PMWAIAAPM Chapter 58

Chapter 58: Tattooed Husband

The sports car raced down the highway, and Xing Yang’s nosebleed flowed uncontrollably, soaking one tissue after another. By the time they arrived at the hospital, the doctor they had contacted was already prepared to push the emergency bed to greet them.

Tan Zhiyu was arranged to wait in the hospital ward, but he was uneasy all over. Before Xing Yang fell unconscious, he clearly had a slight frown on his face, not knowing if it was because of some intense pain; the man’s pale face seemed to be right in front of him.

Xing Yang’s illness would be very painful. Tan Zhiyu suddenly realized that the Xing Yang beside him in recent days seemed no different from usual, still overly gentle toward him.

Xing Yang was pretending.

For a moment, he felt a myriad of emotions surge within him.

Clearly, it was Xing Yang who was ill, it was Xing Yang who was suffering, yet he still needed Xing Yang to comfort him. Perhaps he was a bit childish and somewhat annoying.

There weren’t many people in the hospital at this time, and all the attending doctors at the Jiang family’s hospital were tight-lipped. Qiu Jing was on duty today and happened to encounter this situation; this was also the first time he saw the weak, somewhat pale man who seemed to be fading.

Qiu Jing, a neurosurgeon, looked at Xing Yang’s brain imaging along with several experienced specialists.

The blood clot was continuously pressing on his nerves. The implanted gland could only suppress the pressure of the blood clot to a limited extent, and the results were moderate. However, due to the sensitive location of this blood clot, performing a surgery with such precision was very difficult and too risky at this stage.

Qiu Jing thought that Xing Yang was not quite like the man he imagined, and he felt that this person… seemed somewhat familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere.

But he couldn’t recall where, that feeling seemed too far away.

At eleven o’clock, the consultation ended. Qiu Jing walked out of the conference room with the case file, and Tan Zhiyu immediately got up to approach him.

“How is he?” His voice was somewhat hoarse and hesitated for a moment: “He…”

“Just a temporary coma. Follow me.” Qiu Jing raised an eyebrow, looking at Tan Zhiyu with a hint of mystery: “You can’t be serious, right?”

As the door to Qiu Jing’s room closed, Tan Zhiyu was momentarily stunned, seemingly not understanding his meaning: “What?”

“I mean, you and him, are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Tan Zhiyu was too lazy to explain.

Qiu Jing wore a white coat, his looks charming with superior features, and rimless glasses perched on his nose; however, there was a hint of fatigue in his eyes.

Originally, he thought Tan Zhiyu’s frantic messages were a joke…

He grew up with Tan Zhiyu, so he naturally knew his temperament. Although he appeared carefree on the surface, he was very defensive from a young age, and his sharp tongue meant no one wanted to be friends with him. In fact, he even doubted whether anyone would like Tan Zhiyu. Objectively speaking, aside from his pretty face, his personality was terrible and definitely not a suitable choice for a family person.

“I… I think I’ve seen Xing Yang somewhere.” Qiu Jing frowned and, after weighing it in his mind, couldn’t help but speak: “And it was before I went abroad.”

Qiu Jing went abroad during his senior year in high school.

“He went to the same high school as us; it’s normal that you’ve seen him.”

“No.” Qiu Jing interrupted him: “Not at school, definitely not.”

But his memory was too hazy; a scene was veiled in his mind, and it felt like he was just one step away from uncovering it…

After thinking for a long time, Tan Zhiyu’s eyes showed a strange ripple; he rubbed his temple: “Maybe I remembered it wrong…”

It had been nearly ten years; memories of any particular scene were not that clear.

“Zhou Jiaoyue should have explained his condition clearly. I found that the blood clot in his brain has pressed onto the corpus cavernosum. His case shows a possibility of Alzheimer’s complications, typically accompanied by drowsiness and progressive memory loss, etc.”

Seeing the stiffness and numbness in Tan Zhiyu’s expression, Qiu Jing continued explaining: “Who knows, one day, when he wakes up, he might remember nothing, including you—everything.”

Everything…

Xing Yang could become a vegetative state in the future, lying in bed, forgetting everything, gazing at the air with a strange wariness—a shell that understands nothing.

This illness was not just a burden; it was more psychological torment. They had only been to the hospital twice, and Tan Zhiyu was already worried to the point of having dark circles under his eyes, his heart racing numerous times. What would happen in the future?

When Qiu Jing asked him if he was serious, it felt like he was telling him to let go of his morality and quickly abandon this hot potato while it was still possible.

This illness was extremely burdensome.

Their time of love was too short; all the affection and hormones would eventually be exhausted, and in the end, he would end up hoping for Xing Yang to die.

As a doctor, Qiu Jing had seen too many cases.

Couples who had been together for years would pull out their oxygen tubes, separated by the barriers of life and death.

Tan Zhiyu’s Adam’s apple rolled slightly; he slowly closed his eyes in pain: “Will he feel pain?”

Qiu Jing: “He will now; the blood clot is pressing on his nerves. During an attack, there should be numbness and weakness in his limbs, and he may have some headaches. In the future, when he remembers nothing, the pain should also be relatively reduced.”

“What about the child?”

“The embryo is normal, but given his current condition, the pregnancy reactions might be very pronounced. You should also prepare yourself mentally.”

Xing Yang was extremely wealthy, and before Tan Zhiyu knew about this matter, he had already sought the most professional team and equipment for treatment, yet there was hardly any difference in results.

The scythe of death was slowly slicing open Xing Yang’s arteries.

What was different from before was that Xing Yang was initially supposed to die on his own in that hospital bed; now he would have to watch it unfold without any capability to retain him.

“And your dad was duped by him like this… things have gotten so serious. Have you thought about how to explain this to your mom?” Qiu Jing asked tentatively.

Tan Zhiyu: “What is there to explain?”

“Uncle Tan is a businessman; there are wins and losses in the business world, but your mom is…”

Tan Zhiyu’s mother was a politician, engaged in international image representation; businessmen merely manipulated finances, while politicians wielded power, tremendous power.

His mother had previously warned him to tone it down.

The situation at home continued to ferment and cause a stir, and Tan Zhiyu was always his mother’s golden signboard in public. The trending case of Jiao Yu’s debt and suicide was guiding public opinion, covering up the evidence—a classic move of his mother’s.

—

In the ward, Xing Yang’s gland was stimulated by the doctor’s injection, and the room was filled with the scent of ebony pine resin.

However, he was already awake; Xing Yang had gotten used to such things. When Tan Zhiyu was brought back to the ward, his eyes were still somewhat red.

Xing Yang’s gland had been injected, and the pheromones wouldn’t lie; the aroma in the air was somewhat weak.

To maintain the gland’s activity, Xing Yang couldn’t take anesthetics.

“Nice to meet you for the first time.” Xing Yang smiled politely at the entering Qiu Jing and casually took Tan Zhiyu’s hand: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, if it’s nothing, why are your eyes so red?” Xing Yang leaned forward to touch the man’s face, his brows softened with genuine warmth: “I’m really fine; the doctor must have told you it’s a normal fainting spell. I just forgot to take my medication; it’s nothing serious.”

Xing Yang had already become accustomed to patting Tan Zhiyu’s head; together, they felt less like contemporaries. Xing Yang’s fingertips brushed around Tan Zhiyu’s eyes, as if soothing a child, a small gesture, then he poked at the corner of Tan Zhiyu’s mouth to coax a smile out of him.

Then he said, “Earlier when you weren’t back, I was looking at a recipe. Should we make creamy mushroom soup tomorrow?”

Qiu Jing stood aside, watching this scene, feeling a momentary sense of fracture.

Xing Yang looked ordinary, appearing like a taciturn man, giving a sense of heaviness that made him hard to approach. Yet, with his well-trained physique and his pale complexion, he seemed more like a paper tiger than a refined fox.

Qiu Jing had heard his father describe Xing Yang as a meticulous miser who valued money over life.

Also, there were the comments online today, accusing Xing Yang of using resources to threaten Tan Zhiyu or shamelessly pre-selling tickets for Star Sea to ride on Tan Zhiyu’s popularity; it seemed the whole world was talking about how Xing Yang was nothing but a disgrace.

Yet, from the moment he entered until now, less than twenty seconds had passed.

Xing Yang politely and gently greeted him, keenly sensing the redness in Tan Zhiyu’s eyes, and compassionately shifted the topic to tomorrow’s breakfast.

Qiu Jing remembered that the gland injection was exceptionally painful, akin to ripping off the outer layer of skin to strike at the raw flesh inside, thus stimulating the gland’s muscles to produce more pheromones for the body’s functioning. Yet, Xing Yang, why wouldn’t he acknowledge the pain?

While he was somewhat preoccupied, Xing Yang had already held on to Tan Zhiyu’s hand and spoke to Qiu Jing with a humorous tone: “Although it’s our first meeting, you don’t need to say so much to Zhiyu, right? He’s already sensitive, and now I still have to comfort him…”

“Xing Yang, try pretending you’re not in pain again,” Tan Zhiyu looked at him with a bit of complaint, curling his pinky finger, his eyes feeling sore.

“Oh my god, it’s super painful! What should I do? Should I say something like ‘I’m fine as long as you’re here?’ Hm? Little Zhiyu? Does that make you feel better? Can you stop blaming yourself now?”

Xing Yang’s expression was not one of flattery; a deep smile surfaced at the corners of his lips, and his hospital gown was open at the collar, revealing a butterfly tattoo underneath.

This inexplicable contrast heightened Xing Yang’s masculinity and that husbandly feeling; in the company, he was a serious fox, yet he was exceptionally attentive when it came to comforting his wife, and anyone who saw him would find him starry-eyed.

This scene stirred something profound within Qiu Jing’s heart; he seemed to understand why Tan Zhiyu would fall for this man.

Xing Yang’s face, faintly vivid in Qiu Jing’s heart, made him more certain that he must have seen Xing Yang somewhere before—earlier than Tan Zhiyu… much earlier…

“Once the IV finishes, he can be discharged.” Qiu Jing said and turned to exit the ward.

Xing Yang watched him leave, his bright black eyes fixed on the glass door leading to the corridor.

The shadows of people outside did not leave, lingering for a long time.

However, Xing Yang didn’t have the mood to deal with the people outside because the one in his arms was upset. Tan Zhiyu wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his head deeply in the embrace.

His sense of smell was sensitive; the highly compatible pheromones allowed him to feel more clearly the conflict in what Xing Yang was releasing. The stimulated pheromones made him ache. Even the area around the gland felt warm, and the scar tissue at the needle hole was pale and curling.

Clearly, the hurt was on Xing Yang, yet it seemed that a scar had also been planted in his heart.

He thought about what the doctor said, that one day Xing Yang would forget himself. He didn’t want to believe it, nor could he accept it.

“It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt. I’m not comforting you; really, it doesn’t hurt.”

Xing Yang’s arm wrapped around his back, speaking softly; he was very patient, especially with Tan Zhiyu.

But Tan Zhiyu still clung to him, refusing to let go, his voice somewhat muffled: “I’m very sad…”

Xing Yang sighed and gently stroked his back.

Tan Zhiyu seemed to see a future image: an oxygen mask covering Xing Yang’s face, his belly so large it pressed against his breath. Life gasped with a countdown; his legs had lost feeling—he became confused. He weakly said to Tan Zhiyu, “You’re as pretty as my husband…”

At that moment, Xing Yang would remember nothing, only pain, waking up to a tomorrow where everything was forgotten. Tan Zhiyu, as his only relative, would have to pull out his oxygen tube, not allowing him to continue suffering; that seemed to be the only thing he could do.

This scene was terrifying, yet it was their clear understanding of the future.

“Don’t die; I’ll be sad if you die, and I’ll also be sad if you’re in pain.”

Tan Zhiyu’s tears soaked into the nook of Xing Yang’s neck, seeming to form the world’s smallest ocean in his collarbone.

“What a poor big friend—” Xing Yang rubbed his earlobe. “Had I known you were so hard to comfort, I should have been a bit tougher back then.”

A bit tougher so that Tan Zhiyu would hate him, resent him, and would remember him clearly for a lifetime, preventing him from having to pacify Tan Zhiyu’s little emotions during his illness.

“Xing Yang, why are you so bad—” Tan Zhiyu’s voice wavered as he wanted to bite down on his neck, but suddenly recalling Xing Yang’s gland issues, he could only release his frustrations by biting down on his collarbone: “I just feel uncomfortable inside; it really hurts…”

He wanted Xing Yang to know that he would never feel like a burden, and he would never be impatient.

Just like how Xing Yang always patiently comforted him.

Don’t see him as just a child; Xing Yang looked at him, somewhat awkward: “So… are we still having creamy soup tomorrow? It seems that someone who’s extremely sad can’t eat; should I just make one serving for myself?”

Tan Zhiyu expressed his displeasure with this untimely joke, grinding his teeth in anger.

“Zhiyu, I’m not what you imagine,” he was not weak; he didn’t need anyone’s pity. He would take responsibility for everything he did, even accepting Tan Zhiyu witnessing the countdown of his life.

He would never regret his choice; he firmly believed his choice had always been the best.

The best thing was meant to be enjoyed, not to be worried about in reflections.

It should be as Tan Zhiyu said, even if it were the end of the world in three hours, they would still be happy.

Tan Zhiyu looked at him somewhat confused, his dreamy gaze appeared to be trying to accept his words. In the end, he suppressed the thought of persuading Xing Yang to let go of the baby and said softly, “Then tomorrow I’ll make mushroom soup, three servings.”

“Will you?” Xing Yang chuckled.

“I won’t; can’t you teach me?” Tan Zhiyu expressed dissatisfaction with his indifferent expression, biting his lip like a release of frustration.

“Did we just have a fight?” Tan Zhiyu asked.

“Zhiyu, we’ve never fought,” Xing Yang replied.

“Oh, can we wear couple’s outfits for the date the day after tomorrow?” Tan Zhiyu asked again.

“Then we need to buy them; we don’t have any at home.”