The room was gilded in gold.
Silken drapes curled in the breeze. The scent of jasmine hung in the air like an old song. And Bai Qi—dressed in a crisp white shirt with pearl buttons—lay across a velvet mattress in a room too perfect to feel real.
He smiled lazily, the soft weight of a dream draped over him.
"Qing Yue," he murmured, reaching out. "You're late."
Someone stood in the distance, near the tall mirror of the arched window.
The figure didn't move.
Sunlight kissed their silhouette, painting it in gentle light—but something felt… off.
Their hair wasn't long enough. Their waist not the same. There was no familiar bracelet on the wrist, no gentle hum of her voice.
Bai Qi sat up slowly.
"Qing Yue?" he asked again.
The figure turned.
And his breath caught.
Not her.
Not even close.
It was Shu Yao.
Hair tousled, eyes hollow, expression cracked like porcelain left in the rain.
Standing in silence.
In shame.
In pain.
Bai Qi rose from the bed, heart thudding too loudly for a dream. "Shu Yao…? What are you doing here?"
But Shu Yao didn't answer.
His lips trembled. And then—
he cried.
Silent tears slid down his pale cheeks, catching the dreamlight like falling stars.
He turned his face away. As if ashamed.
As if his presence itself was the error.
"I didn't mean to… I didn't want to ruin anything," Shu Yao whispered, barely audible. "I'm sorry I keep showing up."
Before Bai Qi could step closer, the room vanished.
---
A new scene blinked into place.
Soft sunlight. A quiet garden.
Bai Qi now stood under a cherry blossom tree. Its petals rained like confessions.
In his arms, Qing Yue.
She laughed, pressing her cheek to his chest like she belonged there. He held her gently, protectively.
But his eyes strayed—
To a nearby bench.
Where Shu Yao sat alone.
Hands folded.
A soft smile on his lips—too soft, like a person rehearsing how to disappear.
"From now on," Shu Yao told Qing Yue without looking up, "you won't need your gege anymore. You'll be beside your husband someday. You'll be loved."
Bai Qi's chest tensed. "Wait. Shu Yao—what are you talking about?"
But the garden, too, began to fade.
The petals dissolved mid-air.
And the air grew heavier.
---
Now—darkness.
Walls dripping with something thick.
The floor, slick beneath Bai Qi's shoes.
Red.
Everywhere.
Not paint.
Blood.
The smell was sharp, metallic, undeniable.
And in the center of it—
Shu Yao, again.
Sitting on his knees.
His back to Bai Qi.
His shirt soaked scarlet, the color blooming across it like ink in water.
Bai Qi stepped forward, heart lurching.
"Shu Yao!"
No answer.
Closer, now.
Until Shu Yao turned—
And there, in his trembling hands—
His own heart.
Still beating.
Still bleeding.
Held out like a gift Bai Qi never asked for.
"Take it," Shu Yao said softly, as blood spilled from the corners of his eyes like he had been crying red.
But his expression—
He was smiling.
Smiling like none of this hurt.
Like offering his heart had always been inevitable.
Bai Qi took a step back, horror etched across his face. "No… no, this isn't—this isn't right."
Shu Yao looked at him, wounded—but not by the blood.
By the distance.
"I'm sorry…" Shu Yao whispered one last time. "For scaring you. It's my fault. I stayed too long in your dream."
And then—
his body fell.
Slowly, gracefully.
His head hit the floor with a dull sound.
Eyes closed.
Still smiling.
That same delicate smile, even as the blood beneath him spread like a final truth.
---
"Shu Yao!!"
Bai Qi bolted upright.
Panting.
Soaked in sweat.
His room was dark. Real. Cold.
His breath fogged the air. His hands trembled where they gripped the sheets.
The dream clung to him like wet fabric.
His mind couldn't shake the sight of those crimson tears. That soft, broken voice.
The image of Shu Yao handing him a heart he never knew was his to begin with.
He reached for his chest, half-expecting blood.
There was none.
Only silence.
And the strange, bitter ache of realizing…
He had kissed the wrong person.
But maybe—
he had dreamed of the right one.
Bai Qi groaned as he sat upright in his bed, one hand gripping the edge of his skull as if he could press the ache back into place.
His head throbbed.
Dull. Pulsing. Heavy.
Too much alcohol.
Too many lies told in laughter.
And that damned dream—its images still clinging to the back of his eyelids like ash that refused to blow away.
Shu Yao… his heart… that smile… that blood—
"No," Bai Qi whispered to himself, shaking his head hard. "It was just a dream."
But dreams don't hurt like that unless something real is buried inside them.
He stood abruptly.
Each step across the room was faster than the last—feet slapping against the wooden floor as he made his way up the hall.
And then, before he even knew it—
He was standing outside Shu Yao's door.
Fingers curled into a fist.
Ready to knock.
But he didn't.
Something in him trembled. That image of Shu Yao offering his bleeding heart was still fresh, still gleaming behind his eyes. He felt afraid, as if one knock might open a door to more than just a room.
So instead—
He turned the knob.
Quietly. Slowly. Like cracking open the lid of a forgotten music box.
The door creaked.
Bai Qi slipped in.
---
The room was still.
Soft sunlight poured in through the curtains, casting pale streaks across the floorboards.
And there—on the bed, half-curled like something fragile left in a storm—lay Shu Yao.
His face was turned away, his lashes damp, clinging together like threads.
He looked peaceful, but not at peace.
The kind of sleep that came after too much crying.
Too much trying to pretend you're okay.
Bai Qi stepped closer. He could see the rise and fall of Shu Yao's chest, each breath trembling like a bird's wing.
Bai Qi let out a long breath.
He hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding it.
But as he turned to go—
Shu Yao stirred.
Not awake—no, this was something else.
His head twitched. His brows furrowed.
And then—
A whisper.
"Don't… I didn't… I'm sorry…"
The words cracked in the air, soft and jagged, like glass underfoot.
Bai Qi turned back immediately, stepping to the edge of the bed.
"Shu Yao?"
He leaned down, fingers brushing his shoulder.
"Hey. Wake up."
But Shu Yao's breaths grew uneven.
More strained. More shallow.
Like he was drowning on dry land.
---
Inside the dream, Shu Yao was running.
The sky was dark, storm churning in black clouds above.
The gang had come.
Tall shadows with cold eyes and cruel hands. And they were reaching—reaching for Qing Yue.
"Run!" Shu Yao shouted. "Don't stop!"
She disappeared behind him, but the monsters did not.
They grabbed him.
Dragged him by the collar.
Lifted him off the ground like a rag doll—his feet swinging uselessly beneath him.
Still—he fought.
Still—he kicked one in the gut, sending him sprawling.
Still—he roared with everything in him, even as another came from behind—
CRACK.
The bat hit the back of his head.
The world reeled.
Blood and darkness.
But even on his knees, he whispered, "You won't take her."
Even as his body swayed, he refused to fall.
Then—
A voice.
Soft. Real.
Calling him back.
"Shu Yao…"
Bai Qi's voice.
Like a candle in a cave.
Shu Yao's eyes shot open.
---
He gasped.
Breath rushed into his lungs too fast.
His whole body jolted like he'd just been yanked out of water.
Eyes wide. Pupils trembling. Sweat beading at his hairline.
And above him—
Bai Qi.
Kneeling at his bedside, eyes filled with something Shu Yao hadn't seen in months.
Worry.
Genuine, breathless worry.
"Shu Yao…" Bai Qi's voice cracked slightly. "You were dreaming. You were—saying sorry. What… what happened?"
Shu Yao didn't answer.
Couldn't.
His chest was still heaving.
Tears still clung to the corners of his eyes like forgotten rain.
He couldn't speak—not because the words weren't there—but because they were too many, and they hurt too much to choose just one.
And so, like always—
He just looked away.
But not before Bai Qi saw the tears.
Not before he saw the ache written across Shu Yao's expression like a poem too painful to finish.
And in that quiet—
Bai Qi whispered, more to himself than anyone else:
"How long have you been bleeding where no one could see…?"
Shu Yao didn't answer.
But his silence said everything.
And it hurt more than any scream ever could.
The quiet between them was loud.
Too loud.
Shu Yao's chest still rose and fell in uneven rhythm, his sweat-damp hair clinging to his temple, brown strands curling against the sharp line of his jaw. He turned slowly, forcing his breath to steady—but his heart beat like thunder trapped inside a violin.
His voice was quiet. Thin.
"What are you doing here?"
Bai Qi, still kneeling beside the bed, looked stunned for a second. Not by the question—but by how much it hurt to hear.
He straightened up slowly, eyes narrowing as if squinting through a fog he didn't understand.
And then, with a breath that tasted of frustration—
"I could ask you the same damn thing," he said. "What happened to you, Shu Yao?"
His voice wasn't raised. Not yet.
But it was gathering storm.
"You've been avoiding me for half a year. You act like I'm poison. Was it… was it because I tried to help you? Because I—what, set you up with a girl you didn't like?"
Shu Yao's lips parted. But the words never came.
Just a flicker of something in his eyes—pain, shame, guilt.
It was enough.
Bai Qi stood now, jaw clenched. His hands fisted at his sides, nails digging into palms like he was holding back a flood with nothing but skin and anger.
His voice cracked as it rose, sharp like broken glass beneath bare feet.
"Enough."
Shu Yao flinched—but not from fear. From the weight of everything he couldn't say.
"I've had it," Bai Qi said, loud but not cruel—just raw. "Every time I try to talk to you—every time I try to help—you shut me out like I'm the one who hurt you."
His breath trembled.
"I tried, Shu Yao. God, I tried to be there for you. Not because I had to. But because I wanted to. Because you mattered."
Still nothing from Shu Yao.
Only silence.
Only those brown eyes—too glassy, too tired.
And that only made Bai Qi's voice louder, angrier, not at Shu Yao—but at the distance between them.
"I asked what's wrong. Again and again. I wanted to understand. But you—you just looked away. Like I was nothing. Like my care bothered you."
He stepped closer, voice cracking.
"What do you want from me, Shu Yao? What the hell is your problem?"
Each word landed like a blow.
Not to the body.
To the soul.
And still Shu Yao didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because the truth… was too ugly to offer someone you loved.
That you were in love with them—
And they weren't supposed to know.
That they kissed you thinking you were someone else—
And you let them.
That your silence wasn't hate—
But love rotting in the dark.
So he said nothing.
Because to say anything would be to ruin everything.
And Bai Qi…
…Bai Qi looked at him like he'd just watched something beautiful shatter in slow motion.
"Fine," Bai Qi whispered bitterly. "Suit yourself."
The words stabbed deeper than anything he'd yelled.
And then—
Thud.
The door slammed shut behind him like the final note of a requiem.
---
Shu Yao sat motionless on his bed.
His room felt colder now, as if Bai Qi had taken all the warmth with him.
And when the silence settled again—
It was too heavy to carry.
His beautiful brown hair—now longer, brushing his collarbones like gentle shadows—clung to his damp skin.
His eyes, the color of earth after rain, brimmed quietly. Shaking. Shimmering.
Until the first tear fell.
And then another.
And another.
He buried his face in his hands, small shoulders trembling.
He cried.
For all the words he never said.
For the kiss he never should've stolen.
For the love he couldn't afford to confess.
He sobbed until his breath broke.
Until his chest ached.
Until it felt like he'd carved out his heart and buried it beneath his own silence.
He cried—
Until no more tears would come.
And even then…
he still wasn't empty.
He was just—
Alone.