CH 84

Qi Yanbai’s expression on his pale face went blank for a moment, then he showed a slight change in demeanor, looking extremely frustrated.

Lu Ye, who had been lying low for days, finally gained a small victory. His mood instantly improved, and he didn’t care about how regretful Qi Yanbai might be feeling at the moment. He happily took the disc from Qi Yanbai’s hand, pretended to inspect it, and tore open the plastic wrapping with great interest.

“Since we have nothing better to do,” Lu Ye said, “how about we watch it?”

He seemed to be seeking Qi Yanbai’s opinion, but as he spoke, he had already walked over to the other side of the living room with the disc, turned on the TV, and started the DVD player connected to it.

This vintage-style equipment always took a few minutes to start up. Lu Ye leisurely sat back on the couch, dragging his leash along. He didn’t even spare a glance at Qi Yanbai, leaving him to his own thoughts of regret. Lu Ye absentmindedly searched through the coffee table, pulled out a bag of ready-to-eat hawthorn rolls, and looked quite relaxed.

He teased and then ran off, but Qi Yanbai felt as if he were scratching an itch. He couldn’t help but replay every word and every sentence that Lu Ye had said that day when he had the high fever. It was only then that he realized that before Lu Ye had passed out, he did want to say something to him.

Unfortunately, he didn’t say it at the time, and Qi Yanbai himself hadn’t paid much attention after. When he woke up the next day, that hazy and beautiful moment had quietly passed, never to return.

Things that were within his reach but slipped away were even more maddening than things he had never obtained, especially when Qi Yanbai had been so anxious, so eager to have Lu Ye’s love at that time.

The most desired thing had been so close for a moment, close enough that he didn’t need clever calculations or careful probing to reach out and grasp it. Yet, he missed it.

This awkward and complicated regret and dissatisfaction felt like molten asphalt, sticky and heavy, clinging to him. It couldn’t be washed away or shaken off, making it even harder to endure than sharp pain.

The old DVD player was still making clicking noises. Qi Yanbai was tormented by the missed confession, and after a while, he couldn’t bear it any longer. He walked over and leaned in close, knelt on the couch, and hugged Lu Ye’s shoulders, softly calling his name.

“What you wanted to tell me back then…..?” Qi Yanbai, trying to coax him, said “Tell me now, please.”

Lu Ye knew that given Qi Yanbai’s personality, he would surely regret this incident deeply. He watched Qi Yanbai approach with a probing look, then sighed lightly and put his arm around his waist.

“Yanbai,” Lu Ye said calmly. “So, you see, if you had just waited a little longer and if you had been patient, you could have had what you wanted.”

Qi Yanbai was slightly taken aback.

During this time, Lu Ye had actually been subtly teaching him to learn “patience and to endure.”

Enduring possessiveness led to compliance, enduring selfishness led to praise, and enduring risk led to emotional comfort. Lu Ye had been trying to teach Qi Yanbai the concept of delayed gratification and helping him overcome his anxieties.

Looking at Qi Yanbai’s current state, it seemed that Lu Ye’s educational efforts had been somewhat successful. However, upon closer inspection, Qi Yanbai realized this was the first time Lu Ye had explicitly mentioned “patience.”

He vaguely sensed something, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

The only thing he understood was that Lu Ye was probably determined to make him taste the feeling of “regret.” So, despite Qi Yanbai’s attempts to coax and persuade him, he wouldn’t reveal what he had wanted to say in the first place.

Qi Yanbai found this not entirely surprising but still frustrating. He furrowed his brows slightly and was about to say something when he felt the arm around his waist suddenly tighten. Lu Ye pulled him from his lap onto the couch.

“Sit properly,” Lu Ye interrupted what Qi Yanbai was about to say, speaking calmly. “The movie is about to start.”

Qi Yanbai caught something in Lu Ye’s abrupt change of demeanor but hesitated for a moment. In the end, he swallowed back the heavy air that had been choking him.

The old DVD player finally began to work. The TV screen was black for a couple of seconds, then lit up again. There were no opening logos or sponsor advertisements on the recorded DVD; it almost immediately delved into the main content.

The filming style of this obscure movie was completely different from popular films. It started with a long, silent sequence, and Lu Ye initially thought there was something wrong with the sound. While he was searching for the remote control, Qi Yanbai’s hand reached over and held his arm.

“This is how it is, Lu Ye,” Qi Yanbai said. “It’s an art film.”

As Qi Yanbai said, the filming technique of this movie was quite niche. Its composition and framing resembled “paintings in motion” more than “film and television.” The rich colors gradually faded under a grayish filter, and the long shots seemed tedious and boring, giving it an almost antiquated and mundane quality.

For art students, this film might have its charm, but for outsiders, it was like a moving painting slideshow. Qi Yanbai initially thought that Lu Ye would lose interest within five minutes, but surprisingly, he was watching it quite attentively.

Although not particularly captivated, he didn’t seem bored either.

The artist on the screen was unrefined in appearance, but his gaze was intense. He appeared both indulgent and passionate as he left one stroke of vibrant color after another in his cramped and simple studio. Lu Ye watched as the painting gradually took shape and reached out to hold Qi Yanbai’s shoulder.

“Yanbai,” Lu Ye asked casually, “When you invited me to watch this film, what did you want to tell me?”

Qi Yanbai leaned against Lu Ye’s shoulder, their posture so natural, as if they were just an ordinary couple who, on a leisurely afternoon, cuddled together to watch an old movie.

“To be honest, I don’t remember very well,” Qi Yanbai said softly. “Maybe I wanted to mention my paintings to you, talk a bit about my past, and then tell you that since I met you, you’ve become  the greatest motivation for my art.”

At the time, Qi Yanbai couldn’t recall the exact words he wanted to say to Lu Ye, but he had been dropping hints to him every day. He had pondered and calculated how to express his admiration, share his childhood, or showcase his skills. Ultimately, it all boiled down to these aspects.

During that time, Qi Yanbai had carefully considered how he should present himself to Lu Ye, and how to subtly capture his heart. Back then, he had thought he was being careful and attentive, but now, looking back, he realized that those schemes were pointless. They appeared exquisite at the time, but once the moment passed, they left no traces in people’s hearts.

As he recalled that ambiguous and hazy time, what Qi Yanbai remembered most clearly were the moments when he held hands with Lu Ye, the sunlight streaming dimly lighting the path in their residential area.

It was these seemingly insignificant moments that effortlessly overshadowed the countless “wonderful coincidences” he had pondered over. They became the fluorescent highlights of that period.

If he had known it would be like this…

Qi Yanbai closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and inexplicably thought of the “missed opportunity” that had been plaguing him.

If he had known…

He shouldn’t have wasted his time scheming, Qi Yanbai thought. Instead, he should have held Lu Ye’s hand even tighter back then.”