PMWAIAAPM Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Xing Yang, You Bastard

Xing Yang couldn’t help but respond to Tan Zhiyu’s kiss.

The alpha’s trembling palm, wet and warm, cupped his face, tears choking him as they fell onto their kissing lips.

Xing Yang hated that his heart wasn’t hard enough; he stared blankly at Tan Zhiyu through his blurred vision, his heart throbbing painfully with every beat.

Finally, he closed his eyes, letting the tears flow.

Life isn’t just about waking up, working, and sleeping in a numb routine; there are many things that are more meaningful than simply existing. For Xing Yang, it boiled down to three words: Tan Zhiyu.

Even if in the future he could only tightly grasp Tan Zhiyu’s hand on his own terms, even if he truly looked down on the frail figure lying in bed, he still didn’t want to indulge in Tan Zhiyu’s tears that fell on him.

“Zhiyu, I’m sorry…”

The moonlight outside deepened; after he said this, his entire being suddenly fell backward, completely unaware.

Tan Zhiyu thought Xing Yang was just leaning back against him again, holding him tightly, but as Xing Yang slowly sank down, he realized something was wrong: “Xing Yang?”

Xing Yang collapsed in his arms, nosebleed dripping.

“Xing Yang!”

–

Xing Yang dreamt, dreaming that he was lying on a hospital bed, his legs completely numb, starting to lose consciousness.

The doctor said the aftermath would likely mean that one day, he would wake up and remember nothing.

But he had no family, and aside from donating his wealth to charity, there seemed to be no better destination for it.

When Zhou Jiaoyue asked him to sign the operation’s critical notice, she inquired, “If you really weren’t going to die, is there something special you want to do?”

That day Tan Zhiyu just happened to have a new movie released; he pointed at the screen and jokingly said, “I want to kiss him.”

Zhou Jiaoyue laughed, saying he was a visual person, only liking handsome ones.

Indeed.

Who doesn’t like a beautiful shell?

But beneath the surface was his fragile, nearly extinguished soul.

What to do, he wanted so desperately to be a savior; this inexplicable belief supported him through the nearly fatal operation. To keep the nerves of the glands sensitive, he couldn’t even use anesthetics and had to endure it all.

Later, when they met at a café, Xing Yang prepared all the documents and thoughtfully ordered a cup of sweet milk for Tan Zhiyu, having rehearsed his self-introduction countless times in his heart.

“Hello, I’m Xing Yang; this is my information.”

Sitting across from Tan Zhiyu, these words took him a full decade to muster.

The boss without a family finally had a new family.

White light flashed, and Xing Yang’s eyelids felt heavy, only hearing the sound of the heart monitor beeping in the hospital; however, he couldn’t open his eyes.

His fingertips, a bit numb, felt as if someone had kissed them.

–

In the hospital, Tan Zhiyu didn’t know how long it had been since he closed his eyes. Xing Yang’s unending nosebleed and his sudden fainting made him understand a bit too clearly the reason for their impending separation.

At that moment, he was just grateful he had returned. Grateful he hadn’t left.

Xing Yang really had a hospital in Switzerland, a brain gland implantation experimental center. When the nurse hurriedly brought a thick stack of medical records upon Xing Yang’s admission, Tan Zhiyu was shocked; he had been completely unaware, and aside from staying by his side, he could do nothing else.

Once he thought he was wealthy, had looks, and was superior in every external condition. He believed he was invincible.

He even mocked Chi Yanchuan for giving up the entire Chi family group for an illegitimate child, spending every day accompanying Jiang Ye to the hospital to see the doctors, following closely as if it were some kind of mental breakdown.

He thought Chi Yanchuan was sick.

But when he really stood in the hospital, the doctors asking whether President Xing had taken suppressants before his coma, how much, how long had the numbness lasted, whether he’d taken the prescribed medication, he couldn’t answer any of it.

ALS, a disease that would wear a person down.

“His illness has been ongoing for many years; during a site inspection, he was struck on the head, causing a blood clot that pressed on nerves leading to damage. Now his emotions are too agitated; we need to let him breathe oxygen temporarily, and use suppressants to alleviate the gland’s pheromone release.”

“In simple terms, his glands have gone on strike, unable to synthesize pheromones. He needs a pheromone injection, but an overdose would strain his body, so I need to administer an injection that will flush it out; there will be some side effects, and we need the agent’s signature. Where’s his agent?”

Agent, Song Tian.

The nursing department quickly called Song Tian, urging him to come urgently.

Tan Zhiyu said, “I’m his lover; I’ll sign.”

“You? His lover?” The attending physician looked at Tan Zhiyu with surprise before asking warily, “What’s your name?”

“Tan Zhiyu,”

The doctor’s eyes trembled keenly, then directed the nurse to give him the documents: “If possible, we need your pheromones now.”

“His glands don’t…”

Aren’t they already unable to synthesize pheromones? So what use is his pheromones?

The doctor said, “Xing Yang’s glands were implanted in line with yours, perfectly compatible. With you here, he’ll be better off.”

Tan Zhiyu paused momentarily, then his voice suddenly became hoarse: “Okay.”

He had always thought that Xing Yang was the dumbest and most unresponsive man in the world.

Everyone kept saying, “Xing Yang is not a simple character; don’t underestimate him.”

Tan Zhiyu had never believed that, and it turned out he had truly underestimated him.

In the hospital room, Xing Yang was placed on a respirator, receiving a dose of the pheromones just extracted from his body. His breathing was slow and labored, his face pale as if he would become a butterfly and fly away at any moment.

For the first time, Tan Zhiyu clearly experienced Xing Yang’s brutality, the harsh coldness like Arctic ice.

He had long assessed the pros and cons of being a businessman well; if he returned home in rage and did not stay, Xing Yang would ultimately lie on that sickbed, alone, becoming a withered skeleton steeped in extravagance and loneliness.

He would die alone, tears dried up,

Just thinking of this scene, recalling what Xing Yang had once experienced lying on that hospital bed, Tan Zhiyu felt nothing but heartache, no trace of resentment from being deceived.

Love is about drowning, affection is about cherishing.

That alpha who once resolutely warned Xing Yang not to fall in love now stood against the wall, his silhouette elongated by the light, covering his face as he gently touched the transparent chill outside the glass window. He even felt like begging the heavens not to take Xing Yang away… don’t…

Don’t take his boss away, they had just… begun to feel a little happiness…

He waited outside the hospital corridor; Song Tian rushed in, even having not properly worn his coat, hurriedly heading to the nurse’s station to sign, fearful that even a second’s delay would affect the surgery. Anything related to the glands was a big deal; the glands connected to the brain, and any oversight could lead to fatal consequences.

But the nurse told him that someone had already signed.

Song Tian went upstairs, and he saw Tan Zhiyu sitting in the corridor, somewhat dejected, the gauze on his hand unchanged and dirty.

This was the first time Song Tian saw Tan Zhiyu up close, and he realized it was those dim, melancholic dark green eyes that had drawn President Xing in; President Xing certainly had good taste, he thought.

He walked up to Tan Zhiyu, pulling out a piece of candy and handing it over: “President Xing said you like candy.”

“Damn,” Tan Zhiyu cursed under his breath, “How does he know?”

He didn’t even get to ask that question before he fell down.

Song Tian said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Tan Zhiyu’s eyes were filled with dark red veins: “Why?”

“President Xing said, after the baby is born, it should be raised by me.”

“What are you to him? What right do you have—”

Song Tian was soft-spoken yet unexpectedly straightforward: “I like President Xing; ever since I first met him saving me, I’ve really liked him.”

This didn’t surprise Tan Zhiyu, but he had never regarded Song Tian highly, and now he didn’t want to argue with an omega about this.

“This is for you.” Song Tian took out an envelope from his bag.

“What is this?”

“President Xing’s letter, it will be sent to you three months after he dies.” Song Tian unwrapped the candy and handed it over: “His illness, his love, all in there. Whether you read it or not is up to you.”

“President Xing will probably wake up in about half an hour.” Song Tian reminded him, then turned and went to the attending physician’s office.

Tan Zhiyu hated sentimental moments; besides, in this day and age, who still writes letters?

Human curiosity…

[To see this letter as a face-to-face encounter, I’m sorry my illness didn’t let you know before marriage. I originally thought I could have over a decade, but it’s cut short; at least, I’ll leave someone to accompany you. Do you have someone to frantically handle things for the baby? I’ve already selected the formula, the nanny should be here by now. If you don’t like acting, inheriting the fortune should allow you to be a single dad with the baby, right? Maybe I’m selfish for not wanting my child to have a new father. Dear Zhiyu, don’t be sad for me; it’s nothing. Life and death are the lightest things in the world because I once truly accompanied you. Even if I’ve watched you for ten years. Is the baby crying? Have you named it? Zhiyu, don’t compromise anymore; do whatever you want like I do so you won’t regret it. The baby is getting a bit older, please take it to Secretary Wang’s house. Don’t secretly raise it or smoke when you’re stressed; don’t order takeout too often. A chef visiting won’t expose President Tan’s private address or the illegitimate child’s, don’t worry. Go to bed early.]

What a pile of nonsense.

Tan Zhiyu thought of that big fat cat; when his tears blurred, he recalled a figure that couldn’t blur any more, holding a small cat in the rain, that huge costume soaked through, only a pair of numb eyes peeking through the costume’s mouth.

Xing Yang, you bastard.

Even as death loomed, you still want to be sentimental.

Tan Zhiyu, crying, tore the paper; just because he was alive, it wasn’t a suicide note—no, not at all!

He wasn’t afraid of Xing Yang dying; he was heartbroken for him, and he stood right there at Xing Yang’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up to clearly tell him.

Just die casually.

He once asked Boss Xing why he worked so hard to make money; Boss Xing said it was for happiness, to keep wealth, but every penny he earned was to accumulate freedom for Tan Zhiyu. His inheritance wasn’t just boundless numbers; it included a baby that belonged to them.

Xing Yang’s calculations were so good, yet he hadn’t thought of this.

Tan Zhiyu entered his hospital room, grasping his hand and kissing the back of his hand softly: “It’s just death; I’m not afraid. Why separate?”

If that disease could live for thirty more years, they could still love for thirty years, three years, three months, three seconds—it didn’t matter; he wouldn’t leave Xing Yang alone.

All he wished was, Xing Yang…

Don’t leave him.