SA | Chapter 22

Instinctive Closeness

Every spring from April to June, the ice-covered surface of the Arctic Ocean begins to thaw, creating cracks.

The bowhead whales living in this area migrate along these cracks to find food and oxygen.

The Inuit people set up points along these cracks to catch whales.

However, in recent years, the Inuit lifestyle has gradually modernized, and the number of whales has decreased.

The Whale Protection Association has stipulated that the Inuit can only hunt a limited number of whales each year to satisfy traditional and survival needs.

Compared to survival, whaling is more of a continuation of an ancient custom.

Zhang Li came here for the first time to film the local whaling activities.

Whaling is such a rare event that even Gu Deng couldn’t help but feel curious. But whenever he thought of the tragic state of the whales, he couldn’t bear to ask for more details.

The next morning, Gu Deng was taking a walk alone in the village when he happened to meet Ali by the sea. In the vast white snow, Ali was sitting on a small red plastic stool, carving a piece of wood with a knife.

“What are you doing?” Gu Deng asked.

“I’m carving myself to give to my grandma,” Ali replied without looking up, holding the carving knife with her small chubby hands. As she worked, wood shavings fell onto the snow.

“Can I take a look?” Gu Deng asked again.

Ali finally looked up at him, sniffed, and said, “Suit yourself.”

Gu Deng unfolded his folding stool and sat down. It was a chair he carried while hiking, light and small enough to fit in his pocket. There wasn’t much to do in the village, so Gu Deng would carry the chair around, sitting wherever he liked, like a retired old man.

Ali continued carving, and no matter how much Gu Deng looked, he couldn’t see how that piece of wood would turn into Ali. After watching for a while, he looked away, just sitting quietly like Ali had done for him when they first met.

Spring had arrived in the Arctic, but the wind was still cold. Gu Deng put his hands in his pockets and looked down at Ali’s red fingers.

He took out a thermos and poured some hot water into the lid. “Take a break?”

Mist filled Ali’s eyes, giving the impression she was about to cry. But she just said no and continued poking at the wood.

Ali’s movements became faster, but no matter how hard she tried, the carving wouldn’t take shape. The knife slipped and cut her finger, and blood fell onto the snow like red plum blossoms.

Gu Deng quickly took out a tissue to stop the bleeding and comforted Ali, “Don’t be afraid, it’s just a small cut. We’ll press on the wound and get a band-aid once it stops bleeding.”

Ali seemed oblivious to the pain, staring blankly at him.

“Ali?” Gu Deng called.

Ali’s expression turned aggrieved, and after a few seconds of eye contact with Gu Deng, she suddenly burst into tears.

Gu Deng was at a loss. Ever since he got sick, he hadn’t been good at sensing other people’s emotions. He worried about misunderstanding or reacting inappropriately.

Previously, when Ali cried, Judy and Zhang Li would comfort her. But now it was just the two of them, and he couldn’t just leave Ali to call for help, could he?

Taking a deep breath, Gu Deng pressed on Ali’s wound with his right hand and awkwardly extended his left arm to hug her. Ali immediately grabbed his clothes and cried even harder. It was unclear if it was because of the pain or something else.

After about ten minutes, Ali finally calmed down, sniffing and looking at her cut finger. The bleeding had stopped, leaving a not-too-long red mark under her left index finger’s nail.

Gu Deng wiped her nose with a tissue, picked up the fallen wood and carving knife, wrapped them in paper, and handed them back to her.

Ali clutched the wood, her voice filled with disappointment, “Yesterday, the Sharman came to treat grandma, but she still couldn’t recognize me.”

Gu Deng knew about this. Last night, a Sharman came to Carly’s room, wearing a mask, burning herbs, beating a hand drum, and singing various obscure songs, trying to retrieve the lost soul of the elder. Unfortunately, they all knew the outcome. The so-called ritual was just a psychological comfort.

“I miss grandma. When will she wake up and talk to me?” Ali wiped away her tears and continued, “It’s all my fault. I always dream of her but never came over. I should have come sooner.”

“It’s not your fault. You’ve already done well,” Gu Deng sighed, patting Ali’s head. “If it weren’t for your persistence, your mom wouldn’t have discovered grandma’s illness.”

Ali hung her head, silent.

Whether it’s fortunate or unfortunate, at such a young age, she has to experience such heavy emotions.

Gu Deng sighed, taking out a piece of chocolate from his pocket and offering it to her. Ali shook her head, so he put it back in his pocket.

“At least you’re luckier than me,” Gu Deng said. “Your grandma may be sick, but at least you can still see her. I left home for three whole years and didn’t even get to see my grandma one last time.”

Ali patted his arm, trying to comfort him in her childish way, “Gu Deng, don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad anymore,” Gu Deng said. “I just think that since it’s already happened, instead of being sad about past regrets, it’s better to cherish the possibilities of the present.”

Ali nodded, perking up a bit.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you back to bandage your wound.” Gu Deng stood up, and as he turned, he unexpectedly saw Zhang Li not far away.

“Sorry,” Zhang Li said, embarrassed at having stumbled upon a private moment. He raised what he was holding and said, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

He had gone back to get a band-aid after seeing Ali injured.

Gu Deng shook his head, “I saw you a while ago.”

Zhang Li was momentarily stunned as Gu Deng walked over to him.

Ali’s wound wasn’t deep. After putting on a band-aid, she ran back to her grandma with the wood carving.

The two adults didn’t immediately return but walked one behind the other in the snow. The snow crunched under their feet, and the sound of waves came from not far away. Gu Deng stopped by the sea, looking up at the snow glistening on the glacier.

The Arctic, glaciers, the sea, a place without people… If it weren’t for everything that had happened, walking in such a place would actually feel quite romantic.

Gu Deng continued forward, wanting to touch the seawater. When he was about a meter away from the shore, Zhang Li suddenly grabbed his arm. Surprised, Gu Deng looked up to see Zhang Li’s tense expression and sharp gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Deng asked.

Zhang Li snapped back to reality, releasing his grip. “The water’s cold, don’t go over.”

Gu Deng “oh”ed and indeed stopped there. He unfolded his small stool and sat down, while Zhang Li sat on Ali’s red stool.

Two adults over 1.8 meters tall, sitting with their legs spread on two small stools, looked a bit odd. But neither paid attention to appearances; they just sat quietly.

It wasn’t until a seagull flew overhead that Zhang Li spoke, “Is it because of your grandma that you came here with Ali?”

Gu Deng was silent for a moment and said, “That’s part of the reason.”

His grandma passed away when Gu Deng was 18.

Those years were when his career was taking off, releasing albums, doing variety shows, holding concerts. He was so busy he hadn’t been home in three years. At that time, Gu Deng was holding a concert overseas, with an 8-hour time difference. Before going on stage, his mom called to say his grandma was sick.

Gu Deng was about to go on stage, and since his grandma had a chronic illness and was on medication, he said he’d go back after finishing his work.

The concert lasted three days, and after stepping off stage to the cheers of the audience, his mom called to tell him his grandma had passed away.

Gu Deng’s mind went blank for a few seconds, then he heard his own calm voice: I’ll be right back.

He declined all celebrations, postponed subsequent work, and rushed back home for the funeral. He was in a daze the whole way, unable to accept the news. Why so sudden? Wasn’t it just a routine illness? How did she suddenly pass away?

He even hoped it was a cruel joke until he arrived at his grandma’s old house, saw the solemn mourning hall, unfamiliar relatives, and his grandma’s favorite but now empty chair.

When everything settled, Gu Deng’s tears broke free.

Relatives around him watched, and even younger ones secretly filmed him crying. But he didn’t care about anything; he just hid in the bathroom, releasing his near-collapse emotions.

Who could he blame? Was it his mom’s vague words, not telling him grandma was dying? Or himself for being inattentive, using work as an excuse to brush everything off?

But even if his mom had told him, could he have left? A concert involved billions, tickets were already sold, the audience was there, and the staff was ready. Even if he knew about grandma’s condition, could he have left everything behind?

No one was at fault; he just felt regret.

“Of course, that was a long time ago,” Gu Deng took a deep breath, trying to relax his tense tone. “I’m really fine, it’s been so long, I’ve moved on.”

Zhang Li remained silent, just opening his arms to him. Gu Deng glanced at him but didn’t move.

Zhang Li stood up, and Gu Deng pulled his stool back half a step, showing a defensive expression, “Zhang Li, don’t pity me.”

Zhang Li stopped but didn’t look away. His gaze was calm and accepting, like the vast land, capable of holding everything.

Under his gaze, the emotions buried deep in Gu Deng’s heart gradually surfaced, then erupted.

Yes, no one was at fault, so he could only suppress his emotions, repeatedly blaming himself until no one cared, and he pretended to forget.

But can you really forget? Before this, Gu Deng had always avoided it, but today he realized he was still trapped in past emotions…

Every time he thought of his grandma, he felt indescribable regret and self-blame. The more painful part was that he could never change the past; he would bear this pain for a lifetime.

The stool slipped from his hand, and Gu Deng looked up in disbelief, realizing he was crying. He reached to wipe his tears, but Zhang Li stepped forward and hugged him.

“I’m not pitying you,” tears rolled into Zhang Li’s collar, and a sigh came from above, “I’m just a bit sad.”

Gu Deng stood there, stunned, his mind buzzing.

In Zhang Li’s strong embrace, Gu Deng’s body went from tense to collapsing, then trembling. He hugged Zhang Li’s back tightly, body against body, and closed his eyes.

It’s amazing how a simple hug can have such powerful healing energy. Just hearing Zhang Li’s words, why does even his heart feel sour and full?

It’s like after a long hike, finally being able to rest. Gu Deng breathed deeply, his chest choked with sobs, yet feeling caught by something soft.

Humans are such strange creatures, strong and sharp when alone, barely feeling pain, able to fight the world by themselves. But strangely, once they realize they’re understood, they become weak, hesitant, unable to hold back tears.

The snow by the sea hadn’t melted, the cold wind biting, and Gu Deng was held in Zhang Li’s arms, his breath and tears turning into steam, making his face red.

He didn’t dare to cry out loud, just kept trembling. Even in such a state, he didn’t dare to completely let go.

Since debuting, Gu Deng had no scandals, and negative news was almost nonexistent. He was talented, hardworking, sunny, and positive. Even haters had little to work with.

For the past four years, Gu Deng had hidden his illness well, not letting fans know a thing. It was his own insistence; so many people saw him as an idol, a role model, a healing presence in their pain, so he had to keep shining.

But in the end, he let everyone down, fleeing in disgrace.

Gu Deng clutched Zhang Li’s collar, tears breaking free. The embrace tightened, almost suffocating him. A large hand repeatedly patted his head, silently conveying support and encouragement. Gu Deng felt his body filled with an immeasurable emotion, warm to the point of overflowing.

He looked up through tearful eyes, wanting to say something, then met Zhang Li’s eyes, deep and calm, with emotions similar to his own beneath the surface.

His nose was blocked from crying, so Gu Deng had to breathe through his mouth. He tilted his head up, unconsciously leaning towards Zhang Li.

The man watched him, lips tightly pressed.

Zhang Li had full lips, with a rounded lower lip and a distinct M-shaped upper lip, a deep rose color, full and sensual. He hadn’t shaved that morning, with stubble on his chin, but it didn’t make him look unkempt; rather, it added a vague allure. It was like stepping away from modern society’s rules and order, becoming primitive, sensual, free to do as he pleased.

Gu Deng was drawn to this strange quality, instinctively wanting to get closer.

Zhang Li’s eyes grew deeper, his heartbeat quickening.

Just as Gu Deng was about to touch his chin, Zhang Li extended his right hand and firmly pressed Gu Deng’s head back into his embrace.