Chapter 76

Chapter 76

The puzzle room was empty.

Before he was given permission to go downstairs, Ning Qiuyan had planned to read in the puzzle room.

He remembered it had always been bright in there. Back then, Guan Heng must have specifically had the lighting renovated so he could see the patterns on the puzzle pieces clearly.

Before going in, Ning Qiuyan had imagined what it might look like inside. But when he truly pushed the door open and saw the empty carpet, he still stood frozen at the doorway for a long time before he dared step inside.

The gray puzzle mat that could hold more than thirty thousand pieces, the little paper boxes sorted by color, and the puzzle with only a small portion left unfinished – all of it was gone.

There was no trace left in the room that he had ever existed here.

Ning Qiuyan did not think Guan Heng should have kept that puzzle forever.

After all, neither of them had thought they would ever meet again.

Saying goodbye, ending a relationship that had no reason to continue, organizing and clearing things away – those were what one was supposed to do.

He had never been meant to appear in Guan Heng’s life again.

Gathering his robe around himself, Ning Qiuyan knelt on the empty carpet and touched the place where the puzzle used to be. He could not help wondering what Guan Heng had been feeling at the time.

Had he thought that even if they never saw each other again, it would not matter?

Ning Qiuyan realized he could accept it, and he could understand Guan Heng’s thoughts.

To an endless life, there were countless meetings like this. No one could hold on to every single one.

The Ning Qiuyan who had appeared here had only happened to stay again.

“I had people put it away.”

Guan Heng appeared in the doorway, a garment draped loosely over him, his chest, waist, and abdomen bare.

His voice still carried that cool texture, and even when he spoke, his tone was faint. His expression was lazy, making him seem extremely distant and yet extremely relaxed. Only someone very close to him could see this captivating side of him.

“Put it away?” Ning Qiuyan moved his gaze away from him and asked, “Then… was it all taken apart?”

A puzzle that large could not be stored without taking it apart.

“Mm,” Guan Heng replied.

“…” Ning Qiuyan opened his mouth, unsure how to react for a moment.

After spending so long on it, of course he felt it was a terrible, terrible shame. But taking it apart and putting it away did seem like the proper way to store it.

Guan Heng came to his side and sat down casually, touching his face with one hand. “You think it’s a pity?”

Ning Qiuyan looked at Guan Heng with his clear black-and-white eyes and nodded.

Guan Heng’s hand slid over his cheek to the space behind his soft earlobe. His five fingers spread, cupping the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to pity.”

Ning Qiuyan put down his book and took the initiative to wrap his arms around Guan Heng’s neck, sitting face-to-face on his lap and resting his head on Guan Heng’s shoulder without saying a word.

As they grew closer by the day, they had developed a few silent understandings.

Guan Heng liked holding him like this very much.

Ning Qiuyan liked it very much too.

A few hours earlier, they had sat on the bed in this same position, and Ning Qiuyan had personally put the bite restraint on Guan Heng.

“You do it,” Guan Heng had said, handing it to him.

The room had been very dark then, and Ning Qiuyan had been trembling badly.

His fingers touched Guan Heng’s slightly cool cheek, his long lashes, then moved past his ears to fasten that black, deeply suggestive mask behind Guan Heng’s head. It covered Guan Heng’s beautiful lips and restrained his bloodthirsty desire, making Ning Qiuyan instinctively reach up with both hands to caress it, wanting to cradle the half of Guan Heng’s face that had been covered.

The next instant, his hands were pinned.

………… (omitted)

The morning light seeped through the gaps in the curtains, casting extremely thin, hazy streaks of light and shadow across the room.

In the dimness, however, the piece had yet to reach its ending.

Guan Heng’s long hair, damp with sweat, brushed across Ning Qiuyan’s chest. Ning Qiuyan tried to catch a strand and wind it around his finger.

The hair was very cool.

In the rise and fall of motion, he loosened his grip without meaning to. Instinctively, he clutched Guan Heng’s arm, then gradually moved upward until his ten fingers gripped Guan Heng’s shoulders. After that, he no longer dared cross the line.

Sweat had soaked his lashes as well, mingling with tears.

Their lips were so close.

If there had been nothing between them, they could have kissed while they continued.

But that was forbidden.

An embrace was already the limit.

The mask covered half of Guan Heng’s face, yet the brows and eyes left exposed were still handsome beyond description.

The terrifying blood-red hue in his phoenix eyes made this slow contest feel full of danger.

At night, they had listened to the first movement of Moonlight Sonata.

They had held each other from behind.

Their damp skin pressed together. As long as Ning Qiuyan moved even slightly, he could not help closing his eyes, the flush spreading from the shell of his ear all the way down to his collarbones.

It was too much.

He decided to take back his guess that Vampires did not have that kind of thing. In its place came an entirely new understanding.

So they did have it, but it was very faint, and there was a great deal of it.

Nor was it that they never had that kind of moment. It was just that it required longer, rougher, more…

Ning Qiuyan could not think about it in too much detail. A person would catch fire.

Everything afterward became too fast, too heavy, until his entire body seemed to fall apart as he hung there, forced to endure the storm.

And Guan Heng had already given him enough time to adjust.

It was an almost suffocating, deathlike conquest.

The room was in such a mess it could not be looked at. In the end, they could only lie on the floor.

Ning Qiuyan could not even lift his eyelids, and he did not know what happened at the very end. When he regained consciousness, he was leaning against the warmth of the hearth.
He reached out to touch it, curious as to why it could burn on the floor.

Behind him, Guan Heng drew his hand back. Resting his chin on the top of Ning Qiuyan’s head, he said quietly, “It’s fake.”

His fingers brushed intimately over the pale inner side of Ning Qiuyan’s arm, over the line of dark blue Latin letters.

They meant “moonlight on the mountain peak”-a tattoo in memory of his late mother.

Ning Qiuyan seemed to be used to remembering the things in life he wanted to hold on to this way: with his own body, his own skin. The little heart behind his ear was one. The Latin on the inside of his arm was another. The piercing Guan Heng had given him in his earlobe was, too. It was hard to say whether there would be more in the future.

He was clearly so fragile, yet he had this strange urge to damage himself.

Like most boys his age, Ning Qiuyan was a contradictory creature in the throes of rebellion.

And yet he was far too obedient.

No matter how much he bared his teeth and claws outside, no matter how much he insisted on being different, the moment he was in front of Guan Heng, he would smooth down all his bristling fur and comply with anything asked of him.

If Guan Heng were to keep him on Du Island forever, imprison him on this third floor, imprison him on the big bed in this room, Ning Qiuyan would only look up with those damp, innocent puppy-like eyes. As long as Guan Heng opened his mouth, he would agree unconditionally.

Because he belonged to Guan Heng.

“Raise your hand,” Guan Heng said.

Ning Qiuyan felt as if he were about to fall apart, but he still turned over and obediently lifted his hand.

Firelight danced across his lashes. Guan Heng’s long hair fell loose around him as he lowered his head and kissed Ning Qiuyan on the lips. As if rewarding him, he murmured, “Good boy,” so softly it was like a distant whisper.

The thin chains rang out, and his hands were fastened together once more.

Guan Heng parted him with meticulous care.

The tenderness continued.

But he was no longer allowed to touch as he pleased.
Ning Qiuyan slept for a full day and night, sinking into a sleep so deep he lost all sense of time.

Perhaps because he had been utterly exhausted, he barely dreamed. When he woke, he discovered he was back in his own bedroom. He was lying under the covers, wearing his own clothes. The little yellow flower by the bed had been replaced with a white freesia; he had no idea how anyone had managed to pick one in this weather.

All those rings had been placed on the tabletop, and the ruby stud was there as well.

He guessed Guan Heng had carried him downstairs.

When he got out of bed, his body was terribly sore and limp. Ning Qiuyan’s limbs trembled, not from hunger, but for reasons too embarrassing to say aloud.

Fortunately, aside from the dense scatter of marks all over his body, he wasn’t hurt at all. So after blushing furiously and taking a while to recover, he still got properly dressed and went to wash up.

Ning Qiuyan went to the kitchen first. Granny Bai wasn’t there. An auntie told him Granny Bai had gone to the farm. With only a few days left before the Spring Festival, they needed to collect the ingredients prepared there and bring them back.

The island had not only a farm, but also a greenhouse farm. Ning Qiuyan had heard about it before, but it was rather far away, and he had never gone there even once.

There was always food in the kitchen, though.

Ning Qiuyan made himself something simple to eat and barely managed to recover a bit of strength.

Uncle Kang was not in the mansion either. A servant said, “He went out with Sir. They’ll be back later.”

It was still daytime outside. Guan Heng usually would not go out at this hour.

Besides, Guan Heng had not drunk his blood.

Ning Qiuyan guessed something urgent must have happened.

Through his haze, he remembered that Guan Heng had taken a call earlier. It seemed something had happened, and Guan Heng had needed to go out.

But at the time, Guan Heng had just carried him off for a bath. The moment Ning Qiuyan’s head touched the pillow, he had lost consciousness.

The third floor was open to Ning Qiuyan. Even when Guan Heng was not there, Ning Qiuyan could go upstairs at any time.

There was no cell signal downstairs. Ning Qiuyan had been on Du Island for several days and had been out of contact for just as long, as good as vanished from the face of the earth. He needed to reconnect his phone and see if he had missed any messages from work or school.

This was Ning Qiuyan’s first time entering Guan Heng’s territory when Guan Heng was not there.

Everything on the third floor was the same as before. That earlier scene, the one too unbearable to look at, had already been tidied away. It was clean, dim, and orderly.

As he stepped inside, every scene from the past few days began replaying before Ning Qiuyan’s eyes like a film, projected into every corner. The robe he had worn hung on the sofa. The books he had read were neatly arranged. Even the cup he had drunk water from had been placed in a tall cabinet off to the side.

He sat down on the black velvet sofa and drew up his legs with practiced ease, as if he were still squeezed here together with Guan Heng.

Most of the messages on his phone were classmates discussing assignments. There were also private messages from social media, and a few from Su Jianzhou asking how he was doing.

Ning Qiuyan replied to them one by one.

After thinking for a moment, he sent Guan Heng a message as well.

[When will you be back?]

But a message notification sounded in the room.

Following the sound, Ning Qiuyan found Guan Heng’s phone tossed on the bed. Its screen lit up briefly, displaying a notification: “You have a new message.”

Ning Qiuyan’s heart stirred slightly.

Guan Heng’s phone wallpaper was a familiar landscape photo. It had been taken from indoors: Sujing Tower in the daytime.

He picked up his own phone and looked at the nightscape wallpaper he had set. His heartbeat quickened.

So it turned out that he and Guan Heng had, without planning it, both chosen a photo taken by the other as their home screen wallpaper.

One was night. One was day.

He sent Guan Heng another message: [The snow has stopped. I want to go outside and take a look.]