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Jiang Xiaoshuai was born and raised in the poorest part of the city, a place where life dragged itself forward through dim taverns, cheap liquor, and restless nights. It was a world of noise, where people drowned themselves in habit and hopelessness. His two brothers were no exception, spending their days buried in bars or chasing fleeting pleasures.
Xiaoshuai, however, was different. Whether by by misfortune or quiet defiance, he refused to belong to that world. He dreamed of something else, a life beyond the slums. A life of dignity, of calm, a place among decent people, in the better parts of the city. And that dream had a name.
Fifteen years ago, on that very street, he met Guo Chengyu. Chengyu had been everything Xiaoshuai’s world was not: gentle, educated, composed. Though he lived on the other side of the city, he kept returning, again and again, as if drawn by something he himself didn’t fully understand. Over time, the visits became routine, then necessity.
Now, at twentyfour, Guo Chengyu was building a life of his own. He worked at the train station, steady and determined, putting together the pieces of a future he had long envisioned. And at the center of that future was Xiaoshuai. They were to be married in two weeks. Chengyu had insisted on waiting, on securing a proper home, furnishing it, ensuring that when Xiaoshuai stepped into that new life, it would be one of peace and stability. Xiaoshuai never complained. On the contrary, he felt only gratitude. To him, Chengyu was not just a lover, but a blessing, someone kind, someone patient, someone who saw him not as the slum’s product, but as something more.
Still, Xiaoshuai was no fragile dreamer.
He was strong, sharp tongued when needed, unafraid to stand his ground. Just the week before, he had slapped Meng Tao, one of the more dangerous men in the neighborhood, after being approached at night in the middle of the street. It had felt like the only reasonable response. Even as a child, Xiaoshuai had been fearless to the point of absurdity. Once, faced with a crowd gathered around a bear blocking the road, he had refused to turn back. Ignoring the laughter, he walked straight through, stepping boldly past the animal as if daring it to challenge him.
One evening, Xiaoshuai hummed softly as he cleared the dinner table, a rare sign of his inner happiness. The wedding was close. Everything was finally falling into place then the door shifted. Him and his father looked up. Xiaoshuai's expression darkened instantly. Without a word, he slipped out through the back.
Later, Xiaoshuai learned the truth, Meng Tao had come to ask for his hand.The absurdity of it made Xiaoshuai laugh outright. Still, he sent word back. If Meng Tao wanted an answer, he would receive it properly, face to face, that very evening.
In the evening, Xiaoshuai sat in the garden, an apple in one hand and a book in the other. Yet something felt off, a quiet tension, like unseen eyes resting on him.
He looked up.
“Chengyu!”
The man stood there, caught mid-step, clearly trying to sneak up on him. Xiaoshuai laughed, rising immediately to embrace him.
“You’re early today!”
“You guessed right, Shuaishuai,” Chengyu replied warmly, tapping his nose. From his bag, he toom two pastries. “And I didn’t come empty-handed.”Xiaoshuai’s face lit up.
“Oh! And the good news,” Chengyu added, drawing closer, his hands gently cupping Xiaoshuai’s cheeks. “I’ve finished paying for everything. The furniture, the apartment, everything’s ready.”
For a moment, Xiaoshuai couldn’t speak.
Tears welled up instead. Chengyu wiped them away gently, smiling with quiet affection.
They fell easily into conversation after that, as they always did effortless, natural. With Chengyu, Xiaoshuai felt seen, understood. Not judged. Not diminished.They leaned closer.But before their lips could meet—footsteps.
Xiaoshuai froze.
Meng Tao.
“Chengyu…” he began carefully, but Chengyu’s gaze had already hardened.
“What is he doing here?”
“He’s here to talk,” Xiaoshuai replied quietly. “It won’t take long. You can—”
“I’m staying.”
There was no anger in Chengyu’s voice. Only resolve.
Xiaoshuai stepped forward.“Speak.”
Meng Tao dropped to his knees.
“Xiaoshuai please! Marry me! I’ve changed!I swear it! Six months without drink, without trouble! I would do anything for you. Anything! I’d steal, I’d kill, I’d die if you asked.Just don’t turn me away!”
Xiaoshuai’s expression didn’t soften, didn't change.
“No,” he said calmly. “We are, supposedly, civilized people. So let me answer you as one I will not marry you. I do not want to. And I will not hear another word about it.”
“But—”
“Leave,” Xiaoshuai snapped, his voice sharpening. “Before I give you another reason to remember last week.”
The tension hung thick in the air, amplified by the unseen audience of the neighborhood always watching, always ready to twist any story into gossip. They already whispered enough that Xiaoshuai was nothing more than Chengyu’s kept lover, his mistress. Xiaoshuai ignored it.
He knew the truth. And soon, he would leave this place behind forever.
Meng Tao rose slowly… and left without another word.
Chengyu stepped forward again, wrapping Xiaoshuai in a protective embrace.
“It’s alright,” Xiaoshuai murmured, leaning into him.“We’re still going to the cinema tonight, right?”
Chengyu smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Of course. My precious bunny.”
For a moment, everything felt right again.
But somewhere in the shadows of the city, Meng Tao was already beginning to plan.
*
It happened too fast. One evening, Xiaoshuai and Chengyu returned from the cinema, their laughter still lingering in the night air. By morning, Chengyu was gone.Dead.They found him at the edge of the street, his body collapsed into itself, surrounded by a pool of blood.
The news spread quickly, as it always did in that part of the city.Xiaoshuai was among the first to arrive. He pushed through the crowd without hearing their voices, without seeing their faces. The world had already begun to blur into something distant and unreal.Then he saw him, still and unmoving. Xiaoshuai dropped to his knees beside him, his trembling hands rising to cup his face.
“Chengyu…”
The name barely escaped his lips, fragile and broken, swallowed by the murmur of the crowd.His vision swam, his head pounded and then something caught his eye. A knife. Still lodged near the wound, unmistakable, Meng Tao’s knife.
Xiaoshuai’s expression did not change.
Slowly, carefully, he reached for it, pulling it free and slipping it beneath his shirt, hidden from the eyes of others from the authorities, from the ever-watchful neighbors.
In that moment, something shifted.
The cold, biting morning air softened around him, brushing against his skin like a quiet reassurance. Not warmth but something gentler. Something final. Xiaoshuai rose to his feet and without another word, he walked away.
Everything that followed dissolved into fragments.The burial came and went like a storm, suffocating, unreal. Xiaoshuai endured it without truly feeling it, as if his body had learned to move without him.
The days became empty.He stayed inside, staring into nothing, a hollow stillness settling deep within him but the nights belonged to Chengyu.Every evening, Xiaoshuai returned to the grave with flowers in hand. He would kneel there for hours, speaking in whispers, his tears soaking into the earth. Sometimes, exhaustion would claim him, and he would fall asleep beside the grave, curled against the cold soil.
“It’s alright,” he would murmur. “We’ll meet soon… I promise.”
One week later, Xiaoshuai sent word to Meng Tao to meet but he refused. Fear had finally found him. Xiaoshuai didn’t insist.
Instead, he sent another message:
In two weeks, there would be a wedding.
His wedding. Three days later, Meng Tao came and agreed.
The rumors returned, sharper than before, calling him a liar, a slut, a lunatic for remarrying so soon.
The words spread like rot through the neighborhood. This time, Xiaoshuai did not ignore them.He couldn’t. The silence in his own mind had grown too loud, filled with echoes of Chengyu’s voice, with memories that refused to fade.
So he did something he had never done before.He drank. Day after day, glass after glass, until the edges of reality dulled and the noise quieted. Until the pain softened into something distant, something manageable but never gone.
Two weeks passed, each day heavier than the last. Xiaoshuai even went to the authorities, quietly, deliberately, ensuring that no suspicion would fall upon Meng Tao. No punishment, not from them.Xiaoshuai had something else in mind. Something far more final.
The day arrived.Xiaoshuai dressed in white.
The suit was immaculate, almost radiant against his pale skin. Flowers adorned his head delicate, almost bridal, mirroring those pinned to Meng Tao’s chest.A mockery of purity.
Words spoken, vows exchanged, witnessed by people who whispered even as they watched.
Afterward, as tradition demanded, the celebration moved back to the house.Life continuing, indifferent.
Xiaoshuai guided Meng Tao toward the garden.
“Go,” he said softly. “Enjoy yourself. The guests are waiting.”
Meng Tao obeyed, eager, unsuspecting.
Alone at last, Xiaoshuai stepped into the bedroom. The world grew quiet and he climbed onto the bed slowly, deliberately.
From within his clothes, he drew the knife.
The same knife keept hidden, safe.
He turned toward the window and there he was.Chengyu. Not as he had been found—but as he had always been, whole and gentle, still patiently waiting.
“Chengyu…”Xiaoshuai’s voice trembled, but his lips curved into a soft, relieved smile.
“I’m coming.”No hesitation, no fear. The blade struck true, piercing straight into his heart.His body stilled.
And for the first time since that morning
Xiaoshuai felt at peace.