Bedtime Story

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“I didn’t think so either.” Ye Shuang quietly zoomed in on the photo, staring at the twins before murmuring, “What a shame…”

“Why… a shame?”

Ye Shuang glanced at Bai Yuyou but ultimately smiled without answering. Some things were still too heavy for her to bear.

“Let’s sleep. It’s already very late.”

“Oh…”

After turning off the lights and lying down, Ye Shuang rested his hands behind his head. Seeing that photo had unlocked a long-sealed box of memories.

The thick darkness of night didn’t lull him to sleep. Instead, he lay there staring at the ceiling, his mind flooded with memories that seemed determined to overwhelm him.

Then, the girl nestled against him stirred. In the dim room, she slowly lifted her face and whispered, almost inaudibly, “Ye Shuang…”

“Hmm?” Ye Shuang blinked, tilting his head slightly—Bai Yuyou was looking at him. The faint glow of streetlights and stars outside seeped into her eyes, casting a soft shimmer.

Seeing she was still awake, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Ye Shuang… isn’t sleeping,” Bai Yuyou said.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about some things. Go to sleep.” He gently ruffled her hair and smiled.

“Want to know… what Ye Shuang is thinking.”

Bai Yuyou had noticed it earlier—ever since Ye Shuang saw that photo, his mood had shifted strangely, as if he’d recalled something painful.

“Don’t be sad…” Her small hand slipped out from under the covers and slowly intertwined with his. She lifted her face slightly. “Tell me…”

The warmth of her palm caught him off guard. He sighed softly. “Didn’t expect to be comforted by you, little one.”

“Do you really want to hear it?”

“Mm…”

“It might be heavy for you. I wasn’t going to say it, but…” Ye Shuang hesitated before continuing, “What kind of person do you think Fugui is?”

“Kind. Good person,” Bai Yuyou answered.

“But he used to be rebellious, with a rough-and-tumble personality. His twin sister, Li Fuyao, was the gentle one—timid, too. But with Fugui and the rest of us around, no one dared bully her at school.”

“They were twins… brother and sister.”

“Twins… siblings…”

“Yeah. Like in the photo, Fugui looked very different back then.” Ye Shuang went on, “The reason is complicated. It all started—”

“When Fuyao died.”

“Died?” Bai Yuyou tightened her grip on his hand.

“Yeah. She slipped and fell. Just a few school steps, but she hit the back of her head. Even after the hospital tried to save her… she didn’t make it.”

“That period was the darkest time for Fugui. Fuyao’s death made their father lose focus while driving… and he died in a car accident.”

“Their mother… couldn’t handle the grief. She lost her mind.”

“Fugui himself developed psychological issues.”

Ye Shuang recounted it all calmly, but the weight of his words pressed heavily on Bai Yuyou. Though she didn’t fully grasp many things, his explanation was clear—so clear that she couldn’t reconcile it with the cheerful man who called her “sweetheart” and “darling.”

“Still want to hear more?” Ye Shuang asked gently when she stayed silent.

“Mm.” Bai Yuyou nodded.

“Like I said, after Fugui’s mother lost her sanity, she couldn’t even take care of herself…”

“But Fugui was strong. After a brief period of therapy… he took on the responsibility of caring for her.”

“The problem was, his mother only recognized Fuyao. It was like she’d forgotten Fugui existed.” Ye Shuang continued, “One day, while Fugui was cleaning out Fuyao’s clothes, he got the idea to wear them for his mother.”

“Unexpectedly, his mother mistook him for Fuyao… and her condition actually improved.”

Bai Yuyou listened, stunned.

“Strange, right? So, for his mother’s sake—and to care for her better—Fugui decided to live as Fuyao. He played the role of her daughter in front of his mother… and over time, it became his reality. He never went back.”

Ye Shuang sighed. “You know what Fugui once told me?”

“What…?”

“He said—living this way made him feel like his mother and Fuyao were still with him.”

“And this was a guy who used to be the straightest, most macho guy around.”

“In a way, he’s still plenty manly.”

Lowering his voice, Ye Shuang added, “Oh, and don’t tell Fugui I told you any of this. That guy’s always smiling, but his temper’s no joke.”

“Okay.” Bai Yuyou nodded obediently, though her spirits remained low.

Empathy came easily to her, and such a tragic story left her heart heavy.

“Yuyou.” Ye Shuang stroked her hair. “Remember what I once said? True death is being forgotten.”

“A person dies three times.”

“First, when their breath and heartbeat stop—the death of the body.”

“Second, at their funeral—the death of their place in the world.”

“Third, when the last person who remembers them dies… or forgets. That’s when all traces of them vanish. That’s true death.”

“Fugui’s just living in Fuyao’s place. He’s the last one keeping her memory alive.”

Ye Shuang exhaled slowly.

“It’s his choice.”

“But ever since that day… he’s never lived for himself.”

“Auntie Li… so sad,” Bai Yuyou murmured.

“Alright, story’s over.” Ye Shuang lightened his tone, trying to shift the mood. He touched her cheek—cold under his fingers. “Time to sleep, yeah?”

“Mm.”

Bai Yuyou settled down, though she pressed even closer, as if seeking more of his warmth.

Ye Shuang patted her back soothingly. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to share this story—not just for her sake, but for his own. Even if he tried to forget, seeing that photo brought it all back.

But Fugui had never forgotten. Not for a single day in fourteen years.

“Sleep…”

Ye Shuang whispered to Bai Yuyou—or maybe to himself.

Goodnight.