An Yao’S Observation Diary Chapter 11
byThursday, May 1st, Gentle Breeze
We registered.
All of An Yao’s identification documents had been held by his stepfather, so I had to ask Su Mo to pull some strings to successfully replace the necessary identification papers.
An Yao and I chose the date for the registration; we both thought Labor Day was a good day. Unfortunately, while the day was good, the staff’s attitude was terribly unpleasant.
At first, the clerk had a smile on her face, but it dropped when she heard we were an Alpha and an Omega.
“I see,” she lazily pulled out a form and slapped it down in front of us with a sharp sound. “Fill this out.”
The clerk didn’t even bother to check our IDs, just briefly scanned the form, tapped a few keys on the keyboard indifferently, and gestured with her chin toward the photo room inside. “Go take the pictures yourselves, stick them on, and give it to the person next to me for stamping.”
After that, she lowered her head and went back to scrolling on her phone, not bothering to offer a single word of explanation.
There was no oath ceremony, no blessings. The two red-covered marriage certificates were casually tossed onto the counter, like processing two irrelevant documents.
An Yao didn’t seem to notice the clerk’s frequent, impatient glances. He just quietly stared at the two certificates, and after a long moment, carefully reached out and picked them up. He gently traced the cover of the certificate and looked across at the Beta couple taking photos in the oath hall—the bride wore a pure white veil, the groom had a boutonniere pinned to his chest, and they smiled happily and naturally for the camera, so beautiful it seemed as if all the sunlight in the world was pouring down on them.
A flicker of almost imperceptible envy crossed his eyes, but he quickly lowered his gaze and silently opened the red booklet in his hands.
This was perhaps the most rushed wedding photo ever taken.
In the picture, An Yao wore the white shirt I had specially bought for him, the collar neatly ironed, his light gray hair smoothly resting on his forehead. My arm lightly touched his shoulder. Perhaps neither of us was used to showing intimacy in front of a camera, as our bodies were noticeably stiff. Although we both tried to smile, the final result looked more like an employee ID photo.
Below the photo, the gender was clearly marked next to the name, silently announcing that the two people establishing this marriage were two of society’s lowest strata.
An Yao raised a hand and gently stroked the photo with his fingertips, unconsciously curling his fingers. He didn’t speak, just silently pursed his lips.
I suddenly felt a sharp pang in my heart.
I immediately took An Yao’s hand and quickly led him out of the suffocating office hall. Instead of taking him straight home, I led him to an open space outside. Standing here, we could look up and see the national flag and emblem. Above was the clear blue sky, and beside us were clusters of fresh flowers, far more striking than the oath hall inside.
I stopped, turning to face An Yao. “The staff inside might have been too busy just now, so we couldn’t complete the full procedure.”
I leaned closer and tucked An Yao’s stray hair behind his ear. “How about we complete the vows here, okay?”
An Yao’s eyes instantly lit up, and he nodded vigorously. “Okay!”
We faced the national flag and emblem, placing our hands together on the certificate.
“An Yao, little one,” I smiled at him. “Are you ready?”
An Yao’s face flushed, and he unconsciously straightened his back. “R-ready.”
“Then let’s begin,” I said. “An Yao, just follow me.”
“We voluntarily choose to become partners. Starting today, we will jointly bear the responsibilities and obligations bestowed upon us by marriage: to be filial to our parents, to educate our children, to respect and love each other, to trust and encourage each other, to understand and tolerate each other, to remain devoted through thick and thin, and to cherish each other for life.”
An Yao’s voice kept trembling, his words wavering as he spoke, the tail end of every sentence sounding like a nervous squeak. He noticed this himself, and his face and ears burned with embarrassment.
“Don’t rush,” I rubbed his head. “We’ll take it slow.”
I slowed my pace, leading An Yao to recite every word.
“From now on, whether in good times or bad, whether rich or poor, whether in sickness or in health, whether young or old, we will stand together through wind and rain, share hardships, enjoy happiness together, and be lifelong companions.”
He looked at me, and I looked at him.
“We will uphold today’s vows, and we are certain we can uphold today’s vows.”
“An Yao,” I said. “For the days ahead, please guide me.”
An Yao looked up at me, his eyes sparkling. Soon, they curved into a beautiful, smiling arc. He wanted to say something, just about to make a gesture, but the next second he realized we were holding hands, and the temperature on his face visibly soared.
“Do-Doctor Lin…” His tongue tied in a knot from panic. “You, you can actually… let go of me now…”
I chuckled softly. Instead of letting go, I tightened my grip on An Yao’s fingers. The accelerated pulse beneath my thumb was clearly transmitted to my mind. In a trance, I felt as if I were holding a startled little bird, patiently watching it flutter in my palm.
“An Yao,” I deliberately leaned closer. “Do you still have to call me Doctor Lin now?”
His eyelashes fluttered nervously, his lips parted and closed, and finally, he whispered a tentative question in an almost inaudible breath. “C-can’t I?”
“Of course you can,” I smiled. “But we’re married now. Calling me that might sound a bit distant… Would you like to try a more intimate address?”
An Yao stared at me blankly, so adorable that I couldn’t help but tease him further. “Look, patients who come to the Clinic call me Doctor Lin. If my partner calls me that too, doesn’t it sound too formal?”
“Is that so?” An Yao widened his eyes. “B-but I don’t know what I should call you…”
The more he spoke, the redder his ears became. He unconsciously covered his face with his free hand, looking so ashamed he might spontaneously combust.
My heart softened, and I easily let go of the easily embarrassed young man. “Just call me Qingyan.”
“Doctor L—” An Yao stumbled over the words. “Qing, Qingyan…”
They were two words he was perfectly familiar with, but when An Yao spoke them, they carried a strangely different meaning. It was as if the name had been steeped in the youth’s tremulous voice, rolling lingeringly over his lips and teeth, before sliding stickily into my ear with warm dampness.
I suddenly felt my breath catch for a moment.
I gently held An Yao’s hand, my thumb unconsciously rubbing against his wrist. An Yao’s hand was very fair, the purplish-blue veins conspicuously visible beneath the pale skin. In no time, the friction from my slightly calloused thumb had rubbed a patch of red onto it.
“Yes,” I smiled. “An Yao is so good.”
An Yao’s face turned even redder. He practically buried his entire face in my coat, his head rubbing against my chin, making everything fuzzy. He was too embarrassed to speak, only able to grip my sleeve and mumble a muffled protest. “Th-this is too strange…”
“It’s not strange,” I rubbed the top of his head. “An Yao pronounced it beautifully.”
An Yao fell completely silent. He self-deprecatingly bumped his head lightly against my chest, and after holding it in for a long time, let out a weak grumble. “Doctor Lin—”
I suppressed a laugh, circled An Yao in my arms, and skillfully rubbed his head and pinched his ears, which finally restored the stiff, tomato-red statue in my embrace back to its original slightly dazed state.
“But since we’re changing addresses, I need to change mine too,” I said. “An Yao, what would you like me to call you?”
An Yao was stunned. “You, you can call me anything.”
“But we are family now.” I suddenly lifted him entirely, causing him to let out a small gasp, and then he leaned on my shoulder, giggling uncontrollably.
This was the first time he had smiled after so many days of gloom.
“Doctor Lin—” He couldn’t stop laughing. “Why are you like this? You almost scared me to death.”
I laughed too, spinning him around a few times. “How about this? Is this scary enough?”
An Yao laughed even harder. His laughter was soft, like the chirping of a bird, scattering crisply on the ground, drawing in large patches of bright sunlight. Perhaps the movement had disheveled his hair a bit; it hung long, with a few strands falling onto the tip of my nose, causing a strange tickle.
“Scary, scary,” An Yao wrapped his arms around my neck. “Doctor Lin, please put me down now.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t put you down until you change your address.”
An Yao’s eyes widened in shock, perhaps not realizing I had such a childish side. “…Doctor Lin?”
“Change the address, change the address,” I bounced him up and down a little. “Little one, if you don’t change it, I’ll carry you home like this.”
An Yao buried his face. “…You haven’t changed yours yet.”
“You’re right,” I hugged him tighter. “Looks like I need to think about it carefully first.”
What should I call him? I wondered. Our relationship didn’t seem close enough for “Babe,” and “Darling” felt too affected. But calling him by his name wasn’t intimate enough. Perhaps…
“Yaoyao?” I asked with a smile. “How about that?”
An Yao buried his face even deeper. “Doctor Lin, you—you… I’m already an adult. Won’t calling me that be too…?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “No matter what, you’ll always be the little one to me.”
“And, little one,” I reached out and pinched his hot ear. “What were you supposed to call me just now?”
An Yao stammered, and after a long pause, squeezed out a single phrase. “…Qingyan.”
“That’s right,” I smiled. “Let’s go home.”
An Yao looked very happy today. As soon as we entered the house, he changed into his slippers and walked with a rare skip in his step, his small braid bouncing behind his head like a cheerful little sparrow hopping around. His hair was much longer than before, and when the sunlight hit it, it gave off a faint sheen, making his smiling features look even softer.
After skipping and hopping for a while, he seemed to realize I was watching him, and two blushes immediately flew onto his cheeks. He hurriedly turned away, but couldn’t hide his flushed ear tips, and even the back of his neck was faintly pink.
I smiled and thoughtfully looked away.
I pretended to check messages on my phone, but secretly used my peripheral vision to observe what An Yao was doing. An Yao was inexplicably busy, touching things here and there, scurrying around the house like a hamster. Midway, he didn’t forget to stop by the balcony and shake hands with the leaves on the potted plants.
I instinctively covered my mouth to prevent someone from noticing my overly obvious smile.
The little one was completely unaware. He even secretly moved my freshly laundered white coat closer to his own clothes. The wind blew gently, and the sleeves of the clothes overlapped, the fabrics clinging intimately to each other.
I watched silently for a long time, unsure if I was looking at the clothes or the person on the balcony.
An Yao, Yaoyao. I silently repeated the name in my heart. I feel like I haven’t been good enough to you.
You deserve the best things in the world, but I feel like I can’t give you anything.
I reached into my pocket and gripped the small box, constantly rubbing it. Time was short, and I had rushed through every mall to buy this pair of rings. They were ordinary, with only simple patterns, not even a single diamond set in them.
Too simple. I thought. They don’t match An Yao at all.
It was insincere, laughably hasty. The vows and promises I had blurted out earlier felt like a joke now.
“An Yao,” I asked softly. “Do you resent me?”
“I didn’t prepare a grand wedding for you, and I didn’t even prepare a delicate pair of rings…” I paused. “I clearly said I would give you the best, but looking back now, it seems I haven’t managed to do anything.”
An Yao turned around and quietly sat beside me. “It’s okay.”
His voice was very soft. “Doctor Lin has already been very good to me.”
“I’m very happy, and I’m content.” He smiled, his eyes curving. “I don’t need a wedding, and as for the rings…”
An Yao suddenly pulled two rings folded from Prescription Slips out of his pocket—I didn’t know when he had prepared them; the edges still had tiny creases. I lowered my head and watched as he leaned closer, carefully lifting my hand and sliding the ring onto my finger.
“Perfect,” he held my ring finger. “It fits just right.”
An Yao clumsily put the identical ring on himself, then lowered his head, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t have any money right now, so I could only prepare this for you… Is it too simple?”
“No,” I interlaced my fingers with his, holding the hand wearing the paper ring in my palm. “I love it.”
I pulled him into a hug, and using the embrace as cover, quietly took the silver rings out of my pocket, silently sliding one of them slowly beneath the paper ring.
“Doctor Lin…?” An Yao’s eyes widened. “Is this…?”
“Yaoyao, call me by my name.” I smiled. “My rings are a bit simple… I actually wanted to make a pair for you myself, but there wasn’t enough time, and my craftsmanship is terrible, so I could only rush to buy this pair.”
“I hope that from now on, everything goes smoothly and perfectly for our Yaoyao.” I lifted his hand and gently kissed the ring on his finger. “Things will get better and better.”