Let Me Meet You chapter 15

You Won’t

As the phone screen dimmed, Li Xuan pressed his brow in fatigue.

He hadn’t noticed while talking, but as it quieted down, he realized the rain had intensified again. The fine rain formed a silvery thread under the streetlights. He stared at the raindrops for a while before turning back to the living room.

“Finished your call?” Sheng Min asked as he looked up from the dining table when he heard the balcony door open. “Come eat. The soup is getting cold; I’ll warm it up.”

Li Xuan looked at him but couldn’t help thinking of his conversation with Qi Boyuan, wanting to say something but hesitating.

“What’s wrong?” Sheng Min asked.

Li Xuan hesitated for a moment, but ultimately didn’t speak. He glanced at the dishes on the table. “Why haven’t you eaten?”

Sheng Min was taken aback and placed the soup in the microwave. “I was waiting for you.”

“There was no need to wait.” Li Xuan said casually. Once he spoke, he felt his tone was a bit harsh. “What I mean is, you didn’t have to wait. Just eat; I’m not used to others waiting specifically for me.”

“Oh.” Sheng Min smiled. “I was not that hungry anyway.”

“No need for that next time,” Li Xuan said no more and pulled out a chair to sit down.

Li Xuan had something on his mind, and his appetite wasn’t great, but he still finished his meal. After cleaning the dishes, he borrowed Sheng Min’s study to retrieve the backed-up source code from his USB drive. He ran the program while making a few modifications.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he changed computers or bodies, but he felt his efficiency was significantly lower than usual. It was only after midnight that he began to feel a bit of flow.

He worked until two in the morning, stretched his somewhat numb fingers, sent the work to Qi Boyuan, and turned off his phone before heading to the bedroom.

Sheng Min hadn’t disturbed him, and when Li Xuan opened the door, he realized Sheng Min was asleep.

A night light illuminated the room, and the long pillow on the bed had indeed been replaced by two individual pillows. Sheng Min was curled up slightly, occupying only about a third of the bed, and a book lay open on the carpet beside the bed. Li Xuan glanced at it and saw it was a well-known play script.

He walked over, picked up the book, and placed it on the bedside table before turning off the light and getting into bed.

After a little more than half the night spent coding, he was already quite tired. However, lying in bed, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a coin-sized white spot on the wallpaper. Li Xuan stared at it, transfixed, as the light slowly shifted from the center of the wall towards the wooden floor, still unable to feel sleepy.

After lying in one position for too long, his back felt slightly stiff. Just as he thought of turning over, he suddenly heard Sheng Min’s breathing nearby become somewhat rapid. He turned his head to see Sheng Min’s brow tightly furrowed, as if he were having a nightmare.

Li Xuan initially didn’t want to intervene but hesitated for a moment before irritably reaching out to shake him awake. Just before his hand made contact, Sheng Min suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.

“Are you rising from the dead?” Li Xuan barely managed to retract his hand in time to avoid hitting Sheng Min’s face.

Sheng Min didn’t speak; his chest was heaving, and he scanned the room before finally turning to look at Li Xuan.

“What’s up?” Li Xuan asked him.

Sheng Min lowered his eyes and remained silent for a while before saying, “I had a nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

Sheng Min opened his mouth but ultimately didn’t say anything and just shook his head.

Li Xuan had only asked casually and didn’t press further. It seemed absurd for two men to discuss nightmares in the middle of the night. He pulled back the blanket and got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Getting some water.” Li Xuan closed the door behind him.

He drank half a glass of ice water and didn’t immediately return to the bedroom. Spotting a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, he pulled one out. When he tried to light it, the lighter failed to ignite after several attempts—probably because it had gotten wet in the rain earlier.

Li Xuan didn’t expect to find a lighter in Sheng Min’s house. After thinking for a moment, he went into the kitchen and turned on the gas stove to light the cigarette.

The kitchen light was warm-toned, but it cast a strangely cold hue on the pale blue tiles. Li Xuan took a puff of smoke and exhaled, some smoke drifting past his cheek.

Leaning against the countertop, he touched his face, moving from his eyes to his nose and then to his lips. None of it felt like his own… Li Xuan couldn’t help but frown and pulled out his phone to check his call history with Qi Boyuan.

Things at their start up company were now barely manageable. Although many things wouldn’t be convenient without his presence, with Qi Boyuan around, they could hold on for half a year.

As for school… Li Xuan pressed his lips together, the professor for statistical mechanics was a retired scholar who had been rehired, known for strict academic discipline. He conducted roll calls, and missing class twice could lead to failing the course. There were still several classes left in the semester, and there would be exams at the end…

Li Xuan really didn’t care about his GPA or credits; whether or not he received a diploma was irrelevant to him. The only issue was how to explain things to Li Mingge. Li Xuan wasn’t afraid of causing trouble for himself, but he had promised before to complete his studies diligently, and he didn’t want to go back on his word. Thinking of this, he opened his calendar app and added a reminder for a day in July.

There were just over two months left, Li Xuan thought, and there was no need to complicate things at this point. However, given the current situation… his fingertips tapped rhythmically on the countertop until someone behind him deliberately cleared their throat.

“How long have you been standing there?” Li Xuan turned around and saw Sheng Min standing by the door, light spilling down from behind him.

“I was afraid if I didn’t make a sound, your fingers would get sore from tapping,” Sheng Min said quietly, noticing that the tips of Li Xuan’s fingers were already red.

Li Xuan hummed in acknowledgment and stopped tapping. Sheng Min stood at the door, but after a while, he didn’t leave.

“Is there something on your mind?” Li Xuan finally asked.

“You’re the one who seems to have something on your mind,” Sheng Min replied softly. “After you finished the call, something seemed off. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Li Xuan glanced at him but remained silent.

Sheng Min didn’t push; he went to the fridge, took out a carton of milk, poured it into a saucepan, and turned on the heat before saying, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk? I’m worried you’ll hold it in and won’t be able to sleep later.”

“You woke up from a nightmare, not because I woke you up, so don’t blame me,” Li Xuan said flatly.

Sheng Min smiled and turned to look at him. Li Xuan pressed his lips together, hesitating for a moment before saying, “I still have classes to finish at school. I need to go back to class.”

Sheng Min paused at that: “You’re still in school?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Li Xuan didn’t expect that this would be Sheng Min’s first concern. “I told you yesterday, we share a birthday. What’s so strange about being 21 and still in college?”

Sheng Min rubbed his nose: “I just didn’t think you were a student.”

“Well, what did you think I was?” 

“I don’t know,” Sheng Min said with a smile, but didn’t answer. He then added, “I can just attend your class for you, and you don’t have to worry so much.”

Li Xuan shot him a glance and turned away again.

It wasn’t just about one class. Li Xuan stared at the reflections in the glass window. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he did feel a bit weary.

From waking up after swapping bodies with Sheng Min to confronting Zhao Yi, it felt like he had been moving forward in a fog, pushed by an invisible force, without much thought.

However, this class was like a trigger that forcefully tore through the surrounding mist, making him face a reality he couldn’t ignore. Swapping bodies with Sheng Min would throw many of his previously planned matters off course.

The most critical point was that he didn’t know when they could switch back—maybe tomorrow, maybe next year… but what if it was forever?

Li Xuan couldn’t help but furrow his brows.

Seeing his expression, Sheng Min spoke softly: “Don’t be scared.”

“What would I be scared of?” Li Xuan snapped back to reality, his tone dismissive. He was just a bit annoyed.

Sheng Min said, “When is your class?”

Li Xuan hesitated, waiting for Sheng Min to turn his head, letting his gaze lightly sweep across his face. After thinking for a moment, he said, “Thursday.”

“Isn’t that the day after tomorrow? I…”

“Thursday morning,” Li Xuan said slowly. “Aren’t you busy with that ad shoot? What will you do?”

Sheng Min remembered that the ad shoot was indeed on Thursday. The milk was bubbling in the saucepan, and he reached over to lower the heat. “I’ll have Zhang Zhihua coordinate it once it’s light out and see if we can push the ad shoot back.”

“I don’t want to talk to your manager.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Isn’t that a hassle?”

“That’s two separate issues,” Sheng Min said cheerfully. “You can’t change your class time. I’ll go to your class first, and then we can shoot the ad afterward…”

“Is that a condition? You’ll go to my class so I can shoot the ad for you? What if you finish my class and I don’t want to shoot?” Li Xuan reminded him nonchalantly. “I didn’t agree to the shoot.”

“Do you really not want to go?” Sheng Min looked surprised and frowned slightly. “Let me go to your class first then I’ll try to get Zhang Zhihua to push back the ad so you can think about it some more.”

Li Xuan glanced at him, his tone flat: “I’m not thinking about it.”

“You haven’t even thought it through,” Sheng Min said helplessly, pausing a moment before adding, “But If you really don’t want to go, I’ll still attend the class. I’ve said this before: until we swap back, I won’t delay your matters.”

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“Right, I’m the one who agreed to it.”

Li Xuan stared at him for a few seconds. Sheng Min’s eyes showed a bit of distress, but his expression was genuine.

Noticing that Li Xuan kept looking at him, Sheng Min asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about whether you’re pretending or just foolish.”

Sheng Min sighed.

“Li Xuan,” he said, calling his name. “I’ve already told you why I want you to go. This ad isn’t just my responsibility. If we don’t shoot it, a lot of the preparatory work for the staff will be wasted, and they’ll have to work overtime afterward. I know you don’t like it, and if there are any unconfirmed gigs afterward, I’ll try to cancel them, but this one is too tight on time. I hope you can go for me. Of course, if you really don’t want to go, I can’t force you. As for your matters, if I need to step in, I will. Until we switch back, I’ll do my best not to disrupt your life. This isn’t a trade or a condition; those two things are unrelated. I just want to find some peace of mind.”

He paused: “After all, if I hadn’t attempted suicide, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. You don’t have to make this so complicated.”

After saying this, he fell silent, turning off the heat and pouring the milk into two cups.

Li Xuan truly didn’t expect his last statement and didn’t respond immediately, watching Sheng Min’s actions without emotion. After a long while, he said, “You really like to take on responsibilities, don’t you? Did you often write self-reflections when you were a kid?”

Sheng Min turned his head, looking a bit confused.

Li Xuan recalled what he’d just said about doing his best not to disrupt his life.

But how exactly could he do that, and how would he not disrupt things? Li Xuan thought, expressionless. It sounded good, but somehow, he couldn’t help but feel a faint weariness and emptiness. Yet, strangely, those feelings seemed to dissipate—though maybe not entirely.

“I have class on Friday,” Li Xuan said, looking at him.

“Hm?” Sheng Min blinked.

Li Xuan felt slightly awkward. “I lied earlier. What, have you never been lied to?”

“Childish,” Sheng Min muttered softly as he processed the comment. “So, will you go for the shoot?”

“No.”

Sheng Min just smiled.

“I’ll write up my schedule for you tomorrow. When you accept gigs, avoid these times, and make sure you’re not booked more than half the time each month. I still have a lot to do,” Li Xuan said, his words coming out fast. “You’re not shooting any dramas right now, right?”

“Not currently,” Sheng Min replied. “I’ll turn down any that come up.”

“Good.” Li Xuan nodded and turned toward the bedroom. After a thought, he added, “If you hadn’t tried to take your life, I’d probably be in some cremation urn at a funeral home by now… Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thanking you, but the body swap isn’t your responsibility, and you don’t need to feel accountable for it.”

Sheng Min paused, and as Li Xuan reached the door, he called out to him.

Li Xuan stopped and turned around.

Sheng Min handed him a cup of milk. “Drink this. You’ll sleep better.”

“I don’t have nightmares,” Li Xuan replied.

At this, Sheng Min was reminded of the vivid dream he’d had.

“Would you really…?” he asked.

“Would I what?” Li Xuan didn’t understand.

Sheng Min’s throat moved as he slowly asked, “If I hadn’t stopped you that day, would you have really cut off his hand?”

Li Xuan realized what he’d dreamed about. Smiling, he walked up to him and said, “Afraid, are you? Then why were you acting tough earlier?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Sheng Min repeated his question, “Would you?”

“What do you think?” Li Xuan replied casually.

Sheng Min looked at him for a few seconds. Li Xuan neither avoided nor evaded his gaze, letting him stare.

“You wouldn’t,” Sheng Min said with conviction.

Li Xuan scoffed, ready to retort, “And how would you know?” But he noticed the light in the other man’s eyes—so bright in the dim room, and he had never known his own eyes could shine like that.

In that moment, Li Xuan had the odd sense that Sheng Min truly knew, as if he’d already seen through all the thoughts he himself couldn’t even be sure of.

This feeling made Li Xuan uncomfortable, though he couldn’t quite say why.

“Drink the milk yourself. I don’t need it,” he said, dropping the topic and turning to leave.