🌸 Chapter 9: Breathing in Sync
Qi Ye woke to the morning light slicing through the half-drawn curtains, falling diagonally across the bed.
Squinting, he lifted a hand to shield his eyes. Cheng Shu Bai’s watchband pressed against the pillow, the display reading 9:47 a.m. The heart rate curve had finally stabilized—if you ignored the wild spike to 140 bpm at three in the morning.
The lingering scent of cedar mixed with sandalwood hung in the air, but the person himself was gone. Qi Ye pushed himself up, and the soreness along his lower back reminded him of the absurdities at the abandoned airport last night.
On the nightstand sat a cup of warm water, a sticky note pinned underneath:
“Morning meeting at headquarters, back by noon. Keys on the entry table. —C”
Nothing in the neat handwriting hinted at the man who had pressed him against the car door last night, lips feverish enough to trigger the monitor’s alarms.
Damn it. Why didn’t I take the watch off?
Barefoot, Qi Ye stepped onto the floor. The clothes he had tossed about last night were neatly hung on the coat rack, even his underwear dried and stacked on top.
“….”
He picked up the gray boxer shorts between two fingers, and heat crept up his ears. Cheng Shu Bai had gotten so practiced at household chores,when did that happen?
A note on the bathroom mirror read: “Don’t use cold water.”
Qi Ye crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash but, twisting the shower handle, still adjusted the temperature properly.
The hot water hit his neck, and he remembered Cheng Shu Bai’s teasing words from last night: “The monitor isn’t broken. You’re just too damn dangerous.”
Ding—
A message pinged on his phone. Wrapped in a towel, Qi Ye stepped out to check: three unread messages.
09:15 Cheng Shu Bai: “Awake?”
09:32 Cheng Shu Bai: “There’s porridge in the kitchen.”
09:47 Zhou Wen: “Qi Gong, Mr. Cheng asked me to remind you to take your medicine…”
Qi Ye walked into the kitchen, rubbing his hair. The rice cooker’s keep-warm light was on. Lifting the lid, the aroma of century egg and lean pork congee hit him.
A third note stuck beside the clay pot: “Drink half a bowl before taking medicine.”
Qi Ye stared at the words for a moment, then dug into the cabinet for the chili sauce, scooping a generous two spoonfuls into the congee.
Mind your own business. Spice me to death.
Before he could swallow the first bite, the door lock clicked. Cheng Shu Bai entered, briefcase in hand, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, looking every bit the proper executive—no trace of last night’s chaos.
“Awake?” His gaze swept over the red marks on Qi Ye’s collarbone. His Adam’s apple moved slightly. “Stomach still sore?”
Qi Ye added another spoon of chili deliberately. “Morning meeting done?”
“Ended early.” Cheng Shu Bai hung his jacket, the sleeve cuff outlining lean forearm lines. “Director Li insisted on replacing the phoenix tree.”
The ceramic spoon clinked against the bowl. Qi Ye lifted his head. “When did this happen?”
“This morning. Emergency proposal.” Cheng Shu Bai unbuttoned his cuffs and walked over.
He naturally took the spoon from Qi Ye’s hand and tasted the now-lukewarm congee, brow unruffled. “Taken your medicine?”
“You—” Qi Ye’s ears heated again as he watched him use his spoon. “Opposed it?”
“Yes.” Cheng Shu Bai pushed over the pillbox. “But the board requested a new report next week.”
Sunlight slanted through the kitchen window, casting a bright streak across the counter. Qi Ye noticed a small cut on Cheng Shu Bai’s left ring finger, like a sharp edge had nicked him.
“Your hand?”
Cheng Shu Bai followed his gaze. “From dismantling the monitoring device.”
“What monitoring device?”
“The one Director Li installed on the phoenix tree.” He wiped his hand with a tissue. “Last night’s data anomaly? Someone tampered with it.”
Qi Ye shot up. The chair screeched across the floor. “So the reason you went out at three a.m. was—”
“To remove the bug,” Cheng Shu Bai added calmly. “And replace the cheap sensors Director Li’s nephew’s company installed.”
Clutching the pill in his palm, Qi Ye realized those two missing hours were not spent buying suits but braving the storm to secure the construction site.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your heart rate had just stabilized.”
Even as he spoke in an even tone, Qi Ye felt his heart clench at the sight of Cheng Shu Bai’s exhausted but clear eyes behind the glasses.
“Cheng Shu Bai,” he asked hoarsely, “over these seven years, you’ve…”
The phone rang sharply, cutting him off. Cheng Shu Bai glanced at the caller ID, frowning slightly. “Zhou Wen.”
He answered, and Zhou Wen’s shrill voice pierced the speaker. “Mr. Cheng, Director Li brought people to the site. They want to evaluate the phoenix tree relocation plan in person.”
Cheng Shu Bai’s expression went cold. “Stop them. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Qi Ye grabbed the car keys. “Together.”
“Take your medicine.”
“In the car.”
Cheng Shu Bai suddenly caught his wrist. The heart rate monitor numbers climbed again. Sunlight filtered through dust raised between them, casting two overlapping shadows on the tiled floor.
The key rack held two car keys side by side. one with a ginkgo leaf charm, the other a tiny compass. Just like years ago, when they first collaborated on a design project and drew a little sun and compass in the corner of the plans.
Outside, the construction site swarmed with black corporate vehicles from Universal Group.
By the time Qi Ye and Cheng Shu Bai arrived, Director Li was under the phoenix tree with a group of board members, pointing and debating. A young man with gold-rimmed glasses trailed beside him. the lead designer from Li’s nephew’s company, holding the relocation plan renderings.
“Perfect timing, Mr. Cheng,” Director Li said with a fake smile. “We were discussing the best way to transplant this tree.”
Cheng Shu Bai slipped a hand in his pocket. Behind his glasses, his gaze was icy. “The board hasn’t voted yet.”
“But the technical assessment passed.” The young designer pushed his glasses up. “Our calculations show a 92% survival rate post-transplant.”
Qi Ye snorted. “You call uprooting a fifty-year-old phoenix tree from its native soil a 92% survival rate?”
“You may not understand the latest technology,” the designer said, feigning humility, offering a document. “We used German-imported root dormancy agents…”
Cheng Shu Bai intercepted the document mid-air. Flipping through, he slapped the stack back onto the designer’s chest. “Page three’s formula is wrong. You overcounted by an order of magnitude.”
The designer went pale.
“Also—” Cheng Shu Bai stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Who allowed you to install new monitoring devices after I removed the old ones last night?”
Director Li stiffened. “What do you mean, Mr. Cheng?”
Qi Ye crouched under the tree, brushing aside loose soil at the roots. A button-sized metal device blinked red, thin data wires stabbed into the trunk.
Illegal tampering with a protected tree. Qi Ye took out his phone to photograph it. “According to Article 47 of the Urban Greening Regulations, a triple fine of construction cost, Zhou Wen!”
Zhou Wen, hidden behind the crowd, raised her enforcement recorder. “All recorded!”
Chaos erupted. Director Li broke out in sweat. “This is a misunderstanding..”
“Misunderstanding or not, we’ll let the forestry bureau decide.” Cheng Shu Bai removed his glasses to wipe them. “The emergency board meeting is rescheduled for 3 p.m. today Uncle Li, remember to bring the official seal.”
Sunlight filtered through the phoenix tree leaves, casting mottled shadows. Qi Ye watched Director Li slink away. Cheng Shu Bai’s left ring finger bled again.
“Your hand.” Qi Ye frowned.
“No problem,” Cheng Shu Bai brushed it off.
“Bandage.”
“None in the car.”
Qi Ye grabbed his wrist and pulled out a bandage printed with a little sun—just like the ones Cheng Shu Bai used to tuck into his modeling toolbox in college.
“You…” Cheng Shu Bai’s voice was hoarse.
“Bought at a convenience store.” Qi Ye wrapped it around, fingertips brushing his palm accidentally.
The heart monitor vibrated. They both looked at the screen.
Heart rate: 119 bpm
Status: Synchronized anomaly
Cheng Shu Bai chuckled, grasping Qi Ye’s fingers. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“I know what you want to ask.” Qi Ye let him hold his hand. “The device suggests returning it for repair. Next time, I’ll just throw it at you.”
The phoenix tree rustled in the wind, its shadow just covering the two of them. In the distance, Zhou Wen directed workers to remove the illegal device. Sunlight caught the edge of the little sun bandage Qi Ye had applied—it bore a small inscription inside:
“To My C”
Just like the box Cheng Shu Bai had given him years ago. The tree’s shadow curled into a tiny heap under the fierce sun.
Qi Ye crouched at the roots, fingers brushing over the wound the data wire had pierced. The bark split, revealing pale yellow wood beneath, like an open sore.
“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, knowing the tree wouldn’t answer, only shaking loose a few sun-scorched leaves. Footsteps approached; Cheng Shu Bai’s shadow overlapped his.
“The forestry bureau will be here in ten minutes,” Cheng Shu Bai’s voice came from above, a trace of air-conditioned chill lingering.
“Mm,” Qi Ye replied, continuing to clear the soil. His hands were stained dark red—tree’s blood or his own, he couldn’t tell.
“Hand.” Cheng Shu Bai said.
Qi Ye hid it behind his back. “I’m fine.”
Cheng Shu Bai said nothing, squatted down, and pulled out a wet wipe. As he cleaned Qi Ye’s knuckles, Qi Ye noticed a dried line of blood on his own right hand. Cheng Shu Bai’s movements were light, meticulous, as if restoring a precious artifact.
“…Why do you have these in your car?” Qi Ye asked, staring at the pile of folded wipes.
“Habit,” Cheng Shu Bai replied.
When he tossed the wipes into the trash, Qi Ye noticed seven or eight more identical ones—used and folded neatly. He remembered complaining in college about glue hurting his hands; Cheng Shu Bai always stuffed three wet wipes into his drawing kit.
“Cheng Shu Bai,” Qi Ye said, watching the forestry staff collect evidence, “if we can’t save it this time…”
“We will.” Cheng Shu Bai cut him off. His voice was calm, yet struck like a nail into the ground. “I promise.”
The sunlight was merciless, burning his eyes. Qi Ye looked at his own shadow, trembling slightly.
Zhou Wen ran up, raising her recorder. “Mr. Cheng, Director Li…” She froze, glancing between them. “…Am I interrupting?”
Cheng Shu Bai stood, shadows peeling away from Qi Ye. “Business first.”
“Director Li just got a call. Headquarters is sending the inspection team. Seems to be about the tree…” Zhou Wen lowered her voice.
Qi Ye looked up sharply. Cheng Shu Bai’s expression remained unreadable. Sunlight pierced from behind, the white shirt nearly transparent, revealing his waist…
“You go back first,” Cheng Shu Bai told Zhou Wen. “Prepare the B-zone seedling inspection report.”
After Zhou Wen left, Qi Ye asked, “You know this will alert the inspection team.”
Cheng Shu Bai adjusted his cuffs, the watch glinting coldly. “Mm.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What use would that be?” Cheng Shu Bai smirked. “Make you write a self-critique with me?”
Wind surged suddenly, leaves rustling loudly. Qi Ye noticed the third button of Cheng Shu Bai’s shirt, smeared with brown mud from the roots he had just cleared.
“Cheng Shu Bai,” he said, voice tight, “you damn…”
The forestry bureau’s loudspeaker cut him off. Cheng Shu Bai dusted imaginary dirt from his shoulders and strode toward the enforcement vehicle, back straight like the scarred phoenix tree.
Qi Ye stayed rooted, suddenly unwilling to move.
The inspection meeting room was cold as a morgue.
Qi Ye sat on a hallway bench, peeking through the door crack at Cheng Shu Bai’s upright back. Thick documents lay in front of him, the top report detailing the tree’s growth rings.
“Qi Gong.” Zhou Wen handed him a cup of tea. “They won’t touch Mr. Cheng.”
The paper cup burned his fingertips. Qi Ye watched the steam curl. “He… often does this?”
“You mean… this?”
“Protecting others.”
Zhou Wen’s lashes trembled. “Since I’ve known Mr. Cheng, yes- you’re the first.”
A sudden bang echoed from the meeting room. Qi Ye jumped, spilling tea over his pants. Through the blinds, he saw Director Li pointing at Cheng Shu Bai, spittle landing on the report.
Cheng Shu Bai just listened quietly, fingers tapping lightly on the table.
“…Should I go in?” Qi Ye asked hoarsely.
Zhou Wen shook her head. “Mr. Cheng instructed you to wait outside, no matter what.”
“Why?”
“Uh…” Zhou Wen lowered her voice, “…He said he’s afraid you’d end up sending someone… to the hospital.”
Qi Ye’s fist slammed against the wall, knuckles bruising. The pain sobered him. Looking up, Cheng Shu Bai’s eyes behind the glasses curved in a small, familiar smile: “Be good.”
He recognized that lip movement instantly. senior year, when he’d thrown a tantrum over deadlines, Cheng Shu Bai had mouthed the same words through the drawing room glass. Qi Ye had flung an eraser at him then.
But now, it wasn’t the same.
The meeting dragged three hours. When Cheng Shu Bai finally emerged, Qi Ye had finished half a pack of cigarettes.
“Resolved?” Qi Ye stubbed out his smoke.
Cheng Shu Bai removed his glasses, massaging his brow. “Mm.”
“And then?”
“Phase Two landscape rights.” Cheng Shu Bai said lightly. “Given to Li’s nephew’s company.”
“You damn-”
“But the phoenix tree survived.” Cheng Shu Bai grabbed his wrist, thumb pressing the bruise. “Permanent protection, in the land use plan. Don’t be mad.”
The hallway lights were harsh, bleaching Cheng Shu Bai’s face. Qi Ye noticed the left hand wound had reopened, blood seeping onto the sleeve.
“…Painful?” Qi Ye asked.
Shaking his head, Cheng Shu Bai placed something in his palm—a rusted thumbtack, cleaned.
“The wish we made back then,” he whispered, “can be fulfilled now.”
Seven years ago, that summer night, they had tied a paper to this tack and pinned it on the highest branch of the phoenix tree.
The note read: “When the old factory is renovated, we’ll do this project together.”
Moonlight spilled from the end of the corridor, forming a small silver puddle on the floor. Cheng Shu Bai’s shadow slid close, pressing lightly against him.
“I’ll wait for your decision,” he murmured.
The elevator dinged in the distance, footsteps approaching. Qi Ye grabbed Cheng Shu Bai’s tie, pulling him into the fire escape.
In the dark, the rusted thumbtack pressed between their palms.
“Cheng Shu Bai,” Qi Ye frowned, tugging the tie, lips brushing his, soft as spring snow not yet melted. “Liar…”
“Mm.” Moist lips murmured unspoken words. Cheng Shu Bai’s fingers brushed behind his ear. When their jaws touched, heat flared like two planets colliding, sparks rubbing off.
Qi Ye’s lashes swept his cheek as the roll of Cheng Shu Bai’s Adam’s apple matched his heartbeat perfectly.
Moonlight filtered through the iron vents, casting mottled patterns on the floor, like the scars etched into the phoenix tree.
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