Gao Shi woke with a start from the dream.
His mind still echoed with Ying Bujie’s call, that “wait for me” seeming to traverse layers of years and cross vast time and space to finally reach his ears, making him momentarily unable to distinguish between now and then.
However, he soon noticed something wrong—there were clearly rustling sounds by the bedside. Gao Shi sat up abruptly, only to see Ying Bujie, who had been lying by the bed, slowly open his eyes.
Every time he had dreams, Ying Bujie would come into the dream to help him.
But before Gao Shi could breathe a sigh of relief, Ying Bujie suddenly turned over and rose up. His movements were swift, like a beast that had spotted prey, completely different from usual, causing Gao Shi to lose focus momentarily, feeling dizzy.
Moonlight passed through thin window gauze, gently draping over Ying Bujie, sliding down his long hair and kissing Gao Shi’s shoulder.
Ying Bujie supported himself above Gao Shi, his gaze containing thousands of words, as if that look had broken through dreams to meet him in reality.
Ying Bujie leaned down, their breaths intertwining. Gao Shi’s whole body tensed, his gaze wary, yet his heart was clearly beating wildly, making him nearly suffocate. Reality and dreams overlapped—he felt something was missing from Ying Bujie’s chest that he should grab hold of, then kiss fiercely.
But Ying Bujie seemed to see his wariness and stopped his movement. All the countless emotions in Ying Bujie’s gaze were completely restrained, the previous aggressiveness seemingly an illusion. Ying Bujie’s long eyelashes moved slightly, and Gao Shi felt his cheek grow cool as he saw Ying Bujie’s eyes redden and tears fall.
Crying… crying?
The strangeness in Gao Shi’s heart was completely dispelled. He quickly pulled up, and Ying Bujie’s strength was nothing like his previous forcefulness—he was easily pulled along.
Gao Shi’s mind was in chaos. He instinctively embraced Ying Bujie, comforting him like he would Lele, patting his head and rubbing his back, “Don’t cry.”
Wetness spread across his shoulder, and Gao Shi felt his heart ache indescribably, his eyes also growing moist.
Reason and emotion seemed to be split into two parts. Reason was analyzing, judging from Daoist Ying’s reaction that he might have also had the same dream as himself, that perhaps they truly had a connection from past lives. But emotion was shouting, celebrating, crying—he didn’t know what for.
Perhaps the dream had exhausted too much energy. Gao Shi closed his eyes and fell into deep sleep. Ying Bujie emerged from his embrace, his eyes slightly red.
He reached out, gently wiping away a tear from the corner of Gao Shi’s eye, then held him in his arms.
He called Gao Shi’s name softly, as if so overjoyed he didn’t know what to do. Instead, he dared not move, afraid of startling the butterfly on his fingertips. In the end, he only left a gentle kiss on his hair.
…
As finals approached, Gao Gusheng began shuttling between the study room and dormitory.
Since Wen Liang went in, the student council president position became vacant. Yun Zhiyi, the vice president, assumed the presidency with overwhelming support. With many student council duties, Yun Zhiyi was running between two places. Occasionally when she couldn’t watch over Gao Gusheng, the area around him would be packed with people.
Gao Gusheng felt that, whether it was his imagination or not, his attractiveness seemed to be growing stronger.
Actually, Gao Gusheng was somewhat worried about his situation. Even though Daoist Ying said there was no serious problem, he was still concerned—not about being so handsome as to be unforgivable or causing traffic jams, but mainly afraid of another near-loss-of-control situation like last time.
Inexplicably, he felt that if he truly lost control, the consequences would be terrifying.
Damn, could I have a second personality?
Gao Gusheng scratched his head in distress.
But he remembered the events clearly. He vaguely knew that when confronting Wen Yan, rather than losing control, it was more like survival instincts being triggered under crisis—instincts for self-preservation or hunting.
After realizing this thought, Gao Gusheng climbed online overnight to search “what species treats others like dogs.” He got a series of random keywords like “queen,” “capitalist,” “streetlamp,” and even mistakenly entered strange websites, coming out with a flushed face, almost opening the door to a new world.
Could I be a fox spirit that absorbs human essence?
Then what’s my dad? An old fox spirit?
Ew—that sounds like cursing.
Gao Gusheng sighed internally and habitually sat down at the edge of the first row. Rich experience told him sitting in the back increased the probability of being victimized.
He opened his textbook. Having grown accustomed to gazes from all directions, he quickly became absorbed in reading.
Gao Gusheng: In this cold world, only textbooks can bring me warmth.
Not until the bell rang did Gao Gusheng look up. He stretched his waist, skillfully declined several classmates’ attempts at conversation, and quickly walked out of the classroom.
However, at this moment, the bodyguard following him appeared and whispered in his ear, “Young master, someone has been watching you—not a school student.”
Gao Gusheng took the camera. The photo was exceptionally clear, as if taken directly in someone’s face. Taking the camera, Gao Gusheng didn’t know whether to praise the bodyguards’ improving candid photography skills or congratulate his dad on taking another step toward his tech empire dream.
The person in the camera wore a mask and knit hat, only exposing a pair of eyes, sitting in the classroom’s back row.
Indeed suspicious—why wear a hat in a classroom?
Gao Gusheng found it strange and directly sent the photo to his dad. Gao Shi looked down—Whoa! An acquaintance.
Wasn’t this Gui Yan?
Wasn’t he hot and heavy with Bai Mingyue? How did he get here?
Gao Shi frowned and turned to Ran Qiu, calling out, “Qiuzi, the traffic accident-related cases causing casualties from half a year ago that I asked you to find—have you organized them?”
Ran Qiu made an OK gesture, “Done, boss! There are over three hundred cases meeting the criteria, all here.”
“Thanks for your hard work.”
Gao Shi bent down to browse the documents.
“Hehe, what hard work? Boss cares about me—go easy during the rehabilitation training in a few days, okay?”
Ran Qiu looked at Gao Shi like a pitiful puppy. His cast would be removed in a few days. Though he kept shouting about training hard to wash away shame, thinking about the captain personally training him made his legs tremble.
Gao Shi smiled ambiguously, “Don’t worry. To thank you for helping me organize documents, I’ll train you well to help you wash away your shame.”
Mission to pursue and capture a seductive ghost: five deployments, five returns, one injury.
Injury cause: During pursuit, left foot tripped right foot, causing leg fracture from falling on flat ground.
Ran Qiu was this unlucky fellow who tripped his left foot with his right.
Seeing the captain’s sinister smile, Ran Qiu quickly changed the subject, “Captain, what do you need these documents for?”
Gao Shi looked at the screen, his gaze shifting slightly, “Perhaps to pursue and arrest certain lawless criminals.”
The cursor stopped.
—Found it.
***
Gui Yan suddenly sat up from bed, breathing heavily as he looked around at the familiar room.
The bed beside him was cool—only traces of his solitary life.
Supporting his forehead with one hand while slowly calming his breathing, he quickly opened his phone files.
After entering multiple passwords, it finally opened.
Gallery.
There were hundreds of photos here, all of Gao Gusheng.
Like a person who had trekked long through the desert finally encountering an oasis, his fingers trembled slightly as he continuously scrolled through photo after photo until finally calming down.
“Gao Gusheng…”
The dream scene surfaced again—the stunning young man looking at him with complete focus, as if he were his salvation.
No, he was his salvation.
It was he who had picked up Gao Gusheng from that rainy night, he who had healed Gao Gusheng’s voice from hoarseness back to its original clarity, and he who had recited French love poems word by word, giving him a dream filled with lily fragrance on an afternoon windowsill.
But reason pulled him back to reality.
His A Yue was a stray puppy curled up in the rainy night with no one to claim him, an unappreciated piece of jade, a beloved pet who would submit to all his demands, a believer who loved him wholeheartedly and would only tearfully defend himself even after having his kidney harvested and eyes taken.
Before being abandoned, his eyes were full of pleading, like glass beads washed by rain, focusing intently as he begged for his love.
Young Master Gao Gusheng of the Gao family was like the first sip of ice-cold cola, the morning sun that arrogantly stole everyone’s gaze, the sunset clouds that couldn’t be held onto, and the aurora that no one could catch.
Gui Yan was mad, but he had self-awareness.
The gap between the Gao and Gui families was enormous. Even if he pursued seriously, the Gao family might not agree, let alone turn Gao Gusheng into a captive pet in his arms like in the dream.
But he… he should have been his originally…
Gui Yan pressed hard against his violently throbbing temples, suppressing the increasingly severe pain.
Unwillingness and regret rose in his heart, something was clamoring, calling out.
A Yue.
That was the pet name he had given the young man.
It was also the shackle he had placed on that young man.
***
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152