You Are Deep in The Stars

Despite staying up all night, Bai Xi couldn’t fall asleep. After tossing and turning for half an hour, he decided to get up and go to the refrigerator for a drink of water. As he walked into the living room, he noticed that Han Zhuo hadn’t slept either, standing on the balcony smoking.

Avoiding his gaze, Bai Xi opened the refrigerator door himself.

Han Zhuo extinguished his cigarette and walked over to take the cold-water bottle from Bai Xi’s hand. “I’ll warm it up for you.”

“No need,” Bai Xi’s voice was hoarse, “I’m just a bit thirsty.”

Han Zhuo checked Bai Xi’s forehead, furrowing his brow. “You have a slight fever.”

Bai Xi lowered his head, somewhat dissatisfied with his body. After enduring over two hours of extremes in temperature, he actually developed a mild fever. Why couldn’t he have a high fever and unconscious? At least that would have spared him this awkwardness.

“Goodnight,” he muttered, turning away and silently returning to bed.

There was a faint sound from the kitchen, and five minutes later, Han Zhuo entered with a glass of water — warm and slightly sweetened with a touch of honey.

Bai Xi took the glass, keeping his head down. “Thank you.”

Han Zhuo looked at him. “Hmm?”

Bai Xi raised his left hand, wrapped like a small rice dumpling, and rubbed it against his face.

Han Zhuo gently held his wrist and used a tissue to wipe Bai Xi’s tears.

Bai Xi pushed the water glass back toward him, then grabbed the tissue and blew his nose. His eyes were red with embarrassment, and he avoided meeting Han Zhuo’s gaze.

“Are you feeling wronged?” Han Zhuo asked softly.

In a thick voice, Bai Xi contradicted him stubbornly, “You’re just being unreasonable!”

“You asked for it yourself, with that devilish training,” Han Zhuo raised an eyebrow slightly, continuing to wipe Bai Xi’s tears away, “Who tries to reason with the devil?”

Bai Xi fell silent.

“That’s enough, alright?” Han Zhuo looked at him, “It seems you’re not quite suited for this type of training.”

Bai Xi swatted Han Zhuo’s hand away but remained silent.

“Does the wound still hurt?” Han Zhuo asked again.

Bai Xi wrapped himself tighter in the blanket and laid back on the bed, refusing to engage any further.

After a moment, the room suddenly dimmed, and Bai Xi felt the bed sink slightly under the weight beside him.

“Hey!” Bai Xi sat up wide-eyed. “Who allowed you to sleep on my bed?”

“Since you’re not going to sleep, let’s move up our conversation,” Mr. Han took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. “About what I did and saw during the time I was missing.”

“Did you go to find Wu Zigang?” Bai Xi asked.

Han Zhuo nodded. “Did Daisy tell you?”

“I figured it out myself,” Bai Xi said. “So, you did go find him. Where was he?”

“The crying you heard that night wasn’t mistaken,” Han Zhuo said. “There’s a secret experimental center, controlled by the Third Laboratory.”

“The tragically dead girls, deformed babies, and countless cold corpses of superpowers will be incinerated once it’s confirmed they have no research value. Cleaned up, leaving only boxes of ashes, neatly stacked in the warehouse below. This might be Wu Zigang’s idea of conscience and humanity—at least they won’t end up like the experimental subjects in the underground warehouse, not even leaving ashes behind. Not even a trace.”

“You mean, you saw that girl die?” Bai Xi felt a chill.

“And her child couldn’t survive for more than an hour, and…” Han Zhuo didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t describe those scenes of deformity and bloodshed. “Reality is cruel. I can’t even guarantee what you’ll face in the future.”

Bai Xi clenched his fist unconsciously.

“So, I don’t mind letting you experience what real rigorous training is, although it’s still far from being truly devilish. It’s more like child’s play.” Han Zhuo held Bai Xi’s wrist. “When you really face life and death, no one will cover your eyes, and no one will treat your wounds. You’ll have to handle everything yourself, understand?”

Bai Xi sniffed. “Yeah.”

“Are you angry?” Han Zhuo asked.

Bai Xi thought for a moment. “At the teacher or at the friend?”

Mr. Han paused. “Why makes that distinction?”

After a moment of silence, Han Zhuo said, “As your teacher.”

Bai Xi shook his head. “I’m not angry.”

Han Zhuo tried again, “As your friend?”

Bai Xi choked up again, saying angrily, “Just get out!”

Han Zhuo restrained his laughter and said calmly, “Alright.”

Bai Xi grabbed a pillow and started pounding it.

“Be careful of your wounds,” Han Zhuo put his arms around him. “Okay, okay, I admit my mistake. As a friend, okay?”

Bai Xi wiped his nose on Han Zhuo’s clothes, then complained strongly, “And you sat on a park bench with those dirty pants and now they’re on my bed!”

“I apologize,” Han Zhuo adjusted his wet shirt. “But you don’t strike me as a germaphobe.”

Bai Xi got out of bed with the pillow and went straight to the guest room.

“Are you taking the little star?” Han Zhuo appeared at the door again.

“No!” Bai Xi refused.

Han Zhuo reminded him, “But if you don’t, the little star will be really sad.”

Bai Xi pulled the quilt over his head, curling up tightly like a wounded, upset, and angry cocoon.

‘Fuck your little star!’