Rebirth Of Chen An

Chapter 202: Side Story： When He Was Still Chen Chang'an (III)

Little Ivan stared at the chocolate, and the hand holding the chocolate—very clean, and well formed. He thought it must be very warm if he touched it.

He therefore stretched out his hand, grasping the chocolate and the man’s hand at the same time. Blinking, little Ivan said innocently in Russian: “thank you, uncle.”

Then he leaned closer and planted a kiss on the man’s cheek.

For a few years after that, little Ivan saw Chen Chang’an every once in a while. He grew taller and taller, while Chen Chang’an seemed to have not changed at all.

Every time Chen Chang’an came to his house, he would bring little Ivan chocolate, and then he would kiss the man’s cheek in return. Little Ivan could remember the smile on the face of the young man who stood beside Chen Chang’an, and the complicated emotions in Changle’s eyes.

At that time, little Ivan did not understand what they were. Only when he became older did he realize that Chen Changle probably envied him for being able to kiss Chen Chang’an.

At that time, Ivanov had thought Chen Chang’an a man who liked to smile. At least the man smiled happily every time he came here, a smile felt warmer than the sunshine did in winter.

Until that day little Ivan per tended to come into the living room by accident after he heard the Old Fox was here to visit. But before he stepped in, his mother caught his hand and shook her head.

Ivanov hid behind the door and peeked inside. He did not see Chen Changle and somehow was happy about it.

Then he saw the man who used to offer him chocolate. The man sat with his back towards the door, in conversation with Ivanov’s father; there was something heavy in his posture.

As far as he could remember, Chen Chang’an always stood and sat up straight. But this time, little Ivan noticed his slightly hunched posture, as if there was a boulder or something very heavy on his back. Little Ivan felt if someone added even one more straw, he would be crushed under the burden.

That day little Ivan didn’t get his chocolate, or see the man smile. For many years after that, he did not see Chen Chang’an.

Later, he came to know that the man’s brother, Chen Changle had died. And when the rescue team found them, Chen Chang’an was sitting on the ground, silently holding the already cold body of Chen Changle in his arms.

Ivanov’s father told him some details about the incident.

Things like, when they found the two brothers and tried to move the body, Chen Chang’an pushed them away, carried Changle’s body into the car himself and refused to let it go; and things like Chen Chang’an never shed a tear even on Chen Changle’s funeral.

Chen Chang’an had a heart of stone, people said.

Ivanov thought so too. But later he understood Chen Chang’an had used up his tears when Chen Changle died in his arms.

It had to be mentioned that Ivanov never saw Chen An smile again, whether it was when he occasionally met the man on certain occasions, or in the photos included in the documents he purchased.

He nevertheless could not forget the man, and his chocolates.

When he again met Chen Chang’an, it was on a special occasion.

He was no longer little Ivan; he was Ivanov, head of the family, plutocrat from Moscow.

“Which color do you think?” Ties of different colors were thrown on Ivanov’s bed as he turned to Natasha, who looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Right. He was Ivanov; when did Ivanov care about what others thought? And when did he especially dress up for someone?

Their meeting was not pleasant, at least not as pleasant as Ivanov expected.

When he sat at the long table with his head held high, knocked lightly on the tabletop with a gem-ring decorated hand, and then took out a cigar with a gesture that must be dashing, he thought at least the Old Fox should look at him, then smile like he used to do, and call him “little Ivan”.

Chen Chang’an did not. He sat at the head of the table with a cold expression bordering on gloomy. And when someone offended him, a young man with an equally cold expression came up and put a bullet in the offender, like an exterminator.

Not until then did the Old Fox lift the corner of his lips. The smile, if it could be called one, was not at all warm and bright like he remembered; it was chilling instead.

Ivanov did not like the feeling of being ignored. He thought he should do something, but he didn’t know what was the name of his feeling towards the Old Fox. He only knew he felt irritated, and the cause of it was Chen Chang’an.

Therefore, Ivanov began to go against him after that. He hoped the man would say something or do something, like send him a bomb in the post, but the man did not even bother to send a bullet.

And thus Ivanov became more displeased and grumpy about the matter. He even started to weave an elaborate web to bring Chen Chang’an down.

Then suddenly, he got news that Chen Chang’an fell ill.

A year later, he got another piece of news, saying Chen Chang’an was dead.

He felt as if he’d gone back to a time from ten years ago, when he was still little Ivan. Ivanov sat alone in his big, empty and luxurious villa, with wine bottles on the table before him. And like his father had done, he drank in silence, one gulp after another, until the morning light was cast on his colorless face.

The irony of it was, he found, after the Old Fox died, that the feeling he had towards him, was something called love. But he didn’t even get the chance to tell him.

Ivanov started to drink harder than before, and have whatever fun that came before him, as a hollow feeling grew where there used to be his heart.

Finally he decided to go visit the man’s tomb. And the night before that, Ivanov sat in his presidential suite, but this time he did not drink, instead he ate a piece of black chocolate, cursing: it’s so damn bitter!

If Chen Chang’an had paused and thought for a moment, he would wonder, why would a kid love the black chocolate he gave him? Kids loved sweets, and one of them liked bitter things!

The chocolate was so bitter that Ivanov cried.

“Chen Chang’an, you’d better hope I don’t see you in the next lifetime. Otherwise, I’m gonna lock you in a cage!” Ivanov cursed with a vehemence, wiping tears off his face with the back of his hand.

There must be sand in the wind; he’d better go and check whether the windows were properly bolted.

...

So when Chen An again gave him a box of black chocolate, Ivanov looked at it as if it was poison.

“I thought you like chocolates,” the Old Fox had an offended “how dare you refuse my chocolate” look on him.

“I don’t want black chocolate. Old Fox, I like milk chocolate. Why do you think a kid would like something bitter like medicine? ”

Chen An was taken aback: “little Ivan, didn’t you used to come after me for black chocolates? I thought you liked them.”

“Maybe I just liked going after you.”

“But I saw you eat them and looking quite happy.”

“...I ate them because you were looking at me.” Ivanov could finally have it out; he used to go pink under Chen Chang’an’s gaze, and when that happened, even the bitter chocolate tasted sweet.

“Hmm. Ivanov, I never thought you had something like that in your.” Taking a piece of black chocolate from the box, Chen An put it between his lips. Then he beckoned Ivanov closer with a flick of his finger.

Well, it should taste better this way.