Chapter 8: White_008

Translator: Abo Dammen

Even after He Ruifeng arrived home, showered, and admired his figurine collection, Deng Chengning’s eyes still haunted him—those beautiful, tranquil, melancholy eyes.

Like mist-shrouded peaks, they concealed his thoughts and feelings from view.

The model was probably meant to thank He Ruifeng for agreeing to the “fake dating” arrangement, for doing him a huge favor. In that case, refusing it had been the right call. He hadn’t chosen to help Deng Chengning out of obligation. He’d simply figured that grabbing a meal and chatting with an old classmate was no trouble—there was no reason not to help. Besides, Deng Chengning had paid for every meal, so he’d already contributed more than his share. How could He Ruifeng possibly accept a thank-you gift on top of that?

But when they’d parted, the look in Deng Chengning’s eyes had left him drowning in guilt.

So much guilt he couldn’t sit still.

That expression defied description—the disappointment and hurt of someone whose carefully chosen gift had been callously cast aside, as if He Ruifeng had delivered some heartless, cruel, brutal rejection.

He Ruifeng was losing his mind.

He paced his apartment a dozen times before finally grabbing his phone and, grasping for something to say, sent a message asking if Deng Chengning had made it home.

Unless he was running particularly late or had been drinking, He Ruifeng didn’t usually check in like this. After all, they shared the same orientation, so too much concern could cross boundaries.

Deng Chengning’s reply came quickly.

[DCN: I’m home]

He Ruifeng clutched his phone. All 6’3 of him perched rigidly on the sofa, wracking his brain for what to say next.

His mind went blank.

Just as He Ruifeng was tearing his hair out, ready to hurl his phone across the room, Deng Chengning’s message arrived first.

[DCN: I’m sorry]

[DCN: I’ve been thinking since I got back. Did I somehow offend you today? If I did, I’m sorry. I’m truly, deeply sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It wasn’t to repay a favor, and it wasn’t to dump unwanted junk on you. I just thought you’d appreciate it more than I do, that you’d be the better owner. I’m sorry. I was presumptuous. From now on I’ll ask first. I won’t just bring things over and force you to take them. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.]

Deng Chengning’s apology and self-reflection left He Ruifeng stunned.

Why was the gift-giver apologizing? It was just a model.

[DCN: It’s not that I think a model is something I can just give away without a second thought—it’s because I bought so many of them. Leaving them sealed at home feels like such a waste, and reselling them secondhand would be a waste too. I’m not trying to flaunt my wealth. A few years back when I was studying abroad, I struggled with some emotional issues, and shopping became an outlet for me. Before I knew it, I’d accumulated all sorts of things. They’re all items I love, but there are just too many. Hoarding them at home is wasteful. I’m not trying to dump my trash on you, but you’re better suited to own it than I am]

Deng Chengning’s messages had devolved into incoherence. He’d even revealed his emotional struggles, as defenseless as a teenage boy.

He Ruifeng’s guilt peaked.

He felt like absolute shit. It was just a model. Sure, it was pricey, but he could always reciprocate with a gift later. Wasn’t that how things worked? Why had he rejected it so coldly?

[Jia Bei: Do you still have the model? Can I have it?]

He Ruifeng changed clothes, snatched up his phone, bolted downstairs, and sprinted to the east gate of his complex. He scanned a bike, swung his leg over, and pedaled furiously toward Deng Chengning’s place.

If he hadn’t whipped his head around mid-turn and spotted a gray-green Panamera parked diagonally across the street, He Ruifeng’s powerful legs would’ve already carried him a hundred meters away.

Deng Chengning wasn’t the only person who drove a Panamera, but He Ruifeng had exceptional dynamic vision. One glance confirmed the license plate matched.

It was Deng Chengning’s car.

He Ruifeng froze.

He dismounted, hoisted the bike one-handed to the parking area, locked it—all in one fluid motion—then strode toward the Panamera.

The gray-green car sat quietly in the night, parked beneath the shadows of plane trees, like a single leaf in the darkness.

As He Ruifeng approached, through the dim window he could only make out the small area around the steering wheel illuminated by a phone screen, and Deng Chengning’s profile, meticulously carved by heaven itself.

Perhaps the AC was cranked too high inside, because everything He Ruifeng glimpsed through the glass seemed veiled in mist, transformed into a painting suffused with soft light.

That cold-white porcelain chin, those plush lips, and the touch of red above them, all bathed in that gentle glow.

Deng Chengning cradled his phone in both hands, staring intently at the screen. His fingers twitched, then withdrew, as if he were agonizing over how to respond. After considerable effort, he finally tapped out a few characters and hit send.

The phone in He Ruifeng’s pocket buzzed.

He pulled it out. “Okay.”

It was just okay, and he’d agonized over them that long? Typed and retyped them?

He Ruifeng grinned and rapped on the window.

Deng Chengning’s head swiveled toward the sound. His frost-pale face froze for several seconds before surprise broke through, impossible to mask.

He Ruifeng crouched down, peering at him through the glass, still grinning.

Those eyes, calm as still water, rapidly pooled with moisture. In a heartbeat, tears spilled down his cheeks.

He Ruifeng reeled.

What the hell?!

He tapped the glass, then yanked at the door handle.

Deng Chengning snapped out of it, frantically unlocking the door and swiping at his tears as he climbed out.

He Ruifeng tensed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… my eyes are just bothering me…” Deng Chengning fumbled through the excuse, clearly aware how unconvincing it sounded, flustered and lost.

“The model—do you still have it? Can I take it?” He Ruifeng caught his distress and pivoted topics.

Deng Chengning retrieved the paper bag from the back seat. He Ruifeng accepted it, thanked him first, then added, “Don’t overthink it. I just felt awkward accepting gifts earlier.”

Deng Chengning kept his gaze fixed on the ground, then nodded.

He Ruifeng studied him. “Let me drive you home?”

Deng Chengning insisted he didn’t need to, and eventually drove himself back.

He Ruifeng assembled the model. Easy enough since it was already complete, it just needed the base attached and a few major components fitted together. The model was massive and wouldn’t fit in the display case, so he temporarily set it on the coffee table.

He Ruifeng snapped a photo and sent it to Deng Chengning.

[Jia Bei: Looks incredible, absolutely gorgeous!]

Deng Chengning sent back a smiling emoji.

[Jia Bei: You didn’t even open it to look.]

[DCN: I was afraid opening it would cause oxidation and the colors would fade. Wouldn’t look as good then.]

[Jia Bei: I love it. Thanks.]

No new messages arrived.

He Ruifeng stared at his phone, wondering when Deng Chengning would explain why he’d parked outside his building, and why he’d cried. He Ruifeng mulled it over.

He even opened an app and started searching: “mental health issues,” “emotional dysregulation,” “unexplained crying,” “anxiety.”

After maybe ten minutes, Deng Chengning’s candid message arrived.

He explained that before leaving today, his mother had called asking whether they’d officially confirmed their relationship yet, whether there’d been any progress. He’d answered that they were taking things slow. His mother kept emphasizing that time waits for no one, that going slow meant losing opportunities, that he needed to be more proactive—on and on like that.

Eventually, his mother started crying silently.

Deng Chengning’s mood had already plummeted by then.

[DCN: I’m sorry. I know being around someone as emotionally volatile as me is exhausting, the same way I feel around my mom. I kept obsessing over whether I’d said something that upset you, which is why I drove to your building wanting to apologize. I can’t explain my emotions or actions sometimes—they slip beyond my control. I hadn’t been like this in forever. I’ve been getting treatment. But maybe I’m just too exhausted lately, and my mom keeps hammering me about finding a partner. I’ll see a therapist. Sorry. I probably spooked you.]

[DCN: I’m really sorry if I scared you.]

[Jia Bei: You didn’t]

[Jia Bei: Don’t stress about it]

[Jia Bei: I absolutely love your gift. Want to see my collection?]

He Ruifeng photographed his entire Guardian series figurine collection and sent the images. He figured seeing things Deng Chengning enjoyed might brighten his mood.

He also recalled reading on his phone that socializing with friends helped relieve emotional distress. So he extended another invitation. To thank Deng Chengning for the gift, he’d reserve a restaurant for their next outing.

When they next met, Deng Chengning had reverted to his polished professional persona, showing no trace of that evening’s vulnerability.

Yet He Ruifeng couldn’t shake the memory of those tears. Each time they resurfaced, he’d reach out to Deng Chengning, maybe for idle conversation or movie plans. Strangely, their cinematic tastes meshed perfectly.

The app insisted exercise ranked among the most effective remedies for negative emotions. He Ruifeng suggested they work out together. Their inaugural badminton session revealed Deng Chengning’s respectable technique, though his sedentary lifestyle meant he couldn’t compete with He Ruifeng in actual rallies. He Ruifeng spent the whole time lobbing easy shots, encouraging him along. An older man nearby observed enviously, “Where’d you find this practice partner? Talented and patient too.”

Deng Chengning, sweaty and flushed, looked considerably brighter.

He Ruifeng practically lived in his phone apps now, reading that walks helped curb depression—especially hikes and camping in nature, immersing oneself in “forest bathing.”

So He Ruifeng began researching camping: suitable spots near the city, wilderness camping grounds, and more. His dad occasionally went fishing with friends, so he messaged him for recommendations.

Unexpectedly, that single message detonated a bombshell across both families.

Camping meant two people spending the night together in the wilderness. Unlike the casual ease of grabbing dinner at a restaurant or catching a movie at the theater, camping was an activity couples simply didn’t undertake unless their relationship had reached a certain stage.

He Yongkang immediately notified Lai Xuefen, who immediately notified Zhao Wanyi.

All three parents crackled with excitement and anxiety.

Autumn was approaching, the weather turning chilly with frequent rain. How could that possibly suit camping?

Waiting for better weather meant who knew how long they’d have to hold out.

But this fire absolutely needed stoking.

The two mothers deliberated at length until Zhao Wanyi finally declared, “No worries. I’ll handle the arrangements.”

Author’s Feed:

Fast-forwarding through the progress bar a bit

This pair’s going to become the fastest couple to get together in any of my stories ever… and I’ll still write tons after they’re together…

PS: Tomorrow’s update will also be in the afternoon T_T