REI : Chapter 105

Deep winter. Snowflakes drifted outside, fogging up the floor-to-ceiling windows. Duan Xiubo sat cross-legged on the bay window, a cat nestled between his legs.

Yellow stripes, chubby, with a round face. The fat cat pressed its head against his knee, eyes half-lidded, emitting soft but rhythmic purrs from its throat.

Duan Xiubo held a book in one hand, slowly stroking its head. A cat’s body temperature was slightly higher, warming him comfortably.

The cat, however, was too lazy to move, probably sleepy. It slowly closed its eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

When Luo Ding returned home, he saw the father-son pair curled up together, sleeping soundly without a care in the world.

He sighed, grabbed a thin blanket from the sofa, and draped it over them. The cat startled awake, its eyes snapping open—its early days as a stray had left it unable to relax as carefreely as a typical house cat.

Seeing Luo Ding, its gaze seemed to soften. It half-rose before lying back down, lazily licking its paw. “Meow~”

Luo Ding patted its head and turned to change his clothes, sighing inwardly.

The cat was getting old.

At fourteen, the cat was already a senior in feline years. Thinking back to when it first arrived—misbehaving, scratching everywhere, refusing to listen—Luo Ding couldn’t help but feel time’s relentless march. Over the years, he’d come to see the cat as family.

Duan Xiubo jolted awake, blinking dazedly at the sky outside before registering the noise upstairs. After a moment, he scrambled up.

Tucking the blanket securely around the cat, he bounded upstairs in a few strides, entering the room just as Luo Ding stepped out of the shower, enveloping him in a cloud of steam.

Luo Ding’s skin was slightly damp post-shower. Duan Xiubo pressed close, planting several lingering kisses on his face. “When did you get back?”

“Just landed.” A few days prior, Luo Ding had flown to Japan for work, staying over half a week. The Golden Lion Awards’ red carpet was approaching—unmissable.

Rushing back from Japan, exhaustion still clung to him, making Duan Xiubo’s heart ache at the sight.

Luo Ding kissed Duan Xiubo’s lips. “I thought you weren’t home. Why sleep by the window? There’s a draft—what if you catch a cold?”

Duan Xiubo seized the opportunity to capture his lips, tongue slipping in for a tender exploration.

Luo Ding wrapped his arms around Duan Xiubo’s back, not needing to rise on tiptoes to lose himself in this bone-deep tenderness. Working alone overseas, especially in winter, was lonely. Only returning home to Duan Xiubo brought solace.

Duan Xiubo’s time in China was scarce now—his businesses and estates demanded attention. Though they had more time together than before his semi-retirement, it still wasn’t nearly enough.

Absence made the heart grow fonder, and both struggled to contain their excitement. Luo Ding in his robe, Duan Xiubo in loungewear—their kisses soon took a heated turn. Duan Xiubo, with his strong arms, effortlessly lifted Luo Ding.

The room still carried the musky scent of their lovemaking. Luo Ding lay spent on the bed, his beautifully curved back bare and exposed. Duan Xiubo clung to him, trailing kisses down his spine from the nape, breathing in his scent—only then feeling truly reunited.

Luo Ding weakly swatted at him. “Get off. You’re heavy.”

Duan Xiubo experimentally pushed back in, Luo Ding letting out a long moan before his mouth was reclaimed, melting into the sheets once more.

The cat scratched at the door. Neither paid it any mind.

The skin under his palms remained as smooth as ever, unchanged after all these years. After several rounds, Duan Xiubo was finally satisfied, and Luo Ding, thoroughly spent, insisted on wearing pajama pants before getting under the covers.

Duan Xiubo stroked his back like soothing a cat, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re leaving again the day after tomorrow?”

Luo Ding yawned, arm looped around Duan Xiubo’s waist, nodding faintly.

He reached back, intercepting Duan Xiubo’s wandering hand before it could grope his butt.

Their silver-white bracelets clinked together with a crisp, delicate “ding.”

***

Both were here for the Golden Lion Awards. Luo Ding had finally clinched Best Actor at the last festival. Now, returning as a nominee, he carried the title of reigning champion.

Duan Xiubo had been invited to present the grand prize. A veteran actor with seniority over Luo Ding, he’d since transitioned to business, primarily overseas, facilitating many of the awards’ logistics—a favor the organizers gladly returned.

Though the festival ran on old-money interest, some things in today’s world couldn’t be bought with cash alone.

Traveling together, they only brought Mi Rui—Gu Yaxing swamped with year-end work, Wu Fangyuan felled by a cold.

Mi Rui adjusted his glasses, watching the shameless pair glued together as if trying to merge into one person. His eyes ached from the glare. He and his wife had two kids, their relationship more respectful than passionate. How many years had these two been together? Was this still necessary?

If not for outsiders, Duan Xiubo would probably be physically attached to Luo Ding!

He whispered into Luo Ding’s ear, deliberately making private what could’ve been said aloud. Luo Ding, aware of his clingy antics, indulged him, leaning in with a smile.

Duan Xiubo murmured, “Why is Mi Rui so annoying?”

Luo Ding glanced at Mi Rui, catching his unguarded expression—face twisted as if forced to eat disliked salted pork, eyes screaming unspoken grievances.

Luo Ding smiled at him. Mi Rui startled, quickly looking away, adjusting his glasses as cover.

At the airport lounge—more an isolated café than a private space—they were quickly recognized through the glass walls.

As the undisputed top figure in China’s entertainment industry, Luo Ding’s public appearances risked riots. Bundled-up winter travelers meant fewer crowds, but fans still approached for photos and autographs.

Duan Xiubo, though less visible, remained a household name. Those who spotted him from afar often did a double-take upon closing in.

He didn’t hide, sometimes photobombing Luo Ding’s pictures or even offering to snap group shots. News of his presence drew an unexpected surge of fans. By boarding time, their joint appearance had spread like wildfire.

From youth to middle age, Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo’s fans were a rare, loyal breed. Over the years, few core supporters had left, most entering new life stages while retaining their fandom fervor.

Now cradling children—even grandchildren—they still scrolled Weibo daily, hearts aflutter.

Photos of Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo remained saccharine as ever. Replies carried a resigned tone:

“Three heads in one frame is a bit crowded.”

“Wait, is this a selfie of Luo and Duan? OP, where are you? Is that… a sliver of flesh at the edge?”

“That’s my ear!”

“…Just an ear in the group photo?”

“Ugh! These shameless CPs have no limits! Duan was sitting beside Luo, but when I leaned in, he suddenly squeezed between us, grinning at the camera with an arm around Luo. I was so dazzled I didn’t realize… until the shutter clicked.”

“What kind of mindset is this…”

“OP, you were too close…”

“Death wish?”

“This married couple…”

“Incomprehensible :D”

“OP, treat yourself to a good meal [wave goodbye]”

“Heh. Really… just used to it.”

Though Duan Xiubo had semi-retired, CP fandoms thrived—primarily because every appearance involved force-feeding fans sugar. Crowding fans out of frames wasn’t new; the pair frequently appeared together domestically and abroad, often with zero discretion, casually popping up in strangers’ photos.

Many joked they were semi-out already.

Fans had gone from screaming to deadpan “heh”—a journey only they understood.

Singlehood’s status kept plummeting.

Duan Xiubo chuckled at his phone. Beside him, Luo Ding tested a watch—a limited-edition piece available only to top-tier clients or long-time brand ambassadors like himself.

“What’s so funny?” Luo Ding asked.

Duan Xiubo showed him his screen.

After losing his A-account, Duan Xiubo had made a new one, now filled with complaints about their public displays. For some reason, he adored these—the envy fueling his ego, making meals taste better.

Luo Ding sighed. “Grown man acting like a kid. Try this watch.”

Duan Xiubo extended his wrist, eyes still glued to his phone, his stubborn playfulness leaving Luo Ding helpless.

This mood lasted through the Golden Lions’ red carpet. Despite his long absence, Duan Xiubo charmed the cameras effortlessly, his mature charisma drawing all eyes—especially when paired with Luo Ding.

A retired actor turned businessman, still unmarried, Duan Xiubo remained a diamond bachelor in many eyes. Hollywood starlets—despite their suitors—knew the difference between average and premium stocks.

But when Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo exchanged a glance, all distractions vanished.

Duan Xiubo sensed something different—Luo Ding seemed unusually high-spirited today.

Nominated for Best Actor for The Android quadrilogy, Luo Ding didn’t expect to win. The Golden Lions, held only once every few years, had no precedent for back-to-back wins.

Best Actor went to a younger co-star, who nearly knelt accepting the award from Luo Ding, stumbling offstage in a daze.

Luo Ding laughed, unbothered. This wasn’t the finale—Best Actor nominees also competed for higher honors.

The host, known for cheekiness, roasted Luo Ding before the grand prize.

Surrounded by subtly encroaching peers, Luo Ding’s seat became prime real estate.

“In film, some devote their talent and passion entirely to the craft. Who does that describe? Luo Ding, planning to marry?”

The crowd roared. Luo Ding smiled as the host quipped, “See? Married to the art—no time for weddings.”

Luo Ding lowered his head, chuckling, then noticed Duan Xiubo had been called backstage.

The host turned serious. “Cinema must honor those who love her. Her crown bears one gem—reserved for the most deserving.”

“Guess what’s next?”

“Yes—the Lifetime Achievement Award. For dedicating his life to film, our esteemed Luo Ding.”

Thunderous applause.

Luo Ding wasn’t surprised. The Best Actor winner’s work paled beside his—too blatant a snub for the Golden Lions. He’d suspected either an unprecedented repeat win or this very award.

His hand brushed his pocket as he stood.

The carpeted steps weren’t long, but he took them slow and steady.

“Any words?” the host asked.

“Gratitude, of course,” Luo Ding said, no platitudes. “To many people.”

“Including the most important one?”

“Naturally.” Luo Ding smiled as murmurs spread. Duan Xiubo emerged backstage, holding a lion-crowned trophy.

Oblivious to the speech, he froze at Luo Ding’s meaningful glance.

“Look,” Luo Ding said softly, “he’s here.”

Baffled, the host watched Luo Ding stride toward Duan Xiubo, whose confusion was endearing. Taking his wrist, Luo Ding led him center stage.

“I promised him something. Today, I’ll fulfill it.”

The audience buzzed. Media instincts prickled—cameras swiveled en masse.

Luo Ding held Duan Xiubo’s gaze, accepting the trophy before producing a green velvet ring box, pressing it into Duan Xiubo’s hand.

He handed the trophy to the host, then pulled out a tiny screwdriver, firmly removing Duan Xiubo’s bracelet.

Realization dawned. Duan Xiubo stepped back—but Luo Ding’s unwavering gaze rooted him in place.

Sliding the ring onto Duan Xiubo’s finger, Luo Ding ignited a magnesium-flare storm of shutters.

Their eyes met, speaking volumes in silence.

Turning to the stunned host, Luo Ding said lightly, “You were wrong. I did devote my life to film—but I found my spouse long ago.”

“…Well,” the host managed after a pause, “…congratulations.”

News hit China like dry ice in boiling water.

A decade-long official CP coming out left jaws dropped—yet somehow, it felt inevitable.

CP fans expected euphoria.

Instead, it was just another chapter in their very public love story.

Fandom leaders fell silent, their fanfics rendered obsolete by canon.

So happy. So bittersweet. So overwhelmed. What do we do what do we do what do we do—

They’d imagined this moment countless times.

Yet now, the dominant thought was—

Heh. Used to it.

Author’s Note:

And so it ends. tosses flowers

Su Sheng Bai’s conclusion will get its own story—no need to sour the finale.

Probably posted in a couple days.

This novel has been my wildest ride since starting to write. Through JJ’s ups and downs, witnessing human nature’s twists, your support kept me going. Truly, thank you.

Your tolerance and praise gave me strength to finish this marathon.

Deep bow (90 degrees).

Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo live happily ever after—fairytale ending.

May you all find your own fairytales. Life’s hardships pale beside its beauty. Wishing you partners as delightful (dorky?) as these two. No need for glamour—ordinary days are treasures too!

Final mwah!

Due to regulations, physical editions are on hold for now. If available later, notifications will go out.

R : Heh !