Chapter 33

Why did he say that?

That line wasn't in the novel, but it wasn't something he couldn't say.

The novel only covered the key events of each day, leaving plenty of gaps he could fill in however he wished. In the parts the novel didn't mention, he could say anything as long as it didn't disrupt the upcoming plot.

But what if Yan Bozong told him not to go? Would he really stay?

Maybe his question was meaningless, just a desperate struggle. Yan Bozong looked at him, his face indistinct in the dimly lit hallway. After a brief pause, he ignored Qi Liangqin and walked away.

Qi Liangqin let out a breath—it felt both bitter and like a relief. He leaned against the wall, took a few deep breaths, then tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a long time before finally heading out as well.

"Liangqin, are you going out tonight?"

Qi Liangqin nodded. "Mm." His voice was a little hoarse.

"It looks like it's going to rain outside. It's stiflingly hot—remember to take an umbrella," said Aunt Chun.

Qi Liangqin nodded again. Aunt Chun handed him a purple umbrella. Madam Yan asked, "Don't you have your own?"

Feeling embarrassed, Qi Liangqin shook his head. Madam Yan said, "A grown man carrying such a fancy umbrella looks ridiculous. Take your big brother's instead—he's not going out tonight."

Yan Yuan pointed toward the entrance. "The black one."

Qi Liangqin bowed slightly. "Thank you, Big Brother."

Madam Yan chuckled. "What are you doing?"

Qi Liangqin smiled. "Mom, I'm heading out then."

"Don't come home too late. Just like Songwei, you must be back by ten."

Qi Liangqin nodded. Yan Yuan remarked, "Mom, I think this curfew is too strict. Young people nowadays aren't controlled like this. Ten o'clock? That's when nightlife is just starting."

As Qi Liangqin walked toward the door, he glanced back at Yan Bozong, who was sitting on the sofa, seemingly playing on his phone. He pressed his lips together, then bent down to pick up Yan Bozong's umbrella.

It was just an umbrella, but because it was Yan Bozong's, it felt different from any other.

The air outside was stiflingly hot, making it hard to breathe. As he walked down the street, he thought about how he would take his time getting to the bar—this way, he would have plenty of time for Yan Bozong to change his mind and call him, telling him not to go.

The night in Nancheng was beautiful, with lush greenery and a hazy glow from the city lights. When the wind stirred, the leaves rustled, and on this quiet street, there were few cars and even fewer pedestrians.

But he shouldn't entertain too many fantasies.

It was like when he used to go shopping and saw a handsome guy—his mind would wander, imagining how great it would be if that man were his. But he always knew such thoughts were unrealistic, pointless even, only setting himself up for disappointment.

Just like now—he knew exactly what would happen in these eighty chapters, how utterly ruthless Yan Bozong would be. No matter how much he hoped for otherwise, it would all be in vain.

It would only lead to disappointment.

But none of that really mattered. He wasn't some naive girl. Back when he read novels, he'd see a bunch of girls in the comments saying, "This is too heartbreaking, I can't take it!"—but he never thought it was that bad. This was just life. That was how the world worked. Love was like that. Not everyone got smooth sailing and endless affection.

At an intersection, he stopped to wait for the green light. Just then, his phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out immediately, answering without even checking the screen.

"Hello?"

"Liangqin, what are you doing?"

His heart sank. It wasn't Yan Bozong. It was Yan Songwei.

His disappointment was almost impossible to hide. The light turned green, and as he crossed the street, he replied, "I'm out having fun."

"With who?"

"Why are you asking? Weren't you the one who told me to go out and make more friends?"

"Big Brother called me just now and said…"

Yan Songwei hesitated. Qi Liangqin stopped walking and stood under a tree. "He said what? Said something about me?"

"He said you went out to meet someone. He didn't say it outright, but I got what he meant… You're not seeing anyone, are you?"

"I'm out for a hookup," Qi Liangqin said with a bit of resentment in his tone. "He sure likes to meddle. I never told him I was meeting someone."

"You must've let something slip for him to suspect you. Look, I don't mind you going out, but don't make it seem like I'm the one being cheated on, or I won't know how to face my brother. Here's the plan—I'll call him later and say I asked you about it, and you told me you were meeting our mutual friend, Zhou Tong. Let's make sure we're on the same page. When you get back, don't slip up."

Qi Liangqin kicked a small stone with the tip of his shoe. "Got it."

"And one more thing…" Yan Songwei cleared his throat. "Take care of yourself. Use protection. Don't let someone sweet-talk you into forgetting everything. Be smart out there. Love is precious, but life is even more valuable."

Qi Liangqin chuckled softly and nodded. "I know. Thanks."

"No need to thank me." Yan Songwei laughed on the other end. "Have fun. I'm at the nightclub entrance now—hanging up."

After the call ended, Qi Liangqin suddenly noticed that his phone battery was running dangerously low. He had completely forgotten to charge it.

What if Yan Bozong called later, and his phone died before he could answer?

Thinking of that, he quickly closed all background apps, hoping to save whatever battery he had left.

There was still a long way to go before he reached the gay bar. The place had a rather bold atmosphere and, to keep a low profile, was located in a more secluded suburban area, requiring him to cross a bridge.

He walked onto the bridge and leaned against the railing for a while, looking down. The wind over the river was particularly strong, messing up his hair. Maybe it was the damp chill carried by the wind, but his whole body felt cold, and for a moment, he actually considered turning back.

Quickly, he picked up his pace and jogged across the bridge. But once he got to the other side, he froze.

He was terrible with directions.

He needed navigation.

Pulling out his phone, he checked the battery—18% left. He quickly opened the map app and set up the route. A warm, deep male voice from the GPS said, "Turn left in 100 meters."

So, he walked straight ahead. But after only a few steps, the voice spoke again, "Turn left in 150 meters."

He hesitated.

How had he walked forward, yet the distance increased? Was the GPS inaccurate?

Frowning, he kept moving forward and glanced ahead. He didn't see any intersections. After walking a few more meters, the voice said, "Turn right in 710 meters."

Now he was really confused. And a little annoyed.

Was this navigation even accurate? Why did it keep changing directions?

Frustrated, he locked his phone, shoved it into his pocket, and just kept walking straight. He wasn't sure how long he had walked when the voice in his pocket suddenly said, "Please turn left, please turn left."

Qi Liangqin was about to explode.

To his left was just a road—was he supposed to walk straight into traffic?

Fuming, he pulled out his phone, turned off the voice navigation, and checked the map himself. Then, using his compass to find the correct direction, he decided to rely on his own instincts instead.

The wind started picking up, and a light drizzle began to fall. He quickly opened his umbrella and continued walking along the roadside. There were fewer and fewer cars, and the street became eerily quiet. Eventually, even the streetlights became sparse, with only the occasional one casting a dim glow. He was pretty sure he had gone the wrong way.

He had no choice but to take out his phone again and follow the map. After circling around several times and walking until his feet hurt, he finally saw the bar.

Standing across the street, umbrella in hand, he spotted an unremarkable door flickering with colorful lights. A few women went in and out, but most of the patrons were stylishly dressed men of all ages. The street outside was lined with parked cars.

This was a gay bar.

It was the first time in his life he had ever seen one.

And it made him afraid.

A fear as if he were about to be exposed. He lacked the courage to face the fact that he was gay. He had long gotten used to blending into the crowd, playing the role of an ordinary straight man.

Watching the cars on the street, he hurriedly crossed the road, stopping at a distance to observe the entrance of the bar.

Just as he was hesitating, someone suddenly called his name.

Startled, he turned his head quickly—only to see a man who had just gotten out of a car, holding an umbrella and walking toward him.

It was Wang Ze.

Qi Liangqin instantly felt overwhelmed with awkwardness, standing there stiffly. But Wang Ze had already approached him, smiling. "It really is you."

"I… I'm here to find Yan Songwei." In a moment of panic, Qi Liangqin blurted out a lie. "Have you seen him?"

"I just got here, so I'm not sure. You're looking for him? I don't think I've ever seen him here before."

"You come here often?" The moment the words left his mouth, Qi Liangqin regretted asking. But Wang Ze didn't seem to mind. He simply smiled and said, "I own this place. Opened it with a friend."

"Oh." So that was why.

"Want to go in? I can ask around for you."

"No, no need." Qi Liangqin took a step back and pulled out his phone. "I'll just call him. You go ahead and take care of your business—I won't go in."

Wang Ze chuckled and said, "Alright then. If you need anything, just come find me in the back."

Watching Wang Ze walk inside, Qi Liangqin panicked, gripping his umbrella tightly as he turned and ran. He ran until the bar was almost out of sight before stopping, panting heavily. His ankles were soaked, and his shoes felt damp inside.

The novel never mentioned him running into Wang Ze here. It only described how he entered the bar and immediately hooked up with a rugged man, with most of the details focused on the seduction.

He stood there in the darkness, unable to summon the courage to go in.

Even if he did enter, did he really have the nerve to seduce a stranger? To do something with a stranger in a bathroom?

Just thinking about it made him feel repulsed—ashamed and ridiculous. He knew how things worked between men. He longed for men, but he had an instinctive fear of such encounters. If it wasn't with someone he loved, how could he endure that kind of pain, that kind of intrusion?

He simply couldn't throw himself into it like the Qi Liangqin in the novel.

Holding his umbrella, he silently walked forward, questioning what he was doing.

A sudden wave of shame crashed over him. How foolish and pathetic this was. Even though he had become someone else, he was still a real person now. These things went against his boundaries—how could he possibly go through with them?

He couldn't sleep with someone he didn't love.

Wasn't the sacredness and beauty of sex in the presence of love?

Sex without feelings—how was that any different from animals? Maybe others could accept it, but he couldn't.

Even if he didn't end up with Yan Bozong, even if he was with someone else in the future, he still had to be responsible for that person.

He started running again, faster this time. His umbrella couldn't fully shield him from the rain, and some of it soaked into his clothes. He ran with all his might, as if running could erase the overwhelming sadness that had suddenly engulfed him.

This wasn't right. None of this was right.

He kept repeating it to himself as he ran, as if running could help him escape these filthy desires and bring him back to himself.

There was nothing wrong with staying pure, even if it meant being closed off. And there was nothing wrong with being flirtatious, changing partners constantly. Everyone had the right to choose how they lived. Everyone had their own views on sex.

But he wasn't the latter.

He was the kind of ridiculous, sentimental old man who would rather endure loneliness than take that step.

He wasn't Pan Jinlian. He was Qi Liang. Even in another world, he couldn't change who he was.

He tried to walk in well-lit areas, but the farther he went, the fewer lights there were. Eventually, he realized he had wandered into completely unfamiliar territory.

He was lost again.

The infamous directionless fool had done it again.

Panicking, he pulled out his phone—only to find that the battery was dead.

Shit.

He had no idea which way to go.

A few pedestrians passed by, umbrellas up, walking briskly. He thought about asking for directions but hesitated. So, he wandered aimlessly, circling the area a few more times.

Eventually, he realized that if he didn't ask someone, he might end up spending the night out here.

Summoning his courage, he ran toward a young woman passing by.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but could you—"

The woman flinched and quickly walked away.

Embarrassment and shame flooded him. Of course—women had to be cautious. He should ask a man or an older person instead.

So, he stood by the roadside, waiting for the next passerby.

After about ten minutes, an elderly man in a raincoat came by. Qi Liangqin rushed forward and asked for directions.

"You want to go there? That's far. With this heavy rain, it'll be hard to find a ride. Try the intersection up ahead."

"Thank you."

Qi Liangqin hurried to the intersection.

In half an hour, he flagged down two cars, but both already had passengers. When he told them where he needed to go, they just shook their heads and drove off.

Qi Liangqin sighed.

Forget it. If he didn't go back, he didn't go back.

After all, he had already told them he was going out for a hookup. If he went back now, how would he explain it?

He might as well stay out for the night—just like in the novel, where he didn't return until morning.

Wandering around, he spotted a Wallace fast-food restaurant and went inside, ordering a burger to pass the time.

But after only half an hour, he started feeling unbearably cold.

At first, he thought it was just the air conditioning. But the discomfort grew stronger and stronger.

Then, all at once, it hit him.

He had deviated from the plot.

A gut-wrenching pain overtook him, making him leap to his feet. Grabbing his umbrella, he stumbled outside.

As soon as he opened the door, the rain hit him in the face.

He froze.

Where was he supposed to go?

What was he supposed to do?

A sudden wave of fear swept over him.

He turned back to look at the restaurant staff. The cashier girl was staring at him in surprise.

"Sir, do you need any help?" she asked.

"I… my phone is dead. Can I borrow yours to call home?"

The girl hesitated, looking at his pale face and the way he clutched the door handle. Then she nodded.

"Wait a moment, I'll get it for you."

But by the time she returned with her phone, Qi Liangqin was already trembling, crouching on the ground.

The glass door was half-open behind him, rain drenching his coat.

Alarmed, the girl ran over. "Sir, are you okay?"

Qi Liangqin shook his head. "I… I'm fine."

"Should I call an ambulance?"

"No need…"

"Here's my phone—"

Qi Liangqin wanted to call Yan Songwei, but then he realized—he didn't remember Yan Songwei's number.

In fact, he didn't remember any numbers. Not even his own.

Numbers had always been a weak point for him.

He pulled out his own phone, hoping the girl could help charge it, but a splitting headache nearly knocked him out.

It felt like his soul was being ripped from his body.

Was he dying?

Would he return to his original world, or would he simply cease to exist?

Had deviating from the plot caused his character to collapse? Would he vanish completely?

If that happened… he would never see Yan Bozong again.

Or maybe it wasn't that serious.

The main plot of The Male Pan Jinlian was about Qi Liangqin and Yan Bozong. This night at the bar was important, but not enough to derail the entire final chapter. It probably wouldn't cause a total collapse.

Probably.

But he had no way of knowing for sure.

Life was uncertain.

Any moment could be the last.

He immediately dialed a number—the only one he had managed to remember in this world, despite barely glancing at it a few times.

He couldn't even remember his own number, yet he had memorized Yan Bozong's. He was always this attentive to the person he loved. This realization made him feel even worse. His eyes shimmered with tears as he listened to the ringing tone.

"Hello."

"Hello, Yan Bozong." He endured the pain and said, "Yan Bozong, I didn't hook up anyone. Come save me. Please, come save me. I think I might die... Do you think this is ridiculous? I—"

But the call was cut off. Yan Bozong had hung up.

Qi Liangqin stared at the phone in a daze. The girl beside him looked at him with suspicion and reached out to take her phone back.

Of course, he was such a fool. Yan Bozong was already avoiding him as much as possible—why would he ever come to save him? He was nothing but a filthy existence, a Pan Jinlian that Yan Bozong despised.

He returned the phone to the girl and tried to stand up, but dizziness overwhelmed him. The pain grew more intense, so severe that fear began to creep into his heart. He didn't know what would happen to him—that uncertainty was the scariest part.

But he didn't want to die.

He didn't want to leave this world.

Even if he had to live by Yan Bozong's side as a Pan Jinlian, he would rather stay. So what if he had to sleep around? He was a man—was he really afraid of that?

With that thought, he pushed open the door and stepped outside. Rain poured down on him, yet he still remembered to open his umbrella. Stumbling, he ran back toward the bar.

He was going to leap into the abyss of sin.

So this was the catastrophe destined for him.

A body tainted by another man's fluids—this was his fate.

"Sir! Sir, wait!"

A sudden voice called out behind him. Qi Liangqin turned around, his vision blurred, and saw a shadowy figure moving.

"Your family's phone number!"

——

Qi Liangqin rushed back inside. He had no time to fold his umbrella, so he simply threw it aside at the entrance. His rain-soaked hands grabbed the phone as he shouted, "Yan Bozong, Yan Bozong!"

Yan Bozong's voice came through, seemingly irritated yet cold. "Where are you?"

In the end, Yan Bozong still acknowledged him. It wasn't much of a favor, but just hearing Yan Bozong's voice made Qi Liangqin tear up. He choked out, "I... I'm at Wallace."

"Minshan District, Zhuhe Road No. 18," the girl reminded him.

"Zhu... Zhuhe Road No. 18," he stammered, repeating the address in an almost ingratiating tone.

The call ended abruptly. Yan Bozong had hung up.

"My family is coming to pick me up," Qi Liangqin said, his face pale.

The girl smiled slightly, her expression a mix of caution and curiosity. "Then sit down and wait for them."

Qi Liangqin sat down, but after just a moment, he stood up again. He pushed open the door, retrieved the umbrella from outside, folded it, and shook off the water. His whole body was trembling—he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the pain.

He placed the umbrella aside and sat by the door, resting his head on his arms. His body seemed to be shivering.

Even the staff at Wallace came out to look at him. Someone handed him a cup of hot milk.

The rain continued to pour outside. There were barely any customers in the store. The world beyond the glass was dark and murky. He didn't know how long he had been waiting when, finally, a light appeared in the distance. A car approached.

The girl was about to remind him, but before she could, Qi Liangqin, who had been slumped over, suddenly sat up as if sensing it himself.

He quickly grabbed his umbrella. His body felt weightless as he walked to the entrance, opened the umbrella, and stood there.

Through the curtain of rain, the car's headlights grew clearer. The falling raindrops glistened under the light, and even the ripples on the wet pavement became visible.

The car came to a stop in front of him.

He squinted slightly and saw someone push open the door on the right side. Amidst the heavy rain, Yan Bozong's voice rang out, nearly drowned by the downpour.

"Get in."

Yan Bozong's voice was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Qi Liangqin grinned foolishly, water dripping from his soaked hair.

How could words ever describe the joy of that moment?

Perhaps no words could ever capture it.

Perhaps, it was like his hero arriving, stepping through the rain on a cloud of seven colors.