Pieces of Him
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
Within a week, Xiao Guoqiang had passed away.
It felt like he had only kept himself alive long enough to confess his guilt to his son, and once he did, he peacefully let go.
The house that once echoed with his steady voice and quiet presence now held only silence.
One that pressed heavy against the walls and deeper into the hearts of those left behind.
The funeral rites, the endless stream of relatives, old friends, neighbors bringing fruit baskets and low whispers… everything blurred into long days of mourning.
It took almost the whole week to complete the rituals.
Zhan barely had any time to breathe.
His days were spent answering questions, offering incense, folding paper money, and standing through the chants of monks that made time feel like it had slowed to a crawl.
Through it all, Yue was a constant beside Liu Fang… gently guiding her through the formalities, holding her hands when it trembled.
She took care of Zeyu too, shielding the boy from the weight of death while Zhan tried to hold the rest together.
Now, the house was quiet again.
The distant hum of traffic outside, the ticking wall clock, and Zeyu’s soft babble were the only sounds left.
Everyone else had left.
Only four remained… Zhan, Liu Fang, Yue and little Zeyu.
Zhan had made peace with his father.
Somewhere between lighting incense, chanting prayers, and placing the last offering bowl, his resentment faded.
He couldn’t hate a man who had loved him so deeply, supported him through every turn of life.
Except one… just one.
And Zhan knew, that a single mistake couldn’t overshadow a lifetime of kindness.
He had forgiven his father… silently, and that forgiveness came with a strange calm.
One evening, Zhan sat beside Liu Fang in the quiet of the living room.
She looked so much smaller now, her posture slumped, eyes perpetually rimmed with fatigue and sorrow.
He reached over and placed his hand gently over hers.
“Ma…”
He said softly.
She looked up slowly.
“I’m not angry at you.”
He said, meeting her eyes.
“I know why you did it. I just wish you had trusted me and him. But right now… I know you need peace and support, not punishment.”
Her lip trembled, but she didn’t say a word.
She just nodded and held his hand back like she was afraid to let go.
Another week passed.
The sun had returned, golden and stubbornly warm, painting the house in light that felt too bright for grief.
One late afternoon, Zhan stood alone on the terrace.
The air was cool.
Somewhere down the lane, a vendor called out in a singsong voice, but up here it felt far away.
The breeze brushed through his hair, and the sky stretched wide and open above him.
Yue had taken Zeyu to the nearby ice cream shop to give Zhan a little time alone.
And as he leaned against the railing, arms folded, his mind ran circles around a single thought.
“It’s time…”
He couldn’t delay it anymore, not after everything.
That night, at dinner, the air hung still around the table.
Zeyu sat on his booster chair, swinging his legs while Yue gently spooned rice into his mouth.
Liu Fang picked at her food.
Zhan didn’t speak until he finished half his bowl.
Then he set down his chopsticks, voice calm but clear.
“I’m going to meet him tomorrow.”
Zhan said.
Liu Fang looked up slowly.
“Him?”
Zhan nodded.
“At his house. I’m taking Zeyu with me.”
Yue’s hand paused halfway to her bowl, her gaze snapping up to him.
Liu Fang’s fingers gripped the tablecloth.
“Zhan… is it safe to take Zeyu?”
Her voice was low, tight with worry.
“What if… his father is there?”
Zhan met her gaze with quiet strength.
“As long as I’m there, Ma, he won’t lay a hand on my son.”
There was something so solid in the way he said it, Liu Fang could only stare at him, speechless.
Beside them, Zeyu blinked up at Zhan, mouth stained faintly from a bit of sauce.
“Baba?”
Zhan turned and looked at his son, softening instantly.
He smiled, tired but warm and reached out to ruffle Zeyu’s hair gently.
“Eat well, Zeyu.”
He said softly.
“We have a big day tomorrow.”
——————————————————-
Zhan helped Zeyu button up his little denim jacket, carefully tucking the collar.
It was just past ten in the morning, and the sun had already claimed the sky.
The light filtered softly through the apartment windows, glinting off the framed photo of his father by the wall… fresh marigolds placed at its base.
Zeyu stood patiently, backpack strapped, a small smile on his face, unaware of the weight today carried for his father.
“Ben je klaar, Baba?” (Are you ready, Baba?)
Zeyu chirped in Dutch, eyes bright.
Zhan nodded, crouching to kiss his son’s forehead.
“Ja, klaar. Laten we gaan, mijn liefje.” (Yes, ready. Let’s go, my love.)
They took the metro.
Zeyu’s idea, of course.
He loved the underground trains, the long tunnels, the echoing stations.
And Zhan didn’t say no.
After all, he could hardly ever say no to Zeyu for anything.
Inside the metro, Zeyu sat obediently on his lap, gazing out the window with fascination as the city zipped by in streaks and flashes of grey.
The rumble of the train filled the air.
Zhan’s arms circled his son’s small frame, warm and secure.
But his mind had already gone elsewhere.
He was back in time… years ago, on that 7:45 AM metro ride.
The memory played vivid and sharp… the college boy with bright eyes, the delivery bag slung over one shoulder, the earphones tucked in, tapping his fingers on the seat to a rhythm only he could hear.
The assignment book, the scent of ink, fresh paper and engine oil… and the quiet glances exchanged in the bookstore, the touch, the kisses…
His heart clenched.
Then, a tiny hand tapped on his wrist.
“Baba… Baba, look! A yellow car! Wow!”
Zeyu pointed excitedly at the streets below as they emerged from the tunnel into daylight.
Zhan blinked, pulled back into the present.
He smiled, brushing Zeyu’s hair with his fingers.
“Good, you’ve got sharp eyes Zeyu.”
Zhan’s smile lingered faintly, the thought slipping in before he could stop it.
and… that love for cars, bikes, and speed.
————————————————–
They arrived at Linping by noon.
The streets were painfully familiar.
The walk from the station to the house felt like dragging leaden feet through water.
Every step was harder than the last.
But Zeyu’s little hand curled tightly into Zhan’s.
That small grip steadied Zhan more than anything else could.
Zeyu skipped along beside him, asking question after question about the neighborhood, the weather, the houses.
Zhan answered everything… soft, patient, as if grounding himself with every word.
And then they stood in front of the house.
Zhan looked up at the faded walls, the narrow windows, the same old tree by the gate.
His breath caught.
He didn’t know what to expect beyond this door.
Apology? Anger? Rejection?
He rang the bell.
After a moment, the door creaked open.
It was Zhang Meilan.
She froze.
Her eyes widened, breath hitching as recognition swept over her face.
Her gaze shifted from Zhan to Zeyu, lingering there in silence.
Then her lips parted into a small, trembling smile.
“Zhan….”
Zhan offered a gentle nod.
“Hello, Auntie.”
She stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Inside, the house felt emptier than he remembered.
As though time had drained it of warmth and sound.
Only the soft ticking of a clock echoed in the air.
Zhan and Zeyu sat on the small couch.
Zeyu swung his legs, curious but quiet.
Zhang Meilan offered.
“Tea? Coffee?”
Zhan shook his head.
“We’re fine, Aunty. Thank you.”
More silence.
Then, from the hallway, Nainai Shuzhen emerged slowly, wearing a soft grey shawl around her shoulders.
Her eyes brightened when she saw Zhan.
Zhan immediately stood.
“Nainai.”
Zeyu quickly followed his Baba, standing beside him.
“Hello, Nainai!”
She smiled at the little boy, leaning forward and gently brushing his cheek.
“How are you doing, little one?”
Zeyu grinned and answered.
“I’m fine Nainai!”
She looked at Zhan, eyes glistening, then slowly sat across from them.
Zhan cleared his throat.
“Auntie… I… I came to meet him.”
Zhang Meilan’s lips trembled.
Her face twisted and without a word, tears began to fall.
A soundless weep.
Zhan’s chest tightened in confusion.
“Auntie…?”
Shuzhen placed a hand gently over Meilan’s trembling fingers and spoke quietly.
“He’s not living here with us anymore, Zhan.”
Zhan blinked.
“What… what do you mean?”
Shuzhen’s voice remained calm but heavy.
“Things have changed, my boy. Over these years… drastically.”
Zhan’s throat ran dry.
“Then… where is he now?”
Zhang Meilan didn’t answer, she just wept.
Zhan leaned forward.
“And why? Why did he leave?”
There was a long silence before Shuzhen answered.
“Because he decided to punish himself… for what he did to you.”
Zhan’s heart skipped.
“Punish…? Nainai, what do you mean?”
Zhang Meilan took a shaky breath.
“I hope you know… your parents came to see him in the garage. When you went to Shanghai.”
Zhan nodded, slowly.
A flicker of guilt crossed his face, barely masked by the calm he tried to hold.
She watched him for a beat, then continued, her voice low but steady.
“Bobo told me about it. How they came, what they said. He was heartbroken, Zhan. Holding back tears while trying to pretend he could handle it.”
Zhan swallowed hard, his lips pressed together in a tight, unmoving line.
“He didn’t sleep that night.”
Meilan said softly.
“He just sat in the dark, staring at the wall. He didn’t know what to do with everything your parents had said… or with the truth that he still loved you, even when it hurt.”
She paused, her gaze drifting somewhere far, as if reliving it all again.
“He felt helpless. Small. Like nothing he did could ever be enough. But… in the end, he decided to talk to you anyway. Because he promised your parents he would.”
Zhan didn’t move.
His eyes stayed on her, glassy, unreadable.
Meilan wiped her tears with the side of her hand and gave a broken, bitter smile before continuing.
“And that night… the one when he came to see you…”
Her voice caught for a second, then steadied.
“He came home completely soaked. Not a word to me. Just walked in, dripping head to toe, and went straight to his Nainai’s room.”
She looked down, her throat bobbed.
“He knelt by her bed, put his head on her lap… and then he cried. He cried like I’ve never seen before.”
Her voice dropping to a whisper.
“As if a part of him had been ripped away and wouldn’t stop bleeding.”
Tears streaked her face now.
“My son, who never cried in front of us, never complained… he broke, as if he was completely devastated.”
Shuzhen closed her eyes, remembering.
“He didn’t tell me everything.”
She said softly.
“Just that he’d done something unforgivable… that he’d hurt you, deeply. That he destroyed something precious… something he never meant to lose.”
Her voice faltered slightly, but she kept going, her expression calm and worn with quiet sorrow.
“I didn’t ask him to explain. I didn’t need to. I just… held him close.”
She opened her eyes again, and for a moment, she looked like she was still holding that boy in her arms… broken, ashamed, and silently pleading for comfort in the only place he could find it.
Zhan stared, frozen.
His hands clenched into fists on his knees.
“He stayed shut away in his room for days.”
Meilan whispered.
“Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk. My boy looked… lifeless.”
Her voice trembled as her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve.
“I was scared for him. Truly. I sat him down and talked to him, again and again. Told him it wasn’t his fault. That none of it was him. He was just… being forced to carry a weight he didn’t deserve.”
She exhaled shakily.
“I even told him to move on. To start over. But he wouldn’t hear any of it. Just kept blaming himself, over and over. Like he was the only one responsible for breaking everything.”
Zhan’s jaw clenched slightly, his eyes flickering away — not in denial, but in pain.
Meilan looked at him, then back down, voice softer now… but heavy.
“For a moment, I felt like what your parents did to him was worse than anything Jinfa ever did. Because at least Jinfa hurt him without pretending… without sugarcoating his words.”
She swallowed hard.
“My Bobo was shattered completely, Zhan. It was like… everyone around him was pointing fingers. His father. Your parents. Like he had to carry the blame for every crack in everyone’s expectations. And my boy…”
She paused, blinking back tears.
“He took all of it. Silently.”
Meilan’s gaze lowered, her voice slow and heavy.
“He completely shut everyone out. Whenever I saw him, he was either crying… or lost somewhere far away in his thoughts.”
She took a shaky breath.
“And finally, when he found out you left that day…”
Her words broke apart, swallowed by sobs.
Shuzhen silently dabbed at her own tears.
Zhan swallowed hard.
Beside him, Zeyu’s small hand slipped into his, squeezing tight.
He could feel the boy’s unease, and he tightened his own grip in return, steadying him.
Meilan’s next words trembled out.
“If I hadn’t seen him that day… in time… my boy could have lost his life.”
Her voice fractured again.
“Even while he was fighting to stay alive… he was talking about you. Apologizing for hurting you. Begging me to let him go, because he believed you would never forgive him. He thought… dying would be easier.”
Meilan’s voice broke, her hands twisting in her lap as if trying to wring out the helplessness.
Zhan froze.
His breath caught somewhere in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
His chest ached… not sharply, but like something was caving in slowly, painfully.
His fingers curled into Zeyu’s hand, holding him close.
Like grounding himself in something real, something still here.
He blinked hard, once, twice, but the tears still came.
His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Just silence.
A silence so full it said everything he couldn’t.
Meilan’s eyes glistened with the raw memory.
“I completely lost myself that night, thinking about Bobo’s condition.”
She continued, her voice trembling.
“And then I called your father… and I shouted. I couldn’t hold back that anger anymore… because in the end, my son suffered for everyone… while they made their son safe.”
Zhan froze, his eyes stinging, the weight of her words pressing hard against his chest.
Shuzhen’s voice broke through, soft but heavy.
“By God’s grace, our boy survived… but he was no longer our Bobo anymore.”
Zhan turned toward her, his gaze raw, as though each word made it harder to breathe.
“After he came home from the hospital, he stopped talking to all of us. Days turned into weeks… nothing. Me and Meilan tried… but he never opened his mouth to any of us.”
Zhan’s head lowered, his grip on Zeyu tightening as if anchoring.
Shuzhen added softly.
“Then… I’m not sure if it was out of worry or just fury over what Bobo had done, Jinfa tried to fix his marriage in a hurry. He just wanted to erase you from Bobo’s mind.”
Zhan’s breath hitched.
Meilan nodded.
“Bobo refused. He said if he couldn’t be with you, then he’d rather live alone. That if his father forced it, he would disappear forever.”
She paused, wiping her tears.
“He said… if he had to live a lie again, he wouldn’t live at all.”
“A big fight happened that day between Jinfa and him. Jinfa hurt him again, but he stood his ground. I don’t know where he found that courage… as if he had nothing left to lose.”
Zeyu had stopped swinging his legs.
His young eyes shifted between the adults, sensing the heavy emotions but not grasping their depth.
Zhan’s voice cracked.
“So, he was hurting… just like I was.”
Then Meilan said slowly.
Jinfa has never spoken to him again… not once, even now.
Shuzhen continued after a moment.
“Finally, one day, he came to me. Said he wanted to leave this house, didn’t want to stay here anymore. And I didn’t stop him.”
She paused, her eyes distant.
“My husband had a small patch of land in Yuncun Village… rural, quiet. I told Bobo to go there. To build something of his own. To start over.”
Zhan lifted his head slowly, his voice low.
“So… he left?”
“Yes.”
She nodded faintly.
“Sold the garage here. Left everything. Started again. All alone.”
Her voice wavered.
“He came to see me maybe twice… in six years. Only when his parents were away. Just to let me know he was alive. The last time he visited, he said he’d left the place he was staying and found somewhere else to live.”
She looked at Zhan, her gaze pained.
“But he’s not really living, Zhan. He’s punishing himself. That boy has been drowning in guilt every single day since he left you.”
Zhan swallowed hard, the sharp ache of relief and grief crashing together in his chest.
Meilan shook her head, and the helplessness in her face was almost unbearable.
“Ever since he moved to that new place, he’s had no contact with us. It’s like… we’re dead to him. He doesn’t want to see us. Doesn’t want to be found.”
Her eyes shifted toward Zeyu, lingering there.
Something softened in her face, as if she were trying to piece together a picture that didn’t make sense.
“At least…”
She murmured, her voice trembling with the effort to sound composed.
“You got married… and have a son now. A family. That’s good, Zhan.”
Zhan’s eyes flickered.
He didn’t correct her.
Didn’t explain.
He just sat there, shoulders squared, his heart pacing somewhere between guilt and grief.
Zeyu, sensing the change in the air, turned to look up at his father, confusion in his wide eyes.
Zhan met that gaze and gently smiled.
Finally, he looked back at Meilan.
“Do you have… any contact number? Address? Anything?”
“No, Zhan.”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Before leaving the house, Zhan paused at the doorway and turned to her.
“Auntie… I didn’t know my parents came and met Yibo. Even he never told me. But what they did was wrong, and I’m apologizing to you for them. If possible… please forgive them.”
Meilan’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.
“It’s okay, Zhan. At the end of the day, every parent just wants their child safe and happy. And sometimes… in trying to protect them, we become selfish. We overstep. And in the process, we end up hurting someone else’s child.”
Meilan’s eyes shimmered as she gave a weak, tired smile… one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“At least my son is alive… even if he’s not with me. That’s more than enough. Better than losing him forever.”
Zhan couldn’t look at her.
He lowered his eyes, jaw tightening, a lump rising in his throat he couldn’t swallow down.
How do you respond to a mother who’s grateful her son survived… even if it meant losing everything else about him?
Her words landed like sharp needles… quiet, calm, but piercing straight through skin and bone.
Zhan didn’t even know what to say.
—————————————
As they left, the weight of unanswered questions bore down on Zhan’s shoulders like storm clouds.
He held Zeyu’s hand tighter, uncertain of what was ahead.
Then Shuzhen touched his arm.
“Zhan… can you walk me to the corner shop? I need to pick up something.”
“Of course, Nainai.”
Zhan supported her gently, walking slowly beside her as Zeyu darted ahead, playfully circling a tree by the pavement.
But then Shuzhen stopped beneath the same tree.
Zhan frowned.
“Nainai?”
She looked up at the branches, then at Zhan.
“I have Bobo’s address with me.”
His heart slammed against his ribs.
“What?!”
She nodded, serious.
“I didn’t say anything inside. They don’t know. But I do.”
“Please give me the address, Nainai.”
She nodded with a smile, and with trembling hands opened her purse, took out a small folded piece of paper, and handed it to Zhan.
Zhan unfolded the paper and read the address.
His breath caught, the handwriting was Yibo’s.
He traced the familiar strokes with his eyes, reading the lines again and again, before finally folding it with care and slipping it into his pocket
She said quietly.
“I may not have understood everything, Zhan… but I knew he loved you. I could see it. And I couldn’t watch him die slowly in front of me, not like that. That’s why I agreed immediately when he said he wanted to leave.”
She turned her gaze toward Zeyu, who was playing by the pavement… his small hands focused, his soft laughter unaware of the heaviness in the hearts of those standing nearby.
After a pause, she asked gently,
“Did you adopt him?”
Zhan looked up, startled — his head snapping toward her.
“Yes… how did you know, Nainai?”
She smiled faintly, her eyes warm and just a little watery.
“Because I’m not foolish like Meilan, to believe you married and had a child of your own. My Bobo would never have tried to lose his life for someone who could forget him that easily and move on.”
Zhan froze.
His breath caught in his throat, lips parting slightly, but no words came out.
She smiled again, this time with more ache than warmth.
“One afternoon, when his parents were out, he came to see me. We sat together for a while… and then he started talking about you. He told me, secretly, that you were planning to take him abroad. He was so happy that day, Zhan… like a boy dreaming out loud.”
Zhan didn’t say anything, he couldn’t.
Shuzhen reached across the space between them and gently took his hands in hers.
Her grip was warm, firm, trembling slightly.
“Go find him, Zhan.”
She said, her voice thick.
“Please… save my boy.”
Zhan wiped at his eyes quickly, nodding without hesitation.
“I will, Nainai.”
He whispered.
“I’ll bring him back.”
————————————–
As they boarded the metro back, Zeyu leaned sleepily against his father’s side, humming a nursery tune softly under his breath.
Zhan looked out the window, heart pounding.
He now had a direction.
A flicker of hope.
But deep down, he knew… reaching out to Yibo after six years would not be easy.
Because people change.
And Zhan didn’t know if Yibo still remembered him.
Or if he was even willing to open the door again.
But for the first time in a long time…
Zhan wanted to knock… not just for himself or his son, but for everyone who still loved him.
[To be continued….]
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Author’s Note:
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Think of it as your way of telling me, “Hey, I’m here, and I loved it!” — it means the world to me and truly keeps me inspired to write more for you! ✨
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