What Never Died
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
The soft glow of the desk lamp cast a warm halo around Zhan’s shoulders as he sat cross-legged on the floor beside the low coffee table, his laptop humming quietly in front of him.
His brows were furrowed, fingers darting across the touchpad, eyes scanning a rental car website.
A second tab showed a stretched-out map.
Green fields, a winding road slicing through them, and a tiny rural pin marking the place Nainai had whispered to him earlier.
Behind him, the bed was a mess of pillows, toy cars, and scattered superhero figurines.
Zeyu was in the middle of a fierce battle between a red dinosaur and a masked action hero, complete with whispered sound effects and his dramatic narration.
But the excitement dulled after a while.
The toys were forgotten.
With a quiet thump, Zeyu padded across the room in his mismatched socks and climbed onto Zhan’s lap without a word, settling there like it was the most natural place in the world.
Zhan let out a soft chuckle, gently shifting the laptop aside and wrapping his arm around his son to steady him.
“You okay?”
Zhan murmured, adjusting Zeyu’s little legs comfortably across his own.
Zeyu’s eyes squinted at the laptop screen.
“What is this, Baba? Are we buying a new car?”
The excitement in his voice made Zhan’s heart melt.
He ruffled Zeyu’s hair.
“No, baobei. Baba, just looking at rental cars. We need to travel somewhere far.”
Zeyu’s brows furrowed with curiosity.
“How far?”
Zhan playfully tapped his chin, pretending to ponder.
“Hmm… toooo far.”
He stretched out the words dramatically.
Zeyu giggled.
“Are we going to meet someone, Baba?”
Zhan’s gaze softened, his voice dropping a note lower, more tender.
“Yes. We might.”
Zeyu turned his head to look up at him, his blue eyes wide with a question that had clearly been sitting in his heart for a while.
“When you will take me to Pa? When we going to see him, Baba?”
Zhan paused.
The question hit with the gentle weight of a stone sinking into water.
He bent forward and kissed the crown of Zeyu’s head, lips lingering for a second longer.
“Soon, baobei…”
He said, voice barely a whisper.
“Very soon.”
He shifted slightly so he could see his son’s face,
“But tell me… what if your Pa doesn’t talk to you when he sees you? What if he’s angry? Will you feel sad?”
Zeyu blinked, then leaned his head on Zhan’s shoulder.
“But why would Pa be angry? I didn’t do anything bad. I’m a good boy.”
He looked up with a worried frown.
“Did he not like me, Baba?”
Zhan’s heart clenched.
Zeyu quickly added, trying to be brave.
“It’s okay. If Pa is angry, I can draw him a picture! A happy one, with sun and family.”
He beamed proudly.
“He’ll like that, right, Baba?”
“And I told you… I’ll share my chocolates and my favorite car with him.”
Zhan’s throat tightened.
Zeyu giggled.
“Then sure Pa will talk to me!”
Zhan pulled him close, arms tightening around that small, warm body.
The simplicity of Zeyu’s world… where happy drawings can fix everything and forgiveness was a matter of sharing your best toy and your favorite chocolate, made Zhan’s chest ache with something unnamable.
He held his son longer than usual, breathing in the soft scent of shampoo and the faint plasticky smell of toy paint clinging to Zeyu’s clothes.
But bedtime was creeping in.
Zhan kissed his cheek.
“It’s getting late, Zeyu. You should sleep.”
Zeyu pouted immediately, arms still around his neck.
“You come… read me story now. You didn’t tell me for so long…”
Zhan gave in with a gentle laugh.
“Alright, alright.”
He closed the laptop with a soft click, stood up holding Zeyu’s hand, and led him to the bed.
The sheets were still in disarray from playtime, but Zeyu jumped in with ease, tugging his blanket around him.
Zhan knelt beside the bed and reached for the well-worn storybook resting on the nightstand.
Its edges were frayed, pages dotted with fingerprints and small food stains—evidence of the many nights it had been read.
“Which one?”
Zhan asked softly.
Zeyu nestled into Zhan’s lap.
“The cloud one. I like that.”
Zhan flipped to the page without needing to check the number.
As his voice filled the room, low and rhythmic, Zeyu’s lashes began to flutter.
His small fingers, gripping Zhan’s sleeve at first, slowly loosened.
By the time the boy who chased clouds was flying on the back of a dream, Zeyu was sound asleep, one cheek pressed to Zhan’s lap, the quiet rise and fall of his breath the only sound left in the room.
Zhan gently closed the book, smoothing his palm over Zeyu’s hair.
Tomorrows would bring new roads.
New risks.
And perhaps, the past.
But tonight, he had this… his son, this moment, and the quiet hush of hope lingering just outside the window.
———————————-
By Saturday morning, everything was arranged.
Zhan had managed to rent a car through an online service, comparing models and rates late into the previous nights.
It had taken a few calls, some patient explaining, and one video verification and a few documentation.
But eventually, a sleek white sedan was confirmed for pickup.
One less thing to worry about.
That afternoon, as sunlight slanted through the windows and cast golden streaks across the living room floor, Zhan noticed something curious.
Zeyu was lying flat on his stomach in the hallway, his small legs swinging lazily in the air, a blank sheet of drawing paper spread before him.
Crayons were scattered around like fallen soldiers, and his brows were furrowed in intense concentration.
Zhan stepped closer but didn’t speak.
He smiled and leaned against the doorway, watching in silence.
Whatever world Zeyu was creating on that page whether it was a race car, a dragon, or a spaceship, he was clearly in the zone.
And Zhan didn’t want to interrupt what he called his son’s ‘serious business!’ so he just left him to it.
—————————————
That evening, the apartment was quiet in a gentle, domestic sort of way.
The television murmured in the background with an old nature documentary, ignored.
Liu Fang sat on the living room couch with a blanket wrapped around her knees, her face calm but still shadowed by grief.
It had only been a few weeks since her husband’s passing, and though she hadn’t shed tears in front of them since the funeral, her silence said enough.
Yue was curled up on the other end of the couch, scrolling through her phone.
Zeyu darted around the room with boundless energy, holding his dinosaur plush in one hand and a paper sword in the other, making dramatic growling noises.
Zhan stood near the window, arms folded, then turned toward his mother.
“Ma…”
He said softly.
“Tomorrow… I’m going to meet him.”
Liu Fang looked up slowly.
Her face didn’t change, but her eyes lingered on him a little longer than usual.
Yue paused and lifted her gaze from her phone, eyebrows rising.
She didn’t say anything either but her lips curved into the hint of a knowing smile.
Zhan took a slow breath, steadying his thoughts.
“He’s living far now. It’ll be a long drive. I’m taking Zeyu with me. He should come too.”
Liu Fang nodded once.
Her voice was quiet but steady.
“Drive safe… and keep Zeyu close. He’s still so little for such long travels.”
She turned to Yue, her tone slipping back into motherly instinct.
“Tomorrow, pack some snacks for Zeyu. And two big water bottles. The outside food and water are not good.”
Yue nodded, putting her phone aside.
“Okay, Ma. I’ll do it.”
Liu Fang then turned back to her son, her eyes softening.
“Do you need anything else, Zhan?”
Zhan shook his head gently.
“No, Ma. That’s all.”
Just then, Zeyu came to a sudden halt in the middle of the room, panting slightly from his pretend battle.
He looked between the adults, sensing that something was going on.
“Baba…”
He called out, his voice bright and curious.
“Where we going?”
Zhan crouched down and smiled at him.
“It’s a surprise, baobei.”
Zeyu’s eyes lit up.
“A big surprise?”
Zhan nodded, his smile deepening.
“The biggest.”
Zeyu squealed in delight and ran off again, probably to finish his masterpiece or pack his own toy bag for his next trip.
—————————————–
That night, after brushing Zeyu’s teeth and wrestling him into pajamas, Zhan lay beside him on the small bed.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight outside, casting stripes of gold across the wall through the curtains.
Zeyu curled close to him, already halfway to sleep, his little hand resting on Zhan’s chest.
Zhan stared at the ceiling for a while, his thoughts racing.
Tomorrow was the day.
After all these years.
After all that had happened.
He reached for his phone and quietly opened the photo gallery.
He swiped slowly through the pictures… some grainy old selfies from the early days, some of Yibo working on a bike, smirking, sun-kissed, young.
One photo where Zhan had secretly snapped him mid-laugh, his head thrown back, the kind of laugh that made the world seem lighter.
Zhan’s throat tightened.
He locked the screen and placed the phone on the bedside table.
Then he turned to look at his son, brushing a hand through Zeyu’s soft hair.
In the stillness of the room, he whispered, almost like a prayer.
“Bo… we’re coming.”
——————————————————–
The sky was brushed in soft hues of peach and silver, the streets still quiet, holding the hush of early hours.
In the kitchen, the clink of cups and rustle of plastic wrappers filled the air as Yue packed a small bag with care.
Two big water bottles, some homemade rice cakes, cut fruit in boxes, a few of Zeyu’s favorite biscuits and chips, and his favorite chicken-cheese sandwich.
Zhan stood near the door, checking his phone one last time for the route.
He was dressed simply.
A white shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of loafers.
His jaw was tense, but his eyes stayed focused.
“Snacks are ready.”
Yue said, handing over the bag.
Zhan took it with a small nod.
“Thanks, Yue. Really.”
Zhan opened the backseat and placed the snack bag inside, making sure the water bottles were upright, along with an extra duffle bag.
Zeyu came bounding out of the apartment, wearing a tiny denim overalls over a yellow tee, his little feet tapping excitedly on the steps.
Strapped over his shoulders was a small toy bag, slightly oversized for his frame and bulging with plushies and cars.
Zhan gave him a quick once-over to make sure he was dressed properly, then ran his fingers through Zeyu’s hair to set it in place.
Finally, he opened the passenger door, lifted Zeyu up and settled him carefully into the seat.
“Zeyu, you sure you want to bring that?”
He asked, tapping the bag with a finger.
“Baobei, if you lose any toys, Baba’s not buying you new ones. You still wanna carry it?”
Zeyu gave a grin so mischievous it nearly split his face in two.
He nodded eagerly.
“I won’t lose them, Baba… I Promise! I’ll take care.”
Zhan laughed quietly, adjusting the seatbelt over Zeyu’s small form.
“Alright then. But you better not forget what you promised.”
With both of them inside, the car hummed to life.
Liu Fang came over and handed a small red hoodie to Zhan, asking him to keep it in the car in case Zeyu felt cold.
Zhan nodded and placed it on the back seat.
She then stepped back onto the front steps, wrapped in her shawl, arms folded, watching.
Her expression unreadable.
Yue stood beside her, waving cheerfully.
“Drive safe!”
Zeyu pressed his little hand to the window.
“Bye bye, Naiani! Bye bye, Aunt Yue!”
Zhan nodded to them, his heart quietly pounding, and pulled away from the curb.
————————————-
The drive started slow, city streets giving way to winding country roads.
Trees lined the way like green guards, the air freshening as they drove deeper into the countryside.
The morning sun warmed the windshield, casting patches of gold on the dashboard.
But Zhan’s grip on the wheel remained tight.
What if he doesn’t want to see me?
What if he slams the door in my face?
What if… what if he doesn’t even want to see Zeyu?
His mind looped endlessly… images of Yibo’s expression, scenarios of rejection, awkward silences, angry words.
His foot tapped against the gas pedal anxiously.
But then a small voice pulled him back.
“Baba! Look! A horse!”
Zeyu was pointing at a field they passed, nose almost pressed to the window.
Then he shifted, pulling out a plastic lion from his bag and making it “roar” softly to himself.
Every now and then, he’d ask questions.
“Why is the sky so big here, Baba?”
“Do birds have friends?”
“Can Pa ride a bike faster than a car?”
Zhan chuckled, easing little by little with each question.
“Yes, sky is big, birds have friends. And… your Pa can definitely ride a bike faster than this car.”
That made Zeyu giggle with glee.
———————————————————-
Four hours passed like a long breath.
Zhan took a couple of short breaks to stretch his legs and feed Zeyu the packed food from home.
Eventually, the GPS led them to a more rural road.
Sparse houses.
Wide fields.
A sleepy sign welcomed them: Yuncun Village.
Zhan rolled down the window slightly, letting in the country air.
He stopped to ask a fruit vendor for directions to the custom bike garage, and the man pointed down a dirt road, giving a curious glance at Zhan’s city clothes.
Zhan drove barely a kilometer or two more before reaching the destination.
And then… they were there.
The garage had a wide metal gate, half rusted at the hinges, but open.
A sign overhead read Wang Custom Motors, paint chipped but still proud.
Behind it stood a large shed-like structure, bikes and cars parked under tarps, and a low building with an open workshop door.
Zeyu had dozed off, his head resting sideways, mouth slightly open in sleep.
The air conditioning hummed low, his toy bag cradled beside him.
Zhan parked the car slowly near the designated parking area.
His heart thudded like a fist against his ribs.
He sat there for a moment, both hands gripping the wheel.
His knuckles had gone white.
His pulse wouldn’t slow.
What’s going to meet me on the other side of that door?
He looked back at Zeyu and exhaled.
The little boy’s peaceful face brought him back to focus.
This wasn’t just about fear now.
It was about love.
He gently leaned over and touched Zeyu’s arm.
“Zeyu… wake up, baobei.”
Zeyu stirred, eyes fluttering open.
“Hmm… Baba?”
Zhan brushed a hand through his hair.
“I’m going in to check first, okay? You stay in the car for a bit. Baba will come back and call you soon.”
Zeyu yawned and nodded, too sleepy to argue.
Zhan left the engine running so the AC would stay on, pulled the handbrake firmly, then stepped out.
He closed the door gently and locked it securely before heading inside.
Then he approached the security guard near the gate.
An older man sitting under a fan, sipping tea.
Zhan handed him a folded cash.
“Please keep an eye on the car. My son’s inside, he’s just sleeping.”
The man looked surprised but took the money and nodded with a smile.
“Don’t worry sir, I’ll watch over him.”
Zhan offered a tight smile in return.
Then he turned, his chest tightening with every step.
And he walked toward the open door of the garage… toward the past, the present, and everything that was waiting inside.
—————————————
The large steel-framed entrance of the custom bike garage stood wide open, letting in the amber warmth of the afternoon sun.
Inside, the space was nothing like a dingy back-alley workshop.
It was wide, sleek, and surprisingly modern.
Polished concrete floors gleamed faintly under the white industrial lights overhead, rows of meticulously maintained tools hung on matte black panels, and a handful of custom bikes, in various stages of design, sat like art pieces on display.
Zhan kept walking, the hum of machines and the scent of oil filling his lungs.
His gaze swept the space, skimming past the bikes and tools without really seeing them, until… it landed on him.
His legs suddenly locked beneath him.
He froze.
A man stood near one of the side worktables, half-turned… his side profile just visible as he flipped through a scattered stack of papers with a slight frown, as if searching for something.
The black hoodie clung easily to his frame, sleeves shoved up to reveal lean forearms streaked faintly with grease, and gray cargo pants hung low on his hips, careless yet precise, as if he’d been born to make even work clothes look deliberate.
Zhan’s breath caught.
He didn’t need to see the whole face… the line of his jaw, the tilt of his stance, the quiet weight of his presence was enough.
The machines still hummed, the air still carried the tang of leather and metal, but to Zhan it all fell away.
There was only that figure.
That frame.
That unmistakable gravity that pulled at him the way nothing else ever had.
It was Yibo.
His hair was longer now, curling faintly at the nape, softening the sharp cut of his jaw.
His body had changed… leaner, harder, every line carved deeper, yet the same quiet intensity clung to him, heavy and unshakable, like a second skin.
Six years had stripped him of the boy he once was.
What stood there now was a man… grown, tempered, a little more sharpened.
A little less… boyish.
He stood there for a moment, simply looking at him, before his fingers curled tight at his sides and he stepped forward slowly, pulling in a long breath.
One of the workers, noticing him, stepped forward.
“Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?”
But Zhan’s gaze never left Yibo.
His gaze had been fixed on him, quiet and unwavering, like he’d been holding his breath just for this.
His voice came out low, steady, but threaded with something far more fragile beneath.
“I came to see the owner… Wang Yibo.”
Yibo’s hands froze mid-motion.
A few papers slipped from his fingers, scattering across the worktable… the faint rustle impossibly loud in the sudden rush of silence.
For a split second, he didn’t react.
His shoulders locked.
His body refused to turn.
But his head lifted, slow, almost reluctant, as if facing that sound might shatter it, might prove it was only a cruel trick of memory.
His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
The voice…
That voice!
It hit him like a blow to the chest… a sound he hadn’t heard call his name in six long years.
He could have forgotten a thousand other things, but not this voice.
Even if decades passed, he’d know it anywhere.
Zhan.
The name thundered inside him, echoing through bone and blood before his thoughts could even catch up.
And then finally, unavoidably… he turned.
And there he was…
Standing just a few steps away, he looked both impossibly close and unbearably far, like a figure torn straight out of memory and dropped into the present.
He was a little taller than Yibo remembered.
The face… the same, and yet not.
Sharper now… older.
Etched with wear, with silence, with years.
A little more tired.
A little more serious.
But still… still achingly familiar, down to the smallest detail Yibo had replayed in his mind a thousand times.
And then those eyes.
Soft. Searching. Unmistakable.
Yibo’s breath snagged in his throat, his chest tightening until it hurt.
Because Zhan was already looking at him.
And when their eyes met… the world stopped.
The hum of machines, the weight of sunlight, the very air between them… gone.
There was nothing but the pull of that gaze, six years of distance collapsing into a single heartbeat.
Yibo’s lips parted, his voice escaping before he could even think.
“…Zhan… ge?”
The name cracked out of him, fragile as porcelain and just as breakable.
Zhan didn’t move.
Memories surged into the silence, flooding the space between them.
From the first time their eyes met on that crowded Metro, their beginning… to the last time in the rain by the riverside, Yibo’s back retreating, leaving Zhan standing alone in the storm.
Six years unraveled in a single breath.
And in that fragile heartbeat of silence between them, the air grew heavy… swollen with everything left unsaid.
The absence, the hurt, the questions that never found an answer.
And something else.
Something that had refused to die, no matter how long the years stretched.
Something still alive, raw and undeniable, echoing in the space where their gazes held.
[To be continued…]
——————————————–
Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😊
Hope you enjoyed it — and if you did, please don’t forget to like & comment on my Insta post. 💖
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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