Reply to Keats

Chen Wan was exceptionally good with people. Thoughtful and meticulous to a fault, he was someone others could rely on without question. Among the circle of princelings, he blended in seamlessly. When he was present, even the air seemed perfectly balanced, neither too dry nor too damp. Yet none of this effort was meant to earn Zhao Shengge’s favor. Chen Wan never left his name behind and never sought recognition. He was content to remain in the shadows. Zhao Shengge did not need to know he existed at all. For Chen Wan, catching sight of him from afar once or twice was already enough. A friend, frustrated by his painfully modest expectations, once asked, “What exactly are you trying to do?” “I’m not trying to do anything,” Chen Wan replied with a smile, guarding his silent, unshakable devotion. “I just hope that my presence makes things a little easier for him and a little happier.” Zhao Shengge was heaven’s chosen, powerful and untouchable, standing at a height others could only look up to. Chen Wan knew his place well. He never allowed himself to hope for what could never be his, convinced that the distance he maintained was flawless and absolute. When they crossed paths at auctions, Chen Wan merged into the crowd, exchanging nothing more than the polite greetings of strangers. When he came across Zhao Shengge’s belongings, he asked a friend to return them on his behalf. When others tried to use him as a bridge to get closer to Zhao Shengge, he would apologize softly and explain that they were not actually acquainted at all. At least, that was what he believed. Until that night on the cruise ship, when Zhao Shengge looked at him in silence, a cigarette resting between his lips, and said unhurriedly, “Chen Wan, I didn’t bring a lighter.” On the surface, it seems like the shou is chasing the gong. In truth, it is the gong who has been calmly setting the stage all along, subtly guiding the chase and drawing the shou closer step by step. A story of two adults circling each other, advancing and retreating, testing boundaries, while something deep and undeniable flows quietly beneath it all.