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It was pure luck. If they hadn’t been passing a steamed bun vendor, if Yuzhi hadn’t turned to buy one for Keying, if he weren’t such a doting gege… then the blast would’ve hit him right in the heart instead of grazing his shoulder.
But all Jiang Yuelou knew in the moment was that Yuzhi had been shot—he was on the ground—bleeding—and Yuelou rounded on the rickshaw driver without a second thought.
Zhan Junbai.
Yuelou had had officers on the lookout for him for the past month, but there was so much to be done and not enough men to do it.
“We both lost,” Zhan said, more pained than vindictive, before shooting himself in the head.
It wasn’t until later—after Yuelou had checked on Yuzhi to find that he was, mercifully, fine, after he’d seen him safely into an ambulance—that he noticed the beads scattered on the ground.
He knelt to pick up the broken strand. Yu Tangchun’s rosary.
He knew the story by now. Boss Yu was really Fu Cheng, and Zhan had murdered his family. Zhan had held him hostage, tortured him. And yet… and yet he carried Fu Cheng’s prayer beads with him.
“We both lost.” Lost… Fu Cheng?
The idea wouldn’t have seemed so hard to believe early on. An opera singer and his fan, both elegant, sophisticated, and Zhan had moved Fu Cheng into the mansion after no time at all. At one point, Yuelou would’ve been sure Zhan cared for Fu Cheng.
And Zhan had shot Yuzhi because he wanted Yuelou to suffer the same loss.
Over and over, Zhan had pitted Yuelou and Yuzhi against each other. He’d figured it was just a tactic. But perhaps it was more than that, perhaps he resented their friendship. The man he loved didn’t love him back, so he wanted to tear Yuelou and Yuzhi apart out of bitterness.
Yuelou clenched the rosary so hard in his fist that more beads burst loose and clattered onto the stone.
He wouldn’t let Zhan Junbai win.
Zhan wanted Yuelou to suffer the way he’d suffered? No. The man Yuelou loved was alive, and Yuelou was fairly sure he felt the same. They still had each other. They could still be together.
Carefully, he gathered up all the beads, wrapped them in his handkerchief, and slipped the bundle into his pocket.
As soon as Jin Dacheng and his officers arrived to take over the crime scene, Yuelou set off for the hospital.
—
By the time he reached the hospital, Yuzhi was already all sewn up. Still, he was in bed, smiling awkwardly but kindly at a couple of nurses fussing over him. He lit up when Yuelou walked in, and Yuelou automatically smiled back.
Yuelou waited for the nurses to leave before sitting on the bed. Their knees touched, just a blanket between them. “You’re okay.”
“Mm. It was a flesh wound, really. The staff just worry.”
“I worry.” Yuelou drank in the sight of him, full of life, full of light, and as beautiful as ever. Overcome with emotion, he looked down, blinked rapidly. “I almost lost you again.”
Yuzhi reached out for him. “I’m right here. Zhan Junbai’s dead.” He squeezed Yuelou’s hand, smiled reassuringly. “We made it.”
Yuelou looked at their hands tangled together, then met his eyes, drawn to his gaze.
He must have seemed serious because Yuzhi tilted his head and frowned. “Yuelou?”
He ran his thumb over Yuzhi’s hand. “I…” With his free hand, he fingered the prayer beads in his pocket. “Yuzhi. I love you.”
Yuzhi’s eyes widened in surprise, before fluttering and skidding away. Face turned to the side, half hidden, he said nothing.
Oh. Oh, no.
Blinking, Yuelou laughed nervously, choked, “I thought—I’m sorry.”
He started to slide his hand out of Yuzhi’s, but Yuzhi stopped him, grabbed him with both hands. Alarm melted into an embarrassed smile, as he ducked his head, then looked back at Yuelou.
“No—I didn’t mean—I was surprised and…” He looked away again, but only for a moment. His embarrassed smile flickered, then grew into a soft, lovely curve that lit up his whole face. “Pleased. Yuelou, I love you too. Of course I do.”
Yuelou let out a strangled laugh. He surged forward to—he wanted to kiss Yuzhi, he wanted everything. But he settled for embracing him, reaching his arm clear of Yuzhi’s wounded shoulder to wrap it around his neck. In return, Yuzhi clutched his side, drew him as close as he could.
Yuzhi pulled away first.
He played with Yuelou’s hand, seeming to admire how their fingers slotted together, and then met Yuelou’s gaze.
“It really was a flesh wound. Dr Su said I can be discharged whenever I’m ready.” He blushed a pretty pink. “Take me home?”
—
The next morning, Yuelou woke early to make congee for Yuzhi, feed Xiao Bai, maybe go out and buy Keying the steamed bun she never got. He pressed a gentle kiss to Yuzhi’s bare shoulder, just above his gunshot wound, then slid out of bed.
As he got dressed, he stepped on a small, round object. He bent down.
It was one of Fu Cheng’s prayer beads. There were more scattered on the floor that had no doubt spilled out of his pocket when he tossed his jacket aside last night, careless in his haste. Once again, he gathered up all the beads. Then he placed them in a lacquer box on the dresser.
“Yuelou?” Yuzhi called, his voice sleep-soft.
Yuelou turned back around. He knelt on the bed, leaned over, and captured Yuzhi’s mouth in a kiss. Fully awake now, Yuzhi grabbed the back of Yuelou’s neck and deepened the kiss into something somehow both languid and intense. Yuelou smiled against Yuzhi’s lips.
“I’m here.”