The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was fragile. Like glass that might shatter with the wrong word.
Fu Jian finally spoke. "Why are you telling all of this now?"
Yu Sicong looked at him with quiet intensity.
"Because I’m tired of hiding. I’ve been hiding behind expectations, behind my father’s shadow, behind the image of perfection for so long.
But the only ti I felt honest—truly honest—was when I was with you. Even if you didn’t know it."
Fu Jian turned his head slowly, looking back at the photos lining the wall. The laughter. The quiet monts. The things no one else noticed but Yu Sicong sohow did.
All this ti, he thought he was the one chasing. Thought Yu Sicong was just cold, uninterested, and distant.
But now...
Now it felt like the ground under his feet was changing.
Like he’d been reading only the surface of a book when all the real feelings were written between the lines.
"Those photos," Fu Jian murmured, pointing softly to the tiline, "they’re not just mories, are they?"
Yu Sicong shook his head. "They’re the proof. Of how much I loved you. Still love you."
Fu Jian turned to him, eyes serious. "So why now? Why not when I confessed the first ti, or the second, or the third?"
"Because back then, I thought loving you was dangerous," Yu Sicong said.
"I thought it ant giving up everything I worked for. I thought I’d be left with nothing."
"And now?" Fu Jian asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Yu Sicong stepped closer. "Now I know the real danger is losing you."
Fu Jian swallowed. The hurt was still there—years of rejection weren’t easy to wash away. But now, there was clarity. Like light breaking through fog.
He looked down at their hands, still loosely linked from earlier.
"You know," he said, voice trembling just slightly, "when I was chasing you, I used to think: maybe one day, he’ll look at like I’m more than a nuisance. Like I’m sothing worth holding on to."
Yu Sicong tightened his grip. "You were never a nuisance. You were the only thing that kept from falling apart."
Fu Jian finally smiled. It wasn’t big or dramatic—but it was real. Soft and a little sad, but glowing.
"I’m still mad at you," he said. "Just so you know."
"I deserve that."
"But," Fu Jian added, eyes flicking back to the photos, "if we’re starting over, I want it to be real this ti. No more hiding. No more gas."
Yu Sicong nodded, breath shaky. "Real. I promise."
There was a pause. Then Fu Jian tilted his head.
"So... you really kept the rabbit?"
Yu Sicong laughed, the sound light and boyish. "It’s in my closet. Bottom shelf. Don’t judge ."
Fu Jian rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of sothing tender in his expression.
"Show ."
Yu Sicong blinked. "What, now?"
"Now," Fu Jian said firmly, crossing his arms.
When they reached Yu Sicong’s room, he hesitated for a mont at the door.
"It’s a ss," he warned, though his room was anything but ssy. Every book was lined up neatly on the shelf, the bed perfectly made, not a single sock on the floor.
Fu Jian raised an eyebrow. "This is a ss?"
Yu Sicong scratched the back of his neck. "For , yeah."
He walked over to his closet, knelt down, and opened the bottom drawer.
After a few seconds of rummaging, he pulled out a small, slightly dusty stuffed rabbit.
Its ears were a little bent, and one of the eyes had a tiny scratch on it, but it was still intact.
He turned around and held it out with both hands, like it was sothing precious.
Fu Jian stared at it for a long ti, then reached out and took it gently.
"I thought I lost this," he said softly.
"You did," Yu Sicong replied. "Right after graduation. You dropped it while stumbling out of the elevator. I picked it up, but... I couldn’t give it back. Not after what happened that night."
Fu Jian glanced up, lips pressing together. "You really kissed ?"
Yu Sicong nodded. "I know I shouldn’t have. But at the ti, it felt like the only mont I’d ever get. I was a coward. I didn’t think I’d ever be brave enough to face what I felt."
He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes downcast.
"You don’t have to forgive . I know I hurt you. Every ti I ignored your ssages, every ti I walked away when you tried to talk to , it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much. And I didn’t know how to deal with it."
Fu Jian was quiet for a while. He walked slowly around the room, rabbit still in hand.
"You think groveling ans saying sorry and showing an old plush toy?" he asked, not unkindly.
Yu Sicong looked up, startled. "No. I an—yes. I an... I know it’s not enough."
Fu Jian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "Good. Because it’s not."
Yu Sicong stood.
"Then tell what to do. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I’ll prove to you every day that I’m not going to run anymore. Not from you. Not from us."
"Even if it ruins your perfect image?" Fu Jian challenged, raising a brow.
"Especially if it does," Yu Sicong said. "If being perfect ans pretending I don’t love you, then I’d rather be a failure."
The honesty in his voice hit Fu Jian hard. He looked down at the rabbit again.
"You know what made angriest?" he said after a beat. "It wasn’t that you rejected . It was that you made feel like I wasn’t worth the risk."
Yu Sicong took a shaky breath. "You were always worth it. I just didn’t think I was strong enough."
Fu Jian’s eyes softened. He stepped closer, slowly.
"I’m not asking for so dramatic love story," he said.
"I just want the truth. I want you to choose , not in secret, not in silence—but out loud, with everything that cos with it."
Yu Sicong nodded. "I do. I choose you."
"Then show ," Fu Jian said. "Not just once. Every day."
Yu Sicong reached out, hesitated, then took Fu Jian’s hand.
"I will," he said. "Every single day."
There was a mont of stillness between them. Then Fu Jian let out a sigh.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Then maybe I’ll give you another chance."
Yu Sicong’s eyes lit up, hopeful and surprised. "Really?"
Fu Jian smirked. "Don’t get ahead of yourself. This is a trial run."
"Got it. Trial run. Best behavior. Daily devotion."
.............................
The next morning.
Fu Jian stepped out of the black car and walked into the elegant high-rise, heels of his shoes tapping against the marble floor as he made his way to the private eting room on the 38th floor.
He was dressed sharply in a navy suit, sleeves rolled up slightly as he carried a portfolio under one arm.
The eting had gone well—one of the smoother ones in recent weeks—and as he stepped out into the quiet hallway, he let out a breath of relief.
But then he froze.
Standing there at the end of the corridor, dressed in a crisp grey Tang jacket and holding a finely carved cane, was soone he hadn’t seen in over a year.
Old Master Fu.
His grandfather.
The sa man who had coldly turned his back on Fu Jian when he was at his lowest, when he was lying in a hospital bed with a fever, dehydrated, and barely conscious
"Ah, Xiao Jian," Old Master Fu greeted with a warm smile, his tone soft, gentle, even. "You’ve grown thinner. Are you eating well?"
Fu Jian’s face hardened imdiately.
"Don’t," he said flatly.
The warmth in Old Master Fu’s expression faltered, just for a second. "I just want to talk."
Fu Jian took a step back, his voice ice-cold. "Then talk to soone who still sees themselves as part of the Fu family. I’m not."
Old Master Fu’s brows drew together, but his tone remained calm. "I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But we’re still family, aren’t we? Blood is blood."
Fu Jian let out a bitter laugh.
"You rember that now? You kicked out. Said I was a disgrace. That I was throwing away everything the family stood for."
"You were making dangerous choices," Old Master Fu said gently.
"You see...I thought the Sicong boy wasn’t interested in you, and I was worried about you, so I...anyways, it’s all in the past."
Fu Jian’s eyes snapped to him. "You think you get to tell that after all this ti? After cutting off like I was nothing?"
Old Master Fu’s expression shifted—still soft, but with sothing more careful behind his eyes now. "Xiao Jian, I’m trying to fix things. That’s why I ca to see you. To talk like family."
"You want sothing?" Fu Jian said.
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