Earlier that year, Qin Weidong had taken time off work to bring Fang Li to the hospital for a follow-up appointment. Fang Li had thrown several tantrums, stubbornly refusing to go, but it was no use. Qin Weidong insisted and practically dragged him to the most renowned provincial hospital in Jinyang.
By the time they arrived, Qin Weidong had already arranged everything with the doctor. They no longer had to scrimp and save, counting every last cent just to afford the necessary tests. Instead, Qin Weidong ordered nearly every useful examination the provincial hospital had to offer.
A thick stack of test forms was soon tucked into Fang Li’s medical file. Over and over, he lay down on cold, sterile machines, his body smeared with sticky gels, surrounded by the monotonous mechanical hum of the scanning equipment. Through the glass, he could see Qin Weidong outside, speaking intently with the attending physician. The young, handsome man’s brows were tightly furrowed, his expression growing darker with each passing minute.
When Fang Li finally emerged, he immediately asked about the results—did he need surgery? Qin Weidong was holding a bag of medicine the doctor had prescribed. “No surgery for now. Just be sure to take your medicine on time.”
Fang Li peeked into the bag—it was full of unfamiliar things like cedilanid and amiodarone, but before he could finish reading the labels, Qin Weidong had already taken it away.
Qin Weidong claimed he wouldn’t remember all the complicated names. He carefully opened each package, transferred the pills into separate bottles, and meticulously labeled them with detailed instructions and specific times for taking them. Later, when Qin Weidong went to shower, Fang Li quietly fished the empty boxes back out of the trash.
On one small blue box, he saw tiny words printed on the side: “For treatment of arrhythmia, including life-threatening paroxysmal ventricular tachycardia and ventricular fibrillation, especially in patients with coronary insufficiency and heart failure.”
Just before Qin Weidong came out of the bathroom, Fang Li hurriedly threw the box back into the trash, his heart pounding in his chest.
To be honest, he was afraid to look too closely. Ever since coming to Jinyang, there were moments when his chest would seize up while playing the piano—sharp, stabbing pains that left him gasping for breath. He strongly suspected his condition had worsened.
But just how serious it was, he didn’t dare to fully imagine. And he definitely didn’t dare tell Qin Weidong. The very thought of surgery terrified him.
That night, Fang Li pretended to be sound asleep and sensed the man beside him quietly get out of bed. He watched as Qin Weidong stepped outside onto the small balcony and smoked for a long time, the faint glow of his cigarette a small point of light in the darkness. When he finally returned, he even took another shower to wash away the strong, lingering scent of tobacco.
The next morning, for the first time since Fang Li could remember, Qin Weidong didn’t leave for the office on schedule. He waited patiently until Fang Li naturally woke up, then seriously brought over all the labeled medicine bottles and carefully taught him which pills to take each day, and which ones he needed to carry with him at all times.
He made Fang Li repeat the instructions several times, his voice firm but gentle. Fang Li’s lips felt numb from the repetition, and finally, a little irritated, he mumbled, “I really have got it, okay?”
Qin Weidong didn’t immediately react to his outburst. He simply leaned in and kissed him gently. “Why the anger? As long as you remember, that’s all that truly matters.”
Fang Li’s temper had flared up rather suddenly, and now that the heat of the moment had passed, he felt somewhat deflated. He looked at Qin Weidong, his expression a mix of vulnerability and apprehension. “Tell me the truth—did the doctor say my condition has gotten worse? It’s only been a year…”
Qin Weidong’s voice was reassuring. “He simply said the indicators for surgery haven’t been met yet. You just need to take good care of yourself for a while. We’ll go back for another checkup later.”
Frustration flickered across Fang Li’s face. He threw himself back against the couch cushions, crumpled a piece of scrap paper beside him, and flung it haphazardly at the guitar leaning against the coffee table. “Another checkup, and another, and another—did the doctor at least tell you how long I’ve got left? If it’s not much time, then I might as well just—”
“Fang Li!” Qin Weidong’s sharp shout cut through the air, his entire expression shifting, becoming suddenly stern. “Do you really think I’ll just sit here and let you talk such nonsense without doing something about it?”
Over time, Qin Weidong’s features had grown increasingly sharp and commanding. The intensity of his gaze felt as if he could devour someone whole. Fang Li’s heart gave a nervous flutter. He was actually a little afraid—Qin Weidong had, on occasion, physically restrained him during his more volatile moments.
He turned his face away, a hint of wounded petulance in his voice. “You’re so cruel. I’m sick, and you’re still scaring me like this…!”
Qin Weidong’s eyes narrowed at Fang Li’s constantly moving mouth. Sometimes he felt a strong urge to discipline that unruly tongue—but he always held back. Which, perhaps, was precisely why Fang Li felt so free to push his boundaries.
His voice softened, becoming almost hoarse. “When you say things like that… it’s no different than tearing my heart right out of my chest.”
Hearing Qin Weidong say those words, so quietly and with such raw emotion, hit Fang Li hard. He knew Qin Weidong wasn’t exaggerating. Cradling his head in his hands, he sincerely apologized, “Alright, alright, I was wrong. You know how I talk sometimes—I didn’t really mean it. I won’t say things like that again…”
Qin Weidong’s reply was firm. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Okay, no next time,” Fang Li agreed quickly. After a brief pause, seeing that Qin Weidong’s anger had visibly subsided, he offered a small grin and teased, “Aren’t you going to work? Skipping the whole day?”
Qin Weidong finally glanced at the time. He picked up his car keys from the table. Fang Li waved him off, hugging his guitar protectively, and called out, “Don’t worry—the big white bottle is twice a day, one pill each time. The little bottle’s once before meals, one pill. The smallest one’s only if I feel really bad—and I have to call you right away. I remember it all, perfectly.”
Qin Weidong put on his shoes and added, a hint of a smile touching his lips, “If you happen to forget the first two, that’s fine—I’ll remind you. Just don’t ever forget the last one.”
Fang Li clutched his guitar closer and couldn’t help but laugh softly. “With you around, how could I possibly forget anything?”
After Qin Weidong left for work, Fang Li still hadn’t pressed him about what exactly the doctor had said regarding his condition. There wasn’t any particular reason for this reticence—he could sense that Qin Weidong hadn’t quite figured out how to broach the subject yet, or at the very least, hadn’t decided on the best way to tell him.
Over the course of more than a decade, Fang Li’s trust in Qin Weidong had deepened to an almost unbelievable degree—one might even consider it a touch frightening in its absoluteness.
If he were to articulate it, it would likely sound something like this: even if a doctor delivered a grim prognosis, telling him he wouldn’t live to see the next day, as long as Qin Weidong himself didn’t confirm it, Fang Li simply wouldn’t believe it to be true.
He whiled away his time at home playing the guitar, composing melodies that echoed the quiet rhythm of his days, and occasionally visiting his friend at the Sari Music Shop. The owner genuinely enjoyed his company. The days drifted by with a gentle, unhurried pace.
On the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, Feng Hui called and then arrived, laden with several boxes of local delicacies intended for both him and Qin Weidong. Feng Hui had spent the entirety of the past year working relentlessly at the mine in Xihegou, locked in a constant battle of wits with old Fu, the mine foreman, and the demanding work had left him with a noticeably darker tan.
“Fang Li, happy New Year! Whoa—why is it so crowded in here?” Feng Hui exclaimed, stepping into the apartment.
A steady stream of people had come by to visit Qin Weidong during the holiday, most of whom were unfamiliar to Fang Li. He’d mostly overheard snippets of their conversations, filled with talk of bidding processes and mining rights and other such business jargon. The gifts brought by the guests who had visited earlier that morning hadn’t even been properly put away yet. Feng Hui’s gaze swept around the room, and besides the assortment of local products, he spotted two whole cases of premium Maotai liquor.
“No idea who brought those,” Fang Li replied casually. “Lost track. What did you bring?”
Feng Hui was struggling to carry two large boxes filled with some kind of fruit Fang Li couldn’t even identify—apparently a specialty from Guangdong, some obscure “something-or-other” fruit. “I’m not too late, am I? Look, I came to see Weidong, and my dad, my second uncle—they all insisted I bring things. There’s even more in the car. Don’t close the door—I’ve got to make another trip.”
As soon as he deposited the two heavy boxes on the floor, he dashed out the door again.
After two or three more trips, the area around the dining table was piled high with five or six boxes of various sizes, plus two elaborate gift sets of high-end sea cucumber.
Fang Li looked at the growing mountain of gifts. “We haven’t seen each other in ages. I invite you over for a simple meal, and you show up with all this?”
Feng Hui waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, you don’t understand. Brother Qin isn’t who he used to be. My second uncle says every major project in Chaojiang has to go through him now. If even a tiny bit of inside information leaks from his end, people stand to make a fortune. Even so, my second uncle was annoyed I didn’t come sooner. Said I didn’t know how to nurture relationships. So don’t even think about turning this stuff away—if I go back empty-handed, he’ll scold me to death.”
Completely worn out after his numerous trips up and down the stairs, Feng Hui slumped onto the sofa, fanning himself with a stray piece of paper. His father and second uncle had been insistent, repeatedly stressing that these New Year’s gifts had to be delivered with proper respect and care. They had even made him load the car before dawn that morning. Now, catching his breath, his gaze fell upon a guitar leaning casually beside the coffee table, a few sheets of handwritten music scattered carelessly nearby.
“You’re playing guitar now?” Feng Hui picked up one of the sheets, his brow furrowing slightly as he examined the musical notations. “And writing songs too?”
“Just messing around,” Fang Li replied with a shrug. “By the way, where’s Qi Jian? He didn’t come with you?”
Feng Hui sighed. “It’s New Year’s, and he stubbornly insisted on finding a street stall gig selling holiday trinkets. He’s probably freezing his butt off out there. How much money can he possibly make? I told him I’d just give him the same amount, but he flat-out refused. I’ll go pick him up as soon as he finishes.”
Feng Hui’s eyes scanned the apartment. “Where’s Brother Qin? Is he not coming home tonight?”
“You calling him ‘Brother Qin’ still sounds so weird to me,” Fang Li commented, arranging some colorful festive snacks and the assortment of fresh fruit that he and Qin Weidong had picked out together. “He’s usually out late—doesn’t typically get back until eleven or twelve. But I talked to him earlier today; he should be home soon.”
Just as the words left his lips, Fang Li’s phone buzzed with a text message from Qin Weidong: Take meds.
These two daily reminders had become as reliable and punctual as an alarm clock.
Fang Li retrieved the small bottle from the drawer and, with practiced ease, tilted his head back and swallowed a single white pill. Sure enough, the phone rang shortly after—it was Qin Weidong. His first words were a direct and familiar inquiry: “Did you take it?”
“I took it, I took it,” Fang Li replied, a hint of playful exasperation in his voice.
Ever since the last follow-up appointment at the hospital, Qin Weidong had been vigilant about Fang Li’s medication schedule, watching over it with the unwavering attention of a jealous lover. Once, Fang Li had been in the bathroom and missed Qin Weidong’s call by a mere minute or two—when Qin Weidong finally arrived home, he had scolded him with the intensity of a summer storm.
“Where are you now, Qin Weidong? Feng Hui’s already here.” Fang Li listened for a moment, then added, “Okay, finish what you’re doing. On your way back, could you pick up some chocolate candy?”
A beat of silence followed. “It’s gone! What do you mean I ate it all? You barely bought any last time. And Feng Hui had quite a few too.” As he said this, Fang Li turned to Feng Hui, holding out the phone. “Feng Hui, didn’t you eat a bunch of it?”
“Huh?” Feng Hui looked utterly confused. He hadn’t touched anything except a glass of cold water he’d poured for himself—Fang Li hadn’t even offered him a cup of tea.
Before Feng Hui could utter a single word, Fang Li snatched the phone back and said shamelessly into the receiver, “He said he ate a lot and finished the rest… His mouth’s full, that’s why he couldn’t talk. Come on, it’s the New Year—he hardly ever visits. Why are you being so stingy? I don’t care, he said he wants the chocolate kind too, so don’t forget!”
With a decisive click, Fang Li hung up.
Feng Hui was momentarily speechless. “You and Qin Weidong really haven’t changed one bit.”
Weren’t they just like this even back at the mine? Feng Hui absently grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds from the small dish on the table. A sudden, bold idea flashed through his mind, as if jolting him awake—what exactly did he mean by “haven’t changed”?
Even back then, amidst the dust and grime of the mine, he’d always thought Qin Weidong was unusually devoted to Fang Li. And now, as he pondered it further—who uses their own hard-earned wages to consistently support a fellow townsman? And now that Qin Weidong had climbed the ranks to Deputy Manager in Chaojiang, why would they still be sharing a small apartment?
Feng Hui was no naive fool; he understood the complexities of the world. The more he considered the situation, the more a nagging feeling of unease settled upon him. No way… he thought incredulously. His gaze involuntarily drifted towards Fang Li, and in that single, fleeting glance, the water he’d been absentmindedly sipping came spraying out of his mouth in a loud, sputtering “pffft!”
“Cough—cough, cough—” He nearly choked on the unexpected expulsion of liquid.
He was sitting directly across from Fang Li, and the unexpected spray had showered the other man. Fang Li let out an indignant shout, tugging at his now-damp shirt with obvious disgust. “Feng Hui, what the hell?! Are you a walking sprinkler or something?!”
Fang Li hurried to grab a handful of tissues to wipe himself down, his annoyance palpable. Feng Hui, however, sat frozen, his eyes wide with a sudden, startling realization as he stared at the ambiguous red marks visible on Fang Li’s neck… He wasn’t some clueless rookie; he knew exactly what those kinds of marks usually signified.
Who else could have left them, if not Qin Weidong?
“What are you spacing out for? Help me wipe this off.” Fang Li was soaked and thoroughly irritated. He tossed a roll of toilet paper at Feng Hui and stalked off towards the bedroom to change into something dry.
Feng Hui’s brain was still reeling from the implications of his sudden revelation. The roll of tissue bounced harmlessly off his chest and hit the floor, unraveling and tangling around Fang Li’s retreating feet.
Just as Qin Weidong came through the apartment door, a small bag of chocolate in his hand, the scene that greeted him was… unexpected. Fang Li was in a complete disarray, sprawled somewhat awkwardly on top of a still-frozen Feng Hui. His shirt was wet and clinging uncomfortably to his body, riding up to reveal a slim expanse of pale waist—and to make matters worse, Feng Hui’s hand had somehow ended up wrapped right around it.
Qin Weidong’s brow immediately furrowed into a deep scowl. “What the hell is going on here?”
Axolotl Translations 
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