Chapter 49 – Still very handsome

Translator: Abo Dammen

Many people said it was because of Chi Zhao that Fu Nan’an had the chance to see again, that Chi Zhao was Fu Nan’an’s benefactor. But Chi Zhao knew that wasn’t true. He knew that without Fu Nan’an, he could never have come this far.

Love is about mutual fulfillment from the start. This wasn’t about one saving the other.

They were simply the most suitable pair. Chi Zhao would struggle and strive relentlessly for Fu Nan’an’s eyes, and Fu Nan’an would extend a gentle yet firm hand when Chi Zhao hesitated or was afraid. It wasn’t about leading someone, but about the company.

With Professor Fu, Chi Zhao could forever be a child. He could hesitate, he could be timid, he could be less than strong. He could freely vent his negative emotions, and Professor Fu would indulge all his bad moods.

That night, Chi Zhao held Fu Nan’an and kissed him for a long time. The hospital room was silent, bathed in the tranquil moonlight outside. After kissing, they simply held each other quietly. Fu Nan’an’s arm rested around Chi Zhao’s shoulder. In their world, there was only each other.

Chi Zhao had indeed been stretched taut for too long. He wanted Fu Nan’an to see so badly that this thought had constantly lingered in his mind, unknowingly becoming an obsession.

He didn’t dare make mistakes, didn’t dare rest, and didn’t dare hesitate in the slightest. It was like a huge rock pressing on his heart, like a tightly drawn string tearing at its very tip. This feeling of “I must succeed” pushed him forward constantly, like vines wrapping around him tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe. Even stopping to catch his breath felt sinful.

It was too sinful, how much he wanted Fu Nan’an to see.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Fu Nan’an told him it was okay, and told him that with him, he could see. Chi Zhao knew this was just a way to comfort him, but in that moment, with Fu Nan’an’s hand resting on his back, he still felt a long-lost sense of release. His heartbeat steadied, his sinking heart returned to its proper place.

He no longer needed to fear anything, nor carry any burden. His desire for Fu Nan’an to see originated genuinely from his own heart. He had already done very well, and had tried his absolute hardest. And no matter the final outcome, Professor Fu would always stand behind him.

They held each other in silence, neither speaking. Chi Zhao originally thought this night was destined to be sleepless, but lying beside Fu Nan’an, he quickly felt drowsy.

Being by Professor Fu’s side was too reassuring. He carried the scent of sandalwood that Chi Zhao loved most. After living together for so long, his body had grown accustomed to the smell. Originally, Chi Zhao rarely noticed the familiar fragrance anymore, and then knew it had become a part of him. But at this moment, lying side-by-side, Chi Zhao still clearly caught that scent which made him feel so secure.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Chi Zhao slowly closed his eyes. As he was about to fall asleep, he nestled his head closer against Fu Nan’an’s chest and muttered softly, “You will see, Professor.”

Fu Nan’an’s gentle hand rested on his head, stroking his fuzzy hair. “Mhm, I will see.”

Chi Zhao’s breathing gradually evened out. “…Definitely.”

Fu Nan’an’s breathing also slowly steadied. “Mhm, definitely.”

The surgery was scheduled for 8 AM the next day. Chi Zhao entered the operating room with Fu Nan’an. While eye surgeries often use local anesthesia, considering the need to incise the vitreous body, the doctors ultimately chose general anesthesia. The anesthetic was injected into his vein through an IV. In the last second before losing consciousness, Fu Nan’an’s gaze happened to turn towards where Chi Zhao was standing. Or perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence. Just as Fu Nan’an had said, with Chi Zhao there, he could see.

Naturally, Chi Zhao couldn’t perform this level of surgery himself. As a relative, he wouldn’t choose to operate on Fu Nan’an personally, afraid his emotions might interfere with his rational judgement. But as a participant in the artificial retina’s development, Chi Zhao had the privilege of witnessing the entire surgery in the operating room, seeing with his own eyes the artificial retina he had helped develop being placed into Fu Nan’an’s eye.

Chi Zhao couldn’t describe the feeling.

The thick surgical gown on, he stood in the very back row among the medical staff. Anesthesia, marking, incision—each step of the surgery proceeded methodically. The surgery involved the top notch experts in the field, Chi Zhao truly couldn’t help. But the moment he saw the artificial retina, which contained his own contribution, being placed into Fu Nan’an’s eye, he felt an immense sense of accomplishment.

He knew Professor Fu was one step closer to seeing, and within that step lay his own efforts and hopes.

The subsequent suturing proceeded smoothly. After the anesthesia wore off, Fu Nan’an woke up quickly. After the surgery, the doctors wrapped gauze around the outside of Fu Nan’an’s eye, layer upon layer, tying it off at the temple. At first glance, it looked rather amusing. Every day when Chi Zhao visited, he had to touch and feel it, wishing his hand could just stay glued to that bandage, much to Fu Nan’an’s helpless amusement.

“Is it that funny?” Fu Nan’an asked, grabbing Chi Zhao’s hand as he reached for the gauze yet again. “You’ve messed with it eight hundred times today.”

“It’s not that exaggerated?” Chi Zhao didn’t comply with the restraint, pulling his hand back to continue touching. “I just think it’s quite amusing. It’s my first time seeing you like this.”

Fu Nan’an was truly helpless. He raised his hand to the edge of his eye, touching it along with Chi Zhao. “Is it very ugly?”

Chi Zhao rolled his eyes, appraising it seriously for a long time, finally delivering four words, “…It is quite ugly.”

“Then what should I do?” Fu Nan’an laughed, sitting relaxed on the hospital bed, the corners of his lips quirking up. “I’m already old. Now, doesn’t that mean no one will want me?”

“Yeah, no one wants you now. In a few years, even fewer will,” Chi Zhao also laughed, playing along with a serious tone. “It’s just me, who you snagged when I was young. Shouldn’t you take the chance now to cling to me more?”

“Cling, I must cling. However Teacher Chi wants me to cling, I’ll cling.” Fu Nan’an naturally reached out and wrapped his arm around Chi Zhao’s waist, accurately landing a kiss on his lips.

The banter was fun, though neither of them took it seriously. How could a bandage over the eyes be ugly or not? The number of people who had liked Professor Fu over the years had never dwindled, and Chi Zhao loved Professor Fu no matter what he looked like.

The reason he couldn’t resist constantly touching Fu Nan’an’s bandage was that what Chi Zhao truly cared about was Fu Nan’an’s eyes beneath those few thin layers of gauze. When Chi Zhao’s fingers touched the bandage, he was touching Fu Nan’an’s eyes, touching his heart. Both of them had waited for this day for far too long. Chi Zhao wanted so badly for Fu Nan’an to see.

The suture removal was scheduled for a week later. During this period, Fu Nan’an’s eyes would remain bandaged. After the surgery, the doctors told Chi Zhao the operation was successful. Later, during daily check-ups, they also said things were progressing positively. But any surgery carries risks, and individual differences exist. The final conclusion could only be drawn after the bandages were removed.

A week wasn’t particularly long nor short. They had waited through so many years before this, but this single week felt exceptionally hard to endure. A young girl of about 10, who had undergone the same surgery as Fu Nan’an, was in the room next door. Before the surgery, Chi Zhao had casually given her a piece of candy. After the surgery, the girl became attached to Chi Zhao, having her parents bring her to Fu Nan’an’s room to play every day.

“Gege, gege, how long until I can take this off?” The girl had the same kind of bandage over her eyes as Fu Nan’an and would tug at Chi Zhao’s clothes to ask every few minutes.

“Hmm… you have to wait a bit,” Chi Zhao would say, shaking his head. He had always been good at making children happy. “Look, the princess in cartoons always appears last, she makes people wait. Sweetheart, your eyes are so beautiful, so they need to wait a little longer too.”

“Wow! Can I become a princess after taking it off? Then I can wait!” The girl’s mouth stretched into a wide grin, but within two minutes, she remembered again. “Is one minute enough? What about five minutes!”

Chi Zhao laughed and pinched her cheek gently. “No, Your Highness.”

In a child’s world, a single minute is an eternity, requiring much finger-counting. The child anticipated every second, and Chi Zhao anticipated just the same. It seemed only Fu Nan’an still wore a calm expression, as if he didn’t mind at all when the bandages would come off.

The little girl soon tired herself out and was led back to her room by her parents. Chi Zhao walked over to Fu Nan’an and touched his bandage again.

“How can you not be anxious at all?” Chi Zhao was genuinely curious. When the little girl was here, Fu Nan’an had been there too, helping coaxing along with him, his tone always gentle. It was as if he hadn’t had surgery at all, wasn’t wearing a bandage at all, but was merely an observer.

Chi Zhao’s fingers pressed against the edge of Fu Nan’an’s bandage as he muttered quietly, “I’m about to die from anxiety.”

“Where did you get the idea that I’m not anxious?” Fu Nan’an laughed, reaching for Chi Zhao’s hand, feeling it with his fingertips, and interlacing their fingers.

“I am anxious,” Fu Nan’an said. “You don’t know how anxious I am.”

Professor Fu had never been one to show his emotions openly. He rarely anticipated anything urgently except for this one thing, the desire to see.

Earlier, when the little girl was pestering Chi Zhao in the room, her mother had asked her what she wanted to see. The girl chattered a long string of desires: she wanted to see her toys, she wanted to watch cartoons. The child was still young, she didn’t fully understand the true significance of “seeing.” But Fu Nan’an knew. Fu Nan’an understood all too well. “Seeing” didn’t just mean convenience in daily life. It meant you could more completely touch and feel the things and people you loved.

Fu Nan’an had wanted to see Chi Zhao for many years.

He wanted to see that dimple everyone had praised countless times, to see his fuzzy hair. Fu Nan’an had tried to perceive Chi Zhao using all his other senses, but it was never enough. He wanted to see him, to imprint his image onto his eyes. Only then would it feel truly, completely whole.

For the first couple of days after the surgery, his vision was still chaotic and blurry, not just because of the bandage. Fu Nan’an’s brain had gone too long without receiving visual signals; relearning how to “see” would be a very long process.

One day, then another.

His eyes were still bandaged, but Fu Nan’an slowly began to perceive shadows moving. The bandage had many layers, but light ultimately filtered through. Fu Nan’an opened his eyes wide beneath the gauze, wanting the light to penetrate faster.

The week passed in a flash, and finally, the day arrived for Fu Nan’an’s bandages to be removed. A couple of days prior, the doctors had briefly removed the bandage to change the dressing, but the feeling when the bandage was truly lifted was different. The light that met his eyes was dazzling. Fu Nan’an hadn’t experienced it for so long that he reflexively squinted.

Chi Zhao stood right beside him and, seeing this, quickly grabbed his hand, looking at him with a tense expression. “Professor, how do you feel?”

Chi Zhao wanted to wave a hand in front of Fu Nan’an’s eyes but didn’t even dare make the gesture. There was nothing between them now, only the short distance. He just stared blankly at Fu Nan’an’s eyes, watching as the originally gray pupils gained a hint of light, seeing his own reflection appear in them.

“Can… Can you see me?” Chi Zhao’s lips moved slightly, his breathing even slowing.

His voice trembled. He had never been so nervous, feeling like his heart was about to stop. And then, he saw Fu Nan’an raise his hand, reach into the space between them, and slowly, gently touch his cheek.

Fu Nan’an’s fingers were slightly cool and calloused. The rough fingertips brushed against his skin, then tapped gently on his eyelid.

“This is… your eye.”

“This is… your nose.”

“This is… your mouth.”

Fu Nan’an’s fingers traced Chi Zhao’s cheek inch by inch. He opened his eyes greedily. This process felt so long that time seemed to stand still.

Fu Nan’an hadn’t seen for too long, so it was difficult for his brain to form complete images. It took him a long time to process what was before his eyes. His fingers stroked Chi Zhao over and over, identifying features as he touched. His hands trembled too. Finally, those trembling hands settled on Chi Zhao’s cheeks, stopping about three centimeters from the corner of his mouth.

Both their expressions were tense. Neither made a sound. Fu Nan’an’s fingers pressed and rubbed repeatedly at the spot beside Chi Zhao’s mouth. He seemed to be straining to identify and find something. He frowned slightly.

“Where is your dimple?” Fu Nan’an asked, his brow furrowed. “Why can’t I see it?”

Tears welled up in Chi Zhao’s eyes instantly. He knew then that Fu Nan’an truly could see. His eyes felt sore, and as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, the dimple finally appeared.

“It’s here,” Chi Zhao said, crying, as he pressed Fu Nan’an’s hand against the dimple, using force in his knuckles. “Professor, do you see it? Can you see it? It’s right here!”

Chi Zhao repeated it constantly, guiding Fu Nan’an’s hand to touch the dimple. The skin reddened from the friction, a stinging pain spreading, but he remained completely unaware.

“…It’s red,” Fu Nan’an said softly, his fingers still resting on Chi Zhao’s skin, his fingertip pressing against the small dimple. He said, “I’ve rubbed this spot red. But it’s still… very beautiful.”

—A hundred times more beautiful than in his dreams.