MCFEM C64

Chapter 64 – Their Birthdays

Once the emergency call had been placed, the ambulance came in haste and bore Ye Chen, now sunk in grievous unconsciousness, unto the hospital.

“And pray, what in truth has transpired?”

After the shrieks, the tumult, the chaos, the birthday feast lay utterly in ruins.

Gu Yang, the centre of all, asked the question with a countenance devoid of expression.

He had been seated quietly in his chamber when Lu Ji burst in without so much as a knock, seized him by the shoulders, and inspected him up and down with frantic hands—only to sigh in queer relief: “You are unharmed.”

“Unharmed, my foot.” Gu Yang jabbed a finger into his brow and thrust him aside.

Within the emergency room, physicians battled against time. A knot of classmates lingered outside, moved by the frail bonds of camaraderie. Before Lu Ji could speak in explanation, Qi Lecheng shouldered past him, eager for credit, and bent towards Gu Yang.

“Gu Yang—it was Ye Chen who sought to entrap you. He slipped a drug into your cup, intending to take shameful photographs. But I, in secret, poured it away.”

Gu Yang merely regarded him, his face impassive.

“You—you poured it away?” Xu Qingfeng echoed in surprise. “Then naught should have happened at all. Why then did you feel the need to ‘dispose’ of it further—”

Qi Lecheng faltered, startled himself. After a pause, he forced a feeble smile. “I was too nervous at the time. I scarce knew what I did.”

Xu Qingfeng, aghast, stepped back as though to place distance between them. This fellow is far too grotesque. Frightful indeed.

“To photograph me?” Gu Yang’s lips curved faintly. “And pray, who was to hold the camera?”

That question struck home.

Qi Lecheng’s smile withered. He clutched at his sleeves. “Ye Chen had already approached me. I agreed only to watch over him.”

Unused to long speech, and now with so many eyes upon him, his tongue stumbled.

“I see.” Gu Yang’s tone was light as drifting cloud. “Then I ought to thank you… if indeed it was as you say.”

The sudden edge within those words made Qi Lecheng shiver, as though pierced to the core.

Had Gu Yang seen through him?

For indeed, he had once been tempted. Ye Chen’s proposal was a lure beyond resistance. To possess a Gu Yang bereft of strength, to wield control as he pleased, to seize with his lens an eternal moment… it had seemed a fortune too great.

But at the brink, he had seen instead Gu Yang’s smile in the classroom that day—so radiant, as though sunlight itself had carved the soul’s outline.

If only I had been the one before him, not Ying Jiayi.

He had longed to capture that instant, to preserve it forever.

And so, at the last, he poured away the cup and replaced it with another.

Perfectionist by nature, from that moment he sought not only Gu Yang’s outward form, but the essence within.

Now, beneath Gu Yang’s piercing gaze, he quivered as though struck by lightning. To be laid bare thus, it was fear mingled with a dark thrill—like when first Gu Yang had named aloud the true meaning hidden in his art.

He longed to explain, to hear more words from him. But Gu Yang had already withdrawn his gaze, returned to his own world, leaving Qi Lecheng stranded as something of no significance.

At last, He Ming’an stepped between them, gentle in tone. “Enough. Ye Chen is still under the doctors’ hands. There is no need for such a crowd here.”

“Why so long within? Surely no danger?” Lu Ji muttered. Though he loathed Ye Chen’s vile designs, he wished no true harm upon him.

“It will be well. He said himself the drug would not harm the body.” Qi Lecheng hastened to speak again, eager to cleanse himself. “I had confirmed it.”

Lu Ji’s eyes grew strange. He dearly wished to lecture on dosage and potency, for Qi Lecheng’s ignorance was perilous indeed.

It is not fools one fears, but the sudden inspirations of fools.

At that moment, Ye’s father arrived at last, with Gu Yuhui at his side. Having learned something of the matter beforehand, he restrained his agitation, offering Gu Yuhui thanks ere he spoke.

“What, in Heaven’s name, occurred? This afternoon my son was well; within hours he lies in the emergency ward.”

The words bore the weight of accusation.

Gu Yuhui’s gaze darkened. In his house the matter had arisen, so some explanation must be made—but he would not bear the blame.

Before he could frame reply, Qi Lecheng stepped forward. “Uncle Ye, it was my fault.”

Ye’s father narrowed his eyes. “You mean to say—”

“Ye Chen, under great pressure of late, procured medicine from unworthy sources. Today he took too much by mistake, thus this calamity.”

Taking advantage of Ye Chen’s silence, Qi Lecheng thrust the blame upon him.

“If you doubt me, his purchase records will show it.”

Ye’s father’s face turned grim. “Foolish boy. To shun physicians for such things—his daring knows no bounds.”

Lu Ji, watching, felt a peculiar pang. The man’s manner recalled Lu Zhenxing, sharing all his vices.

Yet sympathy for Ye Chen he had none; his deeds were foul beyond endurance.

Xu Qingfeng glanced from father to Qi Lecheng. Having witnessed the truth entire, yet he dared not utter a word. Truly, Qi Lecheng was terrifying.

“My son has been foolish. Forgive the trouble he has caused.”

“I mind it little,” Gu Yuhui answered smoothly. “Only it is a pity—our A-Yang’s birthday, and such an ill star should rise.”

Ye’s father forced a smile and murmured apology to Gu Yang.

At length, news came: Ye Chen was beyond danger, though unconscious still and to remain under watch.

That was enough. Ye’s father bade the young ones home to rest.

Before departing, He Ming’an lingered, soft-voiced. “Are you quite well? Perhaps you should be examined also.”

But Gu Yang shook his head. Weariness pressed upon him; he wished only to be gone.

On the journey home, Gu Yuhui kept up a stream of talk. Gu Yang answered sparsely, until at mention of hosting another banquet, he flatly refused and shut his eyes in silence.

In the mirror, Gu Yuhui saw his unresponsive face, and smiled wryly, saying no more.

Back at the house, the guests had long since dispersed, the servants nearly finished with their tidying. Gu Yuhui bade him upstairs to rest.

Though late, Gu Yang felt no sleep upon him.

He bathed, changed, and lay upon his bed without so much as a light.

Darkness wrapped the chamber. Soundproofed walls made it seem another world entire.

He seized a pillow and clasped it to his breast, curling in upon himself.

The only glow was the digital clock: 11:31.

He watched the seconds creep on. Thus his eighteenth birthday ebbed away in measured digits.

So—I am eighteen now.

The thought stirred little feeling. He had let the years pass without heed.

Idly he counted the seconds, dreading sleep.

For in slumber, the mind is surrendered unto the unknown, and in dreams he had no control.

Minute by minute, the day waned; the morrow approached.

And the morrow—was Song Yinxing’s birthday.

Gu Yang drew himself tighter. His resistance to sleep now took on another hue.

When his own day ended, the next belonged to Song Yinxing.

The coincidence bore an air almost intimate.

Suddenly he sat upright, eyes bright, like a child struck with a daring scheme. Sliding from bed, he dressed swiftly.

He opened his door in stealth. The household lay silent, all servants abed.

His heart beat fast.

The first task: to slip out unseen.

Never before had he crept forth thus. The novelty thrilled him. He tiptoed lightly, making no sound, until at last he reached the gate.

There he summoned a carriage by phone.

Even seated within, his pulse raced. He lowered the window; cold night air rushed in. The streets lay near deserted, only warm lamplight and the rare glow of food-stalls scattered here and there.

Common sights, yet now they gleamed like facets of a jewel, filling his mind with prismatic light.

The taxi drew up at its destination.

Meanwhile, Song Yinxing set aside a finished paper, stretched his stiff shoulders, and glanced at his phone.

Pinned atop his messages was the chat with Gu Yang. A quarter-hour past, Gu Yang had asked if he slept. He had replied with a photo of books strewn upon the desk, and a weeping emoji.

No reply had followed. Likely Gu Yang had spoken idly.

Earlier, at the stroke of midnight, he had sent a “Happy Birthday,” and Gu Yang had answered at once, with a sticker of a plush cat waving farewell.

At this hour, Gu Yang was surely surrounded by family and friends.

The thought made Song Yinxing’s heart ache faintly.

He pictured Gu Yang encircled by many, a towering cake borne in, voices raised in song.

He closed his eyes, forced himself to banish the vision.

When he opened them, only the harsh white bulb glared back, shattering the imagined warmth.

In scant minutes, it would be his birthday.

His brother, Song Zihan, sent a message:

“Bro! Tomorrow’s your birthday—happy birthday in advance! Shall we feast to celebrate? (dog-head.jpg)”

Song Yinxing turned the phone face-down, too weary to answer.

He lingered thus for long moments—until a knock sounded at the door.

At once his heart leapt, stirred by some nameless premonition. He went to open, forgetting even to peer through the lens.

There stood Gu Yang, a smile upon his lips, and in his hands—
a cake.