Chapter 58
Amidst the darkness, a faint flicker of firelight appeared.
The entrance had been completely blocked off, with only tiny droplets of water seeping through. The damp air carried a metallic tang. Fang Huai lay there with his eyes closed, half-asleep, feeling only the unbearable cold—his soaked clothes clung to his skin, the chill seeping deep into his bones.
And then, suddenly, the cold was driven away.
His wet clothes were carefully removed, and the warm glow of the fire inched closer, slowly drying his damp skin. The hands tending to him were clumsy yet cautious, gingerly helping him into a freshly dried shirt.
The shirt was clearly not his size—the sleeves completely covered his fingers, and the hem reached his thighs, making him look like a child sneaking into an adult’s clothes.
Fang Huai wasn’t frail—his regular training had given him a lean yet strong physique, his fair skin smooth over well-defined muscles. When dressed in a crisp white shirt and riding boots, he looked every bit like an elegant young noble astride a horse.
“…Cold…”
He furrowed his brows, murmuring softly, his voice tinged with drowsy nasal tones.
The man beside him immediately tensed. He hesitated for a moment before leaning down to check Fang Huai’s forehead—thankfully, there was no fever, just a slight chill.
But before he could pull away, the boy instinctively sought warmth, curling up against him, burrowing into his embrace. He found the perfect spot and settled in, the tension in his brows easing as he drifted back into deep sleep.
The man froze completely, even holding his breath.
He stayed like that for a long time.
Finally, his curled fingers slowly relaxed. Pressing his lips together, he pulled Fang Huai closer, leaving no space between them.
“…”
Hopefully, he wouldn’t be angry when he woke up.
With a quiet sigh, the man blew out the match.
The last flicker of light vanished, and darkness swallowed the space whole.
*
When Fang Huai finally woke again, he had no idea how much time had passed. Still groggy, he only registered the discomfort of staying in the same position for too long, though he wasn’t particularly cold or in pain.
He rolled over and sat up.
His memories slowly trickled back—The sudden typhoon; The parking garage flooding with seawater; The rising water swallowing everything.
His last memory was of sinking completely beneath the waves—And then someone had pulled him up.
…He was still alive.
Fang Huai lowered his head, staring at his fingers.
They were warm. He could move them.
He was undeniably, unmistakably, alive.
A feeling he couldn’t quite describe clenched tightly around his heart. For a fleeting moment, Fang Huai was overwhelmed—dazed, startled, and gripped by the excessive rush of relief after surviving a catastrophe. But his chest was also filled with something much more bitter than simple joy.
It was complicated. Anyone who had narrowly escaped death would understand.
After all, everyone wants to live.
But Fang Huai didn’t allow himself to linger in those emotions for too long. He still didn’t know where he was or what the situation was, and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. He turned toward the only source of light in the space and suddenly froze.
“Ye Yuyuan?”
The man’s upper body was exposed, his shirt buttons broken and hanging open. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist—his skin was an almost jade-like pale white. He was tall, sitting against the wall, his dark eyes lowered. Under the dim light, his sharp features carried a faint, distant coldness. His hair was still damp, stray droplets of water tracing down his cheek, neck, and collarbone.
It was Ye Yuyuan.
He was sitting a little far from Fang Huai, as if deliberately keeping his distance. He gave a low hum in response, his expression somewhat distant, meeting Fang Huai’s gaze only briefly before quickly looking away.
Fang Huai didn’t notice these details.
He simply stared at Ye Yuyuan, his chest rising and falling faster and faster.
Ye Yuyuan extinguished the fire in his hand, plunging the space into complete darkness. Only their breathing remained, and in the damp air, there was the faintest trace of tobacco and blood, mixing with the cool scent of cedar—barely detectable.
“Your clothes aren’t dry yet,” Ye Yuyuan said after a brief pause, his index finger curling slightly. His voice was calm. “Wait a little longer. Are you hungr—”
He never got to finish his sentence.
The space they were in wasn’t large, and Fang Huai, at 1.8 meters tall, couldn’t fully stand upright. When he tried to get up, he stumbled slightly. Before Ye Yuyuan could react, Fang Huai staggered forward, falling to his knees—
And hugged him.
Ye Yuyuan’s breath hitched violently, every thought in his head vanishing in an instant.
The small space was silent. Only Fang Huai’s unsteady breathing could be heard—not harsh gasps, but something more restrained, like someone drowning who had finally clung onto a piece of driftwood.
Kneeling, he held onto Ye Yuyuan tightly, his grip so strong that his knuckles turned white.
His cheek was pressed against Ye Yuyuan’s neck, and he could hear the steady, warm pulse beneath his skin—slow, deep, rhythmic—gradually becoming the only sound in the world.
Fang Huai’s throat spasmed, his mind an incoherent mess. The air was thick with the smell of seawater, rust, and tobacco, all swirling together.
Hours’ worth of fear and despair, all repressed until now, finally broke free.
“Ye Yuyuan…” A surge of emotions swelled in his chest, his voice tight and hoarse. He lowered his gaze, staring at Ye Yuyuan under the faintest sliver of light. His throat felt clogged, as if soaked with waterlogged cotton, making it hard to breathe.
His voice was muffled, almost completely hoarse,“That man… he died… And that couple… I—I couldn’t…”
He couldn’t save anyone.
“Fang Huai.”
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment before reaching out, hesitantly, and brushing a hand down the back of Fang Huai’s neck, then along his spine—an awkward but genuine attempt to comfort.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “You did everything you could.”
Ye Yuyuan lifted his gaze and looked at him seriously. They were so close that their noses were nearly touching. Fang Huai carried the faint, youthful scent unique to him.
Too close.
Ye Yuyuan was afraid Fang Huai would hear how fast his heart was beating.
Lowering his eyes, he silently stared at the small weeds growing in the cracks of the wall. His lips pressed together slightly before he finally spoke again.
“…And you?”
“…Are you scared?”
Fang Huai didn’t speak for a long time.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed before he finally looked at Ye Yuyuan, his eyes slightly red.
“I’m very scared,” he said.
Alone in a damp, pitch-black underground parking lot, believing that the person he had tried to “save” had long since died. Watching helplessly as the seawater rose past his mouth and nose, stripping away his ability to breathe.
He had been terrified—utterly, bone-deep terrified.
For the first time in his life, Fang Huai was willing to admit his own weakness and helplessness to someone else. The moment he said it out loud, the tight grip around his heart suddenly loosened, and all the emotions he had been holding back flooded out like a broken dam.
Ye Yuyuan tilted his head slightly, looking at him.
They had never been this close before. Ye Yuyuan was sitting against the wall, his long legs slightly apart, and Fang Huai was half-kneeling between them, leaning down to embrace him. They were so close that their breaths intertwined, indistinguishable from each other. Ye Yuyuan could see Fang Huai’s eyes—clear, handsome, rimmed with red, completely unguarded as he looked at him.
It took everything in Ye Yuyuan to resist the urge to kiss him.
After a brief pause, his lips pressed into a tight line, and he turned his gaze away, a little flustered.
His right hand was hidden behind him, the palm marked with a deep, bone-deep gash from a shard of glass. Blood seeped from the wound, hastily stopped by tobacco, while faint silver scales flickered along the surrounding skin. His entire body was tense, but after a moment, he awkwardly reached out with his left hand and wrapped his arms around Fang Huai, returning the embrace.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, pulling Fang Huai fully into his arms. His voice was low and gentle, unfolding softly into the quiet night.
Right by Fang Huai’s ear, he repeated, word by word:
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I…”
“I’m right here.”
*
Twenty minutes later.
They were still in the parking garage. From the moment Fang Huai had arrived, nearly five hours had passed.
The typhoon had changed course toward Z City at 9 a.m. that morning. It was powerful but slow-moving. By 11 a.m., it had made landfall, and because the hotel was near the coast, seawater had begun flooding the area almost immediately. By the time Fang Huai arrived, it was already 1 p.m.—two hours later. Most of the people who had parked their cars closer to the exit had managed to escape.
Those trapped inside had either parked too far in, been unable to open their car doors due to water pressure, or managed to open them only to find themselves blocked by overlapping vehicles. The odds of survival were grim.
Fang Huai had already considered this before coming in.
But he still came.
Because what if?
What if the person crying for help was still alive?
What if they were still clinging to that last sliver of hope, struggling and waiting for someone—anyone—to save them?
In that kind of situation, a person really can’t think too much. Even now, after calming down, Fang Huai still had something weighing on his mind—the small rubber duck he had found, with a “Help me” note attached. The handwriting was clearly that of a child.
But he hadn’t found a child’s body.
That sliver of hope remained in his heart. He had searched every inch of the area, both fearing that he might have missed something and hoping that the child was still hiding somewhere, alive and safe.
The place they were in now was a narrow passage near the ceiling, its exact purpose unknown. A stainless-steel panel sealed the entrance surprisingly well, keeping the floodwaters from fully entering. The entire parking garage was already submerged, with only a slight trickle of water seeping through the cracks.
The passage had limited oxygen, limited food, and limited water.
They had barely escaped one crisis, only to immediately fall into another—uncertain how long they would have to wait for rescue, uncertain whether they could hold out that long.
“I happened to be on a business trip nearby,” Ye Yuyuan explained. “When I came in to find you, I saw the notebook lying there.”
A notebook lay spread open on the ground, soaked through with water. It belonged to Lin Shuheng.
Of course, that was a lie.
Just hours ago, Ye Yuyuan had been in Nan City, attending a meeting. None of this was something he could tell Fang Huai.
Earlier, Ye Yuyuan had occasionally struck a match to warm Fang Huai, but after he woke up, he had stopped—the flames consumed oxygen, and there wasn’t much left in this space.
It shouldn’t have been like this.
But…
Ye Yuyuan’s index finger curled slightly as he clenched his palm, pressing over his wound.
Fang Huai’s emotions had gradually settled. He was still in the same position, holding onto Ye Yuyuan, listening to the steady beat of his heart. A wave of post-crisis exhaustion washed over him, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
In times of disaster, the distance between people shrinks to nothing.
Under normal circumstances, Fang Huai would never have done something like this. But right now, he wasn’t thinking too much.
He liked the feeling of being held by Ye Yuyuan. The man felt familiar, dependable—like a reassuring elder. Or maybe…
Fang Huai tilted his head, studying Ye Yuyuan’s face.
He looked especially good today.
How could any woman reject someone like him?
With the immediate threat of death temporarily fading, Fang Huai’s mind began to wander.
Ye Yuyuan could tell that Fang Huai was watching him closely.
A slight tightness formed in his throat, and almost instantly, the tips of his ears flushed red. But he said nothing, only closing his eyes as if unaffected.
“Ye Yuyuan, have you ever confessed to someone you like?” Fang Huai asked.
Ye Yuyuan was silent.
After a long moment, he finally admitted, with some difficulty,
“No.”
“I… don’t dare.”
His gaze fell on Fang Huai, and for a fleeting moment, emotions surged within him.
He recalled the sensation of that underwater kiss from not long ago, and his breath wavered.
“Why not?” Fang Huai frowned, completely unable to understand where Ye Yuyuan’s lack of confidence came from.
Just as Ye Yuyuan was about to say something, Fang Huai continued,
“I used to imagine attending your wedding, waiting for your child to be born—Oh, sorry, do you not like this topic?”
Ye Yuyuan’s palm clenched abruptly.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then, after a moment, he forced a slight smile and said, “I won’t have children.”
Fang Huai was a perceptive kid. He didn’t know why Ye Yuyuan seemed upset, but he was considerate enough not to press the topic further. Instead, he awkwardly muttered an “Oh,” and for a moment, the atmosphere became awkward.
“Are you injured?”
Fang Huai suddenly asked.
The wound on his calf had already been bandaged, and the bleeding had long since stopped. But he could still catch a faint scent of blood in the air.
Ye Yuyuan responded calmly, “No.”
Fang Huai let out a soft “Mm,” his light amber eyes studying him carefully from up close. A moment later, he asked, “Are you lying?”
“…No,” Ye Yuyuan coughed lightly.
“I’ll check for myself.”
Fang Huai threw the exact same words back at him from long ago.
Ye Yuyuan pressed his lips together, momentarily at a loss for words. How had he never noticed before that this kid could hold grudges so well?
But somehow, he found that Fang Huai’s stubbornness only made him more endearing.
Without waiting for permission, Fang Huai took hold of Ye Yuyuan’s right hand and opened his palm. His eyes landed on the deep, bone-deep gash.
It looked like a glass wound—partially healed, but still bleeding.
Fang Huai: “…”
A faint, dull ache spread through his chest. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was enough to make him feel deeply upset.
His gaze lowered, and he fell silent.
The bandages and emergency medicine had already been used to treat Fang Huai’s leg wound, leaving almost nothing left. When Ye Yuyuan had picked up the notebook, he had also grabbed a pack of cigarettes, tearing them open and pressing the tobacco onto his wound to stop the bleeding. Of course, it was hardly effective.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Ye Yuyuan said, his expression unchanging.
Besides, they really didn’t have any more bandages or medicine to treat it.
Ye Yuyuan’s fingers twitched slightly, about to pull his hand back—when suddenly, something felt off.
His breath halted for a few seconds.
The next moment, his heartbeat abruptly lost its rhythm.
There was a faint, damp sensation on his palm, like a sudden spark of electricity setting off fireworks, sending a current through his entire bloodstream.
—After wiping away the blood, Fang Huai lowered his head and licked his wound.
*
At the same time—
The typhoon continued to rage in Z City. Rescue and disaster relief efforts were underway, but power and water remained out, and the signal was still unstable.
On the first floor of the hotel, everyone was busy organizing supplies and distributing them to various locations. Most of the work was being handled by hotel staff, but members of the film crew and people who had come to deliver the notebook were also helping.
Meanwhile, at the filming site for Frost, the crew was also engaged in disaster relief efforts. Every single person was doing their best to help their fellow citizens through the crisis.
The signal flickered in and out.
Someone had recorded a video and uploaded it, thinking it probably wouldn’t go through due to the weak signal. But to their surprise, it actually succeeded.
People had already seen the red typhoon warning for Z City, and within moments, a flood of viewers had gathered in the comment section.
[Ahhhh the typhoon is hitting, my poor hubby, wuwuwu ]
[Everyone is helping with disaster relief, the Frost crew is so compassionate. But wait, where’s Huaihuai? He’s not in trouble, is he?]
[I heard he went to that hotel in Z City, apparently for something important. There’s footage from that area… but I didn’t see Fang Huai anywhere.]
[He’s probably just hiding to save his own skin. So his life is precious while everyone else’s is worthless? During a major typhoon, when everyone’s busy with rescue efforts, this grown man is nowhere to be found?! Even the actresses in the crew are gathering and distributing supplies—why does Fang Huai get special treatment?]
In multiple videos, Fang Huai was indeed nowhere to be seen. His fans knew he wasn’t the type to avoid responsibility, but still… where was he?
Rather than assuming the worst, they would rather believe that he had just ‘selfishly hidden away’ somewhere.
Many people were growing increasingly anxious, their hearts weighed down by worry. Meanwhile, internet trolls were having the time of their lives—someone even hacked into the hotel’s security system and confirmed that Fang Huai wasn’t involved in the relief efforts. He was nowhere to be seen.
This only fueled the trolls further, and the smear campaign gained momentum.
