By Zephyria 
The high-speed train arrived at the station.
The young man followed the massive, hurried crowd out of the train station.
The area in front of the station was brightly lit, with countless taxis parked along the roadside. Travelers pulling their luggage hunched their shoulders, shivering as they moved forward in the cold.
Jing Mian glanced at his watch, 11:20 p.m.
Only forty minutes remained before Mr. Ren’s birthday ended.
He wouldn’t make it in time.
Overwhelmed by a crushing sense of loss, Jing Mian stopped in his tracks. Even though he had returned to the city where he had grown up, the place where he and his husband lived, his chest felt hollow.
He hadn’t yet processed the immense disappointment of this sudden turn of events.
Jing Mian hailed a taxi, gave the driver the address for Maple Leaf Villas, and took the passenger seat. As the night scenery slid past the window, the young man’s eyes reddened.
He had overreacted.
Even if he had spoken up, it might not have changed anything.
Perhaps the series of decisions he had mustered the courage to make wouldn’t have been worth stirring up any waves in the eyes of outsiders, and his husband would likely think the same.
The car stopped at the familiar entrance of the residential area.
The young man paid the fare, got out, swiped his card to enter the gate.
Around this time last year, Lin City had just seen its first snowfall.
When he first arrived at Maple Leaf Villas, the night had been hazy, and the beams of Mr. Ren’s headlights pierced through the snowy mist, illuminating an unfamiliar path ahead.
But tonight, the moon was bright and the stars sparse, Jing Mian didn’t see the first snow.
Lin City was a bustling yet quiet place, and at this hour, there were no intermittent bursts of fireworks to be heard.
Jing Mian steadied his emotions and unlocked the door with his fingerprint.
As he stepped into the entryway, he noticed the house was dimly lit, the automatic sleep mode activated when the villa was empty.
Jing Mian froze mid motion, not even having taken off his shoes yet, and instinctively called out, “Husband?”
The house was silent. No one answered.
Jing Mian stood there, stunned.
No one was home?
Logically, Mr. Ren had left Yan City before him. No matter what mode of transportation he took, he should have long since returned to Lin City by now.
It was nearly midnight… Why hadn’t his husband come back to the villa?
Jing Mian no longer had the heart to go inside. He pulled out his phone, intending to call Mr. Ren, but before he could dial, he paused.
Suddenly, something occurred to him.
At the same time, an absurd thought surged uncontrollably into his mind. His heart raced in panic, and though realization dawned on him, he couldn’t quite believe it himself.
No way.
How could that be?
Without even setting down his backpack, Jing Mian rushed out of the house.
On the way back from home to the entrance of Maple Leaf, it was the dead of night. Whether online or offline, he couldn’t hail a cab. Close to midnight, Jing Mian couldn’t bring himself to disturb a driver.
The two-kilometer distance, after only a moment’s hesitation, he decided to walk.
At this hour, the streets were nearly devoid of passing cars, as if enveloped in absolute silence, solemn and empty. It was the first time Jing Mian had seen Maple Leaf’s surroundings so quiet. Unconsciously, he glanced at his watch again.
Twenty minutes left until midnight.
As of now, it was still within the timeframe of Mr. Ren’s birthday.
Somehow, Jing Mian felt a growing urgency and quickened his pace slightly.
He had a vague guess about where his husband might be.
Just last night, he had mentioned to Mr. Ren that he didn’t want to stay alone in the villa.
That place, though he no longer lived there regularly, Jing Mian had never given up the lease.
Even though it was old and run-down, the floor was decent, the environment wasn’t too bad, the rent wasn’t a burden, and it was close to the university.
Or perhaps, there was another reason he hadn’t terminated the lease.
Subconsciously, ever since marrying Mr. Ren, Jing Mian had prepared himself for the possibility of being abandoned one day. Perhaps when that day truly came, even if they divorced, even if he was sent back to the Jing family, even if the money he earned wasn’t enough to find a new place, that rented apartment would remain his last refuge.
Even if his husband didn’t want him, at least he wouldn’t be left homeless.
But unknowingly, it had been a long, long time since he last entertained such thoughts.
Someone who is firmly chosen gradually forgets their escape route.
The night silently descended, outlining the slender, solitary shadow of the young man. Jing Mian estimated the distance, about four or five hundred meters left. The closer he got, the more nervous he became.
He even felt the urge to retreat.
It was as if he had returned to the same state of mind he had in Yancheng back then.
Only this time, he had prepared nothing. His husband didn’t know he had gone to Yancheng to look for him, nor did he know that Jing Mian actually had something to say.
In fact, if he chose to stay silent, Mr. Ren would never know what had happened.
He glanced at his watch again.
Ten minutes left.
A meaningless number, yet it made Jing Mian’s heart clench.
His husband didn’t have a key to the rented apartment.
Which meant that even if the man was truly there, he could only be waiting at the door or downstairs. Jing Mian might not be able to pinpoint his exact location, let alone run into Mr. Ren by chance.
Perhaps, by some twist of fate, the man had already returned home.
At this moment, Jing Mian suddenly remembered the app he had opened on the train, the one specially designed for them, the one only the two of them in the entire world could use.
Hesitantly, Jing Mian took out his phone and logged in. His and Mr. Ren’s icons remained grayed out.
But just then, a familiar prompt popped up on the screen:
【Would you like to share your location with your loved one?】
His heart skipped a beat.
Every time he opened the app, this reminder appeared, but Jing Mian had never enabled it.
If he wanted his husband to see where he was, all he had to do was press it.
But Mr. Ren’s icon had always been gray, proving that the other had never thought to open up to him either.
Jing Mian pressed his lips together, his eyes growing warm.
His trembling fingertip hovered, then finally tapped.
He chose 【Yes】.
In the next second, the interface transformed dramatically.
All the dull, lifeless icons suddenly burst into color.
Glowing lines traced across a vast map, flowing and intertwining like gentle streams, seemingly chaotic yet spreading systematically from the very center, connecting two directions.
One leading to himself, the other to his husband.
The dazzling light reflected in the young man’s widened eyes.
Jing Mian’s footsteps halted, frozen in place.
His pupils trembled, slowly constricting.
—Sure enough, his husband’s location was right there.
At the rented apartment.
And now, the dot seemed to shift slightly, though its direction was unclear.
The fact that he could see his husband’s location meant Mr. Ren had already enabled location-sharing for him. But Jing Mian had only just turned his on, they couldn’t have activated it at the exact same second.
Which meant… his husband might have shared his location with Jing Mian long, long ago.
Only, Jing Mian had never pressed 【Yes】.
So he had never had the chance to know.
His fingers turned ice-cold around the phone, his eyes stinging with heat.
Even his breath burned.
Now, there were only five minutes left until midnight.
…
Only by opening oneself can one truly see the other.
It turned out Mr. Ren’s location had always been shared with him.
The one who had hidden and sealed away his affection was none other than himself.
Jing Mian didn’t turn off the screen.
After pressing the location button, the distant view remained an endless stretch of alley corners and tree-lined paths, yet this time, he faintly glimpsed a glimmer of light.
Jing Mian didn’t hesitate.
He began to run.
His breath formed wisps of mist in the air as the surroundings fell into boundless silence, leaving only the sound of his own hurried footsteps mingled with slightly trembling breaths.
At this very moment, Chen Xi’s words suddenly echoed in his ears.
“This app is incredibly precise, with completely real-time location tracking.”
“If you run fast enough, even slightly exceeding normal speed, the other person will notice.”
“Because once you start running, your little marker will light up.”
Jing Mian instinctively looked at his phone.
His own coordinates had indeed lit up.
But as his gaze wandered slightly, Jing Mian’s eyes froze in place.
The next instant—
His heart clenched abruptly.
Husband’s coordinates had lit up too!
As the coordinates emitted their glow, the surroundings seemed to respond, rippling with transparent waves of light and shadow.
The direction of movement was straight toward his own position.
…
They were running toward each other.
The moment this realization struck, Jing Mian no longer hesitated or paused. He ran toward the light, crossing the night-cloaked streets, drawing closer and closer to those coordinates.
200m.
100m.
50m.
10m.
…
As he entered the residential complex, the moon hid behind the jagged corners of buildings. Jing Mian had just caught sight of the light and was about to turn the corner when he abruptly collided with a broad chest.
The next second.
He was pulled into an embrace.
A familiar scent flooded his senses, and Jing Mian’s entire body relaxed, yet his blood inexplicably burned, carrying with it waves of unsteady breath.