Chapter 95: Mistaken Recognition

Chapter 95: Mistaken Identity

Zhao Yu glanced at him, then suddenly turned around. The next moment, rapid footsteps approached from behind, and arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

"What I did regarding Zhou Lan was wrong. Don't leave," Gu Hansheng said. "I can apologize to him."

The man carried the chill of the cold wind on him, and the cold against Zhao Yu's neck made him shiver.

Zhao Yu reached up and touched his ice-cold face, then pulled out his keys and said, "I was just going to open the door."

He had a spare key to Little Lin's Restaurant, and the moment he saw Gu Hansheng in his thin jacket, he'd planned to let him in. The restaurant had heating, and it would warm up quickly once turned on.

They sat down at a table, and Zhao Yu looked at him.

The cold war had been going on for a while now—though it was one-sided on Zhao Yu's part. When he'd learned that Fang Yuming had been sent by Gu Hansheng, he'd been furious. But he also knew it was an old, messy debt from the past, and the Gu Hansheng of today was indeed different from his former self.

Zhao Yu said, "Remember what you said. You owe Brother Lan an apology."

Gu Hansheng took his hand. "Alright, I'll go as soon as we get back."

Zhao Yu was still in a bad mood. He pulled his hand free and stood up. "I'll go brew some ginger tea."

Gu Hansheng's gaze followed him, but didn't earn a single direct look.

A dozen or so minutes later, Zhao Yu came back out with a kettle and set it on the table, signaling that Gu Hansheng should pour his own cup. Taking the hint, Gu Hansheng fetched two cups.

But Zhao Yu didn't want any. Watching the cup of hot ginger tea set before him, he suddenly remembered the ice cream in his bag. He took it out and saw it had already started melting.

Ice cream that melted and refroze would lose its texture, so Zhao Yu simply grabbed a spoon and scooped up the part at the bottom that hadn't melted yet.

Gu Hansheng said, "You have a sensitive stomach. Don't eat too much cold stuff."

Zhao Yu said, "A girl gave it to me. I don't want to waste it."

Gu Hansheng's brow furrowed. He took a sip of the ginger tea, then couldn't help asking, "What girl?"

Zhao Yu scooped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, finding it a little amusing, and deliberately said, "A girl from Meng Qi's foster family. She's very cute."

Hearing that, Gu Hansheng could hardly swallow his tea. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it, and poured himself another cup.

After slowly taking a few more bites, Zhao Yu couldn't help the corner of his mouth curling up. He scooped up a piece of chocolate brownie from the bottom and held it out to Gu Hansheng, teasing, "She's only five."

Gu Hansheng paused, then opened his mouth and took the spoon. The rich chocolate flavor immediately filled his mouth. He froze, looking at the ice cream in Zhao Yu's hand.

Ben & Jerry's classic vanilla chocolate ice cream—a very common flavor, but one that left a particularly strong impression on Gu Hansheng.

Seeing Gu Hansheng staring blankly, Zhao Yu thought he was still jealous over a five-year-old girl, and laughed. "Are you ever going to let it go?"

He pushed the ice cream tub toward him. "Here."

Gu Hansheng looked at his smiling eyes, and that smile suddenly seemed to merge with a face from his memory.

That summer in Boston had been hot, humid, and brief. The beach was crowded and lively. A teenager had handed him a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, smiling as he said, "Sorry about earlier. This is for you. Here."

The sunlight fell on the boy's smiling face, and together with the cloyingly sweet ice cream flavor, it formed the entirety of that day's memory.

Gu Hansheng asked, "You... have you always lived in Los Angeles?"

"When I first came to America, Zhao Lianfeng took me to stay with one of his friends," Zhao Yu thought for a moment. "Where was that..."

"Boston?"

"Yeah. That friend scammed him out of all his money." Zhao Yu suddenly realized something. "How did you know I'd been to Boston?"

Gu Hansheng didn't answer. He stared at Zhao Yu's face, and a surreal, almost unbelievable feeling welled up in him. "Did you go to Revere Beach at the end of June 2013?"

The time he mentioned was a long time ago, and Zhao Yu had to think for a while before recalling that hazy but happy period. Back then, Zhao Lianfeng hadn't been scammed yet—he made decent money driving for Uber, the family had some savings, and he rarely resorted to violence.

That summer had been the most carefree time of Zhao Yu's life. He often went to Revere Beach with new friends to swim and play beach volleyball. Though his English wasn't great back then, his friendly and outgoing personality had still earned him plenty of friends at school.

Hearing Gu Hansheng bring up such a specific time, Zhao Yu asked, puzzled, "End of June... summer? Yeah, I went. Why?"

Gu Hansheng stood up, the chair legs screeching against the floor.

The sunny and outgoing one was Chen Xitong; the sullen one was Zhao Yu—that was what he'd always believed.

But during the time they'd spent together, he'd seen Zhao Yu's character firsthand. His nature wasn't gloomy at all. People can change over time.

Clutching at his last shred of hope, Gu Hansheng asked urgently, "When you were playing volleyball, you hit someone with the ball, didn't you?"

This time Zhao Yu thought for much longer. Meeting Gu Hansheng's gaze, he suddenly raised two fingers and held them up between them, blocking Gu Hansheng's eyes as if putting sunglasses on him. From that angle, he said hesitantly, "No way... it wasn't you, was it?"

If Gu Hansheng hadn't brought it up, he probably wouldn't have remembered it at all. He'd mishit the ball, and the volleyball had flown out and struck a guy standing nearby. He only remembered that the guy was very tall and wearing sunglasses, so he hadn't seen his face.

To say Gu Hansheng was that person—well, he could dig up a few similarities, but it had been a brief encounter, and the impression left behind was thin.

Hearing Zhao Yu's answer, that volleyball falling from the sky that afternoon seemed to land on Gu Hansheng's head again thirteen years later, with a deafening thud that left him dizzy.

His heart had long since leaned toward Zhao Yu, whispering the true answer to him, yet he'd still blindly walked in the wrong direction—chasing a shadow he'd seen over a decade ago, stubbornly refusing to look away.

If he'd gotten it wrong from the very start, then what was the point of all those hurts and misunderstandings, all those twists and turns?

Gu Hansheng suddenly felt he was hopelessly stupid. He'd forced and humiliated the person he loved, again and again, and had looked down on Zhao Yu's feelings for him from his high horse, trampling them underfoot—only to regret it after everything fell apart.

If he hadn't been so arrogant, so quick to judge based on personality differences alone, and had instead carefully looked into the history between Zhao Yu and Chen Xitong, none of the things he regretted would have happened.

He should have accepted Zhao Yu's feelings when they were offered, and been there for him on the day he lost Guo Lin, helping him through the lowest point of his life. Instead, he'd shown up too late, only after Zhao Yu had endured the agony of growing up on his own.

Zhao Yu watched his expression—so out of control, almost at a loss. He wasn't crying, but he looked worse than if he were. Zhao Yu couldn't help asking, "What's wrong?"

Gu Hansheng couldn't answer. His throat felt blocked, and the sharp aftertaste of ginger tea lingered in his mouth.

Finally, he slowly sat back down in his chair, lowering his head in remorse as the tide of emotion swelled and finally spilled over.

Zhao Yu couldn't stay seated any longer. He stood and walked over, and just then saw a tear fall, making his heart clench.

"Isn't it a nice coincidence that we met before? What's the matter?" Zhao Yu patted his pockets but found no tissues, so he pulled out his sleeve from his down jacket and held it out to him.

Gu Hansheng grabbed his wrist and said in a low voice, "I'm sorry..."

Zhao Yu looked at his trembling hand. Though he didn't know what was going through his mind, he felt a dull ache in his chest nonetheless.

After another moment of silence, Zhao Yu reached out with both hands and lifted Gu Hansheng's head. The image of him cursing out his employees at the company last month—that self-important, overbearing look—was still fresh in his mind. Seeing him cry now was hard to get used to.

Zhao Yu said, "Whatever happened is in the past. Besides, I'm the one who should apologize for hitting you with that volleyball."

The light overhead was dazzlingly bright, blurring into a halo before Gu Hansheng's eyes. The sunny smile of that boy under the blue Boston sky slowly faded, replaced by the person in front of him.

Even if he'd gotten it wrong, he'd still fallen in love with Zhao Yu—as if fate had destined him to love this person.

Gu Hansheng asked, "Did my love come too late?"

Zhao Yu said, "What does early or late even matter? All I know is that when you said you loved me, I couldn't just ignore it."

Somehow, it had come to this—the one who only cared about results began to value the process, while the one who valued experience focused on the outcome. It was like solving a problem of love: some had to show their work, and others had to find the final answer.

Zhao Yu wiped at his eyes roughly, his feelings complicated. Glancing at the time, he suggested, "Should we head back now?"

Gu Hansheng looked a little flustered, got up, and followed him out of the restaurant. After Zhao Yu locked the door, they walked together toward the roadside.

The night was already deep, and the car they'd called wouldn't arrive for another twenty minutes. The quiet street was only enlivened by the decorative lights, the cold wind rustling the leaves, and dogs barking in the distance.

Zhao Yu held his hand and felt his fingertips gradually turning cold, so he unzipped his down jacket, motioning for the man, who was too tall, to come closer.

Gu Hansheng bent down, slipped his hands inside the jacket, and wrapped them around Zhao Yu's waist over the thin sweater, while Zhao Yu wrapped his down jacket around him, sharing that twenty minutes of warmth.

Even though the silence between them was as quiet as the street, Zhao Yu could tell from the way Gu Hansheng's arms tightened that his emotions were anything but quiet.

They took a cab to the hotel they had originally booked, but the second the elevator doors opened, Gu Hansheng suddenly balked.

Zhao Yu had said he was learning to overcome his claustrophobia, and as long as he had mental preparation, he could manage a minute or two, so booking a high-floor room with a better view was fine.

Gu Hansheng had confirmed with him repeatedly and deliberated for a long time before booking this hotel, but now that it was time to actually take Zhao Yu inside, he regretted it.

Just as he stopped in his tracks, Zhao Yu took a deep breath and walked straight in.

"I'll go switch rooms," Gu Hansheng suddenly pressed the elevator button.

"No need to switch," Zhao Yu said, pulling him inside and pressing the button for the nineteenth floor.

As the elevator doors slowly closed, Zhao Yu's fingers tightened slightly.

He knew there was no danger here—it wasn't that small suitcase, he wouldn't get hit, and he wouldn't suffocate.

During his treatment, the doctor had made him step into a closet, not letting him zone out or think of anything else to distract himself, forcing him to feel that dark, cramped space and experience the fear with full awareness.

He didn't let Gu Hansheng come into the therapy room with him, because the moment he showed any discomfort, Gu Hansheng would always interrupt the session.

Just like now—he was only a little tense, and Gu Hansheng had already opened his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace.

The elevator hummed softly as it went up, but he paid no attention to the space he was in; his mind was entirely occupied by Gu Hansheng.