Chapter 77
Two reds
The crowd gasps and points at a white building in the distance. I immediately scoop Rose up and sprint toward it:
- Ancestor, why is it so far away?
I run to the place, hurriedly carry Rose into the clinic, and put her into the sealed chamber. This machine warms her body temperature and dries her whole body without needing to take off her clothes. After that, she steps out. Rose giggles:
- My body's perfectly intact and you're freaking out like I'm dying! So suspicious~
I make a diversion by shouting at the medical staff:
- Damn it, what are you looking at? Hurry up and check her out. Delay this and a tiny spark will start a raging fire — I will burn this entire park to ashes!
Everyone knows I never make empty threats — especially when I'm furious. Don't be an idiot and poke the beast. Everyone immediately examines Rose. The lifeguard who just gave her CPR says:
- The patient needs to take off her clothes for inspection. It's not appropriate for you to stay in here. Please step aside for the time being.
I glare at him:
- I'm not going anywhere, just draw the curtains if it's inconvenient!
The lifeguard hears my grumpy voice and knows I'm still touchy about that incident. He chuckles like a woman.
- Up to you.
I cross my arms and stare at him as he approaches Rose. The girl doesn't blush at him, she smiles at me, turns away after a few seconds, and then glances at me secretly. I worry about her poor health.
She catches colds at the drop of a hat and ends up bedridden every damn time she gets sick. She repeats the same pattern over and over again, each time it seems to tease me. She is a weird girl. I don't say a word—just keep watching her through the gap in the curtain.
Once the checkup's done, the lifeguard offers his hand to help her up. I yank the curtain open and glare at him, but the guy isn't scared at all — he just smiles softly. That effeminate look of his really gets on my nerves. I shove him aside and hold Rose up myself.
She deliberately wrinkles her nose and waves her hand in front of it, making sure I know I'm soaked head to toe like a drowned rat, clothes caked in river water.
Normally, I don't know how to deal with this hard‑to‑handle girl. The moment I carry her into the infirmary — I don't know how the ancestors and the gods bless me — I suddenly become unusually perceptive:
- Tsk, soaked from head to toe, clothes caked in river water, stinking to the point of splattering bullets. In this condition, supporting the victim to walk is not… reasonable.
I complain and go into another booth with a bitter face. I press the express dry button. The booth emits hot air, drying my whole body in a few seconds, and then sprays a thin mist to remove the body odor. Tsk, so fragrant it's almost stifling. She'll tease me again. I exhale and walk out, mentally prepared to be "tortured."
The girl's face darkens again. She looks around impatiently and asks everyone, but no one knows. She immediately runs out of the room and rushes to the river. I hurriedly chase after her and search along the riverbank with her. But we can't find it after searching for a long time, so I say to her:
- If we lose it, buy another one!
She is determined to find it:
- The priceless treasure in the backpack is everything to you! We can't lose it!
All hope drains away, just like the tide sinking to the riverbed, but Rose does not give up and plunges into the river, looking for something more precious to her than life.
Even though the terror of drowning is still there, she's more insane than those raging waves trying to swallow her again.
I run to pull the girl to the shore in panic, but she doesn't listen. After a long stalemate, I pull her towards me and quietly hug the "steel rose," who is collapsing on the ground.
Her trembling shoulders stop moving and give me a feeling… Rose knows I am just finding an excuse to encourage her, to cover up my shame.
Someone who is proud of being a bodyguard, always protecting Rose, always caring for Rose… is truly stupid and ignorant. For so long, I failed to see that the girl not only gave me all her heart.
Rose hugs me tightly, she buries her face in my chest — the man who fights the world for her, but she cannot keep the most precious treasure of the guard. The girl cries in grievance, not daring to face me.
- I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I…
I gently push Rose away and wipe away her tears:
- I'm not the man-god Kai who is always friendly to women, nor am I the national hero who is always gentle to girls! I'm not good at expressing my feelings, nor do I know how to say sweet words…
I look deeply into Rose's eyes:
- I'm an idiot with girls, but I'm not stupid enough not to feel someone's feelings for me…
From the past to the present, there is only one red in the soul of a person who values family affection. When I face the feelings I have been avoiding, the rose realizes... in the thoughtful eyes... filled with emotions she has never seen before... that there is... another red.
That gaze is always 'irritated' and 'weary' of life being upended by the lioness. The eyes that only know how to get angry are now gentle every minute and every second. She has been waiting for this moment for a long time.
The rude man, who in the past hated to be cheesy, now tries every means to hide his feelings. Now he no longer hides them. The guard lets his eyes, always looking towards the family, touch the heart of Rose.
Peach cheeks are bright pink again, the girl is sad and choking with sobs. The budding happiness can hardly comfort the sadness that indirectly destroys the precious object.
The girl sobs and hugs me again. No matter how I persuade her, the rose still clenches her arms and buries her face in my chest, crying until the front of my shirt is wet. I hug the girl gently and lean my cheek against her cloudy hair.
- Brother, sister...
The rose doesn't care; she still buries her head in her lover's chest. I look up at the boy, about ten years old, dressed entirely in white, from his clothes down to his shoes and socks.
His dark, shoulder-length curly hair is tied into a casual ponytail. His dark eyebrows and his shrewd, sharp semi-double eyelids form a sharp contrast with his chubby face, making him cuter than a girl who is about to enter puberty.
He looks at us blankly. I notice that he is wearing an object on his back. The boy suddenly remembers something, exclaims, takes off the object, and with both hands brings it before my eyes:
- If you weren't looking, I forgot. Return it to the two of you.
I am ecstatic. Rose gently pushes me away and immediately grabs a familiar object, her expression still confused, as if she were still struggling at the bottom of a river.
The backpack is dry, probably picked up and dried with a dryer by someone, but she is still so scared that she loses her sense of the surroundings and holds her breath to check the treasure.
The faith and hope of that "someone" still exist within what the girl has been protecting. Her pale and withered peach cheeks are dyed with joyful pink, and the disappeared smile shines again. The girl looks brightly towards the person she cares about.
I don't remember or care how many times she smiles tenderly and contemplates me with fascination...
Now I silently contemplate the eyes of those who care about me... only remains... the red object like blood still retains the old memories...
I am ashamed and laugh at my "careless" attitude... to someone who values me more than herself, while I still think I always value her.
I make her wait too long before she can feel my emotions. The two words "take seriously" mock the careless guy who thinks he is profound.
The guy always follows his own will. At this heart-shaking moment, I want to hug Rose again, but shyness holds me back. Even after being around the rose I have protected for so long, I still don't understand the heart and intentions of the one who always unsettles me.
We have been together for so long, and now I can hear the beating of my heart. Why not earlier, but wait until I think I have lost... that beautiful smile like an angel, I realize that smile is only for the person who wants to forget all the troubles of the girl.
In the eyes soaked with tears, two reds exist in parallel...
The old red color is cherished by people who live for their family more than their lives.
At this fateful moment, the priceless red color, which has always been a symbol of faith and hope, is no longer the only important treasure of "someone" to the girl.
The other red is cherished by someone who is willing to die for the one he cares about.
The idiot guy is in a daze until a gentle touch makes two hearts tremble again... only then... do I discover with amazement... that the rose is hugging the guard, using his embrace to hide the burning red flush at the corners of her eyes. I don't need to know what people whisper or the secret photos they take, I don't care that the kid covers his mouth and laughs.
At that moment when the two are closer than ever, I hug Rose, giving the rose an emotion that has never existed in her "someone's" heart. Rose shyly squeezes her hand to let the lovebird... listen... two hearts... beating together.
The two souls are "lost" in the drunkenness of passion. The intoxication of love yeast causes Rose's face to blush, and the girl shyly pushes me away in front of the child's round eyes:
- Now that the lost thing has been found, why are you two still hugging each other and crying?
Rose blushes with shame. I glance at the smiling boy and immediately realize that he is pretending to be innocent to tease us, so I put on a happy face:
- Ah, she fell into the river and got soaked. Now she is still cold. I hug her to warm her up!
Rose purses her lips tightly, ignores me, and turns to the other side. The boy still doesn't "let go" for us, questioning why sister is crying. I smile and explain:
- I didn't save her in time, she almost... so she is sulking!
The girl giggles at me for omitting this sentence, muttering to herself, idiot guy!
The little boy asks what "almost" means. I scratch my head, smack my lips, and laugh at myself for playing a stupid game, so I have to turn to other things:
- Hey, where did you find the backpack?
The little boy smiles and seems to know I am trying to mislead him, and points to the end of the river:
- I found it by the river.
Rose smiles softly:
- You even dried the backpack with a dryer, thank you!
The boy shakes his head and denies:
- It wasn't me, the one who dried the backpack was my grandfather.
He stands aside. Rose and I frown at the man in the wheelchair. He is fifty years old, wearing a gray suit, with blond hair that has turned silver-white.
His pale skin is marked by years, rugged like someone who has lived a painful life fighting the torture of a strange disease that forces him to sit in a wheelchair for life.
That strange disease has been tormenting his frail body since he was twenty. But he still persists in pursuing his passion, searching alone for the final destination of his... dream... illusions for thirty years.
The professor is always busy with work, occasionally excited to take his children and grandchildren out to play. A crowd gathers, some asking for autographs, some asking for photos, and some asking for private meetings to discuss the professor's large-scale research projects. Others sneer and mock:
- Thirty years of failed research, still stubbornly refusing to accept wasted effort...
- Crazy fans still go crazy according to their idols...
- What the hell is God of time and space. Damn, infected by his paranoia.
The insults break out into a war of words. The professor calmly orders the wheelchair to move amidst the loudly cursing crowd.
These endless arguments happen every day and every hour. He is familiar with the classic scenes in life. Things take a turn for the worse, the crowd is about to clash. I rush forward and shout angrily:
- Get out of here!
Everyone turns pale with fear, apologizes hastily, and runs away with their tails between their legs.
I bend down and ask the professor:
- Are you okay?
The professor smiles and thanks me. He always simplifies everything. This laugh is not ordinary. I realize that the professor knows in advance that the crowd will quarrel and fight. He must have known I would help, so he shows up leisurely without bodyguards.
He doesn't need to hide his half smile, satisfied that things go as he wants. The ocean-blue eyes contain mystery, quiet and profound, like an endless vortex of the timeline... as if... seeing through... the others' hearts. It makes me shudder, a vague feeling occurs that I can't explain.
The weirdest thing is that the feeling makes me suspect that picking up the pink backpack is not a coincidence... and... he has been waiting for this meeting for a long time...
I have never been afraid. Now I shiver with cold. He smiles as I invite the boy, letting me avoid my fear:
Hey kid, there's a shooting game over there, win a bonus stuffed animal, do you dare to play with me? See who can hit more targets!
The boy excitedly agrees. Rose puts on the pink backpack and catches up with the three of us. I miss on purpose and let the kid win, but the kid forces me to shoot for real. I sigh and nod.
I open my eyes wide, looking at the boy who stands like a professional marksman, surprised that his aim is as good as mine. The two of us take turns and end up winning nearly half of the stuffed toys on display. The professor smiles at the owner's gloomy face, then clears his throat:
- It's late, go home, grandson!
The kid bundles up his spoils with a triumphant grin. Rose and I shake the professor's hand and thank him again. The professor laughs lightly:
- It's nothing. Bye... – The professor glances at Rose – Ah, no need to say goodbye, we'll meet again in the future.
The professor is always serious and cautious around women, and never makes a careless slip. But now he deliberately affects a "careless" manner, leaving Rose and me to stare at each other in bewilderment.
Such behavior, so contrary to both his own nature and common decency, plants a question mark in my hazy mind, for its hidden intention seems as strange and eccentric as the man himself.
The two say goodbye to us, the little boy smiles and waves:
- Ah, I almost forgot to introduce myself, I'm Firestone!
Rose and I laugh and respond. When they leave, I raise my gun and aim at the most beautiful and expensive item in the hardest-to-hit place. That location is mixed in with a pile of plush toys, forcing me to shoot accurately every centimeter.
Rose watches her boyfriend focus on the space between the eyebrows of the statue... angel... jade lapis. The guard, afraid of missing his shot, doesn't notice that although the rose hasn't lost all her fragrance, she can no longer be rosy and radiant. The joy at the corners of her lips turns into a forced smile. A sad smile plays on her lips, mocking her own sullen jealousy... because... she is not the angel in her lover's heart.
That angel is "someone" strong, opposing death.
Rose feels vulnerable and stung because she is not... the only flower... pinned over the guard's heart. Rose contemplates thoughtfully as her lover celebrates happily, cherishing the statue more than a treasure. The idiot, completely oblivious, asks his girlfriend for help:
- Hold it for me for a moment, I'm not free yet!
The owner sees me shooting again and is afraid of capital loss, so he quickly closes the store. I clear my throat and hand over a coin:
- For the last time, finish shooting and then close!
The owner is afraid that I will ruin the store, so he reluctantly agrees. I stop joking and focus my mind, aiming carefully again and again, serious as when shooting the jade lapis statue.
This time, the target is the robot princess in a dark pink robe, who had been standing next to the jade statue. Some horse-faced, buffalo-headed puppets now seem to push and overwhelm "her."
The image stings my eyes, reminding me of the time Rose was groped by that thug. I glance at the girl unconsciously. A knowing smile passes between us, as we secretly rejoice that the rose and the guard are thinking the same thing.
Rose's expression—one that twists other people's thoughts into knots. The girl's face is sulking, but the corners of her lips are smiling sweetly, showing sympathy and forgiveness, as if I have just made her sad. Bullets splatter. Her giggles seem to taunt: "Lang is never unintentional! There's no new priority coming in for the old one to go out!" What kind of saying is that? I don't understand her. The girl still likes to be obscure.
The target is in a super difficult position. If I don't hit the rose stamen on the left breast of the princess, everything will fall in a chain reaction, and the player must pay for all the items that were successfully shot before. Money doesn't matter. If I miss, both Rose and I will be embarrassed. I have to be careful about every inch.
The guard's temples are soaked with sweat; the rose's heart is pounding violently. She holds her breath and watches me squeeze the trigger. The bullet fired from the barrel seems to be clearly seen in the eager eyes waiting for success.
The bullet "hits the princess's heart". "She" smiles shyly, turns her body rhythmically to dodge, escapes from the "lustful" crowd, slides down the rainbow, shrugs her feet, and jumps towards me.
I laugh so hard that I "hug" the princess and hold "her" high to celebrate the victory. Rose hugs me with excited laughter, and I can vaguely hear the princess whispering a bold confession:
"Thank you, love in my heart!"
The rose connects two symmetrical images in her mind: the "angel" rules the guard's mind, and the rose is the flower that exists in the heart of that "lover". Rose blushes and buries her head in her lover's shoulder.
Her boyfriend, no longer short-term, bursts out laughing with delight, gazes at his girlfriend who is no longer temporary, and gives the princess to Rose.
- Hey, only the princess is worthy of the rose. Give you!
Rose hears the sweet talk and then laughs, teasing me to cover up her shyness:
- When did you learn how to flirt?
I smile softly and shrug:
- Now I'm officially no longer a new sedge mat!
Rose smiles slightly and contemplates me. I smile with satisfaction at the figure of "someone" who is radiating sunshine in those heart-shaped eyes. If Halo doesn't ring, the romance story will never end.
I pick up Halo and see that it is almost time for Kai to answer the interview. I call the parking lot staff and ask someone to take the motorcycle to the river.
The girl thinks her boyfriend will be considerate enough to put a helmet on her, but the stupid guy with girls only puts on his own helmet, gives her the hat, and urges her to get on the bike quickly.
The girl laughs—the idiot is still an idiot, the rude guy reverts to his true nature of hating anything cheesy or sweet.
But it is that very rudeness that knocks on the door to Rose's heart. Rose laughs again when she hears the curious idiot ask:
- Why are you laughing so much? Hug me tight, I'm going to drive.
I tip the guy who brought the motorcycle. Rose hugs me from behind. Every time the girl touches my body, I feel strange. This time the feeling is no longer strange, but warm and passionate... like... a gentle spring.
It turns out that a winter that isn't cold truly does exist.