Musical
Su Zesui tugged at the blanket, revealing only his bright, clear eyes. He glanced at the two SVIP tickets, then carefully looked up at Gu Yilan.
The man’s expression was calm, his dark eyes like a still lake, but a slight curve at the corner of his mouth softened the coldness and added an indescribable emotion.
Su Zesui tried to sense that emotion, and once he confirmed it wasn’t about discovering his identity as a time traveler, he pulled the blanket back down.
He took the tickets with both hands, lowering his gaze to examine them—
A musical performance at University B, center section of the second-floor SVIP room.
While the boy couldn’t hide his excitement, glancing left and right at the tickets, Gu Yilan sidestepped the subject, asking, “You haven’t been feeling well lately, have you?”
For some reason, hearing those words made the heavy weight in Su Zesui’s heart finally lift.
It felt like the fear, unease, and trembling of the past few days had all been a false nightmare. Now that he’d awakened from that dream, the hallucinations faded, and his feet were firmly on the ground again—he had grasped the reality of this world.
He forced himself to surrender to that feeling of reality, blending into this world again, and finally found peace of mind.
Holding the tickets, Su Zesui spoke softly, “You didn’t go to the lab.”
Gu Yilan was momentarily taken aback, then understood the boy’s meaning. After a brief thought, he said, “I lied to you. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Su Zesui, with his good-natured spirit, nodded without asking why the man had lied. He only said, “I really don’t like liars. Could you… never lie to me again?”
“It’s my fault. I promise,” Gu Yilan said, raising his hand to gently ruffle the boy’s fluffy hair.
With that affectionate gesture, the distance and silence of recent days instantly vanished. It felt like they were back to how things used to be when they were close.
A thin mist rose in Su Zesui’s eyes as he sat up on the bed, his gaze falling on the sheets. He spoke from the heart, “I don’t want to travel through time and space.”
Before Gu Yilan could say anything, Su Zesui continued in a quiet voice, as if talking to himself, “I didn’t have a good life before…”
These days, a haze of dreams and harsh reality intertwined, stirring memories from the past. But he couldn’t tell whether they belonged to his former self from another world or memories lost in this one.
“When I was at school before, I found two boys kissing in a stairwell,” Su Zesui said, poking the sheets with his finger. “They thought I was like them and wanted me to join their adventures. But I was scared. I didn’t want to go out.”
Gu Yilan listened quietly. Even when hearing the word “adventure”—something that clashed with the fast-paced, tech-driven modern world—he didn’t interrupt, just stroked his finger gently.
“They lied and said it wasn’t dangerous, just at the school gym.”
Su Zesui lifted his face slightly but kept his eyes downcast.
He paused for a long time, then rolled up his sleeve to reveal pale arms marked by scars still a bit pitted despite treatment.
“But it was very dangerous,” Su Zesui whispered.
Gu Yilan’s gaze tightened slightly.
Days ago, Su Mingyu had sent him a guide on caring for the boy, specifically advising never to mention the scars on Su Zesui’s arms.
Gu Yilan had also noticed that even in the hot summer, Su Zesui always wore shirts with sleeves long enough to cover his arms.
Though the boy spoke lightly and incoherently, it was clear this was a deeply painful experience—one he still wanted to hide after so many years. And whenever someone mentioned it, it would stir up painful emotions.
But Su Zesui barely remembered clearly himself. As he rubbed the sheets, struggling to recall, the tall man in front of him suddenly embraced him.
Su Zesui’s body stiffened. After a moment, he slowly returned the embrace to that warm body.
He asked with some confusion, “Brother, if you hug me first… does that count as a hug?”
Gu Yilan chuckled, “I lied to you before. To make up for it, you can hug me anytime from now on.”
Hearing this, Su Zesui happily gave the man’s solid back a light pat, then turned around to comfort him. “I hate liars. But you’re not a liar, brother. You must have your own reasons.”
After saying that, even slow-witted Su Zesui felt Gu Yilan’s body stiffen slightly.
They both tacitly understood not to touch that obvious yet forbidden topic any further.
Gu Yilan changed the subject, “Tomorrow’s Friday. If we finish the experiment early in the afternoon, I’ll drive you over to neighboring City B.”
Su Zesui nodded but his mind was on something else, “Can I hug you as many times as I want… Can I hold you while I sleep?”
“Won’t it be too hot?” Gu Yilan asked in return.
Su Zesui looked down at his fingers and said, “No. I’m not happy if I don’t hug you.”
Gu Yilan: …
After the lights went out, Gu Yilan’s arm took the place of a big pillow and became Su Zesui’s new source of comfort.
Su Zesui ran his hands over the clear muscles of the man’s arm, pinching it lightly, then almost bit it to see what it felt like.
But just as he parted his soft lips, a deep, low voice came from beside him: “Hmm?”
Su Zesui immediately shut his mouth and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, but he could feel warm breath brushing his face.
The man chuckled softly.
That low, magnetic tone was like a cello gently played right next to his ear. Blushing, Su Zesui buried his heated face in Gu Yilan’s arm.
. . . . .
The next day, Su Zesui finally went with Gu Yilan to the physics building at University A again.
Gong Chuang, who had been eagerly awaiting the little friend’s visit every day, finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He didn’t show it in front of Gu Yilan, but as soon as he turned away, he excitedly sent a string of celebratory emojis to Su Zesui, like drums and firecrackers, celebrating their restored friendship.
Gu Yilan compressed his lab work into a very short time and by 2 PM drove Su Zesui to University B.
After two hours on the road, they scanned their IDs and entered University B.
They used the SVIP channel to enter the musical theater there.
As soon as they stepped into the long hallway, Su Zesui sensed something was off.
The SVIP passage was completely empty—except for a few staff with badges, it was just him and Mr. Gu.
After the recent “cold war,” Su Zesui had become even clingier to Gu Yilan. Now, holding tightly onto the man’s arm, he practically pressed against him as they walked.
Feeling the boy’s nervousness, Gu Yilan slowed down and explained, “We have the whole place to ourselves.”
Su Zesui paused, then let go and made a big circle with his arms, curious and excited. “All to ourselves?”
A faint smile curved Gu Yilan’s lips, “The entire second floor.”
The theater’s second floor was the SVIP seating area, including exclusive, high-priced boxes. The first floor was for regular audience members. The two entrances were separate and didn’t connect.
The first floor’s applause attracted the performers’ attention and created a lively atmosphere.
The empty second floor, staffed only by workers, gave the socially anxious boy the basic sense of security he needed—at least enough for him to watch the musical with peace of mind.
Sure enough, hearing this, Su Zesui got excited and hopped up the stairs, then stood at the top, watching him: “Brother, hurry up.”
Gu Yilan quickened his pace, “It won’t start for another half hour.”
This time, the musical was about pure love.
There was the bittersweet beauty of a true love doomed by death’s divide; and there was also a melodramatic tragedy caused by mismatched views—one obsessed with physical satisfaction, the other purely platonic.
Watching someone on stage forcibly drag another protagonist to bed, Su Zesui couldn’t help but think of himself, then instinctively glanced at the expressionless man beside him.
——He often said he wanted to sleep with Mr. Gu. No wonder Mr. Gu was always unhappy, that was platonic love.
Gu Yilan also noticed the boy’s unhidden gaze.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Su Zesui’s expression shift from sudden realization, to frustration, then resolve, and finally clenching a pure white fist—he nodded as if acknowledging something unknown.
Su Zesui’s little gestures gave away all his thoughts, and Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow.
Looks like this musical was well chosen.
“Brother.”
The first floor was packed with people—some focused on the show, others chatting or laughing—far, far away, with no attention at all on them. While the social anxiety was soothed, it also gave a strange feeling of being somehow “not quite human.”
The void that had been masked by avoidance and shyness the night before welled up again in Su Zesui’s heart.
“Will you always be by my side?” he asked anxiously.
Only then did Gu Yilan turn to look at the boy and reply without hesitation, “I will.”
“Will you always stand by me too?” Su Zesui pressed on.
After a moment, he anxiously added, “That is… will you trust me…”
His words were sparse, unable to fully express what he meant, and then he trailed off.
He wanted to know if, when Gu Yilan eventually found out he was a time traveler, would he still treat him this well? Would he help him keep the secret and let him live happily in this world?
“I will stand by you,” Gu Yilan said, a faint smile touching his lips, “As long as I’m alive.”
From the theater below came a sorrowful melody, but Su Zesui felt a warm current flow through his heart, making him feel light and cozy all over.
He wasn’t very good with words, but there was always someone who understood him—and who gave him promises better than he ever dared hope for.
Su Zesui watched the musical with his eyes curved in a smile. After a while, his gaze uncontrollably drifted toward the man beside him. Excited, he spoke to him and before he knew it, he was back to that ultimate topic again: “Brother, what are you worried about? Can we face it together?”
“There are always some chains that bind a person in life,” Gu Yilan calmly brushed the topic aside. “Why are you asking again?”
“Well…” Su Zesui said, “I want to help you.”
“You want to help me again?” Gu Yilan saw the boy nod happily and thought for a moment before saying, “Then promise me we’ll keep things as they are now.”
Su Zesui was confused by this and asked, “What… kind of relationship is this now?”
“Not too close, but not too distant either.” Over the background music of the musical, the man’s voice was calm and gentle. “Respectful and supportive through thick and thin.”
Su Zesui understood: “Platonic.”
“No.” Gu Yilan didn’t look at Su Zesui but instead fixed his eyes on the two protagonists struggling on stage. “If you need me, come to me. If you like someone else, then go to them.”
——What kind of philosophy was that?
Su Zesui didn’t get it but immediately shook his head vigorously like a rattle: “I don’t like anyone else.”
“You’re still young. What about later?” Gu Yilan asked evenly.
Su Zesui was about to argue that he would never like anyone else when Gu Yilan’s phone rang, breaking his train of thought.
Seeing the caller ID, Gu Yilan frowned, regained his serious expression, and said to him, “You watch the show first. I’ll be back later.”
Su Zesui waved at the man’s retreating back, then thoughtfully propped up his chin.
——So Mr. Gu was worried he might like someone else. He needed to carefully figure out what to say to reassure him that he’d only ever like him.
At the end of the second-floor corridor, Gu Yilan suppressed all the earlier traces of a smile and answered the call with a frosty expression.
“Hello? Xiao Gu? Tomorrow’s the weekend. What plans do you and Suisui have?” Mother Gu’s voice came through the phone.
Hearing her call the boy “Suisui,” Gu Yilan’s frown deepened. “I’m busy.”
Ignoring him, Mother Gu pressed on: “Set aside an afternoon for your father and me. We’ve selected some of the better children from welfare homes nationwide. You and Suisui pick one. Let’s settle this matter as soon as possible.”
“He’s still in high school. He can’t take care of another child,” Gu Yilan said.
But Mother Gu was unconcerned: “So what if he’s in high school? Haven’t you read the adoption laws of City A? As long as he’s an adult, it’s fine. Besides, isn’t there a housekeeper at home? Do you need him to wipe the kid’s butt and feed him?”
Gu Yilan, tired of pretending, said flatly, “I’m busy. Hanging up.”
“Ah, you child, how come you don’t think about the family at all? You’re so close with Suisui…”
“We’re not close.” Gu Yilan cut her off.
“Not close?” She sneered over the phone. “If you weren’t, why did he still sleep hugging you last night?”
Gu Yilan’s eyes darkened, the irritation replaced by a cold chill. His fingers clenched the phone tightly.