“Assuming that the function y=f(x) is defined in the interval, if the increment of the function △y=f(x0+△x)-f(x0) can be expressed as △y=A△x+o(△x), then among them, A is a constant that has nothing to do with △x, and o(△x) is an infinitesimal order……”
The voice rang out in his dream, as far away as something from a previous life. How long had it been since he’d been on the stage? Fu Zhe didn’t know.
After graduating from graduate school, he became a math teacher as part of the leading team. The school liked to permit young teachers to work as head teachers, and so Fu Zhe became one of them. He was busy with work every day.
At first, Fu Zhe didn’t care about his back pain. He thought that it was due to sitting at his desk for long periods of time. After a while, it should be fine.
Later, he began to urinate blood.
Fu Zhe immediately underwent an examination. There was a malignant tumor in his kidney, and by the time it was discovered, the tumor was already in an advanced stage.
This news stunned Fu Zhe. He never thought that he would get cancer at such a young age. All his life, he had always been healthy and self-disciplined and had done nothing that would trigger something like cancer. Neither he nor his family members could accept this terrible news, but in the end, when his symptoms got worse, they had no choice but to admit the truth.
The tumor was too large. Fu Zhe underwent radical nephrectomy, and so his entire kidney and adrenal glands were cut out. He then received dialysis and chemotherapy. Seven months later, the remaining kidney began to fail.
In the end, Fu Zhe failed to grasp onto the slim hope of life. Everything was destined, and his death was like a predestined drama.
Finally, he, his parents and his older sister agreed to give up treatment, so as to leave some money for the family and save on medical resources. He also signed a donation letter. In order to prevent metastatic spread from occuring in the organ receptors, as a cancer patient, he could not donate his organs. But because his cancer had not spread to his eye tissues, he was able to donate his eyes, so that his cornea could help others see the light again.
Eventually, his kidney failure resulted in multiple organ failure and he died in the morning.
Fu Zhe still remembered the pain of the disease, of chemotherapy, and of his death, even after having spent 15 years in the Pure White Realm. Everything was as usual that morning when he woke up in bed. Although there was hardly any light through the window, the pendulum clock told him that it was seven o’clock in the morning.
He felt the sensation of regular breathing brushing over the back of his hand. Fu Zhe looked sideways and saw that there was a man lying next to him on the bed, still asleep. Because of his race, Cerberus’ hair was very thick, and dense stubbles had appeared on his jaws overnight. His thick, dark eyelashes cast shadows on his face. Without the bloody air that was soaked in his bones, he seemed harmless.
Cerberus had two fingers hooked around Fu Zhe’s hand. It seemed as if he wanted to touch Fu Zhe but was worried that Fu Zhe would wake up and discover that he was lying on his bed. With his tall frame curled uncomfortably on the bed, he looked a little pitiful.
He slept like this all night?
Fu Zhe pulled his hand away. Cerberus was disturbed by this tiny movement, and the vigilance he’d cultivated all year round on the edge of life and death immediately jolted him awake. He didn’t expect that Fu Zhe would discover him and so he quickly moved his hand away. He called in a low voice, “Master.”
Cerberus’ voice had the hoarseness of waking up. His expression gradually relaxed. He wasn’t as afraid of this Fu Zhe, who was more gentle than the master of the past.
“Why are you here?” Fu Zhe pushed back against the bed and sat up. He could still feel the imprint of Cerberus’ touch on his hand. If he remembered correctly, last night…last night, he drank too much.
Last night, the people who had left the Pure White Realm fell into a dream, and with Allen from District XII, they arrived at the castle. They held a party. Victor finally indulged in alcohol, and with Cui Zuojing deliberately installing Fu Zhe with bad thoughts and Dong Zheng persuading him to drink, Fu Zhe ended up drinking more than usual.
When he left the long table, he felt okay and that his face was only a little hot. But when he went up the stairs, he realized that his steps were unsteady. He entered the bedroom and then forgot what happened after.
“You were drunk last night and had a fever in the middle of the night. I came to take care of you for a while and fell asleep.”
Fu Zhe remembered that he would indeed have a fever after drinking too much. Even with beer, if he drank a lot, his body would become hot and feverish.
There seemed to be no problem with what Cerberus had said, but how did he know that he had a fever?
Fu Zhe just nodded without any expression, but Cerberus seemed to have seen his doubts, and he continued, “Master, you were like this before. Every time you drank a little bit more, you would have a fever at night. I was really worried last night so I came in without your permission.”
As he talked, Cerberus gazed at him. There was a concealed deep affection in his deep honey eyes, mixed with a little humble caution for fear of angering him. Despite this, Fu Zhe knew that Cerberus was actually fearless.
He was clear about his own innate temperament. Even if he was angry, at most, he would just ignore him for a while, yet Cerberus seemed to dread making a mistake. Fu Zhe couldn’t remember the last time he felt angry. Maybe it was when they failed their pilgrimage?
The eight years of imprisonment had already polished out his temperament. Even when the fragments of goodwill and morality returned one after another, bringing the corresponding memories and qualities, there weren’t much change.
Fu Zhe remembered the golden retriever that one of his old next door neighbors had raised. That smart dog would wag his tail to please his owner. Even when he was being yelled at, the dog knew that no matter what, his owner would only curse at most and would definitely not abandon him.
“Thank you for taking care of me. You can go back now.” Fu Zhe lowered his eyes. A few months ago, when Worm of Mystery had invaded the castle, Cerberus had embraced and kissed him. But the two of them were only intimate for that one moment. After the dust had settled, he forcibly opened the distance between himself and Cerberus once more. Although he knew that his surging feelings were real, he still needed time to determine whether it was his own feelings or whether it was only Morality.
Although…he knew that Morality was a part of him and that he was Morality to some extent.
This question made him seem contentious and overly serious, but Fu Zhe had always been the kind of person to take things too seriously. If love was something imposed on him by Morality alone, then he absolutely wanted nothing to do with it.
If, even now, Cerberus only loved the person who dragged him out of the abyss, then he could not accept that kind of love.
“Okay.”
Cerberus stood up with some difficulties. He had knelt by the bed all night and so his legs and feet were numb. But he didn’t complain. He merely pulled out the shoes that Fu Zhe had kicked to the side last night when he was drunk and neatly arranged them. Then he turned and left Fu Zhe’s bedroom.
Fu Zhe sat on the bed for a long time. He closed his eyes and pinched his eyebrows.
Things couldn’t continue like this.
Last night, Cerberus took care of him very well. Fu Zhe didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. After washing up, he walked out of the bedroom neatly dressed and looked down the railing in the hallway. Victor was curled up in his cat nest, sleeping deeply. A’Zuo and the others were awake in reality and were gone. Lillian was clearing up the mess they’d left behind last night. She saw him standing on the second floor, smiled softly at him, and said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Fu Zhe nodded to her. “Thank you for your hard work.”
Hearing the sounds of their voices, Victor adjusted his sleeping position so that his belly was upturned and his feet were facing the ceiling. With his two front paws covering his eyes, he continued to sleep. Fu Zhe made a cup of tea. With Luo Yan, Wang Que, and Allen resting in their respective bedrooms, the hall was very quiet.
Lilian went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Meanwhile, Fu Zhe didn’t drink tea and read as usual. He sat at the head of the table, staring at the tea floating in the cup, and fell into thoughts amidst the rising heat.
Morality’s past experiences were so clear that it felt as if it was a part of his own memory. He remembered the first time he saw that man in the arena, remembered lifting his chin with his toes, remembered the moment when he gave him the name Cerberus.
He remembered when Cerberus looked at him with gradually disappointed eyes, remembered his helplessness in the face of his deliberate teasing, remembered the anger and sweetness he had expressed when he knew he was being used, remembered that lingering heat powerful enough to ignite all reasons.
These memories weren’t his, but they remained so clear in his mind.
This was a big problem.
Lillian brought the breakfast over, and when she saw Fu Zhe frowning slightly, she asked softly, “Is something troubling you, Mr. Fu?”
Fu Zhe came back to himself. Smiling lightly, he picked up the teacup and said, “It’s fine. It’ll be resolved soon.”
Lillian didn’t seem to understand. After breakfast, Fu Zhe went to the study with his tea, wanting to finish the book he hadn’t finished reading last night. When he pushed open the door, he saw that there was suddenly a new object on the table.
It was a beautifully shaped glass bottle connected to a coiled hose. The mouthpiece on the nozzle was made out of dark wood, and the gilded base was carved with delicate patterns. It was both strange and familiar to Fu Zhe.
It was a hookah.
Fu Zhe stood there for a long time. Finally, he closed the door behind him, walked over to the table, opened the tobacco box on it, picked up the tobacco, and held it up to his nose. It smelled like roses.
Fu Zhe put the shredded tobacco into the smoking bowl, poured the tea leaves, lit the charcoal, and tightened the bottle.
He’d never used anything like this before, but he was still skilled in preparing it.
The charcoal quickly burned red, and the gurgling sound of water came out with the bubbles. Fu Zhe took the cigarette mouthpiece, bit it tentatively, and slowly inhaled.
The scent of roses poured into his lungs with the smoke. It was somewhat difficult to adapt. Fu Zhe’s brows wrinkled and he coughed twice. White smoke came out of his nose and mouth as he choked. Tears sprang to his eyes, but quickly, he bit the cigarette mouthpiece again.
Thunder sounded outside, and large raindrops hit the floor-to-ceiling windows, leaving snaking water marks on the glass. When white lightning flashed, illuminating the dim room, it was just like smoking a hookah on the recliner, with Cerberus kneeling at his feet, kissing the back of his feet and calves.
Fu Zhe closed his eyes at the strong sense of dislocation. He put down the hose and the mouthpiece with wet marks still on it.
Cerberus prepared this thing for him, and his intention could not be more clear.
Fu Zhe turned to leave. He pushed open the door of the study and walked somewhat briskly to the top of the stairs. He saw Cerberus in the living room below.
“You should leave.” After a pause, with a very serious look, he confronted the man who couldn’t not help but reveal his surprise. “Before you can tell the truth between Morality and I, please don’t come back.”
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