Missing Monday
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
Quiet and golden, the Sunday evening unfolded slowly.
The city skyline glimmered behind the soft-lit venue where the Nimbus Publishing house had arranged a modest celebration.
Just a rooftop hall adorned with string lights, a buffet in one corner, and a soft instrumental playlist humming in the background.
Zhan arrived right on time.
He wore a simple but well-fitted black button-down shirt tucked into light grey trousers, sleeves rolled just enough to make it effortless but neat.
No show, no fuss.
Just enough to blend into the professional crowd.
He took a quick selfie at the venue and sent it to Yibo with a simple:
Decent? 🤔
Yibo’s reply was immediate.
You’re not allowed to look this good. It’s illegal.😉
Zhan rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away.
Shut up. You’re so dramatic.🙄
Su Mian walked in almost twenty minutes later—heels clicking, red lipstick a few shades too bold for the occasion, and a figure-hugging dress that could easily pass for a date night outfit.
Zhan didn’t expect Su Mian to show up like that.
Her hair was styled, curls falling deliberately over one shoulder, and when she spotted Zhan across the room, she beamed like she’d just found her groom.
Zhan’s spine stiffened instantly.
“Oh no!”
He looked away, pretending to check his phone—but before he could slip into another conversation, she was already at his side.
“There you are, Zhan.”
She said sweetly, as if they’d arrived together.
“I’ve been looking all over.”
Zhan offered a tight-lipped smile.
“You just got here.”
She laughed.
“Still counts.”
From that moment on, she was glued to him.
Every time he moved to another group, she followed.
When he stepped aside to refill his water, she was right there with a napkin.
When he turned to speak to the editor-in-chief, she stood at his elbow, nodding even when she didn’t understand the conversation.
It was suffocating.
Zhan kept glancing at his phone, fingers quickly flying over the keypad.
Zhan:
Yibo, I swear if I survive this, you owe me beer for a week. 😮💨
Yibo:
LMAO. Brave soldier. Focus on surviving. I’ll have the beer ready.😜
Zhan:
She’s like a shadow. I think she’s trying to convince people I brought her here as my date.🤦🏻
Yibo:
Just breathe, ge. You’ve got this. Don’t let her mess with your night.
Zhan:
Don’t worry. I’ll survive. Barely. 😐
Yibo:
You didn’t bring her. You owe no one explanations. Just be yourself.
Yibo:
BTW, I might not be able to message or call tonight. Lots to prep for tomorrow’s paper.
Zhan:
No problem. Focus on your studies. And hey—don’t sneak out anywhere, you remember, right? 🤨
Yibo:
Okay, Grandpa. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be at home, studying like a good boy. 🙄📚
Despite the distraction, the publishing team’s warm words lifted Zhan’s spirits.
They praised the clarity of his manuscript coordination, the sharp eye for layout suggestions, and his overall professionalism.
For a brief while, Zhan forgot the clingy presence beside him.
He felt…proud.
Respected. Seen.
As the party wound down, the project leads and a few team members gathered around a small table to discuss next steps.
Zhan was fully engaged in the discussion—until Su Mian excused herself and returned minutes later, balancing a tray of drinks with an overly cheerful smile.
“Here.”
She said, handing glasses to everyone.
“Just a small pour to close the night right.”
Zhan eyed his glass, hesitant.
Su Mian leaned in slightly.
“Come on, Zhan. It’s just one drink. Don’t embarrass me.”
He glanced at the others.
Everyone else was already sipping.
He couldn’t make a scene.
“…Fine.”
He muttered, and took the glass.
—————————————————–
Fifteen minutes later, the meeting broke up.
People began saying goodbyes and trickling out.
Zhan walked out last, his steps slow and careful, heading toward the venue exit to catch a taxi home.
The night air hit him with a chill.
And suddenly—
His balance felt… off.
He blinked.
The world swayed slightly.
The streetlights blurred at the edges.
His legs gave out.
“Zhan?”
Su Mian’s voice cut through the air as he collapsed onto the pavement just outside the venue.
“Zhan!”
People rushed over, some crouching beside him.
“He’s not responding!”
“I think he blacked out—someone call a taxi!”
Su Mian’s face twisted in panic.
“Please—book us a cab quickly. I’ll take him to the hospital.”
The organizers, still half-shocked, helped her into the backseat of a car with Zhan, unconscious and leaning heavily against her.
His head fell limply to her shoulder.
As the taxi pulled away, she glanced down at him.
The mask of worry faded.
A smile curled her lips.
She slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers, pulled out his phone, and typed:
Ma, I’m not coming home tonight.
She’d overheard him and Yibo once — laughing about that birthday night, casually mentioning how Zhan never goes home after he drinks.
And then deleted that message from Zhan’s phone.
Then she slipped the phone back into his pocket and leaned her head against his.
Her eyes glinting with something far more dangerous than affection.
The driver glanced back.
“Ma’am, which hospital?”
She showed him her phone.
“No hospital. Here’s the address, take us there.”
Then, with a small, wicked smile, she said silently to herself:
“To my address, to my home.”
With Zhan unconscious on her shoulder and the street swallowing their silence, the car vanished into the dark.
And far away, buried in the middle of his textbooks, Yibo had fallen asleep — cheek pressed to a half-solved equation, breath soft.
But his eyes flickered behind closed lids—uneasy, like something in his dreams was trying to wake him.
———————————–
Monday morning came quiet and cold.
The train hummed softly as Yibo boarded at Linping, scanning the usual spots for Zhan.
But the familiar figure was nowhere to be seen.
A flicker of concern tightened in his chest.
He pulled out his phone and quickly typed:
Ge, Where are you?
Minutes passed as the metro glided toward Deqing, but no response came.
At the Deqing station, Yibo’s eyes searched the bustling platform anxiously—still no sign of Zhan.
He grabbed his delivery scooter from the metro parking and sped toward Zhan’s bookstore.
The shop was closed.
The metal shutters pulled down tight.
Yibo’s fingers trembled as he dialed Zhan’s number—straight to voicemail.
Switched off.
That wasn’t like Zhan at all.
He tried messaging again but got nothing back.
Glancing at his watch, Yibo sighed, the weight of impending exams pressing on him.
“I’ll check after the exam.”
He decided reluctantly, turning toward the campus.
————————————————–
Meanwhile, Zhan’s eyelids fluttered open.
The room was unfamiliar—quiet except for the soft ticking of a clock somewhere nearby.
The bed beneath him was firm but clean, the sheets cool against his skin.
Confusion flooded his mind.
His shirt was unbuttoned, and as he sat up quickly, a sharp dizziness made him clutch the mattress.
Across the room, Su Mian sat on a couch, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
Her dress, torn at the hem and sleeve, hung loosely, a visible testament to some rough night.
She looked devastated—something Zhan had never seen before.
Shock rippled through him, and his voice cracked as he broke the silence.
“Where… where am I? What happened?”
Su Mian wiped her tears with trembling hands, trying to steady her voice.
“You… you drank too much yesterday. You passed out, and I brought you here.”
Zhan blinked, incredulous.
“I barely had a drink last night. Just one peg…”
His mind raced, trying to piece together the fragmented memories.
She looked away, then back, voice breaking.
“When you got here, you were conscious. I was helping you lie down so you could rest…”
“But then… you… you grabbed me—pulled me to the bed and…”
Her words trailed off as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Zhan’s heart didn’t just pound — it crashed against his ribs, a sickening thud that echoed in his ears.
His breath caught sharply, chest tightening as if the air itself had turned solid.
He sat frozen on the bed, spine rigid, hands trembling in his lap.
Su Mian’s sobs filled the room.
“I told you many times to stop… but you didn’t listen…”
A cold numbness spread through Zhan’s body.
His lips parted, but no sound came.
Just a choking silence and the sheer horror blooming behind his eyes.
He stared at Su Mian — frozen, silent, unable to comprehend what she’d just said.
The unthinkable was sinking in — and it didn’t sound like him, but it was still his name she’d said.
“I don’t remember any of it… How could just one drink make me lose control?”
The thought echoed in his mind as he shook his head, slowly, disbelieving — like trying to push the idea away.
His voice finally came, shaky and desperate.
“No. I don’t believe you. I never—”
“You were drunk!”
She interrupted sharply, voice raw.
“You were out of control. Look at my dress… You tore it.”
She gestured to her lip — bruised, with a small cut at the edge.
“You did this. When you grabbed me and kissed me. You didn’t even hear me saying no.”
Zhan’s world tilted.
“I… forced myself on her?!”
The thought slammed into him — unbearable, impossible.
His knees weakened.
Su Mian’s tone softened, almost a whisper.
“Don’t worry, Zhan. I won’t tell anyone. What happened… happened. We can’t change it now.”
Her words echoed in his ears, dull and heavy, like someone had dropped stones into his chest.
He couldn’t take any more.
He didn’t want to hear another word.
Zhan’s eyes shot to the door like it was the only escape from the suffocating room.
His hands trembled as he slipped off the bed, fumbling with his shirt buttons — fingers clumsy, breath shallow, vision blurring at the edges.
Shame burned hot beneath his skin, colliding with the disbelief twisting through his gut.
He didn’t even look back.
Just moved toward the exit like he was trying to outrun himself.
—————————————-
Back at home, it was quiet except for the faint clatter from the kitchen where his mother was.
Zhan barely glanced at her, retreating silently to his room.
He closed the door behind him, his back leaning heavily against it.
For a moment, he was still, as if holding himself together.
Slowly, his body slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, hands covering his mouth, muffling the sobs that finally escaped.
Tears fell freely, uncontrollably, soaking his skin as if his body was trying to survive what his mind couldn’t process.
But worse… so much worse, were the thoughts that had been clawing at his chest:
“Why does it hurt so much when I think about Yibo?”
“Why does it feel like I’ve wronged him—not just Su Mian?”
“Why does it feel like… like I’ve… cheated on him?”
He didn’t understand it.
He couldn’t.
After a long while, he dragged himself toward the bed and lay on the floor beside it, curling up — as if smaller somehow meant safer.
As if curling in on himself could keep the shame from swallowing him whole.
His shirt still smelled faintly of her perfume.
That made him gag.
Then his eyes landed on the nail marks on his hands, barely visible, but enough.
He rubbed at them hard, as if erasing them could make the rest of it go away.
And her face… her tears.
Her voice, trembling, broken—claiming things he couldn’t remember, or even imagine himself capable of.
And now… now Zhan couldn’t stop replaying her ruined dress, the way she cried.
The way she said.
“You were out of control. I told you many times to stop… but you didn’t listen…”
Her voice kept playing in his head, over and over — and each time, it hurt worse.
He didn’t remember a thing.
But God, he couldn’t un-hear it either.
He dragged his trembling fingers through his hair, clutching the roots like he could pull the nightmare out by force.
His stomach churned.
His mouth was dry and bitter, like he’d swallowed guilt itself.
The ache was growing.
Raw. Gnawing.
Shame and confusion tangled together so tightly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and couldn’t stop crying.
And miles away, seated in the stillness of the exam hall, Yibo’s pen paused mid-sentence.
A strange heaviness settled in his chest — sudden, sharp, and without reason.
He couldn’t explain it.
Only that something felt wrong… deeply wrong — and he didn’t know why.
[To be continued…]
The Red Ribbon 