[Li Hao's home]
Li Hao, still feeling the faint hum of their earlier conversation, was just settling into a quiet moment when a robust knock sounded on his study door.
"Mr. Li?" Gang Zi's voice boomed, even through the polished wood. "Got a minute? Or rather, five years' worth of minutes?"
Li Hao sighed. Gang Zi, his loyal, boisterous right-hand man, had impeccable timing, usually for the most inconvenient things. "Come in, Gang Zi. What fresh hell are you bringing today?"
Gang Zi, a mountain of a man with an equally formidable grin, strode in, his eyes twinkling. "Just a small request, sir. The board needs the financial reports for the last five years. And, well, they need them yesterday."
Li Hao leaned back, rubbing his temples playfully.
"Five years? Are you trying to give me an aneurysm? Wait, it's in my room. Should be in the old study desk." He pushed himself off the plush armchair. "Follow me."
They walked into Li Hao's personal sanctuary – a spacious room that blended modern minimalism with antique charm.
Li Hao approached a large, dark-wood desk, its surface gleaming. He pulled open the top left drawer, a gush of old papers and forgotten documents spilling out. He sifted through them, a slight frown creasing his brow.
"Hmm, not here," he mumbled, trying the next drawer. This one was stiffer, less used. He tugged harder, and it slid open with a soft groan.
His hand plunged inside, rummaging through more old files, until his fingers brushed against something smooth, crinkly, and unmistakably… rectangular.
He pulled it out, his eyes widening slightly. It was a packet of condoms, still sealed, still new.
The memory hit him with the force of a gentle wave – Yu Han, that day, the mix-up, the playful banter.
A slow, tender smile spread across Li Hao's face as he gazed at the packet, a silent testament to a moment of unexpected connection, a whisper of a future he hadn't dared to fully imagine.
Just then, Gang Zi, who had been patiently leaning against the doorframe, peered in further. "Find them, Mr. Li?"
He saw Li Hao smiling, lost in a world of his own, then his gaze, ever-observant, dropped to the object in Li Hao's hand.
His eyes widened comically, then narrowed into a mischievous glint. "Mr. Li, any… activity tonight?" he asked, his voice laced with playful innuendo, a teasing smirk plastered across his face.
Li Hao snapped back to reality, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. He quickly tucked the packet into his pants pocket, a silent treasure.
He turned, a feigned scowl replacing his smile, and gently (or perhaps not so gently) tapped Gang Zi's head.
"Find the files yourself, you cheeky bastard. I'm going to take a shower." As he took a step towards the bathroom, he paused, turning back. "Oh, and I'm starving. Order some food for me." With that, Li Hao vanished, leaving Gang Zi alone in the room.
Gang Zi chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Starving, he says. Like he doesn't eat like a king every day." He surveyed the drawers, a mountain of paperwork staring back at him.
"Here's a lot of documents… this will take ages to find those. Let me first order the food." His stomach rumbled in agreement. "I'll order my favorite food. He won't even know the difference."
He pulled out his phone, a confident grin on his face, only for it to vanish as the screen remained stubbornly blank.
"Shit!" he muttered, shaking the phone. "Forgot to charge it, again!" His eyes drifted to Li Hao's phone, casually sitting on the bedside table.
"Well, he did say 'order some food for me'… I think I should just order from his phone. Otherwise, he'll eat me if he doesn't get his food."
With a pragmatic shrug, Gang Zi picked up Li Hao's phone. He navigated to a food delivery app, his fingers swiftly typing.
The first restaurant that popped up, a local legend with a gleaming 5-star rating, immediately caught his eye. "Mr. Wu's Restaurant," he read aloud.
"Their famous noodles… ah, perfect!" He quickly perused the menu, selected the 'Famous Spicy Noodles,' and placed the order, oblivious to the ripples he was about to create.
[ Mr. Wu's Restaurant - Evening]
The aroma of savory spices and sizzling woks filled the air at Mr. Wu's bustling restaurant. Yu Han, wiping down a table with practiced ease, beamed as Mr. Wu, a jovial man with flour dusting his apron, clapped him on the shoulder.
"Yu Han, you are my good luck!" Mr. Wu declared, his voice booming over the din of the kitchen. "My work is flourishing ever since you came! Look at these orders!"
Yu Han laughed, a bright, melodic sound. "Hahaha… Mr. Wu, don't boast about me! The reality of your flourishing restaurant is only because of your cooking, your hands are magic! People really love your food, your noodles especially!"
Jiang Shao, Mr. Wu's lanky nephew, who was perched on a stool beside them, grumbled playfully. "Uncle, I'm your nephew! Yu Han is not! You should boast about me!"
Mr. Wu playfully swatted him with a dishcloth. "Hahaha… you always cause us trouble, you little bastard!"
Mr. Wu and Yu Han shared a hearty laugh, the warmth of their camaraderie a beacon in the busy kitchen.
Mr. Wu glanced at the order screen, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yu Han, new order just came in. Big one. Elite district. I'm going to prepare it, might take a moment to make it perfect."
Yu Han nodded, gathering his delivery bag. "Okay, Mr. Wu. Just let me know when it's ready."
In a while, the masterpiece was complete. Mr. Wu carefully placed the steaming bowl of his famous noodles into a sturdy container, then handed it over to Yu Han. "Careful with this one, Yu Han. A very important customer, I'm sure."
Yu Han hoisted the bag onto his bike's rack, securing it snugly. He punched the delivery address into his phone's GPS.
"I'll come back tomorrow now, Mr. Wu. I have to visit somewhere after this order."
Mr. Wu nodded, waving him off. "Go on, boy. Be safe!"
As Yu Han revved his bike, a grin stretched across his face.
"Yu Han, get ready for a huge tip! As the location says, 'Elite District'!" He swiftly drove off, weaving through the late afternoon traffic.
The area was indeed lavish, a labyrinth of grand, tree-lined avenues and sprawling bungalows.
He finally reached the address, his eyes widening in genuine shock. It wasn't just a bungalow; it was an ethereal estate, a modern fortress of glass and stone. The gates were immense, wrought iron designs twisting into intricate patterns. A luxurious car, sleek and imposing, gleamed in the driveway.
He pressed the doorbell, the chime echoing faintly. After a moment, one of the security guards, a stoic man in a sharp uniform, emerged from a side door. "Delivery?" he asked, his voice low and professional.
Yu Han, still a little overwhelmed by the sheer opulence, nodded. "Yes, Mr. Wu's Famous Noodles." He handed over the bag.
He couldn't resist a quick peek inside the open gate, but all he saw were more uniformed men, probably internal security.
The guard, holding the food, spoke into his comms. "Sir, confirming a food delivery. Noodles." A moment later, a voice crackled back – Gang Zi's, sounding slightly impatient. "Yes, yes! My noodles! Finally!"
Unable to contain his curiosity, Yu Han piped up, "Excuse me, sir, if you don't mind me asking… does this house belong to some politician?"
The guard's expression remained impassive, his reply firm and somewhat curt. "No. You can go now."
Yu Han frowned, feeling a prickle of annoyance at the dismissive tone. "Please tell them to give me five stars and my tip. I drove a long way."
The guard's eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you crazy, boy? Do you think they have time for such shit? Just go now." He gestured dismissively.
Yu Han clenched his jaw, his earlier excitement deflated. He turned away, muttering under his breath,
"What the f**k! I drove such a long distance and didn't even get a tip!" The injustice stung.
Then, a mischievous idea sparked in his mind. He pulled out his phone, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He quickly typed a message to the number from which the order was placed:
"Your order has been delivered. Please don't forget to give five stars to our restaurant and leave a tip for me, Yu Han."
He hit send, a small, triumphant smile playing on his lips. Let's see if that gets their attention, he thought, as he sped away.
[ Li Hao's Room]
Li Hao stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, feeling refreshed. He picked up his phone, casually surfing through news feeds, when a notification popped up.
His eyes, still slightly blurred from the steam, focused on the screen.
The words "Yu Han" jumped out at him, followed by a message about an order and a request for a tip.
His mind went blank for a second, then his eyes shot open, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through him.
Yu Han? It couldn't be a coincidence. No, the name, the name he had been longing to hear, to see, to touch.
Just then, Gang Zi entered his room, two large packets of steaming noodles clutched in his hands. "Mr. Li! Your food is here! And I got the famous spicy noodles! You're welcome!"
Li Hao looked from his phone to the noodles, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Th-these noodles… who delivered these?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly hoarse, his gaze fixed on Gang Zi as if the answer held the key to his very existence.
Gang Zi, bewildered by the sudden intensity in Li Hao's expression, blinked. "Of course, a delivery man, Mr. Li. Or who else? You said you were hungry."
Before Gang Zi could finish, Li Hao was already moving. He threw off the towel, snatched a pair of jeans from a chair, struggling to pull them on over his still-damp legs.
"Which way did he go? The delivery man?!" he demanded, his voice bordering on a shout.
Gang Zi shouted, "Mr. Li! What happened? You can't just run out like this!"
But Li Hao was deaf to his words. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions – disbelief, hope, a desperate, undeniable yearning.
He ran, not caring that he was half-dressed, not caring that his hair was still dripping wet.
In Li Hao's mind, there was nothing but the image of Yu Han, the memory of his smile, his touch, his scent.
He just wanted to see the man he had missed, the man he loved more than life itself.
He ran for his love.
He ran for his life.
He ran to cross the two different worlds,
that had inexplicably kept them apart, a chasm of wealth and circumstance that suddenly seemed insignificant.
He burst through the front door, shocking the security detail.
"The boy! The boy who delivered the noodles! Where is he?!" Li Hao was breathless, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with desperation.
The main guard, stunned by his boss's unprecedented state, pointed vaguely down the long driveway. "He… he just left, sir. That direction."
Without another word, Li Hao ignored his bodyguards who were now rushing towards him, trying to stop him.
He ripped open the door of his sleek, black car, and with a roar, started the engine. Nothing could stand in the way of the power of love. He sped out of the gates, chasing after a ghost of a chance, a whisper of a name that had always resided in his heart.
__________________
It was the time of evening, the sun a fiery orb sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, slowly welcoming the moonless night.
Yu Han, having navigated the bustling city traffic, found solace in the quiet solitude of the graveyard.
It was a place where he felt a profound tranquility, a quiet peace amidst the echoes of lives past.
He dismounted his bike, his steps slow and deliberate as he walked towards a familiar spot.
Two simple headstones, weathered by time and seasons, stood side by side. Yu Han bowed deeply, a gesture of profound respect, his heart already aching with a familiar sorrow.
He placed a small bouquet of fresh flowers, carefully arranged, and a small container of rice and a miniature bottle of liquor – offerings for the Lunar New Year, a tradition he meticulously upheld.
He then quietly sat down on the cool earth between the graves, his gaze fixed on the names etched there: Yu Rong and Lin Mei.
"Maa… Paa…" he began, his voice a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, almost carried away by the gentle evening breeze.
"Happy Chinese New Year… How are you… I hope you're doing well, wherever you are." He paused, taking a shaky breath, the familiar lump forming in his throat, a dull ache behind his eyes.
"I'm doing well, Maa, Paa… Don't worry about me," he continued, but the words felt hollow, even to himself.
A single tear, cold and sharp, traced a path down his cheek.
"I'm still working hard, just like you taught me. I'm going to graduate soon… Please, please come to my graduation ceremony, Maa, Paa… I know you can't, but I wish… I wish you could see me." His voice caught, a sob beginning to form.
"I miss you, Maa, Paa… I miss you every single day. I miss your laughter, Paa, your gentle scolding. I miss your cooking, Maa, your warm hugs, the way you'd play with my hair when I was worried."
His voice became more hoarse, the dam of his carefully constructed composure beginning to crack.
"Please come to me… I can't tolerate this all alone anymore. It's been so long, but the loneliness… it never really goes away. I try to be strong, I promise, but sometimes… sometimes it's so hard to pretend. I look around, and everyone has their families, their parents… and I just have memories."
A shudder ran through him.
"Please come to support me, Maa, Paa. I'm tired of managing everything on my own, always putting up a brave face. I want someone to stand beside me, someone to share the burden, someone to tell me it's going to be okay. I need someone's support, someone's protection… someone to just be there. Maa… Paa…"
The last words were a choked sob, a raw cry of anguish that tore from his very soul.
He put his head down on his parents' grave, the cool stone a poor substitute for the warmth of their embrace, and cried profusely, the tears blurring the engraved names, blurring the world around him.
His shoulders shook with the force of his grief, every repressed emotion pouring out in that sacred space, under the watchful eye of the fading light.
He was utterly, completely surrendered to his sorrow, lost in the depths of his loneliness, a lonely boy yearning for the love he had lost too soon.
And suddenly, in the midst of his profound grief, a warmth enveloped him. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him gently but firmly into an embrace.
Yu Han was so shocked, so utterly lost in his tears, that he didn't even realize what had just happened. He blinked fast, trying to shed the tears that clouded his vision, trying to make sense of the sudden, comforting presence.
He was hugging someone, his head submerged against a broad chest, inhaling a scent that felt impossibly, wonderfully familiar – a scent of expensive cologne, faint lingering soap, and something uniquely, undeniably him.
His mind, reeling from the shock and the sudden comfort, struggled to process. This scent… this warmth… His heart gave a painful lurch, then a desperate, hopeful thud.
"L-Li Hao?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with tears and disbelief.
He pushed away, needing to confirm, needing to see with his own eyes that this was not a dream, not a cruel figment of his imagination. He rubbed his eyes fiercely, clearing away the last of his tears, and looked up.
Standing before him, his face etched with concern, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his hand reaching out as if to steady Yu Han, was Li Hao.
He was here. He was real. And in that moment, under the fading light of the dying sun, two separate worlds collided, bound by a love that defied distance, grief, and the very concept of time.