PMWAIAAPM Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Not a Crush

The fans downstairs surrounded that dazzling star.

Tan Zhiyu held the microphone gracefully, answering questions from the host. His bright, pleasant male voice resonated from below, and as he finished answering a question, the fans erupted into deafening cheers.

“This invitation from the brand is my honor. I promise that all the earnings from this appearance will be donated to Hope Primary School. Thank you all for your continued support. Please pay attention to safety when signing autographs later.”

Following his words, applause and screams blended together.

Xing Yang looked down at the star, the applause ringing in his ears. As the clouds outside moved slowly, he was transported back to his eighteen-year-old self.

In the evening of Ninth High School, the red rays of the sunset spread across the playground, casting a warm glow over the dense and neatly arranged pine trees in the back mountain.

In the shadow hidden by the dense forest, eighteen-year-old Xing Yang was surrounded and beaten by several boys, who pulled his hair to force him to look up. The leader of the group threw his backpack at him: “Pay up! Aren’t you so capable? Your dad’s construction site caused a death, and now you have all this debt. How will you pay it back? Just like your mom, using your body to pay? Hahaha—”

The boys kicked him in the stomach, tossing his tattered backpack back and forth.

“Playing mute? Fine, I’ll let my dad come demand money tomorrow—”

“Don’t,” Xing Yang wiped the bruises from his lips and got up from the ground, grabbing the boy’s ankle: “Don’t go after her. I’ll pay back the money…”

Xing Yang’s father supervised a construction site, accepting kickbacks from developers, using cheap materials to cut corners. After the site was reported for safety issues, someone died, and the huge compensation and prison sentence drove him to the rooftop, leaving mother and son with all the debt.

He was only in his second year of high school. His mother wanted him to focus on his studies, telling him that she would handle the debts. But every day, debt collectors sprayed graffiti on their doorstep, demanding repayment for blood. His mother’s shoulders were narrow; she was a frail woman, yet after the incident, she held her son tightly and told him not to be afraid, that it wasn’t his fault.

Their little home was ordinary. Xing Yang was just the most inconspicuous outsider in school, merely a Beta at eighteen, blending in with the crowd.

They sold the house, sold the jewelry; everything gone, but it still didn’t fill the hole.

His mother borrowed loans; the creditor was replaced by another person, and the creditor’s son was also in school. Actually, bad things during adolescence don’t need too significant a reason; as long as he knew that Xing Yang was weaker and allowed him to bully, he could vent his frustration by tormenting him at will.

“What a pity; if only you were an omega, I might have found you more interesting.”

The boy spat at him and walked out of the forest with his followers.

Despite his mother’s words that he didn’t need to care about anyone’s opinions, he still endured the bullying from the creditor’s son, thinking his father would make his mother drink less, not wanting to make her sad.

That day, he wiped all his wounds in the school bathroom and returned home to find his mother’s body hanging.

Just like him, his mother was covered in bruises, though her cause of death was unclear.

Heaven liked to play tricks on people; his father died from guilt, and his mother couldn’t hold on any longer. His elderly grandmother cried her eyes out; they had only each other.

At the end of the semester, the teacher threw his exam paper at his face, telling him he would never get into college, that he was a wasted life.

That day, Xing Yang stood on the school rooftop, feeling the autumn wind as he moved his feet little by little.

He didn’t feel bitter; he only found it absurd, as if hope had vanished.

Being dull by nature, he never knew how to complain, unaware he could voice his grievances. He had no friends growing up; everyone kept a distance, too disdainful to play make-believe with him.

When a stone fell from the seventh floor, nudged by his shoe, he only had to close his eyes to leap down…

“Classmate, the way down is over there,” a boy’s voice came from behind him.

Xing Yang turned back; he saw the boy leaning in the shadow of the rooftop stairs, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, seemingly watching from there for a long time. Until his cigarette extinguished, the last ember crushed beneath his foot, turning to ash.

That face was recognizable to everyone in school; he had excellent grades, striking looks, and moss-green eyes framed by long lashes, a star shining among thousands.

Xing Yang had only caught glimpses of videos featuring top students in school, where Tan Zhiyu flashed a bright smile, showing his neat white teeth, full of youthful vigor.

The good student in front of teachers could be found smoking on the rooftop.

“I want to jump too, but I’m afraid of dying ugly,” Tan Zhiyu exhaled a final puff of smoke.

Xing Yang turned in confusion, wanting to ask why.

Tan Zhiyu, who didn’t lack money and was adored by all, what could he not endure?

He looked down at his watch, fished out a packet of tissues from his pocket, and threw it toward Xing Yang: “Cry for a bit, jump again in five minutes. Just don’t land on me.”

“There are many ways to triumph in life; death counts as one. You’re quite brave.”

He left the smoke and lighter behind, turning to walk away.

Xing Yang had never smoked; he was a strict person, never crossed the line. It was precisely because he lived by the rules that he was bullied, with his family trampled underfoot.

He found himself stepping back, lit a cigarette, and coughed so hard he could hardly straighten his back. The spicy, stimulating taste burned his throat, but for that brief pain, his mind felt exhilarating, as if he was touching a different world.

This feeling was wondrous.

The boy’s name was Tan Zhiyu, the pride of their Ninth High School.

There are many routes to triumph in life. If he accepted his fate now, how was it different from following in his father’s footsteps, evading responsibility?

His instinct told him he shouldn’t do this.

He shouldn’t accept his fate; he should live without restraint, fearlessly push forward.

In the second week, Xing Yang was marked for troublemaking after beating the creditor’s son, resulting in a broken bone, and was placed under school observation.

While working to pay off debts, caring for his grandmother, he dropped out of school and began carrying cement with his father’s former construction workers. He lost track of how many days and nights it had been; he couldn’t remember the hardships anymore.

Tan Zhiyu was discovered by a talent scout, quickly rising from student to a dazzling star. Xing Yang once wore a giant mascot costume at an event with him, hiding underneath while gazing at that star.

After the event, it was raining outside the mall, and before Xing Yang could change clothes backstage, he heard a mewling sound and followed it.

A tiny orange cat was clawing at the boy’s expensive clothes, hoping to climb up a wealthy thigh.

Tan Zhiyu’s manager frowned, urging him to hurry. He held a paper box, fashioning it into a nest, somewhat disgusted yet helpless, placing the little fellow inside: “Please, my clothes are super expensive! Do you think you’re worth it?”

“Meow—” the little orange cat cried, looking up.

Tan Zhiyu turned in confusion: “Sister Yue, I really can’t keep it?”

Li Yue was wiping his clothes with wet tissues: “Ancestor, you have cat hair allergies! What will you do if it damages your image? Hurry up; tomorrow we have a flight abroad.”

“Meow—”

“Stop meowing! I’m not your dad,” Tan Zhiyu pouted, a bit of compassion shining through: “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. If you’re still here and I’m allergic, I’ll take care of you.”

They got in the car; Xing Yang, with some inexplicable force, walked over. The orange cat swayed its tail and approached him, meowing loudly.

The departing car returned again; Tan Zhiyu seemed unable to wait until the day after tomorrow, worried for the cat, making Li Yue drive back. The window rolled down, and Tan Zhiyu saw the giant mascot holding the cat.

“Are you going to keep it?” he asked.

The giant mascot hesitated for a few seconds: “Yeah.”

“Great! You’re really a good person, classmate.” Tan Zhiyu smiled, “The rain is too heavy; you should head back.”

The massive mascot held the palm-sized little cat, and he watched as Tan Zhiyu’s car drove away.

Xing Yang never thought that was liking someone; he was just interested. In the tedious days, he and Tan Zhiyu were not the same person; he felt untouchable yet shared a connection.

He started following Tan Zhiyu since he had almost no fans.

When his career was just beginning, he became his fan and sent Tan Zhiyu a private message once, asking, “Why did you become a star?”

Tan Zhiyu replied, “To make you happy.”

It was clearly a sweet talk to charm fans, something Xing Yang knew well, yet his lips unconsciously curled up.

He adopted the orange cat and named it Xiao Bao.

Xiao Bao accompanied him while he hustled, living in rented places, and together they buried his grandmother.

He crawled from the bottom, evolving from a mute who couldn’t speak into a suave individual, willing to kneel to help investors on a project, feeling only the need for money. He wanted money; there was nothing to be ashamed of.

At the start, while carrying bricks, the billboard across displayed Tan Zhiyu’s advertisement.

He watched the boy he once knew slowly evolve into the star in everyone’s eyes, feeling gratified for him. He thought… would the Tan Zhiyu beloved by everyone still smoke?

Would he still think about dying?

Xing Yang couldn’t tell what liking someone was; he just felt he couldn’t be without him in life.

As his business grew larger, the creditor’s son from back then became his peer, driven to the ground, begging him for a way to survive.

Xing Yang said nothing but showed no mercy. People in the industry said he was greedy for money, reckless, and used unscrupulous means.

But so what? Every time he felt irritable and smoked, he would think of Tan Zhiyu.

Within a few years, his business saw improvement. One year, while working at the construction site, he was hit on the head. The doctor said he had a blood clot in his brain that couldn’t be let out, and his body gradually became numb, leaving his lower limbs unable to move. If a solution couldn’t be found, he could only wait for death.

Lying on the hospital bed, Xing Yang opened Tan Zhiyu’s Weibo and told him he was dying.

Late at night, Tan Zhiyu sent him a voice message.

“My dear, I know this world is tough, but I am more worthy of your possession than death.”

Xing Yang didn’t know how he replied among the countless fan messages; he asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Tan Zhiyu replied, “I know. You are my first fan.”

Xing Yang still remembered that while on the rooftop, he hadn’t shed a tear. Gripping his phone, he couldn’t make a move, as the numbness spread to his arms.

At that moment, Zhou Jiaoyue arrived.

Zhou Jiaoyue was performing a gland transplant surgery, requiring a craniotomy. There might be a way to deal with the blood clot in his brain, and Xing Yang signed the agreement.

Zhou Jiaoyue asked, “What kind of Alpha do you want to become?”

Xing Yang held the surgery consent form, pondering for a moment: “I want to become an omega.”

“Omega?” This unexpected decision surprised Zhou Jiaoyue: “This surgery will only extend your life; the effects would be better as an Alpha.”

His appearance didn’t fit omega traits, and which man didn’t aspire to be an Alpha?

“If it’s just a matter of time, then I choose omega.”

“Why?”

“It seems like… I really want to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“Someone… who makes me happy.”