PMWAIAAPM Chapter 44

Chapter 44: Oh Heaven, He’s in Love

Xing Yang had long lost his family; he even had to sign his own autopsy notice before entering the operating room.

When people are broke, they work frantically to earn money. After earning one hundred, they want to earn a thousand; after a thousand, they aim for ten thousand.

A heart that knows no bounds is like a snake trying to swallow an elephant.

Once he had money, he began to crave love.

The implanted gland could alleviate the speed at which the blood clots in his brain were pressing on his nerves, and it could also suppress the increasingly serious muscle paralysis he was experiencing, commonly known as Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.

This was an incurable disease; no successful treatments existed, and even the cause of the disease remained unknown.

Through the gland implant, Dr. Zhou Jiaoyue aimed to relieve the pressure on his brain nerves, alleviating bodily paralysis symptoms. The best expected outcome was to return to a normal state, but he would have to rely on medication for the rest of his life. This project was still experimental, with no reference for possible complications, making everything uncertain.

When Xing Yang was pushed into the operating room, he lay on the bed being wheeled towards a place devoid of wind. He looked out at the sunset and recalled that afternoon on the rooftop, when a boy told him while holding a cigarette, “Classmate, you’ve taken a wrong turn.”

If he could survive the surgery, he wanted to see him. He wanted to get closer, to understand the reason behind the boy’s seemingly glamorous exterior that masked a desolate gaze.

In truth, Xing Yang was a very selfish person.

Perhaps he hadn’t known the companionship of family since his youth, so he didn’t understand what love or fondness truly felt like.

Only at eighteen, when he hid beneath a giant doll, holding that little orange cat in his arms and gazing out, did he collide with a pair of deep green eyes, causing his heart to panic inexplicably on that chilly rainy night, his heart burning excessively hot.

Later, Tan Zhiyu gained fame for his action scenes. He avoided gossip, stayed busy with work, and claimed on shows that he never smoked, leading a simple life, loved by his parents and inspired by supportive fans.

His fans felt proud of his dedication, but Xing Yang knew that keeping himself this busy was a form of loneliness—he might not even have time to smoke a single cigarette.

After the gland transplant, his gland had developed poorly and was very small.

There was a scar at the gland site; over time, it gradually merged with the gland’s edge, becoming hard to notice upon close inspection.

The later version of Boss Xing became very wealthy, becoming a nouveau riche in the capital. Most of the time, his gland was not stable; he needed specific suppressants during his heat periods, which could only be produced by the Jiang family’s hospital. He collaborated with the Jiang family, and Jiang Ling was a very capable girl who couldn’t refuse the attractive prices he offered.

Dr. Zhou Jiaoyue was about to return to Germany to complete her studies, and Xing Yang would become a successful case in her hands. During the gland repair process, he brought out a pheromone reference, asking Dr. Zhou Jiaoyue to change his scent.

“Why endure this pain for the gland surgery when you can’t use anesthesia?”

Because he found Tan Zhiyu’s pheromone, he had swapped his gland to match the pheromone of the man until he no longer experienced sudden spasms, vomiting, or fainting, finally transforming into a normal omega. He touched his gland and laughed for a long time.

A month later, while out at a mall, the usually smooth Xing Yang found himself somewhat dazed while sitting in the chair meant for those about to get married.

Across from him, Tan Zhiyu squinted his eyes, believing that Xing Yang’s daze came from being stunned by his extraordinary looks and smiled coldly.

“I warn you, it’s just a marriage of convenience; you’re not allowed to like me or to get close during my non-sensitive periods!”

Xing Yang nodded, “Okay.”

For a brief moment, Xing Yang felt a tinge of disappointment because Tan Zhiyu had yet to catch a whiff of his scent nor see his gland, prematurely dismissing him. Perhaps he really had changed.

Once a lonely boy hiding on the rooftop avoiding everyone, smoking, now he had someone who loved him, and his presence didn’t seem to be welcomed.

During their first marking, Tan Zhiyu didn’t kiss him; he simply dominated from above.

He really was cold, Xing Yang thought.

His gland wasn’t sensitive enough; it was merely an organ implanted to save his life, not for reproduction. When marked, the pain made his eyes redden; Tan Zhiyu had no more experience in this than he did, and upon seeing his tears, the man panicked for merely half a second, his instincts kicking in to mark him.

The high compatibility of their pheromones allowed Tan Zhiyu to feel unprecedented satisfaction. He had never imagined someone could fit with him so well.

Like a spring in a parched desert.

He wasn’t a spring; he was Xing Yang.

Their first union was inadequate. Xing Yang felt somewhat disappointed, thinking he was excessively lacking; even after so many years, Tan Zhiyu remained indifferent, not sparing him a glance.

Boss Xing’s secret crush had failed; what a pity.

They were already living next door, and Xing Yang returned home feeling defeated, sitting on the floor while his little pet rubbed against his ankle, meowing incessantly.

Xing Yang looked down, rubbing its plump cheek, and said dejectedly, “I failed, little treasure…”

Tears trickled from his nose, dripping onto the floor and spreading over the hardwood grain.

But the next moment, Tan Zhiyu knocked on his door, leaning against the wall, pretending to be lazy yet awkwardly waiting at the entrance. Upon seeing the slightly red corners of Xing Yang’s eyes, he mumbled, “With that little ability, you still want to be my omega?”

Xing Yang took a deep breath and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Tan Zhiyu threw a box over, “Just a formality, happy newlyweds!”

Inside the box lay a bowtie, and he said, “Useless. Next time, I’ll just go easy on it. What’s a big man crying for?”

Xing Yang paused for a moment; he had never imagined engaging Tan Zhiyu in such a conversation. He chuckled bitterly and leaned in to sniff his scent, “You smoked.”

“Nonsense,” Tan Zhiyu said, somewhat flustered, “I don’t smoke.”

Xing Yang laughed softly; he had indeed caught a glimpse of Tan Zhiyu’s secret, the secret of this beautiful sprite—only he knew.

“Does my scent smell good?” Xing Yang asked him.

Tan Zhiyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed, “Average.”

“It can be smelled anyway; it’s not fragrant, just like you. A very boring scent.”

“Okay.” Xing Yang’s eyes smiled.

He was really cute, he thought.

This phrase, like Tan Zhiyu claiming he didn’t smoke, revealed he was a childish prankster who loved to speak in contradiction.

“What are you laughing at?” Tan Zhiyu asked nervously, quickly stepping back into his own room and hiding behind the door, looking wary as he said, “I warn you! It’s just a marriage of convenience; you’re not allowed to like me! We’ll divorce when the time comes.”

“I won’t like you.”

“I don’t believe it. I look this good, how can you not like me?”

Tan Zhiyu was pampered like a star held by countless constellations, with everyone in the audience watching him grow into a graceful butterfly. People loved him for his glamor, loved him for his perfection, yet no one knew that he wanted to keep a little cat and that countless times, he wished to take a wrong turn on the rooftop. Who would care why his eyes showed desolation? Everyone only loved his appearance.

Xing Yang cared, beneath the façade was a soul just as lonely, waiting to be loved.

Xing Yang said, “I won’t.”

Tan Zhiyu replied, “Impossible.”

Then he slammed the door shut.

Holding that bowtie, warmth flooded Xing Yang’s heart.

He wouldn’t like Xing Yang; he seemed to have loved Tan Zhiyu for many years, silently.

On the first day of marriage.

Xing Yang wrote on the back of a yellowed photo: Xing Yang doesn’t like Tan Zhiyu; Xing Yang loves Tan Zhiyu for a lifetime.

He would love until Tan Zhiyu no longer told lies.

During their first month of marriage, Xing Yang understood he wouldn’t cook for himself as takeout often led to stomachaches. He often went to cook, managing the household while he transformed into an omega, catching a whiff of Tan Zhiyu’s rose scent.

His rose, fiery red and passionate, was full of thorns.

Grasping the thorns would hurt, but they wouldn’t harm; when Xing Yang resolutely wrapped him in his arms, the rose’s sharpness turned into sweet dew, sinking deeper into Tan Zhiyu’s beautiful dreams.

Even when Tan Zhiyu pushed him away countless times, Boss Xing wouldn’t lose patience with him like his parents did, educating him on how an adult should mature, but rather indulged in the childishness he lost during his childhood.

Tan Zhiyu thought, pheromones were truly remarkable.

The gland had really found him such a compatible partner; Xing Yang and he were harmonious, and from the moment they first met, he knew.

This man would love deeply.

Even if he initially despised Xing Yang, hated his average looks, and hated that he would react to someone so ordinary, his gland would heat up.

He wanted to ask heaven.

[How could he fall in love with someone he hated?

Do lovers need a reason?

No, they don’t?

Do they need one?]

Tan Zhiyu remembered that he got accepted into Ninth High School at the age of fifteen, ranking first, reported by the radio, with someone telling his father that the child had bright prospects.

His father smiled and nodded, tossing him a card to buy some rewards, but that day he wanted to ask his father, weren’t you going to celebrate my birthday? Even though I ranked first.

His father forgot entirely, and his mother remembered half a month later, which was quite funny. He had plenty of money, yet not an ounce of love.

The world was boring. Tan Zhiyu attempted to act out to draw his father’s attention, but to no avail… his father didn’t care at all. He thought this was his father’s indulgence, a form of neglect, until one time he went abroad and saw his father scurrying around various malls to buy a toy for his half-brother. He wondered if he could have one too.

His father said, “You’re this old; what do you want with these things?”

For so many years, Tan Yushen could never remember that only on Tan Zhiyu’s birthday did he fly abroad to see him, wanting to celebrate his birthday with his father.

He would never prepare a gift.

Until many years later, Tan Zhiyu gave up his birthday to find his father, not contacting his mother, preparing to return to an empty house, smoking in solitude, guessing he could smoke twenty-eight cigarettes this year.

But when he opened the door, there was cake, roses, and rib soup, and there was Xing Yang.

That was the 108th day of their marriage.

Tan Zhiyu hated him; he made it so he couldn’t smoke.

Memories receded like a retreating tide, leaving sorrow in the past.

Now, they had fallen in love.

Amidst the throngs of Tan Zhiyu’s fans, with a smile, he looked up and spotted a man on the balcony above, holding a cigarette between his fingers, watching him.

Five minutes ago, they had been kissing passionately in the narrow stairwell, the air thick with warmth and intimacy.

Tan Zhiyu even imagined how Xing Yang would explain his relationship with that junior secretary when they got home; there should be an enormous amount of popcorn to cheer him up, kisses shared. If he remained a bit obstinate, perhaps Xing Yang would hold him to sleep.

Oh Heaven—

Please let Boss Xing love me to death!!!!