LA ⋆ Chapter 4: Let Me Catch My Breath

The narrow space was particularly quiet. The phone lit up once, but Sheng Yao decided to check it after getting out of the car.

Halfway through the journey, it started to rain. Sheng Yao leaned against the car window. The streetlights on both sides were tall, and within the jellyfish-like orbs of light, raindrops fell like needles, dense and relentless.

They were at the Fifth Ring Road now, and the road was still brightly lit. There was no desolate countryside scenery like he'd imagined.

Well, of course not. How could it be desolate countryside when he still lived in the Sixth Ring.

Sheng Yao suddenly realized that he'd spent four years studying in this city and three years working here, yet he was almost completely ignorant of what its surface looked like. All the scenes he could recall were nothing more than the crowded heads in the subway, the morning and evening rush hours at the Liuliang office building, and that expressionless face diagonally across from his work desk.

Thinking of this, Sheng Yao glanced at the person beside him. The owner of that expressionless face was currently resting with his eyes closed.

"Screech—" "Bang!"

The tire scraped against the ground with a sharp, tearing sound.

Just as Sheng Yao's left arm felt enormous pressure, his head also lurched forward, slamming heavily against the back of the front seat. Immediately after, the person beside him also fell toward him. Cheng Ao had been thrown in the opposite direction by the inertia of the sudden braking and sharp turn, jolting awake.

Sheng Yao was pinned between the left car door and Cheng Ao.

It was instinct. He turned around, raised his hand, and braced it against the car window, cushioning Cheng Ao's head as it came toward him.

"I'm so sorry, President Cheng. A cyclist suddenly cut across just now," the driver said, quite shaken, apologizing. "Are you alright?"

Sheng Yao glanced out. It was a wide intersection, and the pedestrian light had only just turned green. He thought that he should develop the habit of wearing a seatbelt even in the back seat.

Cheng Ao was still buried against Sheng Yao's shoulder, his forehead resting in Sheng Yao's palm.

Was he knocked unconscious?

Sheng Yao tried to move his wrist, wanting to use the opportunity to pull his hand out. He felt the warmth of the skin his palm was touching, and his fingers inevitably sank bit by bit into the other man's tousled hair.

"Don't move," Cheng Ao suddenly said.

Sheng Yao's wrist tightened. The hand he'd been trying to withdraw was seized by a larger, more powerful hand and pressed against the glass. The circle where their skin met was scorching.

Cheng Ao turned toward Sheng Yao. As he spoke, warm breath spilled onto Sheng Yao's neck, "Let me catch my breath."

This time there was nothing to blame but the distance itself. It was too close, close enough that Sheng Yao felt this was a distance that belonged entirely to lovers, and even those words sounded like whispered endearments. Cheng Ao's breath was like cotton, filling his neck in soft clusters.

Sheng Yao's entire body went rigid in an instant. He didn't dare move at all.

Suddenly he felt Cheng Ao's other hand press against his waist. His coat wasn't buttoned up, and the large hand, separated only by the thin fabric of his shirt, pressed against his side.

Sheng Yao asked in an almost trembling voice, "President Cheng, maybe we should take a detour to the hospital instead?"

That was quite a collision. Had he gotten the wrong person?

At these words, the person in front of him clearly paused, then slowly pushed himself up and sat back.

"No need."

Sheng Yao let out a breath of relief. Really.

Cheng Ao rubbed his nose bridge and looked out the window.

When they arrived at their destination, the rain had gotten quite heavy.

Sheng Yao got out of the car and walked very quickly. After what sounded like a rushed "Thank you, President Cheng" and "Goodbye, President Cheng," his slender figure immediately rushed into the rain, leaving Cheng Ao in the car holding a black umbrella he'd just pulled out.

Cheng Ao's gaze gradually darkened as he watched the direction Sheng Yao had left.

The man crossed the street, and someone was waiting for him by the roadside. He went under another umbrella.

"President Cheng, can we go now?" This wasn't a place where they could park. The driver, hesitant, couldn't help but voice the question.

"Forget it," Cheng Ao sighed lightly. "Let's go."

"Why did you come down?" Sheng Yao rushed under the umbrella, brushing his slightly damp bangs aside.

Sheng Yi held the umbrella, tilting it toward Sheng Yao, "I sent you a message. Didn't you see it? I've been waiting for you."

"My boss gave me a ride back. It wasn't convenient," Sheng Yao said, finally taking out his phone to look at Sheng Yi's messages.

Sheng Yi frowned, "You're already off work."

"What did you eat tonight? Did you eat enough?" "I…"

The two of them chatted as they walked back to the residential compound.

Sheng Yi was the child born to the mistress who later became the stepmother, or more accurately, not even a stepmother since they never married. As for why she was called a mistress rather than a third party, it was because Sheng Yao's mother and Sheng Yao's father had no affection, while Sheng Yi's mother and Sheng Yao's father had affection.

When he was young, Sheng Yao thought he should hate Sheng Yi, but he never managed to. Later, for a long time, they depended on each other. Sheng Yi had no choice. He was innocent.

Sheng Yuanhang was a very eccentric person.

When the song "Tick Tock Tick Tock" was at its peak, Sheng Yuanhang set off alone with a backpack to wander in Tibet, leaving Sheng Yao's mother to work and care for the child by herself. Sheng Yuanhang loved that place, loved that "feeling." Back then, the love poems of Tsangyang Gyatso were popular: "I do not bow to the Buddha, nor do I bow to you." Then he sold the house and opened an imported food shop in Lhasa.

Fifteen years ago, Lhasa, imported food. Even now, it was hard for Sheng Yao to understand Sheng Yuanhang's logic. He only remembered the life of wandering and renting different places with his mother. A family wandering in different places, all neat and tidy.

Sheng Yuanhang met Sheng Yi's mother in Lhasa, who was said to have fled from an arranged marriage. The two quickly fell in love and had Sheng Yi. Perhaps the plateau environment was simply too harsh for someone who had lived long on the plains. Sheng Yi's mother died in childbirth.

Sometimes Sheng Yao wondered whether life was something you walked out yourself, or something heaven had already written for you. Whether it was his own and his mother's fate, or Sheng Yi's and his mother's fate, it all seemed like a broken play.

Sheng Yuanhang appeared at the family home carrying baby Sheng Yi in his arms, asking Sheng Yao's mother to take him in. He left Sheng Yi behind and ran off to a small temple in the south to become a monk.

Neurotic.

"I heard there's a deer park at Nanhai Zi. Let's go see the deer this weekend," Sheng Yao said, coming out after a shower and rubbing his hair dry. "If you weren't here, I probably would never go."

"No," Sheng Yi said, sitting cross-legged in the living room with a laptop on the coffee table in front of him. "I've taken on a few students. I'm tutoring them on weekends."

Sheng Yao's movements slowed, "You actually don't need to. I can support you through university."

Sheng Yi stopped typing and looked directly at Sheng Yao, "I can finish university on my own, just like you can."

"Sheng Yi," Sheng Yao said softly, "I hope you can enjoy your university life. You don't have to work so hard."

"It's not hard," Sheng Yi said, looking away again. "Tutoring the kids of the wealthy pays well and requires little work."

Sheng Yao walked behind Sheng Yi and sat on the sofa, saying nothing more.