Luo An’s hand was held by Chu Jin. Though it was Chu Jin’s heart pulsing beneath his palm, Luo An felt his own heart racing just as fiercely.
Thump-thump—
Thump-thump—
Thump-thump—
Luo An grew nervous involuntarily, his voice hoarse as he spoke, “What am I supposed to feel?”
Chu Jin seemed to chuckle softly. To Luo An’s ears, the man’s voice was low yet magnetic.
“An’an, I like you.”
“I like Luo An.”
Luo An averted his gaze in panic, trying to withdraw his hand, but Chu Jin held on tighter.
Time seemed to pause. Chu Jin’s face slowly filled Luo An’s vision, stopping barely five centimeters away.
Chu Jin asked, “May I?”
Luo An wasn’t used to being this close to anyone, but Chu Jin’s hands were braced on either side, leaving him no room to retreat. Feeling dazed, Luo An found himself asking, “May you what?”
Chu Jin’s gaze fell to Luo An’s lips, his intention clear.
Luo An pressed his lips together, his palms growing clammy. His wrist still held Chu Jin’s warmth where he’d been touched. Luo An curled his fingers slightly.
Chu Jin said, “An’an, may I—”
He slowed his speech, enunciating each word, “May I kiss you?”
Luo An felt even dizzier. He couldn’t remember if he nodded, but he didn’t push Chu Jin away. When he came to his senses, he felt warmth against his lips.
Chu Jin’s lips were soft, resting at the corner of Luo An’s mouth. He didn’t press further, yet like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, it set Luo An’s heart racing wildly.
“…Chu Jin.” Luo An unconsciously gripped Chu Jin’s shirt.
“It’s me,” Chu Jin said.
He added, “I’m here.”
On Saturday, Chu Jin underwent his final checkup.
His recovery was excellent, with all indicators back to normal. Perhaps due to absorbing the shattered light of the intruder, Chu Jin’s mind now held memories that weren’t his own.
In these memories, the intruder traversed different worlds, replacing different people, consuming the energy of this world.
Forgetting is far easier than remembering. Among those the intruder had replaced were emotionally distant youths, rebellious teenagers, and middle-aged individuals who were disliked for their inability to navigate social situations. People had noticed the personality changes in those who were replaced, but chose to ignore them.
They didn’t care about the reasons for the changes, only remarking that the person had finally “grown up.”
On the day Chu Jin returned home, he encountered a young man in a black coat. The man handed him a business card. Chu Jin turned it over to find “Special Incidents Investigation Unit” printed on it, along with a contact number.
Luo An was helping his parents pack up. The racing trophies that the intruder had thrown in the trash had all been retrieved by Luo An’s parents and carefully stored in a safe. Though they didn’t understand Luo An’s figurine collection, they had neatly arranged them in the cabinet, undamaged.
The family photo containing the intruder had long been replaced, once again showing all six family members together.
As Luo An’s mother packed, her eyes were still a bit red.
She remembered the ceramic mug the intruder had “accidentally” broken, and held Luo An’s hand remorsefully, “Your father and I searched for a long time, but we couldn’t find the same one.”
They had kept the broken pieces, intending to repair it, but the mug had shattered too thoroughly, the fragments too numerous and scattered.
Luo An’s eyes welled up again as he hugged his mother’s trembling shoulders. “It’s okay.”
“Mom, thank you.”
Luo An turned to his gray-haired father and his brothers who had taken time off to help organize the house. “Thank you too, Dad.”
“And Big Brother, Second Brother, Third Brother.”
“What are you thanking us for? We’re family,” the eldest brother broke the silence, smiling as he patted Luo An’s shoulder.
Chu Jin entered from outside, carrying some small gifts.
After they got together, there hadn’t been any grand ceremony, but both the Chu and Luo families had tacitly acknowledged Chu Jin and Luo An’s relationship.
“Xiao Chu, you’re here? Come, sit down,” Luo An’s mother beckoned.
Chu Jin handed the gifts to her, “Auntie Luo.”
“What are your plans now?” she continued.
“Hm?” Chu Jin didn’t understand her meaning.
Luo An’s mother called Luo An over. “I mean, what are your plans together?”
There’s hardly a mother who doesn’t worry about her child’s marriage. Though Luo An’s partner was unconventional, they still needed to plan a wedding, right?
Luo An’s mother had been studying the calendar for auspicious dates, finally circling a few good days for a wedding.
“Look, the nearest date is next weekend, then the seventh of next month, then the eighteenth. After that, we’d have to wait a few months…”
Chu Jin replied, “I’ll go with whatever An’an wants.”
Luo An’s mother turned to her son, “An’an, what do you think?”
Chu Jin added, “If An’an is hesitant, waiting a few months is fine too.”
Chu Jin lowered his eyes, appearing genuinely accommodating, “I’m okay with anything.”
Luo An: …
Luo An certainly didn’t hear any real flexibility in that statement.
Their wedding was “naturally” set for a month later, on the eighteenth of the following month. A month was just enough time to prepare.
The wedding was held at a villa in the suburbs. On the sprawling lawn, a gentle breeze lifted the white gauze decorating the chairs. Under an arch of flowers and balloons, Luo An stood beside Chu Jin.
“Mr. Chu, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health?”
The sunlight was perfect, reflecting brilliantly off their exchanged rings. Luo An wore a well-tailored white suit, the breeze ruffling his dark hair to reveal the earring in his fair earlobe.
Chu Jin squeezed Luo An’s hand and vowed, “I do.”
“Mr. Luo, from this day forward, do you take Mr. Chu Jin as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, to care for him until the end of your days? Do you?”
Luo An looked at Chu Jin. In the sunlight, the man stood tall in his suit. But Luo An could feel Chu Jin’s nervousness in the slight tightening of his hand.
Nervousness? For the usually composed Chu Jin, it seemed an ill-fitting word. Yet in front of Luo An, it all made sense.
Each second stretched infinitely, though in reality, only two seconds had passed since the officiant finished speaking.
Luo An squeezed Chu Jin’s hand back. “I do.”
Applause and blessings filled the air as Luo An and Chu Jin interlaced their fingers. Luo An affirmed, “I do.”
The End.
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