Chapter One: Yu Hua and Liang—A Forbidden Affection?

"It's all your fault! How could you say such harsh things? If anything happens to our son, I won't go on living either!"

"Ah, I truly regret it, I do! If only our boy would wake up, I'd never stop him from doing anything he wanted!"

"What's the use of saying all that now? Wuwuwu..."

"My dear... please, don't cry just yet."

"Tsk, could you two stop arguing? The boy isn't dead." Doctor Wang checked his pulse again.

Yu Hualiang had been asleep for a long time. The room had been quiet, but the sudden commotion gave him a headache. He opened his eyes in a daze, only to see two people dressed in ancient costumes, which scared him so much that he shut his eyes and feigned sleep once more.

Yu Hualiang, an art teacher with a monthly salary of five thousand, had been enjoying a sunny day, sketching from a boat he’d rented on the lake.

Who would have expected a school of fish to swim beneath his boat, rocking it so hard that his expensive two-hundred-yuan brush fell into the water? In a moment of panic, he leaned over to retrieve it, but instead of the brush, he tumbled into the water himself.

He could swim, but the moment he hit the water, it felt as if something was dragging him down, rendering him powerless—like meeting a water ghost!

Yu Hualiang suddenly sat up, and was once again struck by the distinctly antique atmosphere around him. He wondered if he was still dreaming.

He raised his hand and slapped his own face, perhaps too hard, for it truly stung. Rubbing his cheek, he looked around at the walls lined with ink paintings.

He swept his gaze over them and thought: Rubbish!

Absolute rubbish. When he studied ink painting, he’d been far better than this. There was no proper use of negative space, no depth in the blacks. The bamboo stalks looked like firewood, and the leaves were limp and lifeless.

As an art teacher, Yu Hualiang could barely stand to look.

The room was drafty, but at least there was a brazier. Shivering, he wrapped himself in the quilt and huddled around the warmth.

His mind was blank. Last he remembered, it was summer when he drowned—how had it become winter? And his clothes—he was wearing an ancient style white undergarment.

His hair was long as well.

There were only two possibilities: either he was dreaming, or he’d run into a ghost.

Nervous, Yu Hualiang kept to the brazier, waiting for someone to open the door; he had no intention of venturing out himself.

His patience was soon rewarded. A servant entered with a basket of charcoal, and upon seeing Yu Hualiang by the brazier, his face lit up with excitement. He dropped the basket and dashed out, shouting, "Madam! Master! The young master is awake! Someone, the young master is awake!"

Thanks to him, Yu Hualiang’s room soon bustled with people.

A richly dressed woman rushed in, embraced him, and sobbed, "My son, you’re finally awake!"

A plump, bearded man hovered around, exclaiming, "My boy!"

Yu Hualiang pushed the woman away, his tone icy. "You’re mistaken. I’m not your son."

The husband and wife exchanged glances, quickly realizing the gravity of the situation. They summoned Doctor Wang once more.

Doctor Wang observed him for a while, clicking his tongue. "I'm afraid your son has lost his mind."

"I’m not sick! Where is this place?" Yu Hualiang protested.

Doctor Wang’s gaze grew even more certain, and he turned to the woman. "I’ve recently devised a new treatment, perfectly suited to this illness. Madam, may I try?"

Madam Yu didn’t understand any of it; all she cared was that her son could be treated, so she agreed without hesitation.

Yu Hualiang had planned to persuade the doctor, but when he saw Doctor Wang pull a ten-centimeter-long golden needle from his medicine chest, he was struck speechless. Clinging to the woman’s leg, he wailed, "Mom! No—Mother! I remember now, you’re my real mother!"

Doctor Wang smiled. "I haven’t even used the needle and the young master is already cured."

If he’d really been stabbed with those needles, Yu Hualiang thought, who knew if he’d survive?

The plump man expressed his gratitude. "Many thanks, Doctor Wang."

Doctor Wang replied modestly, "No need for thanks between friends. Still, perhaps I should give the young master a few needles, just in case it relapses."

Relapse, my foot! Yu Hualiang had only escaped being stabbed to death by recognizing his new ‘father’ and ‘mother.’

He’d been living here for a few days now and had learned most of what there was to know about this body.

Yu Hualiang was the son of Yu Ming, a court painter. Yet Yu Hualiang’s artistic talent seemed as if it had been gnawed away in the womb—he’d accomplished nothing. Not only had he wasted his life, but he’d also acquired an eccentric habit: he was a ‘broken sleeve’—that is, homosexual. The one he fancied worked as a companion in a pleasure house. When Yu Hualiang tried to buy his freedom, his father refused, so he’d thrown himself into the lake in despair.

Yu Hualiang sighed. The owner of this body had his quirks, but his father’s objection was understandable.

Every time he looked at the paintings on the wall, they irritated him. Since the original was dead, why not burn these eyesores?

No sooner had he started burning the paintings than the door burst open and a fresh-faced youth in a lined cloak strode in.

Seeing the burning artwork, the youth immediately seized Yu Hualiang’s hand and snatched the painting away.

Yu Hualiang was about to warn him not to burn his hand on the smoldering paper, but the youth had already extinguished the flames with his bare hands. Hugging the painting, he said mournfully, "Young Master Yu, I knew you never liked Ah Liu’s paintings. I never should have given them to you and caused you such distress."

Before Yu Hualiang could react, the boy’s eyes welled up with tears. Suddenly it all became clear—these paintings weren’t by the original Yu Hualiang at all, but by the youth before him.

So why had ‘Yu Hualiang’ hung such mediocre works? The answer was obvious: this was the ‘bosom friend’ of ‘Yu Hualiang.’

The boy was delicate and likable, wrapped in his cloak and braving the snow at night to visit Yu Hualiang. They must have often met like this.

"Ah Liu," the youth said, his face sorrowful, "I see you’ve truly forgotten me, Young Master..."

Yu Hualiang was at a loss. He was no ‘broken sleeve’—he could never be interested, no matter how many roles life threw at him. The original Yu Hualiang had left him with quite the predicament.

"Please, stop crying," Yu Hualiang said, his head throbbing. "Don’t stand in the doorway, it’s cold. Come warm yourself by the fire."

Ah Liu’s expression softened, and he closed the door and sat by the brazier.

Out of sympathy, Yu Hualiang poured him a cup of hot tea. The youth accepted it gracefully.

After a few sips, Yu Hualiang could no longer hold back. "Your name is Ah Liu, right? I’ll be honest with you—I’m not Yu Hualiang. Whatever was between you and him, that’s not me. Do you understand?"

Tears glimmered in Ah Liu’s eyes. "You think too much, Young Master. I only came to check on your health. I know our relationship was ill-fated, so I came to say goodbye. There’s no need to lie to me."

"I’m not lying! I really am not Yu Hualiang!" Yu Hualiang insisted anxiously.

"Enough!" Ah Liu cut him off, unwilling to hear more. He rose, his eyes shining with tears. "I’ll leave your life and never interfere again. But, Young Master... could you kiss me just once more?"

Yu Hualiang spat his tea in shock. Was this a joke? He, Yu Hualiang, a proper straight man, kiss another man?

Awkwardly, he said, "Ah Liu, could you ask for something else instead?"

Tears fell from Ah Liu’s eyes as he turned away. "I understand. You despise me. I’ll never appear in your life again, never."

Yu Hualiang felt a pang of guilt. He had no prejudice against homosexuals; just because ‘Yu Hualiang’ was gone didn’t mean Ah Liu couldn’t find someone else. Judging by his words, he sounded like he was going to end it all.

Now there were two options before Yu Hualiang: keep his ‘chastity’ and let Ah Liu do as he pleased, or save him with a kiss at the cost of a few days’ loss of appetite.

Seeing the boy about to leave in despair, Yu Hualiang couldn’t hesitate any longer. "Wait!"

Ah Liu turned, tears streaming down his face. As Yu Hualiang spread his arms, intending to offer a comforting hug, the boy suddenly threw himself into his embrace, wrapped his arms around Yu Hualiang’s neck, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

The movement was so smooth and swift that Yu Hualiang had no time to react. To his surprise, the kiss wasn’t as unbearable as he’d feared—no different from kissing a girl, really.

Just as Yu Hualiang was beginning to enjoy it, a discreet cough startled him into pushing Ah Liu away.

He turned to see a refined youth standing in the doorway, a servant beside him, who smiled wryly at Yu Hualiang. "Young Master... I couldn’t stop him."

There was something odd in the youth’s gaze. Yu Hualiang wanted to explain, but worried he’d only make it worse.

And who was this now?

The youth looked coldly at Ah Liu, his face full of pride. "Forgive me for interrupting, Senior Brother."

Yu Hualiang was utterly baffled. "And you are...?"

The youth smiled. "I heard you’d been muddled since falling into the water, and it seems true—you can’t even recognize me?"

Who’s muddled? This boy’s every word was barbed and irritating. He’d just called Yu Hualiang ‘senior brother’—so he must be Yu Ming’s apprentice?

Yu Hualiang thought for a moment. "Don’t just stand there, come in and sit."

Ah Liu looked at him, eyes glistening with tears. Yu Hualiang sighed. "You should go home. I’ll come find you in a few days."

At these words, Ah Liu finally stopped crying. Yu Hualiang watched as the servant escorted him out.

His junior now sat by the brazier, the firelight casting his profile in a soft glow—flawless as white jade, long lashes fluttering like a fan.

This one was even more handsome than Ah Liu. If Yu Hualiang really were attracted to men, he would have been tempted. Such beauty was wasted on a man—if only he were a woman.

"Do you really not remember me, Senior Brother?"

Yu Hualiang paused, unsure how to answer.

The youth continued, "It’s me, Lian Sheng, Senior Brother."

"Oh, Lian Sheng," Yu Hualiang replied, feigning familiarity.

The youth’s face clouded. "You’d best keep your distance from him."

Yu Hualiang considered—‘him’ must mean Ah Liu? Was this an attempt to dissuade him from his ‘broken sleeve’ ways?

Yu Hualiang nodded. "I will."

Lian Sheng looked at him in disbelief, not expecting such a ready agreement. The mood grew awkward.

Yu Hualiang had no idea what else to say, so he drank his tea in silence. All he could think was: when will this boy leave? I want to sleep.

Perhaps because he’d fallen into the lake in winter, he hadn’t fully recovered. The lake water was icy enough to kill, and though Doctor Wang’s bitter medicine had helped, he still longed for modern medicine—just two pills and a glass of water, so much easier.

Growing drowsy, Yu Hualiang asked, "Did you come for something?"

Lian Sheng replied, "I heard you were in trouble and came back to check on you."

"Oh, thanks for your concern," Yu Hualiang answered.

Lian Sheng looked at him as if he were a stranger. "Why so formal, Senior Brother?"

Yu Hualiang forced a laugh. "Am I? It’s getting late, you should get some rest."

Lian Sheng stood, took off his cloak, hung it on the clothing rack, and climbed straight into Yu Hualiang’s bed, making himself at home.

Startled, Yu Hualiang dragged him out of the covers. "This is my bed!"

Lian Sheng looked aggrieved. "I’ve just come back tonight and will leave again tomorrow. If you make someone prepare another room for me at this hour, when will I get to sleep?"

He continued, "And what’s the harm in sharing a bed? We did it when we were children."

Yu Hualiang’s face flushed red. "I’m sick—you might catch it!"

"I’m not afraid."

Yu Hualiang tried again, "But I’m... well, you know... a broken sleeve! Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something to you?"

Lian Sheng grinned wickedly. "And what would you do to me, Senior Brother?"

Yu Hualiang turned away. "Nothing."

The moment he turned, Lian Sheng slipped back under the covers. From within the blankets came his muffled voice.

"Come to bed, Senior Brother. I have to leave again tomorrow."