Chapter 13
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“I’m back.”
Liu Cheng announced as he walked through the door. The room was darker than he expected; usually, the living room would be lit up, waiting for him, but now, only a faint glow came from the dining area.
Soon, Sun Chen emerged from the dining room. He was wearing a formal suit today—when they had shopped for clothes, Sun Chen had preferred casual styles, and this white suit was something Liu Cheng had picked out, convinced that Sun Chen would look stunning in it. Sun Chen hadn’t expressed whether he liked the suit or not, and there hadn’t been an occasion to wear it until now. Liu Cheng hadn’t expected that Sun Chen would wear it today, of all days, when they were just at home.
“I knew I had a good eye. You look absolutely breathtaking in that suit,” Liu Cheng offered his first thought sincerely before voicing his questions.
A hint of a pleased smile flashed in Sun Chen’s eyes. “I’m glad you like it. After all, you paid for it.”
Liu Cheng put on an exaggeratedly aggrieved expression. “What I spent on you wasn’t just money—it was effort.”
“So, what kind of return are you expecting?” Sun Chen suddenly asked. His question made sense in the context of their conversation but still caught Liu Cheng off guard.
If any of his past lovers had asked a similar question, Liu Cheng might have pointed to his lips as a playful cue for a kiss. But this wasn’t just anyone—this was Sun Chen, someone completely different from anyone else. And now, this person was looking at him with such focused and serious eyes that Liu Cheng couldn’t joke about it. He didn’t want to joke about it because he had a more sincere answer he wanted Sun Chen to hear and understand.
“I’m a businessman, but you’re the only one I don’t expect anything from in return.”
Sun Chen stared at him for a long moment. “Everyone always wants something from me…” he murmured softly, perhaps to himself, or maybe he was genuinely questioning his own thoughts. “Do you really like me?”
It wasn’t the first time Sun Chen had sought reassurance on this point, as if he still couldn’t believe it.
Sun Chen had a mother who only wanted him to fulfill her ambitions and a father who wished he didn’t exist. Liu Cheng didn’t know how many people in Sun Chen’s past had made him internalize the belief that he wasn’t worthy of being liked—so much so that even after losing his memory, he still clung to that notion. Liu Cheng was determined to correct this deeply ingrained misconception, even if it took a lifetime.
“My past lovers used to say I might never truly like anyone, but you’ve proven them wrong—maybe I don’t know how to like someone, but at least now I know what it feels like.”
Liu Cheng wasn’t sure how to articulate what it meant to like someone, but he was doing his best to express himself.
Sun Chen studied Liu Cheng’s eyes, and after a long pause, he asked quietly, “Have you had many lovers before?”
For the first time in his life, Liu Cheng found himself at a loss for words.
“But there will only be one in the future,” he replied.
As soon as he said it, Liu Cheng realized the weight of his words. The statement might seem trivial, but he meant it. He was more serious about this than he ever thought possible—more serious than he could have imagined.
He was thinking about a lifetime together, about a future for the two of them. He wasn’t thinking about an end—he was thinking about forever.
Even though he knew that someday, the truth would inevitably come out.
Liu Cheng didn’t know how to process the turmoil inside him. He, a wanderer who never considered anything beyond the moment, was now yearning for permanence, and from someone he was deceiving.
“Xiao Chen, if I made a mistake because I didn’t know how to love someone, could you forgive me?” Liu Cheng asked instinctively.
Sun Chen, ever precise and thoughtful, replied, “That would depend on the nature of the mistake.”
Liu Cheng’s overwhelming emotions suddenly turned into a mix of amusement and frustration. “You really don’t know how to say anything sweet to comfort me, do you?”
“Because I can’t lie to you,” Sun Chen responded without hesitation.
The sincerity of this statement left Liu Cheng speechless.
Sun Chen, noticing Liu Cheng’s troubled expression, reflected on his own words and softened his tone in a rare display of apology. “I’ve prepared dinner. I cooked it myself—would that make up for not being able to say sweet things?”
Liu Cheng forced himself to snap out of it and cheer up. “You cooked, and you didn’t burn down the kitchen? That’s more than just making up for it—that’s a miracle.”
“You can’t judge based on one failed experiment,” said Sun Chen, who had once managed to scorch milk while trying to heat it.
Liu Cheng raised his hands in mock surrender. “I was wrong, Xiao Chen. Forgive me.”
Sun Chen nodded quickly. “For a mistake like that, I can forgive you right away.”
But if it were a more serious mistake, would time be enough to earn forgiveness?
Liu Cheng silently asked himself this as Sun Chen led him to the dining room.
It was a cliché, but to Liu Cheng, it was the most romantic thing he’d ever experienced—a candlelit dinner.
Sun Chen had put a lot of effort into it—he must have done many “experiments” over the past few days to finally cook something that turned out well. He had chosen a bottle of red wine, and in the flickering candlelight, Sun Chen’s face, flushed from the wine, was illuminated by a soft, almost tender smile. His usually reserved expression was replaced by a warmth and affection that seemed to flow from his gaze as he looked at Liu Cheng. Everything about the moment—more than the wine—intoxicated Liu Cheng. It wasn’t just a few candles; it was the extraordinary warmth and emotion in the room that kindled desires he hadn’t voiced.
Liu Cheng didn’t realize when they had moved from the table to the couch, but when he became aware of his surroundings again, he and Sun Chen had shared countless kisses. Sun Chen was lying beneath him on the couch, showing no intention of pulling away. In fact, he looked up at Liu Cheng with eyes full of dazed longing.
Over the past few days, Liu Cheng had been more mindful of maintaining some physical distance between them. He had been trying to keep this charade as harmless as possible. No matter how much he wanted Sun Chen, he had been holding himself back. There had been moments when things almost went too far, but Sun Chen had been oblivious to it, and his lack of intent had always brought Liu Cheng back to his senses. However, tonight was different—Sun Chen’s slightly parted, swollen lips seemed to silently beg for something more. Liu Cheng couldn’t resist this version of Sun Chen, who was silently pleading with him. His fingers itched to touch more of Sun Chen’s skin, and his primal desires took over his every move.
“Xiao Chen, shall we go to my room?” The last remnants of Liu Cheng’s conscience clung to this half-hearted attempt at seeking permission.
Sun Chen nodded, agreeing without a word. He tried to stand up on his own but failed, partly because Liu Cheng was still leaning on him. “I think I’ve had too much to drink—I can’t stand up.”
He was indeed drunk, which was why he thought it was the alcohol that made him unable to stand.
In that moment, all of Liu Cheng’s burning desires cooled considerably.
He was about to take advantage of Sun Chen again.
Liu Cheng finally realized what he was about to do.
He had already deceived the memoryless Sun Chen, and now he was planning to take advantage of his intoxication to fulfill his own desires against Sun Chen’s will.
“I’m sorry, Xiao Chen…”
“Liu Cheng…” Sun Chen murmured his name in a voice filled with meaning. He reached out but collapsed back onto the couch before he could grasp Liu Cheng.
“You’ve had too much to drink. Let me help you to your room so you can rest,” Liu Cheng said, more to remind himself than to explain to the inebriated Sun Chen.
Sun Chen looked up at Liu Cheng with hazy, drunken eyes, clearly confused. “We’re not going to your room anymore? You just said we would.”
“I’m sorry. I drank too much and said something wrong.”
“Why do you keep making mistakes?” Sun Chen mumbled, slurring his words as he complained. After a moment, he sighed heavily, as if resigning himself to the situation. “Why do I keep forgiving you?”
“I really hope you can continue forgiving me,” Liu Cheng whispered as he helped Sun Chen up from the couch.
Sun Chen, barely hearing him, mumbled back, “I hope I can keep forgiving you too, or else I’d be the one who’d suffer the most. You saved me, but you also trapped me in a situation I can never escape from. Liu Cheng, it’s okay if you don’t like me. I don’t have any other choice—I’ll just keep loving you forever.”
Liu Cheng finally managed to get Sun Chen settled in bed.
He noticed clear, transparent drops falling onto the back of his hand. He had no idea where these unexpected tears were coming from.
“Why, even when you’re this drunk, do you still believe no one could love you? There are people in this world who would love you… Those who don’t just aren’t worthy of you…”
But what about him, who loved Sun Chen—wasn’t he the least worthy of all?
And why, of all times, did it have to be now that he realized that his feelings went far beyond just “liking” Sun Chen?
Liu Cheng had never believed he could love someone, just as he had never believed in the existence of love in the world. But if this wasn’t love, then what were these overwhelming feelings that went beyond mere liking and filled him with such tender care?
Sun Chen, having finally found a comfortable position after tossing and turning in bed, murmured something that sounded vaguely like Liu Cheng’s name before burying his face in the pillow and falling into a deep sleep.
Liu Cheng gazed down at Sun Chen’s sleeping face with a dazed expression. There might be nothing more beautiful than this in the world, but this sight was the only thing that could give him such peace and joy. At the same time, it was the only thing that could hurt him so deeply.