Chapter 59
[Why does Fang Huai get special treatment? Everyone else is helping with disaster relief—why isn’t he? Oh, does he think he’s some big-shot celebrity now? So much more important than the rest of us?]
[Even as a bystander, I can’t stand this anymore. Can you stop with the moral policing? Is there some rule that forces people to help with disaster relief? What if he’s not feeling well?]
[Wow, Fang Huai’s fanbase really knows how to spin things, huh? Sure, there’s no rule saying he has to help. But even sixty-year-old elders and teenage girls are out there doing their part, and yet he—who was perfectly fine just days ago—suddenly has ‘health issues’ right when the typhoon hits? How convenient. If he’s scared, he should just admit it—cowardly and selfish.]
It was obvious that someone was deliberately stirring up controversy.
And with communication down due to the typhoon, even Fang Huai’s team was struggling to control the narrative. Fans were too worried about his safety to focus on countering the negative press.
Before long, the hashtag #FangHuaiSelfish started trending.
People still remembered the ‘umbrella incident’ from before, and now, young netizens were eagerly discussing it with their parents:
“See? That whole ‘Fang Huai holding an umbrella’ thing was just a PR stunt, trying to push some fake ‘gentle and caring’ image. Holding an umbrella is easy, but when it actually matters, his true nature is exposed. Disaster really does reveal people’s true colors.”
At this point, nothing delighted the internet more than watching a celebrity’s public persona crumble.
They didn’t care about the truth. All it took was a few opinion pieces from influencers and some clickbait articles, and soon, the keyboard warriors were in full frenzy, reveling in their collective outrage.
Real life was disappointing—but tearing down someone more successful than them? That was fun.
*
In the cramped, pitch-dark space, only a faint sliver of light seeped in.
Fang Huai sat cross-legged between Ye Yuyuan’s legs, head lowered, carefully… licking his wound.
His long lashes cast shadows over his eyes, his sharp and rebellious features slightly downturned. The curve of his nape disappeared into his shirt collar, and his expression was both stubborn and quietly distressed.
He hadn’t grown up in a city. Whenever he stood among towering skyscrapers and bustling crowds, there was something inherently out of place about him.
That was why, at this moment, what he did felt oddly natural.
He was that kind of kid—one who wouldn’t last a month in the city but could thrive in the wilderness for years.
It was easy to imagine him chopping firewood, hunting, making fires on his own. At night, he’d light a torch and nonchalantly sprawl on a tree branch; in the morning, he’d scoop up water to wash his face. If he got hurt, he’d lick his wounds clean. And when the moon was bright, he’d hum a tune he made up himself.
His soul was free, carrying an untamed wildness that refused to be bound by rules and rigid discipline. Even though he had tried to integrate himself into this place, it was always a struggle.
The wound was deep, still seeping blood. A small drop had even stained the corner of Fang Huai’s lips.
Ye Yuyuan’s breathing grew heavier, his gaze subtly tightening.
At some point, the room had fallen completely silent. No one spoke. Only the sound of their overlapping breaths filled the damp night air, tinged with a faint sense of ambiguity.
Fang Huai was lost in his own emotions, saying nothing. The blood at the edge of his lips remained untouched, as if he hadn’t even noticed it.
The humid, warm air stretched between them.
Suddenly, Ye Yuyuan curled his fingers slightly.
His dark eyes were clouded with a misty haze, emotions unreadable beneath the surface. Maintaining Fang Huai’s posture, he lifted a hand, his thumb brushing against the boy’s lips, gently wiping away the blood.
The gesture wasn’t inappropriate, yet it carried an undeniable sense of intimacy.
Fang Huai blinked in confusion, looking at him. His light amber eyes held a soft, crystalline glow.
For a moment, even the wind outside seemed to still.
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze, watching him in silence. And then—perhaps guided by impulse, perhaps by something deeper—he suddenly leaned in, brushing aside a few strands of the boy’s hair, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Fang Huai: “……”
Ye Yuyuan: “……”
Fang Huai: “……”
Ye Yuyuan froze.
Their eyes met.
For a few seconds, he seemed completely unaware of what he had just done. An incredulous, slightly mortified silence settled between them.
Then, Fang Huai hesitantly reached up and touched his forehead.
Was this… some kind of friendly gesture?
He thought about it seriously for a moment. He didn’t mind it.
Ye Yuyuan’s gaze followed his hand, landing on his forehead.
A moment later, he averted his eyes in an almost flustered manner. His ears were faintly red, and he couldn’t seem to find any words.
“…Ye Yuyuan—”
“Sorry,” Ye Yuyuan interrupted, his expression unnatural as he hastily changed the subject. “I’m tired.”
Fang Huai stared at him in bafflement, feeling an inexplicable sense of something left unspoken.
He wanted to discuss it further, but Ye Yuyuan clearly didn’t. So, he let it go.
He re-applied the tobacco to Ye Yuyuan’s wounded palm, then told him to close his eyes and rest for a while.
Fang Huai had never really taken care of people before, but somehow, he just knew what to do.
After all, while he had never cared for another person, he had taken care of plenty of small animals.
Fang Huai didn’t say anything, but his heart was weighed down by a deep worry.
—He was afraid Ye Yuyuan would develop a fever.
With a wound like this—large in area and significant in blood loss—the biggest danger was infection, which could lead to complications like fever, setting off a chain reaction. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be too concerning, but they still had no idea when they would be able to leave.
Fang Huai stared at the wound, remembering the unfortunate souls he had seen earlier who didn’t make it. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining Ye Yuyuan’s body turning ice-cold, sinking deeper and deeper into the water. The thought made his heart ache instantly.
Ye Yuyuan had come in here because of him. No matter what, he had to make sure he got out safely.
But reality didn’t go as planned.
A little over an hour later, Fang Huai reached out to check Ye Yuyuan’s forehead. It was much hotter than before—and getting even hotter.
His heart clenched immediately.
“Ye Yuyuan.” He leaned close to his ear, calling his name over and over. “Wake up.”
Too many people had simply fallen asleep and never woken up again.
“Ye Yuyuan.”
His voice rose slightly, laced with urgency. Sweat trickled down his temples. He pressed his own forehead against Ye Yuyuan’s to compare temperatures—still burning hot. But the man kept his eyes closed, his brows furrowed slightly, completely unresponsive.
He didn’t know how long had passed.
Then, Ye Yuyuan’s brow twitched. His eyes slowly opened, dark pupils misted over as if shrouded in water. He gazed at Fang Huai for a long moment, his thumb brushing lightly over the corner of his eye. Maybe it was because of the fever, but he seemed different—his usual deliberate coldness had melted into something unexpectedly gentle. His voice was low and hoarse as he said:
“I’m fine.”
“…Just go to sleep.”
“When you wake up, we’ll be out of here.”
Fang Huai didn’t respond.
“I won’t sleep, and you can’t either,” he said seriously.
He wanted to make sure Ye Yuyuan drank water and ate the softened ration biscuits. He had no intention of eating himself—he needed to save what little food they had.
Their situation was already dire.
The air was running out, and he could feel his breathing becoming labored. Food and water were nearly gone as well.
But Ye Yuyuan didn’t drink. Nor did he eat.
“I already ate,” Fang Huai lied.
Ye Yuyuan looked at him and let out a quiet hum. “I’m not thirsty.”
The two of them fell into a strange standoff, neither reaching for the remaining food or water.
“Fine.” Fang Huai was a little annoyed but didn’t say anything more. He figured Ye Yuyuan would drink once he got thirsty enough.
He kept watching Ye Yuyuan, trying to make sure he stayed awake, but sleepiness crept up on him instead. He fought it off, but before long, his head started nodding, his eyes closing involuntarily. Each time, he forced himself to wake up again.
Ye Yuyuan watched him quietly.
On the third time Fang Huai stubbornly opened his eyes, Ye Yuyuan finally reached out and pulled the boy fully into his arms.
“Sleep,” he murmured. “Huaihuai, goodnight.”
…What did he just call him?
Fang Huai didn’t have the time to process it. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he had no choice but to close his eyes, sinking into deep sleep.
Ye Yuyuan remained silent for a long while, lowering his gaze to the wound in his palm.
After a moment, he, too, closed his eyes.
After all this time, the wound had not healed in the slightest. In fact, when he wasn’t deliberately suppressing it, faint silver scales could be seen around the injury—something no normal human should have.
Normally, it wouldn’t matter even if he went a long time without eating or drinking. He could have easily taken Fang Huai out of here in an instant.
But this time, things were different. The situation was special.
He could ensure that Fang Huai got out safely. As for himself…
Ye Yuyuan closed his eyes.
If he couldn’t leave, then so be it, he thought.
*
Even in sleep, Fang Huai was restless, plagued by one nightmare after another.
One moment, he dreamt of Ye Yuyuan dying right in front of him, his body sinking slowly into the cold water. In the next, he relived the scene of Fang Jianguo’s death—the moment itself hadn’t shattered him, but the pain had stretched across his entire life, like a thorn buried in his skin, resurfacing now and then to stab at him.
The boy pressed his lips together, his brows furrowed, and instinctively leaned closer, listening for the heartbeat beside him. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, “Ye Yuyuan…”
Ye Yuyuan had no idea what to do with him.
He remained silent for a long time before simply pulling the boy closer, holding him tighter.
Hours passed in an unbroken cycle of dreams until Fang Huai finally woke up.
Ye Yuyuan had kept his word—he hadn’t slept.
He had held Fang Huai the entire time, watching him with a gaze that was both exhausted and gentle. His breathing was shallow, and when he saw Fang Huai wake, he took his hand and wrapped it lightly in his own, giving it a small squeeze.
The food and water on the ground remained untouched.
But Fang Huai had noticed something even worse—the oxygen was running out, and the stainless steel panel above them seemed to be failing. Water was beginning to seep in.
He realized instantly that they had reached a dead end.
Ye Yuyuan had to survive. That was the only thought in Fang Huai’s mind.
He didn’t matter. He had no real attachments to this world. But Ye Yuyuan… Ye Yuyuan had someone he liked. One day, he would get married, build a family of his own. He still had so many things left to do.
Fang Huai tried to picture Ye Yuyuan’s wedding.
The man, handsome and composed, standing silently in a tailored suit beside a beautiful, gentle woman who was a perfect match for him. They would bow to the heavens, honor their parents, toast their guests, and then live the rest of their lives together.
A fleeting sadness and regret filled Fang Huai’s heart, but at the same time, he felt happy for Ye Yuyuan.
Ye Yuyuan would find happiness—Fang Huai had no doubt about that.
The two of them stared at each other in silence.
They both knew it now. This was the end of the road. The problem wasn’t food or water—it was air. Even if the rescue team arrived in an hour, there was only enough oxygen left for one of them to make it until then.
Fang Huai had already made up his mind.
Surprisingly, this time, when he thought about dying, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of fear.
He wasn’t some self-sacrificing saint. It was just that…
He sincerely hoped that Ye Yuyuan would find happiness.
The two of them locked eyes for a long moment. Ye Yuyuan still looked much the same as when they first met—calm and indifferent, with a trace of weariness between his brows. But in his deep, dark eyes, there was undeniable warmth.
“Ye Yuyuan,” Fang Huai carefully considered how to say his goodbye. “I want to—”
Ye Yuyuan looked at him and suddenly cut him off.
“You’re still young.”
He kept Fang Huai in his embrace, gently brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. He wasn’t tense anymore—on the contrary, he seemed like a patient elder, watching Fang Huai with quiet seriousness. His voice was low and slightly hoarse as he spoke:
“One day, you’ll meet someone you truly love. Maybe you’ll even get married. Looks, power, and wealth don’t matter. What matters is… that they have a good heart, and that you love them.”
Though his voice remained steady, his palm subconsciously curled into a fist.
This was the first time Fang Huai had heard Ye Yuyuan say so much.
But he didn’t like it. Not at all. His brows immediately furrowed.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Ye Yuyuan remained silent. He paused briefly before continuing:
“There are still so many places you haven’t been, so many people you haven’t met.”
The sunsets over the Alps, the cherry blossoms of early spring in Tokyo, the snow in Norway.
“It’s too soon to say you’d sacrifice your life for someone.”
Ye Yuyuan looked at him, and for the first time since they met, he smiled—just slightly. It was faint, barely there, but it made him impossibly handsome, like he was glowing from within.
Fang Huai did not smile.
“If you give up here, you’ll regret it,” Ye Yuyuan said, his voice raspier now. He gazed at Fang Huai and continued”When you’re older, when you’ve met more people, when you finally find the one who truly makes your heart race—
“When you find the meaning behind every heartbeat, every breath, when you’re willing to travel to the ends of the world with them, when every second of your life is consumed by thoughts of them—
“That will be the right time to give your life to someone. Not now.”
Ye Yuyuan never stated anything outright. Instead, his thumb brushed lightly against the corner of Fang Huai’s eye, lingered briefly at his jawline, and then quietly fastened the top button of his shirt.
Leaning back against the wall, he sat in silence. The faint smile had already faded from his lips, but his gaze remained soft. He looked at Fang Huai with a restrained, carefully controlled expression, emotions hidden beneath the surface like the depths of a still ocean.
This was a farewell.
He was an unremarkable man, neither poetic nor eloquent. But in this moment, he felt strangely grateful for that.
There was no need to leave too deep an impression on Fang Huai.
It was better if Fang Huai forgot him sooner rather than later.
It didn’t matter.
Fang Huai said nothing. Lips pressed together, he stared at Ye Yuyuan stubbornly, his eyes gradually reddening. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, something was placed in front of his face—a notebook.
It was Lin Shuheng’s notebook, now dried but still wrinkled, its ink smudged.
Fang Huai didn’t understand why Ye Yuyuan was showing it to him. He desperately wanted to say something, but it was as if his throat had been clenched shut. The air was too thin. No words would come out.
There was an unbearable frustration in being kept in the dark.
And he had no idea what was coming next.
Through the notebook, Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze and self-deceptively pressed a kiss against it.
Fang Huai was the meaning behind every one of his heartbeats, every breath he took.
He wanted to take him to every place in the world—the Alps, Tokyo, Norway—
But even if he couldn’t, it was okay.
One day, Fang Huai would visit those places. Just… not with him.
The wind fell silent, the air grew still.
Under the gentle veil of night, oxygen thinned little by little, stretching time to infinity. Beyond Fang Huai’s line of sight, a soft, warm white glow began to bloom in Ye Yuyuan’s palm.
It wouldn’t take long. Soon, he would disappear, and the rising tide would recede, allowing Fang Huai to return safely to the outside world.
It wouldn’t take long…
“……”
Suddenly, Fang Huai shoved the notebook aside, staring stubbornly at Ye Yuyuan.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“You’ll regret it in the future.” Ye Yuyuan’s voice was steady, but Fang Huai clenched his fists, eyes rimmed red. “What does that have to do with me now?”
“What gives you the right to choose for me?”
Ye Yuyuan was momentarily stunned by the sharpness of his words.
Fang Huai held his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly, an overwhelming mix of anger and sadness written across his face.
But time was running out. Oxygen was running out. If they kept going like this…
And then, in the midst of their tense silence, both of them suddenly heard it—
Thud. Thud. Thud.
.
They froze at the same time.
Fang Huai hesitated for a moment before stepping toward the source of the sound. It was a wall, no different from the others around it. He pressed his palm against it, knocking lightly, and then—
Something felt off.
…There was empty space behind this wall!
“What is it?” Ye Yuyuan asked.
Fang Huai didn’t answer. After a brief pause, he took half a step back, stuffed one hand into his pocket, then raised his right leg—
And kicked the wall.
With a loud boom, a hole burst open. Fortunately, it didn’t cause a large-scale collapse.
At that moment, it was like escaping certain death.
Fresh oxygen immediately rushed in. The air on their side had been frighteningly thin, but with the barrier now broken, the two spaces connected.
And then, almost instantly, Fang Huai’s heart began pounding wildly.
—Behind the wall, a child was curled up.
A little boy, surrounded by scattered biscuit wrappers and other packaging. He was huddled in the corner, and the thud, thud, thud from earlier—it had been him, knocking.
In a flash, Fang Huai remembered the tiny duck figurine they had found before, the one with the crudely written words Help me on it.
Then, another image resurfaced—the pregnant woman he had seen in B13. She had managed to escape from the car, yet in the end, she had still died.
Because in the final moments of her life, she had lifted her child, placed him inside the safest possible space along with what little food remained—
And then, exhausted beyond saving, she had collapsed, drowning in the rising waters.
Fang Huai picked up the little boy. He was still breathing but was nearly unconscious. He hadn’t had any water for dozens of hours—if he hadn’t encountered Fang Huai and the others, he might not have lasted until the rescue team arrived.
He brought them oxygen, and they could give him water.
It was like a mercy and blessing from the heavens.
Fang Huai fed the boy some water, watching as the furrow between his brows slowly eased. Then, he turned to Ye Yuyuan.
The young man looked at the silent man. Finally, he bent down and, just like hours before, embraced him.
“We’re all going to make it out,” Fang Huai said earnestly, enunciating each word clearly. “Those places—we can go together.”
The sunsets over the Alps, the cherry blossoms in Tokyo, the snow in Norway.
And he would be Ye Yuyuan’s friend for life—a very, very good friend.
Ye Yuyuan’s lips were pressed tightly together, his dark eyes trembling with emotion.
At last, he slowly reached out, returning the embrace, pulling the young man tightly into his arms. In a hoarse voice, he murmured, “…Alright.”
Cute ? at least this was a fruitful journey