tea. Mo Ran watches, kind of in a daze, at the amalgamation of how all of this seems like a familiar routine to Chu Wanning while being completely foreign to Mo Ran. But, at the same time, he can’t shake the feeling that all of this isn’t so strange, that he’s not intruding nor is he out of place. And it’s all because, when Chu Wanning looks at him and speaks to him, something kind of pings in Mo Ran’s heart and mind, telling him that everything is fine and just as it should be.

Chu Wanning comes around the island and sits on the stool next to Mo Ran. He places his breakfast down in front of him—savory tofu pudding with seaweed and dried shrimp. Right, Mo Ran remembers that from the notebook—including the part about not teasing him. Chu Wanning is about to start eating, but when he notices that Mo Ran hasn’t even touched his food yet, he coaxes him gently, “Go on, eat while it’s hot.”

Obediently, Mo Ran picks up his chopsticks, and notices right away that his grip on them is a bit unsteady, like a child still learning to control his fingers. But he focuses on the task at hand, and manages to awkwardly pick up a wonton. He pops it in his mouth and the taste is delicious—familiar, flavorful, rich, spicy, and satisfying—a warmth that seems to wrap around him from the inside out. The two of them eat in silence—for which Mo Ran is grateful since he’s fumbling with his chopsticks a bit and needs to devote his full attention to eating and not dropping anything. Chu Wanning doesn’t seem to mind in the least—he seems used to it in fact.

But Mo Ran has a lot of questions—so many that he doesn’t even know where to start. Once his bowl is empty, he wipes his mouth, then begins with the one he wants the answer to the most. “What happened to me?”

Chu Wanning looks up, but seems unsurprised by the question. Mo Ran wonders how many times he’s asked it and how many times Chu Wanning has answered.

His answer is simple and straightforward. “You were leaving work. It was dark out. You stepped into the road and got hit by a car.”

Mo Ran knows he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but rushing out into oncoming traffic seems monumentally stupid, even for him. He asks in disbelief, “Did I not look where I was going?”

Chu Wanning explains, “According to witnesses, you did look, but you also appeared to be distracted and in a rush. Plus, the driver was looking at their cell phone at the time. They didn’t see you and–”

“I got hit.” Mo Ran interrupts, his voice dim. Right. He vaguely recalls that he had gotten stuck late at work that night, finishing some report that Chu Wanning was making him turn in on time. He was rushing to get to a dinner reservation he had with Shi Mei, whom he had been holding a candle for since college. Other than that, Mo Ran can’t remember anything about what happened next.

Mo Ran stares off into space. He doesn’t know for how long.

Once he snaps out of it, Chu Wanning confirms in a soft tone, “You got hit.” But there’s no pity or judgment in his voice. He’s just stating the simple fact of what happened. Then, he goes into more detail. “You were in a coma for four weeks before you woke up. The brain trauma you sustained caused damage to your hippocampus. As a result, you have anterograde amnesia, which prevents you from retaining any new memories. You remember things from before the accident, but when you sleep, you lose your memories of the day. Plus, you have some other side effects.”

“What other side effects?” Mo Ran asks.

“Your attention span is pretty short and sometimes you space out for a bit. You have occasional mood swings and you can be impulsive at times. Your spatial reasoning and fine motor skills are also a bit out of whack, so you drop things easily and tend to knock into things. That’s pretty much it.”

Mo Ran nods slowly as he stares into his empty bowl. After a while, he asks, “I’m guessing you tell me all of this every day. So what else do I usually ask you?”

Chu Wanning opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He looks down and fiddles with the food that’s left in his bowl and frowns at it, pushing it around with his chopsticks while he maintains his silence.

Mo Ran thinks that his avoidance is actually kind of cute, and even though he should be shocked that he’s associating the word “cute” with Chu Wanning, he feels the corner of his mouth quirking up as he watches him. Then, he asks a different question, a simpler one. “Do you make me wontons every day?”

This question gets an answer.

“Not every day, just some days. And always on special occasions.”

Mo Ran’s brow furrows a bit as he wonders out loud, “Is today a special occasion?”

Chu Wanning nods. “It is. It’s your birthday.”

Oh yeah, that’s right, Mo Ran did already check today’s date but, at the time, he kinda disregarded that today was his birthday. Or maybe he just dismissed it as unimportant because he couldn’t bring himself to deal with it on top of everything else. After all, it doesn’t feel like his birthday, and it certainly doesn’t feel like there’s anything to celebrate.

“I’m…26 today? You don’t have to answer that. It’s just…the last thing I remember, I was 22. I still feel 22.” Mo Ran falls silent, completely at a loss. Then, something occurs to him that causes a lump to form in his throat, and as he swallows it down, the taste is bitter. “What’s going to happen when I wake up one day expecting to be 22 and find out that I’m old and gray?”

Chu Wanning replies, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “Then I’ll be old and gray right along with you.” Then, he adds with a teasing tone, most likely in an effort to diffuse Mo Ran’s nerves, “I am ten years older than you, so it’ll happen to me first anyway.”

Mo Ran gives a derisive huff of laughter, then turns to look at Chu Wanning, like really look at him. That Chu Wanning is good looking is something he knew before the accident. In fact, if Mo Ran’s being honest, one of the highlights of working for him was getting to stare at the curve of his ass as he walked away after berating him for one thing or another. But what Mo Ran is seeing as he looks at him now is different—it’s warm and gentle, not cold and indifferent. It’s like he’s seeing the real Chu Wanning and not some version that’s been carefully cultivated to keep people at arms length.

“Looking for gray hairs and wrinkles are you?” Chu Wanning prods, his voice soft and low.

Like a tiny kitten is lightly pawing at his heart, a soft, tingly feeling suffuses ever so slightly through Mo Ran’s chest, a ripple in a pond. Despite the sensation, his eyes remain steady, his gaze never wavering once from Chu Wanning’s face. Mo Ran realizes that he likes looking at him, and says as much without really thinking about it. “Just looking. You’re nice to look at.”

The blush starts at the tip of Chu Wanning’s ears and spreads from there. He balls his hands up into fists, then hides them in the sleeves of his sweater.

Mo Ran’s eyes sparkle affectionately, his grin stretching so wide across his face that dimples dot his cheeks. He feels happy, he realizes. And that thought is followed by another: Chu Wanning is the one making him happy. Mo Ran’s heart flutters in his chest. He wonders, is it like this every day between them, so easy and familiar? But he asks a different question out loud. “How long have we been living together?” It’s a question he already knows the answer to, but he wants to hear Chu Wanning say it himself.

“Just over three years. Right after you were released from the hospital.”

“You took me in?”

Chu Wanning doesn’t answer that question.

Mo Ran knows from experience that talking with Chu Wanning isn’t always easy, like trying to pry open a clamshell that’s stubbornly guarding what’s inside. But Mo Ran is persistent and not one to give up, so he tries a different tack. “We’ve been dating for three years? How did that happen?”

Mo Ran doesn’t really expect to get an answer, but Chu Wanning surprises him and begins to speak. “You were the one who first brought it up. About a month into living together, you noticed that we needed a larger sofa, and you wanted to get a sectional. I told you that we’d have a hard time carrying something like that up the stairs.” He holds up five fingers as he explains, “I live on the fifth floor. But you insisted, saying it wouldn’t be a problem even if you had to carry it up here all by yourself. So we ended up having to lug this thing up five flights of stairs–all three pieces of it, one at a time.” Chu Wanning shakes his head and laughs softly as he recalls it. “By the second trip, the two of us were panting for breath, red faced and sweaty. We took a break on the third floor, and you looked at me from over the top of the sofa. You had a big smile on your face. And that’s when you said it, just like that.”

“What did I say?” Mo Ran asks, his voice coming out in a whisper, as if he’s doing his best to recall it, to recreate the memory in his head. Chu Wanning smiles–a small thing, almost secretive in and of itself. “I’ve asked this before,” Mo Ran says, a tone of certainty in his voice, his eyes sparkling. Then, he answers his own question. “Wanning, I like you. Let’s date.”

Chu Wanning’s lips quirk up adorably at the corners and his cheeks flush faintly red as he murmurs, “It was something like that.”

“Do we have sex?” Mo Ran doesn’t mean to just blurt it out like that, but he only has one day to figure all of this out, and he feels like it’s an important question, and one he wants an answer to. This time, the blush doesn’t stop at Chu Wanning’s cheeks. It spreads across his face and stretches all the way down his neck. After sitting in silence for a few moments, as if at war with himself as to whether or not he’s going to answer, Chu Wanning nods his head. The movement is nearly imperceptible, but Mo Ran catches it right away. “How often?” he asks.

Looking incensed, and as if he has reached his limit to this 20 questions game that they must play every single day, Chu Wanning presses his lips together, stands up, and starts clearing their dishes. Mo Ran grabs his wrist and stops him. “Look, I know this is awkward, and I know you must get sick of answering these same embarrassing questions every single day, but I’ve got a hole in my head and I don’t know anything.”

Chu Wanning gives in with a sigh. “Some days, not every day.”

Mo Ran wants to ask if they use the sex toys he saw in his bedroom, and what Chu Wanning’s favorite position is, but he’s afraid that if he does, then Chu Wanning really may clobber him. So instead, he releases Chu Wanning’s wrist and starts to help with the dishes. Without even needing to discuss who should do what, they each assume their respective roles: Mo Ran washing at the sink and Chu Wanning drying and putting the dishes away.

As Mo Ran scrubs, frothy suds bubble up around his muscular forearms. He looks down as he says in a quiet voice, “I know this is weird. It’s just—I woke up and found out the person I thought I was no longer exists.”

Chu Wanning stops drying. He sets his dish down and looks over at Mo Ran, who can feel his gaze on him even though he doesn’t look up to meet it. “You’re still the same person you were before.”

Mo Ran doesn’t believe it. He stares at the soap bubbles as they pop, one after the other. There one moment, gone the next. He swallows down the lump that is forming in his throat as he washes the last dish. “What about your job? Do you still work? Do I still work?”

Chu Wanning replies, “I quit my full-time job, but I still do occasional freelance work. You–”

“I don’t work at all.” Mo Ran finishes for him. Because of course he doesn’t. How the hell could he, when his mind is a sieve?

Chu Wanning holds a towel out so Mo Ran can dry his hands, but he doesn’t accept it. He just stands there, wet hands dripping into the sink, jaw tense as he looks down. Chu Wanning doesn’t fuss at him and he doesn’t tell him to look up. He just holds the towel out, waiting. A good minute passes and Mo Ran comes back to himself. Mechanically, he takes the towel from Chu Wanning.

But he’s not okay. He feels short of breath, like something is constricting his lungs and keeping him from taking in oxygen. It’s probably the accumulation of everything he’s found out since he opened his eyes this morning. Without even realizing he’s doing it, he twists the towel, squeezing it in his hands. He looks up at Chu Wanning, his eyes lost as he asks, “Why do you do this?”

Chu Wanning opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again.

Mo Ran’s stomach churns and his airway feels constricted. It’s hard to breathe and he feels like something is gripping onto his chest and not letting go. His brain pounds with a desire to escape. He just wants to get away from all of this, but he feels like there’s no way out—both literally and metaphorically. He can’t change this reality and, on top of that, this isn’t even his house, so he’s not even sure where he can go. Or apparently, this is his house, it’s the house he shares with Chu Wanning, who’s supposed to be his boss except they’ve been dating for three years even though he can’t remember any of it. He feels pressure building in the back of his eyes and he squeezes them shut to try and stem his emotions from spilling over. Before he really loses it in front of Chu Wanning, he sets the towel down, then turns and heads out of the kitchen without a word. He walks down the hallway and goes into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and turns to stand against it, pressing his body up against the solid wood, desperate for any sense of stability he can find. He closes his eyes and presses his clenched fists against them and tries to breathe.

He feels like he’s being dramatic and extremely selfish, but he can’t help it and he can’t seem to control himself or his reactions. He feels guilty for leaving Chu Wanning in the kitchen all by himself, guilty that this scene probably plays out every single day and Chu Wanning just has to fucking deal with it, guilty for getting hit by a car, guilty for taking both of their lives away, guilty for everything, all of it. He feels like he has no right to do any of this to Chu Wanning–today or any day. This whole day so far, Chu Wanning has been nothing but patient and kind to him. He made him wontons and has given him all the time he needs to wrap his head around all of this. And Mo Ran can’t even manage to do that.

The last memory Mo Ran has of Chu Wanning is from the day of the accident. Chu Wanning was making him work late to finish a report that he had put off and hadn’t gotten done in time. He was bitching to Xue Meng in the copy room about how he was probably going to be late for his dinner reservation with Shi Mei because of it. Mo Ran was just ending with, “If Chu Wanning actually had a life outside of work then he wouldn’t feel the need to make all of our lives so miserable.” Halfway through, Xue Meng motioned desperately with his hands to try and get him to shut the fuck up, but Mo Ran, being an idiot, didn’t realize until he felt a cold gust of wind at his back. Chu Wanning brushed past him without a word, stone faced and tight lipped, and ran off a small stack of copies. Mo Ran just stood there, shocked and mortified. Chu Wanning left as quickly and silently as he had come.

That was the day Mo Ran got hit by the car. Maybe it was karma, what he deserved, but Chu Wanning certainly didn’t deserve any of it, not then or now. Why would he want to do this every day with Mo Ran, answering the same questions and telling him the same things, over and over? Why? Doesn’t it get boring? Isn’t it tiring? Doesn’t Chu Wanning regret taking this on?

Mo Ran wonders if he’s ever thought to repay Chu Wanning’s kindness, even once. But how could he when, day to day, he can’t remember a thing?

All these questions racing around in Mo Ran’s head are followed by a thought: if he ever wants to take it, there is, in fact, a way out for Chu Wanning. He could drop Mo Ran off at a hospital or anywhere, and walk away without a second glance. Mo Ran would wake up the next morning, his memories wiped, and never know that any of it had ever happened. It’s this thought that finally settles Mo Ran’s racing emotions just a little bit. He lowers his fists from his eyes and blinks them open, bringing everything back into focus. That’s when he sees it. The notebook he left on top of his unmade bed.

Feeling drained and exhausted, Mo Ran walks across the room and sinks down on the bed. He picks the notebook up and looks through it and sees the phrase that repeats on every single page, reminding him, grounding him: He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. This notebook tells the story of his life for the past three years, and the story is filled with Chu Wanning.

Mo Ran got hit by a car, lost his ability to remember, and during all that time, Chu Wanning stayed by his side. That counts for something, and that something isn’t small. Mo Ran runs unsteady fingers across the lines of print as he reads all he can about his life with Chu Wanning. As he does, he realizes something: the Mo Ran of the past three years who has filled these pages cares about Chu Wanning. So he–the Mo Ran of today–must care about him too.

He’s not sure how much time passes in his bedroom, maybe a little over an hour. He gets up, washes his face in the bathroom sink and brushes his teeth, then sets the notebook neatly on the bedside table and places the folded GOOD MORNING, MO RAN card on top. He makes the bed, opens the door, and walks down the hallway for the second time that day.

Just before he enters the living room, he catches sight of Chu Wanning, and he hangs back a little bit so he can watch him. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, body leaning forward as he shifts and places pieces inside the guts of that gigantic puzzle that takes up a ridiculous amount of surface area. He’s laser-focused on his task, his brow furrowed in concentration as he alternates between studying the puzzle and moving pieces to fit. An open bag of haw flakes lies in an empty spot of the puzzle, and every now and then he takes a piece of candy out of the bag.

Chu Wanning appears perfectly content and not upset in the least about Mo Ran’s minor meltdown–he’s probably used to it–Mo Ran thinks sheepishly to himself with a pang of regret. But he likes that Chu Wanning seems to know him enough to know that, when it happens, Mo Ran just needs some time and space to kind of figure it all out.

As soon as Mo Ran steps further into the room, Chu Wanning senses his presence and looks up. He doesn’t say anything, but gives Mo Ran a small smile that feels encouraging, then takes another haw flake out of the bag and munches it before going right back to his puzzle. The interior of the puzzle is scattered with piles of pieces that appear to be strategically placed, and Chu Wanning is currently working on one of the sections. Without a word and without looking up, Chu Wanning pushes the chair that’s beside him back a bit—a silent invitation for Mo Ran to sit. Mo Ran pulls the chair out the rest of the way and sits down. He watches as Chu Wanning places one puzzle piece, then another, his slender, delicate wrist peeking out from the sleeve of his sweater as he does. A slight floral fragrance wafts over—the scent of Chu Wanning, Mo Ran thinks to himself. He remembers it from before the accident.

Mo Ran is the first to speak. “You’re good at that. The puzzle, I mean.” It’s kind of a pathetic conversation starter, but it’s something, at least. A start.

Chu Wanning glances up at Mo Ran. “I like putting things together.” Then, as if to prove his point, he goes right back to the puzzle.

Mo Ran watches Chu Wanning, then scooches his chair a little closer to the table. He lifts a hand, but the bag of candy is right in front of him, and he’s not sure if he should move it. Chu Wanning must notice, because he moves it to his other side, effectively removing the small barrier in front of Mo Ran. Without any clue as to what he’s doing, Mo Ran moves a few of the puzzle pieces around, but realizes that he’s probably just making a mess of Chu Wanning’s work. He tries asking a question instead. “Don’t you get tired of answering the same questions, dealing with the same stuff, day after day?”

“I don’t mind.” Chu Wanning answers without taking his eyes off the puzzle. “You usually catch up between breakfast and lunch. It doesn’t bother me.”

Mo Ran thinks about that as he studies the puzzle, trying to make sense of it all. “How many fucking pieces does this thing have?” He can hear how his questions are impulsive and scattered, but he can’t help it, because his mind is like a damn ping pong ball bouncing all over the place.

“Five thousand.” Chu Wanning replies.

Mo Ran’s eyes widen in shock. “Five thousand? You can do this?”

“Sure. Not all in one day, but in a couple days.”

Mo Ran believes it, because just in the time they’ve been speaking, Chu Wanning has already placed several pieces. The only thing Mo Ran has accomplished is sliding a few around haphazardly, no clue as to how to put any of it together.

Then, Chu Wanning slides a piece over, right next to Mo Ran’s hand, and just leaves it there.

Mo Ran looks at the piece, then looks up at Chu Wanning with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wanning, is this a pity piece?”

Chu Wanning keeps his head down, completely focused on the puzzle, but he can’t hide the tiny smile that pricks up at the corner of his lips. At the sight of it, Mo Ran’s heart does some kind of flip thing in his chest. And then he realizes that he just called him Wanning without even thinking about it. He guesses that, over the years, Chu Wanning has heard Mo Ran call him this way countless times, but for Mo Ran, it’s his first time. In fact, this whole day has been an accumulation of firsts for him. And, as Mo Ran experiences each of those firsts, over and over, Chu Wanning is there, experiencing them all with him. When Mo Ran thinks about it that way, it doesn’t seem so bad. He slides the piece over, and it fits right into place.

Mo Ran stares at the puzzle, at the way all the interlocking pieces seem to fit so perfectly together. “How do you feel about this?” he asks.

Chu Wanning furrows his brow as he scrutinizes the puzzle. “I’ve already filled in the border and sorted the pieces by color. Now I’m focusing on areas with noticeable colors first. All in all, it’s going pretty well.”

It’s adorable, really, how clueless this guy can be, because Mo Ran was not asking about the puzzle at all. He can’t stop an affectionate smile from spreading across his face. “I’m asking how you feel about this.” Mo Ran points to the scar that runs through his hair as Chu Wanning looks up.

Stubbornly, Chu Wanning insists with a shrug, “I told you, it doesn’t bother me.”

“How is that possible?” Mo Ran asks. He knows he’s being obstinate, but he also feels like Chu Wanning isn’t being as forthcoming as he needs him to be.

Chu Wanning’s fingers curl up in his lap. “I’m here because I want to be.”

Mo Ran takes a minute to process that. Then he asks, “Do you laugh?” But he thinks the question sounds a bit silly and reaches up to scratch his head. “What I mean is, are you happy, living with me?”

Chu Wanning glances over at Mo Ran. “I wouldn’t do something that doesn’t make me happy. I know it’s hard to hear it from me and believe it. I can show you something that might help. Some days, you want to take pictures, and we save them in albums. Would you like to see?”

Mo Ran answers right away. “Yes. Of course I would.”

Chu Wanning pushes his chair back and motions for Mo Ran to follow him as he walks into the living room and takes a thick album out of a cabinet. He brings it over to the couch, and he and Mo Ran sit close to one another so that the album can rest on both of their laps when they open it.

There’s a picture of the two of them smiling while holding up ice cream cones on what looks like a cold winter day, their breaths puffing out in misty white clouds, Chu Wanning’s nose and cheeks a bright red. Chu Wanning explains that he had a sudden craving for an ice cream cone that day, so they ran out in the cold to get some. There’s a picture of them having hot pot with Xue Meng, all three of them looking up into the camera and smiling, and another of Mo Ran feeding a carrot to a horse–Chu Wanning says they went horseback riding that day and had a picnic while overlooking a beautiful sunset. Some of the photos are candid ones taken at home—Chu Wanning reading and focusing on a puzzle, Mo Ran cooking—but the vast majority are of the two of them together, smiling and happy.

Mo Ran turns the page to a picture of them hanging a lantern together, and another of them sharing a lotus crisp, each of them biting from one side. Mo Ran asks if they kissed after they finished it, and Chu Wanning’s blush answers the question for him. There’s a picture of them cuddling on the couch and another of them lying in bed, Mo Ran’s arm wrapped securely around Chu Wanning, who is covering his blushing face with his hands. There’s a photo of the two of them smiling on the balcony at night, the dark sky behind them lit up by a luminous full moon.

Page after page is filled with images that piece together a life that Mo Ran can’t remember, but feels like it belongs to him anyway.

Mo Ran notices that Chu Wanning’s hand is clenched and holding tightly to the sleeve of his sweater. On impulse, Mo Ran reaches out. He slips his hand underneath Chu Wanning’s wrist and slides his fingers along his palm. He rubs his thumb soothingly across the top of his hand and gently coaxes his fingers open. Chu Wanning relaxes his vice grip on his sweater and Mo Ran threads their fingers together. The tips of Chu Wanning’s ears blush red and Mo Ran feels all tingly, like he’s blushing on the inside.

Even though he knows that, come tomorrow, he won’t remember any of this, including the way he held Chu Wanning’s hand, he wants to memorialize this moment. “Let’s take a picture.” he suggests. “Right here.”

Chu Wanning agrees, so Mo Ran places the photo album on the coffee table, then scooches over to get even closer to Chu Wanning. Chu Wanning hands his phone over to Mo Ran, who angles it above them. The second before he snaps the picture, and without even thinking about what he’s doing, he turns his head and kisses Chu Wanning right on the cheek. Not having expected it, Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes fly open wide just as the photo is snapped.

Mo Ran has a dopey, self-satisfied grin on his face as he hands the phone back to Chu Wanning. He explains, “I noticed we didn’t have one like that yet.”

Chu Wanning just purses his lips but doesn’t argue, then shows Mo Ran how to print it right from his phone. Gingerly, Mo Ran holds the glossy picture by its edges and notices that it still carries the warmth of having just been printed. He can’t stop staring at the image that shows him giving Chu Wanning a sudden peck on the cheek. He hands it to Chu Wanning, who writes the date on the back. Then, Mo Ran takes the pen and adds to the white border on the front, “I held your hand.” This way he won’t forget.

They place it in the album.

“When did you realize that you liked me?” Mo Ran asks.

A bit hesitant, Chu Wanning answers without meeting Mo Ran’s eyes, “As soon as I met you.”

“Really?” Mo Ran asks incredulously. “Then how come you always complained about all the mistakes in my day-to-day work and got on me about—“ Mo Ran pauses and holds his hands up in a sign of admission. “Okay, on second thought, I guess all that is on me. But you made me run everything by you like I was some kid who you expected to screw up. I thought you hated me.”

Chu Wanning frowns. “I was just doing my job. And also maybe trying to hide my feelings.”

Mo Ran doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he looks at Chu Wanning. “Surprisingly, I didn’t pick up on your feelings.” Then he adds, because Chu Wanning deserves to hear it, “I’m sorry for being such a bad employee and for complaining as much as I did. If I ever hurt your feelings—which I probably did, I’m sorry for that too. For the record, the one I was really mad at was myself.”

Chu Wanning looks over at him. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s all in the past. And I could’ve made things a lot easier for you by being a better boss instead of always pointing out your mistakes. I’m sorry for that too.”

Mo Ran shakes his head, then turns his body so he can look Chu Wanning right in the eye. “You don’t owe me any apologies either. Besides, look at everything you’ve done for me since.” His eyes trail across Chu Wanning’s face and, once again, he can’t help but notice how attractive he is. The timbre of his voice is low as he says, “You’re good to me.” Chu Wanning licks his lips, a nervous gesture, and Mo Ran tracks the motion with his eyes. Something sparks deep inside him. Impulsively, he asks, “What’s your favorite position?”

Chu Wanning takes a moment to think carefully before answering. “I never enjoyed the management side of things as much as I did programming, particularly the planning and design stages. I also like formatting code to run specific tasks, especially–” his words halt abruptly. Chu Wanning’s made this mistake once before today, so he realizes about halfway through that Mo Ran was asking about an entirely different kind of position, and his cheeks flame red.

Mo Ran presses a hand to his lips to keep from laughing, and Chu Wanning smacks him on the arm. “Shameless!” he scolds.

Mo Ran just smiles wide in response because he can’t argue with that accusation. In fact, he figures he might as well go for broke and press on being shameless. “What about fantasies?” He holds his hands up in front of him as he clarifies, “I mean in bed.” —he’s nothing if not a fast learner. “Role play, spanking, bondage, you into any of that?”

Chu Wanning tosses him a withering gaze.

Mo Ran nudges Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “Come on, you have the perfect opportunity here with me, you could try out your wildest kinks, and I won’t even remember to tease you about it the next day.”

Chu Wanning’s voice is glacial. “Get out.”

Mo Ran doesn’t get out, and instead just keeps on talking. “Me, I’m up for pretty much anything.” He pauses, a finger pressed against his lips as he eyes Chu Wanning up and down. “I think you’d look really good tied up.”

Mo Ran feels delighted when Chu Wanning’s cheeks flush red from his provocation, then realizes he’s been smiling pretty much the whole time they’ve been talking. That realization is followed by another: I like Chu Wanning. I enjoy his company. Seeing the way Chu Wanning blushes as he fumbles through their conversation, the way everything feels easy and right with him, listening to him talk and learning more about him and their life together. There’s something about the way Mo Ran’s heart flutters inside him when Chu Wanning smiles and how holding his hand feels monumental, as if this is all meant to be—like it’s some sort of serendipity.

Mo Ran looks through the photo album again, then plays around on his phone while Chu Wanning works on his puzzle. They chat a bit in between and Mo Ran gets to know Chu Wanning some more.

When it gets to be close to noon time, Mo Ran insists on making them lunch. To be more specific, he pinches Chu Wanning’s slender waist and says, “Let’s get some food in you,” which earns him a smack on the arm. Mo Ran scurries into the kitchen and away from Chu Wanning’s murderous glare before he can get smacked again.

Later, as they’re eating, Chu Wanning mentions that, if Mo Ran feels up to it, a small gathering has been arranged later that day in honor of his birthday.

“You only have to go if you want to.” Chu Wanning explains.

“Who’s going to be there?” Mo Ran asks.

Chu Wanning holds up a finger for every name he mentions. “Xue Meng, Xue Zhengyong, Wang Chuqing, two of Xue Meng’s friends–you may remember them–the twins with the same name from marketing.”

“Oh, the Mei Hanxues?” Mo Ran asks.

“Yes, them.” Then Chu Wanning holds up a sixth finger. “And my old assistant, Ye Wangxi. That’s it. Together with you and I, that makes eight.”

Mo Ran knows all of them–Xue Meng of course, and his parents, Xue Zhengyong and Wang Chuqing, both of whom often invited Mo Ran to stay at their home during breaks from school. Ye Wangxi, who he always liked when she worked for Chu Wanning, and the Hanxue twins, whom Mo Ran knows because he and Xue Meng used to hang out with them after work sometimes. The two of them were always good at riling Xue Meng up, which provided Mo Ran with endless entertainment.

Mo Ran notices, however, that a name is missing from the list: his close friend Shi Mei, whom he and Xue Meng knew in college. Shi Mei went into medical school after college, but Mo Ran had a huge crush on him both in college and after, so he always kept in touch. He also never had any problem talking about Shi Mei to anyone in the office who would listen. Mo Ran’s pretty certain that news of his infatuation must’ve reached Chu Wanning’s ears at one point or another, so he doesn’t think it’s right to ask about Shi Mei now. Instead, he asks, “I guess everyone knows?” He doesn’t have to explain what he means by that, because of course Chu Wanning understands.

Chu Wanning nods his head as he answers. “They do. And they’ve all seen you many times since the accident.”

“Oh.” Mo Ran’s thoughts wander a bit, his eyes vacant. It feels weird, knowing he’s seen everyone since the accident even though he can’t remember having seen them. Mo Ran thinks carefully about whether he wants to go to the birthday dinner or not as he and Chu Wanning quietly finish their lunch.

As Mo Ran stands and starts to clear their dishes away, he announces, “I’ll go.” Then he adds, a bit dejectedly, “But it kinda seems like there’s no point in going since I won’t remember it anyway.”

“They’ll remember.” Chu Wanning says. “And I’ll remember. And if you want to remember, you can write it down. Or I can tell you about it. But the decision as to whether or not you want to go is entirely up to you.”

Mo Ran thinks for a moment more, then gives a decisive nod. “I’ll go. It’ll feel like…I don’t know, like life moves on, and I’m moving with it, or something like that.”

Chu Wanning looks at Mo Ran and gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Mn. Life moves on.”

Chu Wanning tells Mo Ran that a private room at an upscale restaurant has been reserved for the occasion, so that afternoon they both shower, shave, and dress up in a suit and tie. It’s not Mo Ran’s first time seeing Chu Wanning looking so nice, but he still can’t help but be dazzled by how handsomely beautiful he is. He mentions it to Chu Wanning—how good he looks that is—as he helps him straighten his tie, which wasn’t even crooked to begin with. Really, Mo Ran is just looking for any excuse he can to touch and get close to him.

When the two of them arrive at the restaurant, Mo Ran sees everyone standing together in the room, laughing and chatting casually with drinks in hand, and he freezes in place. He is worried that he won’t be able to keep up with the conversation, that he won’t know what to say next. He’s worried about saying or doing the wrong thing, looking foolish, and seeing their pitying gazes. But then, Chu Wanning places his hand on the small of Mo Ran’s back and rubs it in gentle, soothing circles, and all those worries seem to melt away.

Even though it’s a small gathering, Mo Ran sees that Chu Wanning wasn’t kidding about it being nice. A whole room is rented out. There’s a large, round table for dining and extra space for walking around. A small bar is set up against a wall and beside it is a table with appetizers. And even though Mo Ran already told Chu Wanning that he didn’t want any presents, and Chu Wanning assured him that he knew, a small basket is filled with red envelopes. Beside the basket stands a beautiful red birthday cake that’s decorated with golden flowers and butterflies spun from sugar, intricate characters wrapping around the tiers that wish Mo Ran a happy birthday and a year full of health, happiness, and joy.

As they head in, Chu Wanning keeps his hand pressed securely against Mo Ran’s back, and Mo Ran asks him for what must be the fifth time at least, “They know?”

Without even a hint of annoyance or exasperation in his voice at having to answer the same question again, Chu Wanning assures him they do.

Everyone is thrilled to see the two of them. Mo Ran greets them all and thanks them for coming. They all share a drink and wish Mo Ran a happy birthday. They ask Mo Ran some routine questions and he gives simple, cursory answers: “I’m fine, doing great, having a good day,” and so on. After chatting for a bit, the group breaks up to get some food and to converse in smaller groups before dinner.

Chu Wanning stays behind to catch up with Xue Zhengyong, Wang Chuquing, and Ye Wangxi, but he keeps a close eye on Mo Ran, who goes off with Xue Meng and the Hanxue twins. Mo Ran feels distracted without Chu Wanning by his side and, in the middle of a story Mei Hanxue is telling, his mind begins to wander. Mo Ran looks over his shoulder, wanting to see him. From across the room, their eyes meet instantaneously, as if they were both looking for one another at the same time. They share a small, private smile before looking away.

When Mo Ran brings his attention back to the conversation, he realizes that he’s lost track of the story being told. Even though he’s more or less gotten used to the fact that he kind of spaces out at times, it’s a little disconcerting and embarrassing when it happens in a group. If anyone notices his slightly vacant expression, they don’t say. Mei Hanxue is still regaling the group about a time that he and his brother went out drinking with Xue Meng. Everyone laughs, but Mo Ran is a little lost, so he just laughs along even though he’s missed the joke and doesn’t really feel much like laughing at all right now.

He feels like he’s on the outside and is looking in on lives that continue to move forward while his life stays perpetually stuck in one place. It’s not anyone’s fault, but all this smiling and conversation and frivolity is too much for him.

He does his best to back away inconspicuously from the group, bowing his head courteously while mumbling “excuse me.” He walks out of the room and, instead of escaping to the bathroom where he’s very likely to run into other people, he heads for a door marked “EXIT” that leads outside. It opens to a set of stairs that go down to a side lot behind the restaurant. He sits down on the top step and breathes in the fresh air while he tries to keep the panic in his chest from ratcheting any higher than it already is. He spreads his knees and braces his elbows against them, then holds his head in his hands as he takes deep, slow breaths, in and out.

He doesn’t hear the door opening and closing behind him, but he’s aware of Chu Wanning’s presence as soon as he’s there.

Chu Wanning doesn’t ask Mo Ran what’s wrong, nor does he try to cheer him up. He simply sits down next to him, and when Mo Ran looks up, all Chu Wanning says is “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mo Ran echoes back.

Chu Wanning sits close enough that Mo Ran can catch a whiff of his familiar floral scent, close enough that his body brushes up against Mo Ran’s. Mo Ran notices that everything about Chu Wanning—his presence, his scent, his touch—has a calming effect on him. It’s strange. In less than 12 hours, Chu Wanning has become Mo Ran’s greatest sense of stability as well as the one person who he can’t imagine navigating this sort of life without.

A few minutes pass in silence, then Mo Ran takes a deep breath and says, “I’m good. I just needed a little break.”

Chu Wanning stares at the occasional car that passes by on a nearby side street, headlights flashing in the night. His voice is steady and low as he says, “You have a choice, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“About your life. You get to choose if this is the life you want to live. And if it’s not, all you have to do is say the word.”

“Fuck, Wanning, that’s not what this is. I just freaked out because it kind of sucks to realize that all my friends have moved on with their lives and I’m kind of stuck in one place. I don’t mean stuck with you—if I didn’t have you, I don’t know what I would do. But I feel like it’s impossible for me to move forward and I’m just here keeping you stuck with me.”

“I’m with you because I want to be. I don’t feel stuck, and I promise that if I ever do, I’ll let you know. This isn’t just about my life. It’s about your life too. You get to decide.” Chu Wanning takes a deep breath, then turns his head to look at Mo Ran as he continues, “You’re not some shadow of a person you used to be. You’re the same person you’ve always been, and I'm willing to do this with you every day, day by day, for as long as you’re willing. But I need to know that you're living the life you want to live and not the life you feel like you have to live to make me happy.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing this just to make you happy.” Mo Ran hesitates, then says with uncertainty, “You love me.” As Mo Ran hears himself say it out loud, he hates how his voice wavers, as if he doesn’t quite believe it and is trying to convince himself it’s true. He hates that Chu Wanning must notice and that he flinches a little as if stung before looking away. Mo Ran grabs his hair in his hands, squeezing as he huffs out a frustrated sigh before letting go. “I’m sorry. I’m doing my best to catch my head up to where my heart was last night. But this isn’t easy.”

“Mo Ran, you don’t have to love me. It’s not some test you have to pass every day.” Chu Wanning pauses, then adds, “I just want you to be happy. That’s all I ever want.”

Mo Ran turns his head and looks at Chu Wanning’s profile. “You make me happy. You take care of me. What else is there?”

“Whatever you want. But it doesn't have to be this.”

They’re sitting very close, hardly a space between them. It’s dark outside save for the hazy luminescence of street lights that cast a faint glow upon them like moonbeams in a tranquil night. Mo Ran lifts a hand to touch Chu Wanning’s chest. The fabric of his dress shirt is smooth and beneath it, his body is firm and solid. Mo Ran can feel the tremulous beating of his heart beneath his hand, insistent and fast, or maybe that’s his own heart, or both of their hearts intertwining and he can’t tell which is which. He trails his fingers up to Chu Wanning’s shoulder, explores the dips and curves of his body there, grazes his fingers lightly over his collarbone, running them along the jut of it, caressing it. Even through the fabric, touching Chu Wanning in this way feels familiar and reassuring. Chu Wanning is frozen, staring straight ahead, not daring to move or meet his eyes. His mouth is open and he seems to be doing his best to keep his breathing steady and quiet.

“I know you.” Mo Ran says, his voice low and deep as he reaches up to rub Chu Wanning’s collar between finger and thumb.

Still not turning to meet his eyes, Chu Wanning’s voice is a bit resigned as he says, “You knew me before the accident.”

“No.” Mo Ran shakes his head. He knows what Chu Wanning means, but he’s trying to explain something different here. His brow furrows and he repeats the word: “No.” He reaches a hand over and cups Chu Wanning’s jaw in his fingers, coaxes him to turn and face him with a gentle tug on his chin.

“I want you to look at me when I say this. I don’t mean I know you from before. I mean I know you. Fuck, I–” Mo Ran is frustrated. He wants to explain something but he’s not sure he knows how. He pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and gathers his thoughts. “You made me wontons. No, what I mean to say is, when you looked at me this morning, it felt right, like waking up and seeing you every day is what I’m supposed to do. You smiled at me and I–”

Mo Ran doesn’t know how to say it. He feels like he’s fumbling and making a mess of this. He doesn’t know how to explain to Chu Wanning without sounding like an idiot that, when he smiled at him, it felt fucking transcendent. He doesn’t know how to explain that he woke up in a strange room, in a strange house, and to shocking news, but when he saw Chu Wanning, it felt like home.

Mo Ran maintains a light grip on Chu Wanning’s jaw, then reaches up to brush the coarse pads at the tips of his fingers against Chu Wanning’s thin lips, soft and dry. He rubs back and forth along the surface, and Chu Wanning doesn’t dare to move or breathe.

Unconsciously, Mo Ran licks his lips. “When I walked into the kitchen and saw you this morning, I knew you. Not just your name or that you were my boss who always drove me crazy. When you looked at me, something clicked inside me, and I knew—I knew that someone I never really knew before just may be the only someone for me.”

And then Mo Ran moves without thinking—just leans forward and tips his head. He parts his lips and presses them up against Chu Wanning’s. It’s the first time he’s touched Chu Wanning so intimately today, but it feels familiar, like it’s some sort of muscle memory ingrained deep inside. Kissing him feels like what he should have been doing from the very moment he set eyes on him this morning. It feels like he’s done this a thousand times before. And then he realizes—he has.

His fingers graze tenderly against Chu Wanning’s jaw and he kisses him, mouth moving against mouth, gentle and slow. Chu Wanning leans into it and can’t hold back the breath of a faint moan from slipping out of his throat. Mo Ran pulls back, their lips still connected by spider silk strands of silver threads, and looks into his eyes. He caresses the sides of Chu Wanning’s face, then gives a little shake of his head, a mixture of disbelief and awe, before dipping back in and joining their lips again.

Mo Ran licks into his mouth and Chu Wanning grabs onto his arm as if he’s afraid he’ll pull away again and is begging him not to. The touch between the two of them is electric and as their lips move and tongues curl against one another, all sorts of sensations are sparking throughout Mo Ran’s body, all at once.

Mo Ran is the first to turn his head and break the kiss, but doesn’t stop touching Chu Wanning as he brushes the pad of his thumb against the wetness that covers his bottom lip and his heart stutters in his chest when Chu Wanning’s mouth falls open even wider in response. Mo Ran’s eyes keep tracking over Chu Wanning’s lips and his voice is thick and heavy. “As much as I’d like to continue this, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop if I do.” Chu Wanning shudders and Mo Ran rubs his lips once more, longingly, then traces his thumb down the curve of his chin, basking in the feel of that soft skin before letting go. He takes a deep, steadying breath and sits up straight. “Plus, I heard we’re here to celebrate some jerk’s birthday.”

“Mmm.” Chu Wanning murmurs, his eyes half-lidded and his face slightly flushed.

Mo Ran has to tear his gaze away to keep from leaning in and kissing him the way he really wants to. He sighs as he says, “We should go back in.” He’s not sure which of the two of them he’s trying to convince.

“Are you sure? We can slip away if you want, anywhere you want to go.”

Inquisitively, Mo Ran raises an eyebrow and peers at Chu Wanning, wondering if he’s currently fantasizing about the same sort of things that he is. But he shakes his head and forces himself out of it. Damn. Now’s not the time or place.

Mo Ran thinks they could both use some sort of distraction, so he nudges Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “I heard a good joke about amnesia that I wanted to tell you—but I forgot it.”

As Mo Ran dissolves into laughter over his own dumb joke, Chu Wanning merely shakes his head at such nonsense, then reaches over and pokes Mo Ran lightly on the forehead. “The sad thing is, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that joke from you.”

Mo Ran's smile stretches wide across his handsome face. “Hey, I’ve got one amnesia joke in my arsenal and I’m not afraid to use it.” His dark eyes sparkle like stars in a clear night sky as he gazes adoringly at Chu Wanning. “How many times have you heard it?”

A small smile plays upon Chu Wanning’s lips. “Too many to count. And, believe it or not, it’s far from the worst thing you’ve ever subjected me to.”

Immediately, Mo Ran wants to know. “Oh? What’s the worst thing?” Chu Wanning’s smile falls and his mouth snaps shut. He looks determined not to say. Mo Ran grabs his arm and tugs on it, pleading like a child, “Wanning, come onnnnn. It’s my birthday. Tell me. Pretty please. I’ll forget it by tomorrow anyway.”

Chu Wanning purses his lips, then looks all around to make sure they really are alone. Once confirming it’s just the two of them, he leans a bit closer to Mo Ran and speaks in a low, hushed voice. “One time, you gagged and blindfolded me, then tied me up on the sofa. You said you had to go back to your room to get—” He pauses, like he can’t bring himself to say the next word. “—something. You must have gotten distracted and fallen asleep. You left me tied up all night. The next morning, you woke up and found me—your boss—tied up in the living room, with no memory of how I got there.”

Mo Ran laughs so hard at the image of him waking up and walking in on Chu Wanning—livid, probably naked, and all tied up on the sofa, that he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “I hope I untied you right away.”

“You did, more or less, once you got over the shock. And after confirming that I wasn’t going to kill you.”

Mo Ran laughs again. “How the fuck did I forget you were tied up in the other room?” And then he remembers—short attention span and spaces out easily. He shakes his head, still laughing. Then he braces his hands on his knees and lifts himself to standing. His body feels shaky and a bit off balance, so he holds onto the railing to center himself. Once he feels steady, he offers his other hand to Chu Wanning, who accepts it gladly, and Mo Ran helps pull him to standing. “Thanks for making me laugh. Now let’s get back in there. There’s a cake with my name on it, literally.”

“Make sure I get a big slice with a lot of frosting.” Chu Wanning tells him.

“You got it.” Mo Ran nods. As they head back inside and into the room, Chu Wanning maintains a light touch on the small of Mo Ran’s back and, as it’s done all day, his touch grounds him.

The moment they set foot inside the room, Xue Meng all but accosts them both. “Where have you two been, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Mo Ran glances over at Chu Wanning’s slightly reddened lips. “Just needed some fresh air. What’s up?”

Xue Meng eyes them like he doesn’t quite believe it, but he lets it go. “Whatever. Forget it. I don’t need to know what the two of you were doing. But you–” he points at Mo Ran. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you yet.”

Mo Ran holds his hands out in front of him in a gesture of mock sincerity. “I’m all yours. Feel free to monopolize me for as long as you want.”

Chu Wanning squeezes Mo Ran’s arm encouragingly, then excuses himself. “I’ll leave the two of you to catch up. I’ll be right over there.” He points to the table.

Mo Ran’s heart flutters in his chest at Chu Wanning’s protectiveness and care. He responds in a slightly teasing tone, “Don’t worry, I know where to find you.”

Then, Xue Meng pulls these two lovebirds apart and drags Mo Ran over to the small buffet, where they each get a bite to eat and a drink.

Once they’re standing off to the side, Xue Meng asks, “So how are you doing?”

Mo Ran hesitates. He’s not sure how to answer, but he settles on “I’m doing pretty good.” Surprisingly, he finds that it doesn’t feel like a lie. Three years ago, he got hit by a car and lost all his short-term memories, yet in all that time, Chu Wanning has stayed by his side and really seems to love him. It actually seems amazing when he stops to think about it. Then he asks Xue Meng, “How about you?”

“I’m doing alright. I graduated and now I’m working for my dad’s company.” His hand moves in an upward motion. “You know the deal, slowly climbing up the corporate ladder. But I miss having you at work to joke around with.”

“Yeah. It’s weird. My last memory of you is standing around in the copy room and complaining about Chu Wanning like an idiot, and then the next thing you know, I get hit by a car, and it’s three years later.”

Xue Meng announces, “Yeah. I know. You say that pretty much every time I see you. You know, after you got hit, I visited you in the hospital every day, even when you weren’t conscious yet. I’m not bragging. I’m just saying, because I want you to know.”

Mo Ran reaches over and pats Xue Meng on the shoulder. “Maybe you are bragging, just a little bit, but thanks. It means a lot to me to hear that. Really.” He hesitates, then asks, “I wanted to ask you something—whatever happened to Shi Mei? Do you ever see him around?”

Xue Meng shakes his head. “He visited you once after you were out of the coma, but he seemed really uncomfortable about it, which I thought was weird, because the guy is in medical school, right? As far as I know, he didn’t visit again after that. Last I heard, he was still in med school, but I don’t really keep in touch with him anymore.”

“Oh.” Mo Ran is quiet and takes some time to process what he just heard. He waits for a sad pang of longing to hit his heart, but it never comes. In fact, he doesn’t feel anything. That he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction to hearing that Shi Mei has drifted away is unexpected, because he fawned over him for years. But, ever since Mo Ran woke up today, one person has been by his side the whole time, and that person is the one who seems to occupy a special place in his heart, filling it with some sort of tender sentiment that he’s never known before. So much so that there cannot possibly be room for any other.

Mo Ran guesses that it’s easy to let go of Shi Mei because his affection and interest were never more than skin deep. “I’m surprised to hear that you don’t talk with him anymore, but it happens. I’m glad I’ve kept in touch with you though.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Xue Meng agrees. “What about you and Chu Wanning? How are things going today with the two of you?”

“I’ll be honest, it was a shock waking up and finding out that I’ve been dating my boss for three years. But we’re doing good—really good. I’m lucky to have him.”

“You are. You know, he visited you just about every day in the hospital, no matter how busy he was at work. It’s funny, when you worked for him, you always used to whine to me about how badly he treated you, but I don’t know—I’ve seen it firsthand. He actually treats you the best.”

Mo Ran shakes his head and frowns in frustration at himself. “I was young and stupid.” Before Xue Meng can tell him he still is, he holds a hand up and does it for him. “I mean, I still am, but I was a screw-up at work, and he was just trying to help me. I was too immature to see it, but I get it now.”

Xue Meng nods his head. “Good. I don’t really understand this thing between the two of you, but I do know that he really seems to care about you, and he’s been by your side since the day of the accident.”

Mo Ran wonders what it was like, right after the accident. He has no memory of it, so it hasn’t even occurred to him to ask until now. “How bad was I?” he wants to know.

“I mean, the first four weeks, you were in a coma, unconscious and hooked up to all kinds of tubes and machines. I’m not going to lie, it was really scary. The doctors operated on your brain and they weren’t even sure you were going to wake up. They said we just had to wait and see. That was the hardest part, not knowing if you were ever going to open your eyes. But then you did wake up, and even though you still had a long way to go, it was such a relief, you know? Just to see you there with your eyes open. You were still pretty out of it at the time, but the doctors kept saying you were improving–slowly at first and then a little better each day. They explained that you had amnesia and told us what to expect. You didn’t really talk much at that time, which was like–is he really okay? But the doctors kept saying to give you time, that your brain needed time to heal. Chu Wanning kept visiting you and, after a while, I started telling him that he didn’t need to come. But lucky for you, he didn’t listen to me and kept coming anyway. Good thing he did, because I started to notice something: on the days he stopped by, you were different.”

Mo Ran is hanging on every word and feels like he could listen forever to Xue Meng talking about a time that he has no memory of but feels so precious to him anyway. “How was I different?” he asks, his voice coming out in a whisper.

Xue Meng thinks for a moment. “I don’t know…smiling? And I noticed that you started humming the same sappy love song on the days he came by. I didn’t recognize it, but my dad did. And you were just–I don’t know.” Xue Meng looks like he’s searching for the right words. “There was something different about how you were with him. How you still are. It’s just—happy. You make each other happy.”

Mo Ran feels like his heart is being squeezed in his chest and he takes a deep breath to try and relieve the tension. He wants to tell Xue Meng that he just gave him the best birthday present he could possibly imagine. He wants to hug Xue Meng and say thank you and I’m sorry, all at once. But before he gets the chance to do any of that, Chu Wanning comes over and tells them they should get seated, that it’s almost time for dinner. The three of them head off, but as they do, Mo Ran turns his head to the side and mouths to Xue Meng, thank you. And Xue Meng mouths back, you’re welcome.

Xue Meng sits on one side of Mo Ran and Chu Wanning on the other. Once seated, Chu Wanning whispers to Mo Ran, “Did the two of you have a nice chat?”

Chu Wanning’s hands are resting in his lap, and Mo Ran reaches over and places one of his hands on top. Chu Wanning stiffens at the unexpected touch, but he doesn’t pull away. Mo Ran leans over and whispers in Chu Wanning’s ear, “We talked about you…about the way I used to be.” And then, he scoops his hand beneath one of Chu Wanning’s, then turns his wrist and intertwines their fingers. Chu Wanning is as still as a statue. Mo Ran’s lips graze against the soft curves of Chu Wanning’s ear, which is flushed red. Without even needing to be told the title, as if it—like Chu Wanning—he somehow just knows, he sings a few lines of the song that he used to hum because of Chu Wanning. Mo Ran’s voice is so low that only Chu Wanning can hear: “When everything around gets carried away by the wind, it’s you who helps me find the direction. I’m not leaving you, vowing to stay here with you.”

Xue Meng notices their closeness and interrupts, exclaiming, “What are you two doing with your heads stuck together like that?”

Mo Ran squeezes Chu Wanning’s hand before letting it go, then turns to Xue Meng. “Jealous?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and nudging his chin in the direction of the Hanxue twins, who are sitting on Xue Meng’s other side.

“You wish!” Xue Meng scoffs with a huff, then elbows Mo Ran, though he doesn’t put much force behind it. “We’re just friends.” he hisses loud enough so only Mo Ran can hear.

“What kinda friends?” Mo Ran wants to know with a lift of his eyebrows and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Xue Meng kicks his shin from underneath the table and refuses to say anything more. He turns away from Mo Ran, seeming to have decided that it’s in his best interest to not waste any more time trying to talk with this dummy.

Dinner is a mix of spicy and mild dishes to suit everyone’s taste, and before they eat, Xue Zhengyong raises his glass for a toast. He thanks everyone for coming and wishes Mo Ran a happy birthday. He doesn’t say much, just some heartfelt words about health, love, and happiness. They all raise their glasses and toast Mo Ran, who utters his thanks before bringing his cup to his lips. The taste of the wine is sweet, but what’s sweeter still is that he’s able to share this day with people who care about him.

Mo Ran eats a big bowl of longevity noodles with his dinner, and afterward, the birthday cake is set down in front of him. Chu Wanning stands across from him and takes a few pictures. Everyone sings happy birthday, and as Mo Ran blows out his candles, Chu Wanning is there. Even through the hazy smoke, Mo Ran sees him clearly, and he realizes—this life they’ve carved out together isn’t pointless. Even though he won’t remember any of this tomorrow, it’s not meaningless. Every day they share is an accumulation of moments, one after the other, and each one is as precious as the next. They move through it together, doing the best they can. As much as Mo Ran or anyone may wish it, time is not something that can be turned back and memories, once forgotten, can’t always be retrieved. But Mo Ran gets to keep moving forward, and with each new day, he wakes up and finds that he’s not alone—Chu Wanning is there, waiting to live this thing called life with him.

Some time later, after the cake has been cut and eaten—Mo Ran having made sure that Chu Wanning got a big slice with a lot of frosting—it’s time to go. Once again, Mo Ran shares his heartfelt thanks with everyone for coming and they all take turns saying goodbye to him.

Xue Meng is last, and he looks a little emotional as Mo Ran faces him and envelops him in a big bear hug. As they hug, Xue Meng pats his back over and over, then says, “You take care of yourself. And don’t be a stranger. Gimme a call sometime.”

Mo Ran squeezes him as he replies, “I will. You take care of yourself too and I’ll see you real soon. I promise.” He can feel Xue Meng nodding against his shoulder.

When they drop their arms, Xue Meng turns away quickly to wipe something from his eyes.

Mo Ran watches and he’s not sure how to feel. But then, Chu Wanning squeezes his arm and rubs the small of his back. He murmurs in Mo Ran’s ear, “You did good.” And that small affirmation from him is all Mo Ran needs to hear to make him feel okay.

As they arrive back home, Chu Wanning opens the front door and kicks his shoes off with a sigh. Mo Ran follows him in and Chu Wanning closes the door behind them. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it on the floor, then pulls his tie loose. He’s just about to turn and ask Mo Ran if he wants a cup of tea, but all he gets out is “Do you–” and finds that Mo Ran is already in front of him, both hands cupping Chu Wanning’s jaw as he kisses him.

Shocked, Chu Wanning stumbles back against the front door, and Mo Ran moves with him, closing the distance between them. He presses his body up against Chu Wanning’s and licks into his mouth. Mo Ran’s hips are flush against Chu Wanning’s and he can feel Mo Ran’s half-hardness through his pants. Mo Ran slides one hand down to Chu Wanning’s hips then jerks his own hips forward.

Chu Wanning’s body trembles at the sudden friction and their kiss stutters. He pulls back with a gasp. “Ah, Mo Ran, I–”

“Yeah.” Mo Ran breathes against Chu Wanning’s mouth, then brings their lips together again. Chu Wanning whimpers and can’t help but lean forward into the touch. Mo Ran sucks the tip of Chu Wanning’s tongue, savoring the taste of his moans. He pulls back in between a panting breath to ask, “Wanning, can we?”

Chu Wanning’s face is flushed, but he manages to gasp out, “You don’t—just, just do it.”

They move clumsily, in slow staggering steps to the bedroom. Mo Ran toes off his shoes and they both tug off their ties, and in between it all Mo Ran never stops kissing him, not until the backs of Chu Wanning’s knees hit the mattress and he drops to sit on the edge of the bed.

Mo Ran stands and peers down at Chu Wanning, whose face is flushed and whose breaths are coming out in stuttered little gasps. Mo Ran reaches down and cups his face in his hands, grazes the coarse pads of his thumbs against his soft cheeks that are tinged red like plum blossoms. He can’t help but ask for permission once more. “Wanning–are you sure?”

For Mo Ran, even though he is no virgin, this feels like his first intimate encounter with Chu Wanning, and as such, his instinct is to be reverent and cautious. Only by confirming once more that Chu Wanning is willing can he proceed without restraint.

Chu Wanning understands Mo Ran, understands his hesitation, so reaches up with both his hands and places them on top of Mo Ran’s, which are still cupping his face. His gaze is steady and sure as he looks him straight in the eye. “Mo Ran, it’s fine. You don’t have to be careful with me. I won’t break.” Then, Chu Wanning wraps his fingers around Mo Ran’s hands and leads them down, pressing them against his own chest, entreating him to touch.

With those words and that action, it’s as if the invisible bonds holding Mo Ran back have been cut, freeing him from his inhibitions. He exhales sharply as he curls the tips of his fingers into the firm planes of Chu Wanning’s chest. He lifts a knee up onto the bed and presses it between Chu Wanning’s thighs. He begins undoing the buttons on Chu Wanning’s dress shirt, but thanks to his shitty fine-motor skills, his fingers are shaky and can’t get a proper grip. “Fuck, I can’t.” he curses out.

Chu Wanning moves himself back on the bed and makes room for Mo Ran. “I’ll do it.” he says. “Come here.”

Needing no more invitation than that, Mo Ran scrambles up after him and they face each other, both of them kneeling. Mo Ran’s eyes don’t leave Chu Wanning’s face for an instant as he unfastens each button on his own shirt, then does the same for Mo Ran’s.

When the last button is undone, Mo Ran tugs Chu Wanning’s shirt off and shimmies out of his own so that he can get his hands on Chu Wanning. He reaches out to touch him, dragging his fingernails down his sides and running his hands over the soft dips of lean muscle and the curve of his chest.

Somehow, he knows Chu Wanning’s body, knows the feel of it beneath his hands—even without a concrete memory of ever having touched it or mapped it out with his hands before. Instinctively, his fingers slide to the places where Chu Wanning is sensitive, to the spots where, when touched or pinched, he jerks against Mo Ran and trembles in his arms. He reaches down to unfasten Chu Wanning’s belt and the soft clink of metal mixes with the heavy sound of their breathing. Chu Wanning releases a soft sigh from the back of his throat as Mo Ran wills his shaky fingers to unfasten the front of Chu Wanning’s pants. He presses his hand over the front of Chu Wanning’s briefs, runs his palm over his already hard and straining cock and Chu Wanning leans into the touch.

“Holy shit,” Mo Ran says, surprised by Chu Wanning’s eagerness—pleasantly so—as he sits back to wriggle out of his own pants. Without even needing to be asked, Chu Wanning lies back on the bed, pushing the beautiful butterfly blades of his shoulders back and arching his hips up so that Mo Ran can tug his pants off too. Mo Ran no longer has any questions about Chu Wanning’s willingness. Between the two of them, the only question that remains is who longs for the other more?

With both of them nearly naked, Mo Ran crawls forward and straddles one of Chu Wanning’s legs between his thighs, then bends down, kissing Chu Wanning and biting at his bottom lip. Needy for more, Chu Wanning wriggles his body against Mo Ran so that their hips slot together. Mo Ran lowers his head with a grunt as he rolls against him, and in their underwear, the contact is almost as good as skin-on-skin. Mo Ran grinds his body down as Chu Wanning presses his hips up, the two of them seeking friction as they move breathlessly against one another.

As their bodies move hungrily below, Mo Ran kisses a line along the length of Chu Wanning’s jaw and takes the tender lobe of his ear between his teeth. He sucks it into his mouth, licks behind it and kisses along the soft shell, and Chu Wanning’s hips snap up unconsciously. Their cocks press together in their underwear, and Mo Ran drops his head as he huffs out a groan. Desire sparks hotter and hotter beneath his skin. He drifts a hand up Chu Wanning’s side, across his abdomen, skates it up over his chest, and as his fingers graze over a nipple, Chu Wanning makes this punched-out, ragged sound that nearly takes Mo Ran’s breath away.

He wants to hear it again, wants to remember it, and so he keeps his fingers moving steadily over Chu Wanning’s nipple, and he pushes the other hand around to grab a handful of his ass from underneath his briefs and rocks against him, hard and steady. Chu Wanning is releasing these low, needy noises from deep in his throat and their mouths grow sloppy against one another, their kisses wet and unrestrained, as they move steadily against one another from below.

Mo Ran pulls back from Chu Wanning’s mouth to kiss down his chest, licking and biting the soft buds, trailing down over his abdomen, and all the while, he can feel Chu Wanning shudder and tremble beneath his touch. Mo Ran kisses below his belly-button, then sucks a bruise over his hip bone while a hand brushes up the inside of Chu Wanning’s thigh, stopping at the juncture and rubbing the supple skin.

Chu Wanning shifts impatiently, calls out “Mo Ran,” his voice already hoarse and strained even though they’re just getting started. Chu Wanning wiggles his body against Mo Ran’s touch, seeking, seeking.

Mo Ran’s head drops low between Chu Wanning’s thighs and he presses light kisses and soft bites to Chu Wanning’s skin, but Chu Wanning wants so badly for Mo Ran to touch him somewhere else.

A frustrated noise emits from the back of Chu Wanning’s throat. His hands move to Mo Ran’s head and his fingers curl into Mo Ran’s hair, gripping there, holding him in place. “Mo Ran,” he says, then again, louder. “Mo Ran, please. I—touch me.”

Mo Ran lifts his head up from between his legs and manages to be shameless, even in the midst of their burgeoning passion. “Baobei, haven’t I been touching you this whole time?”

Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes are already tinged red with lust, but now they also flash with a hint of anger. “Just—get on with it.”

Mo Ran smiles, and the bed creaks as he gets up and opens the drawer labeled “sex toys.” He thinks to himself that these labels really do come in handy—but then realizes his mind is wandering, and brings himself back to the present. He takes out a bottle of lube, and as he turns back around, Chu Wanning’s head snaps away, clearly trying to hide the fact that he has been watching Mo Ran as he stands half-naked across the room. Mo Ran grins at how cute Chu Wanning is, and the bed sinks under his weight as he crawls back between Chu Wanning’s legs.

He licks over Chu Wanning’s cock through his underwear, adding to the wetness that’s already seeped through the fabric, before pulling them off completely.

Chu Wanning’s body is flushed red with arousal and his slender fingers are gripping the bed sheets as he struggles to hold himself together, and then all efforts at self-composure are lost as Mo Ran sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth. Chu Wanning can't remember how to breathe normally. He is flat on his back and helpless against the heat of Mo Ran’s mouth, the pressure of his tongue, the way he hollows his cheeks as he takes Chu Wanning in further. He calls out, “You–ah–you don’t have to…” But it’s not very convincing when he was just begging for more only moments before and his whole body is trembling from the stimulation. And then, any weightless arguments he may have had are completely obliterated when Mo Ran gives him a slow, deliberate deep throat.

Chu Wanning’s feet slip against the bedsheets and his toes curl up. Seeking some sort of purchase, he reaches a hand out and holds onto Mo Ran’s hair and does his best to breathe through the overwhelming stimulation and building sensations that are coursing steadily through his body.

Mo Ran pulls back a little, licks a slow line up along the erect stem, uses his tongue to drag small circles around the sensitive head and soft tip, slowly accumulating layers of indescribable pleasure. Mo Ran’s hot, wet mouth wraps around the sensitive and fragile flesh and guides Chu Wanning’s desire as he alternates his movements from shallow to deep. As Chu Wanning climaxes with a hoarse moan, his hand tightens around Mo Ran’s hair, his entire body tensing, then trembling, as Mo Ran swallows around him.

Chu Wanning struggles to prop himself up on his elbows. His body feels limp and boneless, but he still wants to reciprocate. "Mo Ran..." he calls out, his voice low and breathless, "I'll help you…” but Mo Ran only has to push gently against his shoulders to get him to lay back down.

Mo Ran smiles sweetly at Chu Wanning’s offer, but insists, "I’ll take care of you."

It only seems right to Mo Ran. After all, Chu Wanning devotes every day of his life to taking care of him, and he feels as though he can hardly pay him back. But here, in the bedroom, although it doesn’t seem like much, he can do his best to show his appreciation. Mo Ran wants to lavish Chu Wanning with attention and care and crumble him to pieces so that each piece may reverberate back into his own heart, never to be forgotten.

He lowers his head and licks along the juncture where Chu Wanning's thigh meets his groin, down and even lower still. That’s the only warning Chu Wanning gets before Mo Ran's tongue is licking insistently against his hole.

Chu Wanning gasps, and his hands fly to Mo Ran's head, clinging desperately to his temples, his hair, as Mo Ran licks and kisses over his opening. Chu Wanning tries to keep still but every flick of Mo Ran’s tongue is like a jolt of electricity that courses through his veins and he can feel himself writhing on the bedsheets as Mo Ran slowly starts to fuck him with his tongue.

Chu Wanning feels as though he has lost awareness of time and space as Mo Ran sucks at his sensitive rim and his tongue presses inside—all that remains is the indescribable pleasure. Vaguely, amidst the lewd sounds Mo Ran’s mouth is making and Chu Wanning’s own moans, he hears the snap of a lid opening. A moment later, the sharp press of a finger pushing inside of him nearly steals his breath away. It's uncomfortable at first, but as Mo Ran pushes his finger inside him, shallow at first, then deeper, Chu Wanning finds himself lifting his hips and pushing into it, desperate for more. It’s as though he’s offering his body up willingly to the touch of his lover.

Mo Ran adds another finger and feels like he’s just about died and gone to heaven as Chu Wanning starts to move his body in slow rolls against the sweet stretching ache of it. Chu Wanning’s head falls back against the mattress and he exhales shakily as Mo Ran adds a third finger and his hands curl into the bed sheets as Mo Ran begins to work him more quickly, more roughly. Mo Ran ducks his head down and licks alongside his fingers, kisses up and all around the sensitive flesh at the base of his cock, and Chu Wanning actually mewls.

“Fuck, Wanning,” Mo Ran says, pressing his face into the inside of Chu Wanning's thigh and sucking kisses there.

“Mo Ran, Mo Ran, I'm ready–” Chu Wanning gasps, already starting to fall apart, and reaches down in an attempt to pull Mo Ran up.

But Mo Ran doesn’t budge from his position between Chu Wanning’s legs. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of his thigh, tasting as much of Chu Wanning as he can get. He knows Chu Wanning wants him, wants him to come inside, but he doesn’t want to hurt him and wants to make sure he’s ready to take him. He wants Chu Wanning to feel as little pain as possible.

He presses hot kisses to Chu Wanning's thighs and hips, his fingers still working inside him. Chu Wanning clutches at Mo Ran's head, his hands sliding across what he can reach of him and drags his hands backwards through his hair.

Chu Wanning can feel Mo Ran's fingers curling inside him and the heat spiking in his gut, and he thinks he's going to lose his mind if Mo Ran doesn't hurry the fuck up and get up there and fuck him properly. His nails scratch against Mo Ran’s back as he reaches for him, desperately trying to pull him up.

At last, Mo Ran allows himself to be pulled, and Chu Wanning sighs in relief as Mo Ran wriggles out of his briefs, finally. When Mo Ran’s massive, throbbing erection springs forth from the confines of the fabric that up until now has restrained it somewhat, Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes go wide and his throat goes dry. No matter how many times he sees it, no matter how much he wants it inside him, the sheer size of that thing never fails to send a shiver of fear through his body.

“Shit, baobei, you look–fuck,” Mo Ran says as he slicks up his cock, tilting his head back with a low noise as he jerks himself a few times.

And then, unexpectedly, probably because Mo Ran has the gall to be talking when he should already be doing something else entirely, Chu Wanning lifts his chin defiantly, presses a hand to Mo Ran's shoulder, pushes him down, and straddles his hips. Chu Wanning has reached his limit and can wait no longer.

Mo Ran props himself up on his elbows, watching in rapt amazement as Chu Wanning takes Mo Ran’s thick, heavy member in hand and presses it up against his twitching entrance. Chu Wanning’s face pinches in concentration as that massive thing slowly breaches his opening. He braces a hand on Mo Ran’s chest and his lower abdomen clenches, but his waist is firm and he does not curl in upon himself. Mo Ran runs a hand up his side and whispers softly that he’s doing great baobei, so great, and coaxes him to relax.

Slowly and with painstaking effort, Chu Wanning takes the massive length inside of him fully. Mo Ran gazes up at him, absolutely awestruck, stars shining in his dark eyes. Chu Wanning relaxes a little and breathes slowly to adjust to the feeling of being so utterly full.

Now, it is Mo Ran's turn to endure. He is already buried deep inside his lover, tightly wrapped in that searing, wet heat and indescribable softness, but he can’t move, so he too has to slow down his breathing and wait, his chest rising and falling silently.

The first time Chu Wanning gives an experimental roll of his hips, rocking his ass up and down lightly against the length inside him, the sensation nearly punches all the air out of Mo Ran’s chest. He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back to keep from cumming right then and there as he harshly exclaims, “Ah–fuck–Wanning, I love you so much.”

Chu Wanning freezes, his hole stretched around Mo Ran, who is still buried deep inside him. His phoenix eyes open wide as he stares down at Mo Ran and asks, “What did you say?”

Mo Ran opens his eyes as he lifts his head back up. “I—I don't know.” That’s a lie, but right now most of the blood in his body is concentrated in the brain between his legs, and he wants to make sure that it’s not that brain that just did the talking for him. Chu Wanning looks down at Mo Ran—watching, waiting—his expression unsure yet also full of hope. As Mo Ran looks into that pair of eyes that felt so familiar to him from the first moment he saw them this morning, every feeling he has accumulated for Chu Wanning over the course of this day seems to come pouring into his chest all at once like a tidal wave. He runs his hands over Chu Wanning’s hips, soft skin and solid bone, and with his heart in his throat, he thinks to himself, it’s true, it's true.

“Mo Ran—“ Chu Wanning urges, still not moving, wanting to hear him say it again.

Unflinchingly, Mo Ran stares back at Chu Wanning. “I love you—” Then he licks his lips and adds, because it has only been a day, and he is currently sheathed inside him, “I think.”

Chu Wanning raises his sword-straight brows at that, but a tone of faint amusement plays on his lips. “You think?” he asks as he tilts his chin up and then, with a twist of his hips, lifts up along Mo Ran’s cock before slowly sinking back down.

It's incredible, the tight wet heat that envelops Mo Ran from all around and he lets out his breath in one long sigh. He knows the feel of this body. He knows it, he knows him. It may not be the right time or place for Mo Ran to affirm his love, but he can’t help but call out, “Ah—I don’t think—I know, I know!”

Mo Ran settles his hands on Chu Wanning's hips, his thumbs tucked against his hip bones, fingers digging in just a little into the soft flesh of his waist, and without thinking, Chu Wanning sets a hand over Mo Ran's.

Mo Ran watches Chu Wanning’s every movement. He doesn’t want to miss a thing. He wants to singe this memory into his veins and brand this feeling into his heart.

And then, Chu Wanning starts to move.

He goes slowly at first, giving himself time to adjust to the feel and get into the rhythm. He moves his body in a slow roll that pulls a groan from Mo Ran's mouth. The whole time, Mo Ran is watching him, his eyes dark with want, lips parted, and he breathes roughly as Chu Wanning rocks back onto his cock in incrementally faster movements. Mo Ran angles himself up as Chu Wanning comes down and snaps his hips up hard to meet him, exhaling with a groan.

Chu Wanning rocks back as he fucks himself down on Mo Ran's cock, and Mo Ran is snapping his hips up to meet him now, hard and fast, and Chu Wanning is losing it.

Mo Ran's teeth clench, his breathing rough as Chu Wanning moves, and then Chu Wanning takes Mo Ran's hand and presses it back against the mattress beside his head, and laces their fingers together. He has his eyes on Mo Ran and Mo Ran has his eyes on him, and there’s this thing inside Mo Ran’s chest that’s so heavy that it aches. Even though he’s the one fucking Chu Wanning, he's also the one who feels full to bursting with how badly he wants to stay in this moment. He won’t close his eyes, he won’t look away—he won’t forget, he won’t forget.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you—and you love him too.

Chu Wanning rolls down onto Mo Ran as he’s buried inside him, hips moving in these aborted little jerks as he slowly starts to fall apart, and Mo Ran makes these breathy groans underneath him as he rocks up to meet him. Mo Ran watches the way Chu Wanning moves and listens to the way their stuttered breaths and low moans mix and intertwine. Mo Ran watches the way his cock sinks deep inside Chu Wanning’s body with each thrust, watches the way Chu Wanning’s body takes him in, watches as he pitches forward and presses a hand to Mo Ran’s abdomen as he starts to come completely undone.

When Chu Wanning’s hole begins to spasm and tighten around him, Mo Ran knows it’s a sign of his imminent release, and his movements become even more intense and unrestrained.

“Come on baobei, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Mo Ran urges, feet braced against the mattress, his voice low and rough, and he wraps a hand around Chu Wanning’s cock. Chu Wanning shudders and begins to move his hips in short, useless pulses and all it takes is a few jerks of Mo Ran’s wrist for Chu Wanning to tip over the edge. His release streams out across Mo Ran’s stomach and chest while a punched-out, keening wail emanates from a place deep in his chest.

The tail-end of a groan is still spilling out of Chu Wanning’s mouth when he opens his eyes, and he still has one hand clutching Mo Ran's against the mattress, squeezing so hard that his knuckles are white. Chu Wanning is still moving, although without much urgency–grinding down onto Mo Ran's cock in slow, almost useless rolls as he tries to spur Mo Ran over the edge with him.

Mo Ran’s chest is heaving and streaked with Chu Wanning’s release. “You okay?” Mo Ran asks breathlessly.

“Mm-hm.” Chu Wanning murmurs, every bone in his body warm and loose. Lazily, he keeps moving his hips, determined to get Mo Ran to finish but too wiped out to do it with any real emphasis. Mo Ran grins affectionately at his well-intentioned efforts, then reaches around and smacks Chu Wanning’s ass. Chu Wanning yelps as he pitches forward and his hole clenches down around Mo Ran from the sudden spike of stimulation. Mo Ran hisses as the tight heat wraps around him and rubs Chu Wanning’s ass soothingly as he assures, “I’ve got this. Roll over, baobei.”

But Chu Wanning’s body is spent, so Mo Ran has to lift him off, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of his waist. Chu Wanning flops down onto the bed with a small grunt and he reaches up to thread his fingers through Mo Ran's hair as he adjusts himself between Chu Wanning's legs. Then, slowly, Mo Ran lines himself up against the twitching hole and pushes back inside.

Mo Ran snaps his hips forward, driving his cock in all at once, hard and deep. Chu Wanning makes a startled sound at the sudden invasion into his already over-stimulated body.

There’s only a very small part of Mo Ran’s brain that is focused on anything other than how good Chu Wanning feels around him, but that tiny portion is telling him to slow down, reminding him that he really does want to drag this out for as long as he can. But he’s already endured for so long, and it seems that, now that he’s once again wrapped tightly inside Chu Wanning’s hot, pulsing heat, he can’t seem to hold back. Quickly, and seemingly beyond his control, he finds himself hurtling towards a climax, and he’s long past trying to do anything about it. Mo Ran braces himself against the bed, beads of sweat dripping down onto Chu Wanning’s chest as he thrusts steadily inside him.

Chu Wanning reaches up and slides his hand down to the nape of Mo Ran's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He opens his mouth against Mo Ran's, sloppy and unrestrained, the two of them exploring every space and crevice they can, as if wanting to steal away each other’s breath and soul.

And then Mo Ran breaks away to pant against Chu Wanning's jaw and Chu Wanning can feel a fine tremor through the muscles of Mo Ran's back, a shiver that traces the length of his spine, and Mo Ran is gasping out as he fucks into Chu Wanning.

Chu Wanning angles his hips up, moves to meet Mo Ran on every thrust, and a thrill of pleasure courses through Mo Ran’s entire body like a jolt of electricity that’s pumped into his body pulse after pulse.

“Shit–fuck, Wanning, I'm gonna—” Mo Ran mutters, and he presses his forehead against Chu Wanning's in between messy kisses. He breathes ragged, open-mouthed. “Baobei, fuck, I'm–I'm-”

Chu Wanning wraps his legs around Mo Ran’s waist and pulls Mo Ran’s head down as their lips and tongues meet in fervent kisses. A moment later, Mo Ran is groaning against Chu Wanning's mouth, helpless, as he releases inside him. Chu Wanning is already completely spent, but the friction from Mo Ran’s stomach rubbing up against him coupled with the warm release shooting deep inside him has his whole body shuddering, toes curling and pleasure coursing through him as a thin stream of liquid releases in the space where their two bodies are pressed together.

Mo Ran does not pull out right away, but rather stays in this position, pressing his forehead against Chu Wanning’s, panting, breathless. “Wanning, I really do love you.”

Chu Wanning brings his arms around Mo Ran and caresses him with gentle strokes, rubbing along the firm planes of his strong back. “I know.”

They stay in this tender embrace for a few moments, but there’s a mess between their bodies that contrasts with the tranquil picture they paint. Even though he’s usually the more messy of the two of them, Chu Wanning also treasures cleanliness, so he is the first to mention it. “We should clean up.” he says as he pats Mo Ran’s back to get him to move.

With a heavy sigh, Mo Ran pulls out and off of Chu Wanning, who can’t help but hiss as his hole clenches and a warm wetness begins to slowly seep out of it, adding to the mess. Mo Ran can’t resist running a finger across Chu Wanning’s stomach, which is streaked with cum, and holds the evidence up in front of him, teasing, “Wanning, that was absolutely incredible. Did you like it?”

“Shameless!” Chu Wanning scolds, smacking his hand away, then looks away as he adds with a scowl, “Couldn’t you tell?”

Mo Ran beams, then hops off the bed and heads to his bathroom to wet a warm towel, which he uses to wipe Chu Wanning down, cleaning him thoroughly. Then, they scooch over to a dry part of the bed and wrap their arms around each other, legs intertwining. The embrace feels sacred, and neither of them speak, for it is late and the night is deep, and soon it will be time to sleep.

Chu Wanning is cradled against Mo Ran’s chest, head tucked beneath his chin, and Mo Ran brushes Chu Wanning’s head from top to bottom with the tips of his fingers, his touch soothing and tender. However, a few minutes later, Chu Wanning extricates himself from Mo Ran’s embrace and pushes himself up to sitting, though not without some effort.

“Where are you going?” Mo Ran asks, eyes wide with panic, heart pounding frantically, a sense of impending doom piercing into his chest out of nowhere.

Chu Wanning sighs. “It’s better if I don’t sleep next to you.”

Mo Ran sits up in bed to face Chu Wanning. “What? Why?” He reaches a hand out and holds onto Chu Wanning’s wrist, wanting to keep him from leaving. “Stay. I’ll be fine.”

Chu Wanning looks into his eyes, then reaches a hand out to cradle his warm cheek in his hand. “You panic when you wake up and see me next to you. It’s easier if we don’t sleep together.”

Mo Ran reaches up and places a hand on top of the one that Chu Wanning is holding against his face. He looks into Chu Wanning’s eyes, searching. All of a sudden, he feels like a child, vulnerable and afraid of being alone in the dark. He shakes his head, his eyes pleading. “Then I won’t fall asleep. I don’t want to forget.”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning murmurs softly, and he brings his other hand up to hold the other side of Mo Ran’s face, now cradling it softly in both hands. “You’ll still be here in the morning and I’ll be very near, just around the corner from you when you wake up.”

Mo Ran reaches up and presses both of Chu Wanning’s hands to his face, holding them there, never wanting to let go. His voice is strained and his brow is pinched with worry. “This feels like a death. When I wake up, the person I am today will be gone and will never come back.”

Soothingly, Chu Wanning rubs his thumbs against Mo Ran’s cheeks, brushing away the wetness that has fallen there. “You’re the same person you always are. You just get a little lost sometimes.”

Mo Ran looks into Chu Wanning’s eyes, searching. “Do you ever wish it wasn’t like this?”

Chu Wanning’s eyes carry infinitesimal tenderness and his voice is soft as he answers, “Not a day goes by where I don’t wish you could have your memories back. But, without the accident, I may have never gotten close to you. For what it’s worth, it seems to have brought us together.”

Mo Ran nods his head. He knows Chu Wanning. He trusts Chu Wanning, and he can’t imagine navigating this kind of life without him. “It’s worth a lot, that it brought us together I mean. But this is still hard.”

“I know it is. But some things never truly go away. What we are to each other today we will still be to each other tomorrow.” Chu Wanning looks deeply into Mo Ran’s eyes and gives him an encouraging nod. “Trust me. I’ve seen it.” Then, slowly, carefully, Chu Wanning leans in close and presses a soft, gentle kiss to Mo Ran’s lips—tender and sincere.

Neither seems to want to break away, but Chu Wanning is forced to as he stifles a yawn. The two of them laugh softly and press their foreheads close together before pulling back a bit.

“Tired?” Mo Ran asks.

Chu Wanning nods, stifling yet another yawn. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get ready for bed.”

This time, when Chu Wanning moves off the bed, Mo Ran doesn’t stop him, but he does call out, his voice small and needy, “Will you stay with me? Until I’m sleeping?”

Chu Wanning turns to face him, and Mo Ran can feel the love shining from Chu Wanning’s eyes as he looks at him. Just as one glance into his eyes when the day was only beginning set Mo Ran’s mind at ease, it’s the same now as the day draws to a close.

Chu Wanning’s face is tender, and he gives Mo Ran a small smile, then says, “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

While Chu Wanning showers, Mo Ran cleans himself up a bit more, then finds the linen closet in the hallway and takes out fresh sheets, which he puts on the bed. Next to the bed, the sign he noticed when he woke up this morning is still standing there: GOOD MORNING, MO RAN. Mo Ran sits on the edge of his bed and reaches for his notebook. He takes out a fresh sheet of paper from the back of it, then opens to the first page and rewrites the letter to himself, changing his age to 26. He pulls the old letter, which is taped into the notebook, carefully out. Then, he rummages around in the nightstand drawer, looking for a roll of tape. He finds the tape, as well as two nearly identical letters from when he turned 23 and 24. Gingerly, Mo Ran places the letter he just removed on top of the others. He fumbles with the tape as he sticks his new letter into the front of the notebook, then flips to yesterday’s entry.

He picks up his pen and writes the date: April 9, 2024.

Today was your birthday. You turned 26. Wanning made you wontons. They were delicious. You tried to help him with his puzzle, but you’re not very good at it. He says to match the colors up, so you should try that next time. You had a birthday dinner and got to see some old friends. Shi Mei doesn’t keep in touch, but Xue Meng was there and it was really good to see him. He wants you to know that he visited you every day in the hospital. He misses you. Make sure to give him a call.

Mo Ran looks up, pensive, the pen in his hand pausing—should he write about having sex with Chu Wanning? It was amazing–Chu Wanning was amazing–and Mo Ran feels like it should be memorialized in print. He flips through the notebook, wondering if any of his past entries mention sex, and he sees that, on some days, they do. He feels like giving those past versions of himself a high-five for having their priorities straight. But then he realizes that, instead of the sex, there’s something else he’d like to add for today. Something important. He puts pen to paper and continues to write. If you ever tie Chu Wanning up, don’t leave the room, no matter what. He looks up, feeling proud, like he’s an omniscient soothsayer extolling valuable wisdom to a future version of himself to prevent past mistakes from being repeated.

He goes back to writing. Chu Wanning makes you happy. You make him happy too. At the end he adds He loves you. He hesitates, pen hovering over the page while he thinks about the next line he should write, the one that naturally follows. But he doesn’t write “You love him too.” If he does, the Mo Ran he will be by the morning won’t understand it. Loving Chu Wanning, Mo Ran thinks, is something he should get to figure out all on his own, every day.

Satisfied, he puts his pen down on the nightstand and closes the notebook. As he’s doing so, Chu Wanning, looking incredibly attractive—unfairly so, in a fluffy white bathrobe that accentuates his slender waist where it ties, comes back into the room.

“What were you writing in there?” he asks as he sits on the bed next to Mo Ran.

“Nothing much.” Mo Ran answers. He places the notebook on top of the nightstand and then angles the card that reads GOOD MORNING, MO RAN so that it faces him.

Mo Ran lifts the fresh sheets and he and Chu Wanning tuck in underneath them, snuggling close to one another. Mo Ran kisses the top of Chu Wanning’s head and adds, “Just that you love me.”

“Mm, I do love you.” Chu Wanning murmurs as he snuggles deeper into his chest, his palm resting on the space above his heart.

Mo Ran looks down at Chu Wanning. “I love you too. Just gimme some time tomorrow to figure it out.”

Chu Wanning reaches a hand up and trails his fingers gently across the scar at Mo Ran’s temple, then down to his cheek. “I will. I’ll be patient.”

Mo Ran pulls Chu Wanning’s hand over to his lips and kisses his palm, then wraps his fingers around it and lays both their hands on his chest.

As he closes his eyes, Mo Ran thinks about memories, about how they aren’t just fleeting thoughts in his head. They’re feelings, and those feelings are real. They’re etched into his heart and soul forever. He only has to look deep inside to find that what he thought was lost is always there, just waiting to be found.

Chu Wanning is here, he’ll stay with him until he’s sleeping, and in the morning, he’ll be waiting for him still. Tomorrow, their lives will go on, the same as it ever was.

Tomorrow, as always, Mo Ran will fall in love with him all over again–

everyday,

as if it’s the first time.