An Yao’S Observation Diary Chapter 16

Wednesday, June 11th, Sunny

Yesterday, I changed all the soiled sheets and duvet covers. After An Yao finished cleaning up, I carefully applied medicine to the back of his neck, and then held him as we lay back down in the fluffy bedding.

An Yao currently carried the scent of shower gel, and only by leaning close could I catch that familiar, extremely faint fragrance of magnolia. Perhaps due to the emotional rollercoaster and the unique weakness of the Mating Heat, An Yao was too tired to even lift his arm. He lay softly on my chest, yawning small, weary yawns.

I shifted An Yao higher in my arms, letting him rest comfortably against my shoulder. Omegas are extra weak during the Mating Heat, and they need timely hydration and nutrition. While An Yao was cleaning up, I specifically cooked a light lean-meat congee, intending to feed it to him. But before the bowl even got close, An Yao frowned, unconsciously turned his face away, his expression showing nausea and discomfort.

“Don’t…” He buried his face in my neck and rubbed against me repeatedly. “I feel like throwing up…”

I rubbed his head. “Okay, okay, we won’t eat this.”

I set the congee aside and took a tube of nutrient fluid from the nightstand drawer.

“Yaoyao, what flavor do you want?” I asked softly. “How about strawberry?”

An Yao didn’t even have the strength to speak, just nodded dully.

I unwrapped the packaging and carefully held it to his lips.

Although the nutrient fluid was bland and simple in flavor, it was sweet and lacked any strong odors. An Yao sipped slowly, finishing more than half the tube in a short time.

“Good boy,” I cupped his face and squeezed gently, taking a tissue to wipe the moisture from the corner of his lips. “Our Yaoyao is amazing, drinking so much.”

An Yao blinked, a visible blush spreading across his cheeks. His eyes darted around, and his voice held a hint of panic. “…Qingyan?”

“I—I didn’t do anything?” he stammered. “W-what’s there to praise?”

“This is already amazing,” I said, smiling. “A Yaoyao who eats well, sleeps well, and lives well is the best Yaoyao.”

An Yao’s face grew even redder. He mumbled and stuttered for a long time, finally burying his face in my neck, his hair a mess, in self-abandonment. “Qingyan, stop teasing me…”

“I’m not teasing you,” I tilted my head and rubbed his. “I mean it.”

An Yao froze for a moment, then instinctively turned his head slightly, raising those beautiful, pale gray eyes to look at me. He looked very closely, inch by inch, tracing my features with a lingering gaze, as if silently kissing me over and over again.

Perhaps it was his overly intense gaze, but I felt a slight itch on the tip of my nose. Just as I was about to look away, I suddenly realized that at some point, he had quietly pressed his fingertip lightly against the tip of my nose.

The fingertip was cool, slowly moving across my face. First the nose, then the brow bone, then skimming the eyelid, tracing the contour of my cheek all the way down, gently resting on the corner of my mouth.

An Yao explored my face carefully, like a blind person, yet his eyes were frighteningly bright. Those pale gray eyes followed the trajectory of his fingertip closely, as if trying to deeply imprint my outline into his heart.

His actions made my face feel inexplicably warm. I quickly reached out and caught his wandering fingertip. “…Yaoyao, what’s wrong?”

An Yao blinked, his eyes clear and moist, holding a soft smile. “Qingyan.”

He spoke the two words very softly, as if chewing them carefully between his lips and teeth before slowly and gently exhaling them with warm breath. They were soft and lingering, the subtle tone dipped in honey, evoking an indescribable sense of intimacy and ambiguity.

I watched as he suddenly leaned closer, rubbing his nose against mine lightly, like a small animal.

“How can you be so good?” he murmured lovingly.

I paused, then clumsily mimicked his action and rubbed back.

“I’m not that good,” I said. “I’m just… just doing what any ordinary person should do.”

An Yao listened quietly, his shallow breath brushing against my neck.

“Yaoyao,” I tightened my arms, holding the person in my embrace more securely. “You are the best.”

An Yao didn’t respond, just buried himself deeper into my arms, his forehead resting on my shoulder as he breathed shallowly. We held each other very, very tightly. I could even clearly feel his gradually steadying heartbeat and the weight of his body finally relaxing and leaning against me.

We held each other quietly like this for a while.

Perhaps due to the Mating Heat, the magnolia fragrance on An Yao was a few shades richer than usual, permeating the bedroom in wisps, like a magnolia flower pressed inside an old medical book—crisp and clear, with a subtle, reassuring bitterness.

I couldn’t help but hug him tighter, my nose filled with the faint, clean scent.

Magnolia, magnolia flower.

I suddenly remembered that perpetually silent magnolia tree.

When I was in elementary school, the route I often took to school always passed through a secluded alley. Few people used that alley. Wild grass sprouted from the cracks in the bluestone path, and the only thing that left a lasting impression was the silent magnolia tree in the corner.

That tree didn’t bloom all year round. Most of the time, it was full of evergreen leaves, guarding the corner low to the ground, haphazardly piled up with the rarely maintained bougainvillea next to it, making it hard to tell if it was a green belt or an ignored patch of wasteland.

It was always so quiet. Even when the rampant bougainvillea squeezed out most of its space, it still stood there peacefully.

I didn’t know it was growing there, nor did I know when it bloomed, until after a heavy rain, when the ground was covered with creamy white petals. Only then did I realize the blooming season had passed.

But no one had known.

I stood there blankly for a long time, ultimately only able to futilely pick up all the flowers, trying to find traces of the flower’s existence through the faint scent mixed with the smell of mud and rainwater.

An Yao was so much like the magnolia flower.

He was always very quiet—quietly smiling, quietly doing other things, silently moving from one end to the other. Even when I found him that day, he was quiet.

If I hadn’t gone back to turn off the light at the back door, An Yao might have quietly turned into a handful of easily dissipated dust in an unknown corner, just like those magnolia flowers washed away by the storm.

I felt a faint sense of dread.

I involuntarily tightened my arms, pulling him deeper into my embrace. An Yao was too light, light like a wisp of mist about to vanish, or a beautiful illusion reflected in water. If my breathing was slightly heavier, he might float away without leaving a single trace.

I couldn’t help but reach out to cup An Yao’s face, gently pressing my fingertips against his cheek and neck.

One, two, three times…

The clear touch transmitted through my fingertips genuinely confirmed that the person before me was real.

“Yaoyao,” I lowered my head slightly, gently pressing my forehead against his. “If… if that night, I hadn’t gone back to turn off the light at the back door…”

I stopped speaking, afraid to continue the thought.

An Yao, however, smiled, pulling the distance between us even closer until our noses were almost touching. “But you found me.”

He held my slightly trembling hand and pressed closer. “That’s enough.”