The Night I Drowned—and Woke Up Again

Gurgle, gurgle—the icy lake water flooded the compartment, pouring into Ye Zhiqiu’s mouth and nose.

His last ounce of strength was nearly spent.
Ye Zhiqiu glanced regretfully at his pinned right leg, then gave up struggling.
Instead, he summoned all his remaining energy to lift his gaze toward the lake surface, which grew increasingly distant.

No one would come to save him—Ye Zhiqiu knew this very well.

The lakeside was under construction, so few people passed by.
If he hadn’t been distraught after just signing the divorce agreement with Qi Xin today, he would never have mistakenly driven onto this road.

‘This is probably the last time I’ll see light,’ Ye Zhiqiu thought.
He stared fixedly at the water’s surface, shimmering with dazzling silver under the sun.
Even Qi Xin’s words, which had echoed in his mind the whole way, now felt distant and blurred.

“He’s tired,” Qi Xin had said expressionlessly at the dining table. “I want to give him a home.”
Seeing Ye Zhiqiu remain silent, he no longer held back. “Let’s divorce.”

Now, the divorce was done, and his so-called ‘family’ had long severed ties.
Heaven hadn’t treated him too poorly—from birth till now, he finally had a chance to truly be ‘himself.’

A self-mocking smile touched his lips, and a string of tiny bubbles escaped Ye Zhiqiu’s mouth.
The brief thirty years of his life seemed to condense into a microfilm, scattered within each bubble.

The lens pulled back rapidly, frame by frame, scene by scene, all revealing bloody schemes and wounds.
One act followed another, thoroughly displaying his life—maliciously manipulated and plotted against—before his eyes once more.

That glimmer of light on the lake grew farther and smaller. Ye Zhiqiu had no strength left to struggle.
His eyelids, heavy as lead, slowly fell, and he sank into boundless darkness.

* * * *

Neon lights flashed, wine flowed, and music thundered.
Colorful disco balls spun wildly with the beat, illuminating men and women dancing cheek-to-cheek on the floor.

The opening track, meant to ignite the mood, was particularly intense.
Even though the booth wasn’t close to the dance floor, the noise still felt somewhat overwhelming.

In his daze, Ye Zhiqiu only felt hot and unbearably noisy.
Irritated, he tugged at his collar, then suddenly heard whispering nearby.

“I heard the runner-up of this fashion contest is quite famous in France—hailed as the most promising new designer in thirty years. He was sure he’d win, but didn’t expect Xiao Qiu to overshadow him.”

“My Lord Qiu is still my Lord Qiu,” another voice said. “With this championship, offers from big brands are raining down. At least he’s set for life.”
“When has he ever worried about that?” the first voice chuckled. “Which of us lives as comfortably as he does?”
“Comfortable?” The second voice rose slightly, tinged with anger. “If he were really comfortable, would people talk about him like that at banquets? And that wasn’t the first time.”

‘This seems…’
‘That time when I was nineteen, after winning the international fashion competition—the celebration party where Li Shaojun and Jin Baobao were talking in the club?’

Ye Zhiqiu’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t dare open his eyes.
He feared that if he did, everything would vanish like a bubble.

At some point, because of Qi Xin, he had gradually distanced himself from his friends.
He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d seen Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun bickering and chattering like this.

As for the ‘remarks’ about him that Li Shaojun mentioned…
They came from a few careless words his stepmother Tao Ruoqing had spoken a few days before the celebration party.
Ye Zhiqiu didn’t know the exact content, only that Li Shaojun had overheard them by chance while picking up his mother from a business banquet.

Ye Zhiqiu had lost his birth mother in infancy and was raised by Tao Ruoqing.
Though a stepmother, she doted on him excessively—even more than on her own two children.
Both privately and publicly, as a ‘stepmother,’ Tao Ruoqing was nearly flawless.

Naturally, Ye Zhiqiu regarded her as his own mother, and their relationship had always been close.

So, his first reaction upon learning of this was to dismiss it with a laugh.
He believed it was just a harmless accident, an unintentional slip by Tao Ruoqing.

In his youth, Ye Zhiqiu was willful and spoiled, yet fiercely protective of his family.
That same day, because of Li Shaojun’s ‘slander’ against Tao Ruoqing, he had unhesitatingly kicked him out of this private gathering among friends.

He really had been…

Ye Zhiqiu suddenly wanted to laugh, but his eyes stung with an uncontrollable ache.

He had protected his stepmother, protected his brothers, and later even protected Qi Xin…
And what was the result?
They had schemed against him until he was bloodied and broken, drained to the bone.

Instead, it was these two before him who had once fought desperately to pull him from the abyss.

Ye Zhiqiu focused, greedily catching their voices from the cacophony.

After all, this precious moment might be fleeting—perhaps the last time he would ever hear their voices.
He wanted to hear them speak a little more.

Even if they were the Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun of ten years ago, even if their voices still held a touch of youth.
He listened with full concentration.

Until another voice unexpectedly broke in.
“You two should tone it down a bit,” that person’s voice was calm and steady, unlike Li Shaojun and Jin Baobao’s chattering. “Xiao Qiu hates it most when people talk about his family. Last time, he didn’t even spare his uncle’s face, remember? What if…”

It was Tang Le.

Instinctively, Ye Zhiqiu snapped his eyes open, meeting Tang Le’s gaze directly.

The booth’s lighting was actually quite soft, but Ye Zhiqiu was still dazzled and shut his eyes again.

Across from him, Tang Le stood frozen, mouth half-open.

For that instant, Ye Zhiqiu’s gaze had been as cold and sharp as an ice blade, making Tang Le instinctively flinch, his breath nearly halting.
By the time he regained his senses, Ye Zhiqiu had already closed his eyes again, as if it had all been an illusion.

The booth’s lighting was dim and hazy. Tang Le secretly sighed in relief—perhaps he really had misseen.
But just as that thought arose, Ye Zhiqiu opened his eyes once more.
This time, however, he wasn’t looking at him.

Ye Zhiqiu was looking at Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun—intently, attentively.
His gaze was no longer sharp and cold as before, but had softened into something tender and affectionate.

Ye Zhiqiu was exceptionally good-looking, especially his eyes. Their light brown hue held a hint of gray, making them profoundly beautiful. When he focused on someone, they seemed deeply emotional, as if they could speak.
At the same time, the outer corners of his eyes were long and slightly upturned, so when his temper flared, they naturally carried a touch of adorable willfulness.

But whether it was the earlier cold sharpness or this current tender focus, both were unfamiliar to Tang Le.

Ye Zhiqiu had always been lighthearted, flamboyant—like a clear, transparent lake you could see straight to the bottom of—not this enigmatic, unfathomable presence.

Before Tang Le could ponder further, Jin Baobao, sharp-eyed, noticed Ye Zhiqiu was awake.

“Baobei, how are you? Still have a headache?” He rushed over, pressing a hand gently to Ye Zhiqiu’s forehead. “It’s all because of those bastards at lunch, forcing so much alcohol on you.”
“Should I take you home first?” Li Shaojun also leaned in. “I kept saying you’d had too much, but you wouldn’t listen. Come on, everyone has off days. If you’re drunk, we’ll just hang out next time. After so many years of friendship…”
He turned to Tang Le. “Right, Lele?”

“I feel the same,” Tang Le said with a smile. “How about I get some warm water? Have a drink before leaving.”

With that, he stood and headed toward the bar.

“Then let’s have some hot water…” Li Shaojun’s words abruptly cut off. He panicked, his voice full of dismay. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Is this really our Lord Qiu? Why are your eyes red?”

Ye Zhiqiu was stubborn, proud, never one to admit defeat or compromise. Since childhood, this was the first time Li Shaojun had ever seen his eyes redden, and he was instantly at a loss.

But Ye Zhiqiu couldn’t speak.

Because at this moment, he clearly felt the soft warmth of Jin Baobao’s palm and smelled the familiar scent of baby cream on him.
Jin Baobao’s skin was prone to allergies, so he’d used baby cream since childhood—cloyingly sweet, yet pleasant.
Besides that, there was Li Shaojun’s fresh, sea-salt-like cologne, still discernible even mixed with the scent of alcohol.
Li Shaojun was a peacock, loved dressing up, even his cologne was custom-made by a perfumer, unique—Ye Zhiqiu could never mistake it.

If this were just an illusion after death, it shouldn’t feel so vivid and real.

Though Ye Zhiqiu couldn’t see himself, he could clearly see Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun—they still looked like teenagers.
So lively, so vibrant…

As if he had truly returned to the night he was nineteen, the turning point of his fate.

This thought made Ye Zhiqiu freeze momentarily, then his heart began to pound heavily.
Instinctively, he secretly clenched his fists. His short nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms, bringing sharp, unmistakable pain.

Ye Zhiqiu remembered clearly: at the celebration party, he’d been plied with drink by those second-generation heirs, so he’d fallen asleep in a corner of the club soon after arriving.

And the scene before him now felt exactly as if he’d just woken from that nap—as if everything he later experienced had never happened…

He had merely taken a short sleep, and upon waking, was still young and spirited. All that pain and suffering was just a fleeting dream.

Seeing him dazed and silent, not only Li Shaojun but even Jin Baobao grew anxious. “What’s wrong, Xiao Qiu? Don’t scare me.”
Li Shaojun leaned closer. “We’re right here.”

Ye Zhiqiu pressed his lips together, taking a long moment before he managed to speak.
“It’s nothing,” his voice slightly hoarse. “What’s the date today?”

Even though he had already guessed the date, he couldn’t help but confirm it again.

“It’s November 7th, the start of winter—the day of your celebration party,” Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun exchanged a glance, growing more worried. “Xiao Qiu…”

How could Ye Zhiqiu possibly forget such an important day?

“I really did drink too much this morning.” Seeing their cautious, concerned faces, Ye Zhiqiu suddenly smiled.

“Oh, heavens, you scared me to death just now, you know?” Jin Baobao, convinced, straightened up and patted his chest in relief. “That’s what I thought.”
“Let’s go, let’s go home.” Li Shaojun didn’t wait for Tang Le’s water anymore, bending to help Ye Zhiqiu up.

Ye Zhiqiu raised a hand to stop him, leaning deeper into the booth instead.
“Let’s sit a while longer,” he said. “Didn’t we agree to have a drink together tonight?”
He looked up at Li Shaojun. “Shao Jun, go order the best wine. I’m treating today—we won’t leave until we’re drunk.”

“Come on,” Li Shaojun said, exasperated. “You think you’re sober right now?”
Jin Baobao also disagreed. “Are you really up for this? Don’t push yourself.”
“I’m only nineteen—why wouldn’t I be?” Ye Zhiqiu lifted his gaze with a faint, teasing smile, then lightly kicked Li Shaojun’s calf as usual, urging him. “Hurry up.”

In those brief moments, Ye Zhiqiu had confirmed through various means: he had been reborn.
Reborn on this day, the turning point of his fate.

He wasn’t leaving because he knew Tang Le hadn’t gone to fetch warm water for him—he’d gone to summon Qi Xin.

Tang Le had actually been watching him the whole time, even while he slept.
That was why, when Ye Zhiqiu first opened his eyes, their gazes had met so coincidentally.

And earlier, the reason Li Shaojun and Jin Baobao’s conversation had turned to Tao Ruoqing was entirely due to Tang Le’s skillful, deliberate steering.
So last time, he had driven Li Shaojun away, giving Qi Xin an opening.
Otherwise, with Li Shaojun’s temper, if Ye Zhiqiu had shown even a hint of impatience, Qi Xin would never have had a chance to strut before him.

Qi Xin had been invited by Tao Ruoqing to attend his celebration party.
His appearance wasn’t bad—quite handsome—but among the many talented young men at the party, he didn’t particularly stand out.

The celebration lasted from noon until past four in the afternoon, and Ye Zhiqiu had only glanced at him twice.
First, when Tao Ruoqing introduced Qi Xin to him, and second, when Qi Xin came over to toast his congratulations.

By the end of the party, Ye Zhiqiu had completely forgotten about him.

But that night, not long after he kicked Li Shaojun out, Qi Xin suddenly appeared, striding over with a bouquet of fiery red roses, professing his love to Ye Zhiqiu in front of everyone.

Ye Zhiqiu never lacked suitors.
He’d seen scenes like Qi Xin’s too many times to care.
But somehow, Qi Xin seemed to understand him exceptionally well that night, precisely striking Ye Zhiqiu’s weak points after he’d been drinking.

What he once thought was destiny now revealed itself as nothing but a long-premeditated plot and calculation.

And Tang Le was one piece of that scheme.

Ye Zhiqiu only discovered much, much later that Tang Le worked for Tao Ruoqing.
Later, when Ye Zhiqiu could no longer recover, while Tang Le was brought into the entertainment industry by Ye Zhixia and his husband, becoming a famous styling director, only then did Ye Zhiqiu truly confirm his suspicion.

It was also then he learned that Jin Baobao’s later argument with Tang Le had been entirely for his sake.
After that fierce quarrel, Jin Baobao drove off, got into a traffic accident, and ultimately lost a leg.

All for him.

A cigarette case lay on the corner of the table. Ye Zhiqiu lowered his gaze, casually tapping out a cigarette.
He didn’t light it, just toyed with it absently between his slender fingers.

‘Didn’t Tang Le go to summon Qi Xin?’
‘Then he would wait.’
‘Wait to return every bit of misfortune and humiliation Qi Xin had once given him—’
‘In full.’