PMWAIAAPM Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Liars Always Leave Clues

“Let’s go.”

Xing Yang’s light remark.

Jiang Cheng’s expression suddenly changed, and he said nothing more, silently driving.

“Today is the 18th. My memory is severely declining. Today I completed divorce proceedings and met Tan Zhiyu for the last time. It is expected that I will be bedridden and require a respirator in six months. There is currently no recovery of my corpus cavernosum. Without reminders, I experience forgetfulness and bodily paralysis. I took my medication normally today, and my pheromones have dissipated.”

Jiang Cheng set one hand on the recording device he was using: “Come with me, Xing Yang.”

—

That day, faced with Fiona, Xing Yang felt no fear at all.

He calmly and generously pushed back the agreement for the gland transplant surgery: “I’m sorry, I do not accept.”

“Xing Yang, have you ever thought about what would happen if you really died? Leaving Tan Zhiyu behind, with his temperament, what do you think he would do? Your reputation, your scandals would be inherited by him. How would he be able to stand back up after you’ve ruined his bright star path?”

Fiona scrutinized his open gaze, her sharp eyes capable of penetrating Xing Yang’s pain points.

The most precious part of a butterfly is its tail.

“Precisely because you can’t bear to see him suffer after your death, you must be ruthless now and distance yourself from him.”

After Fiona left, he stood in the vast office, the buzzing in his ears overwhelming him.

After a minute, he lifted his head in a daze, standing still for a while, when Secretary Wang came in to ask if he needed to sign today’s documents and if there was any change to the evening meeting schedule.

He replied, “No, I’m having a quarrel with Zhiyu. I want to go home and soothe him.”

Secretary Wang paused for a moment: “But… hasn’t Mr. Tan already gone to Hai Cheng to shoot?”

“Is that so…”

“That lady just now said to think it through, you…” Secretary Wang was only responsible for relaying messages and had no idea what Xing Yang truly needed to consider.

Tan Zhiyu had gone to Hai Cheng.

Xing Yang’s gaze became vacant. He sat down heavily in his chair, suddenly realizing he had forgotten Tan Zhiyu’s out-of-town shooting information.

This blankness in memory—sitting in front of his desk, he frantically recalled until his head ached, abruptly realizing, no matter how hard he tried to remember, some things just seemed to pull away from his mind, leaving only brief chat logs to help him recall.

He was gradually forgetting.

If a few more months passed, he would forget everything, even Tan Zhiyu.

Xing Yang suddenly envisioned a scene: if he became too ill to move, lying in bed with a respirator, looking at Tan Zhiyu’s face yet unable to recall who he was. It felt so cruel to let Tan Zhiyu see a lover who couldn’t recognize him.

Based on his temperament, would he really seek to die with him?

Xing Yang sat motionless in front of his desk for a long, long time.

If the heavens have feelings, they are devoid of compassion. Love ultimately leads to separation.

Xing Yang categorized this as his own misfortunes.

He came to this world, experienced the heartbreak of separation, and now considered it all bittersweet.

Looking at the gland transplant surgery documents left by Fiona, in that instant, something in Xing Yang’s eyes seemed to dim.

Let’s part ways.

Don’t let Tan Zhiyu really see you die on the hospital bed; let him think you’re still alive, return to the screen, and ultimately forget him.

Every word stings like blood.

Every moment is hard to forget.

—

The next day, Jiang Cheng updated his Weibo saying he had landed in Iceland and was watching the aurora.

In the background of the photo was a man’s silhouette, dressed in thick climbing gear, his face obscured by a helmet.

The comments below were divided into curses and blessings.

Returning to the set, Tan Zhiyu saw the Weibo post and spent the entire afternoon shooting with a dark mood.

After the scenes in Hai Cheng were completed, they were set to return to the capital for several reshoots.

Three months flew by.

The Star Sea project by Yuan Yin Real Estate successfully opened, and Tan Yushen spread out the year-end bonus table during the shareholders’ meeting, leaving everyone stunned by the profit figures for Xing Yang’s shareholdings.

“Did you see? Who wouldn’t want it easier? Now that Xing Yang has become the hands-off boss, it’s truly enviable,” Tan Yushen said, grinning with a cigar in his mouth.

As the year-end approached, this was the first time Tan Yushen invited him to spend the New Year abroad.

“From now on, let your younger siblings learn a thing or two from you.”

Tan Zhiyu quietly gazed out the window, his enthusiasm waning: “Forget it, there’s a play to start after the New Year.”

He sat in the car scrolling Weibo; Jiang Cheng’s update frequency during this time seemed like once a day.

From climbing ice mountains to eating shark meat, they had visited several countries, diving, bungee jumping, and skydiving—they were nearly spinning the world upside down.

“This document, remember to sign,” Tan Yushen handed over a binder from the front.

Tan Zhiyu had been so busy filming lately that he had been drowning in work, even taking several big shows; he collapsed in the hotel and slept all day.

When would he have the time to read such documents?

After the divorce, Xing Yang had divided a piece of land he owned to Tan Zhiyu, an undeveloped piece of wasteland around the outskirts of the capital that had not yet been cultivated, bought for only 20 million.

However, this document had been chased for a long time by Tan Yushen for his signature, and he always forgot.

Originally, the surrounding area was wasteland, but it suddenly got incorporated into the capital, with convenient light rail for the residents. In an instant, the entire area of land skyrocketed in value by hundreds of millions.

Tan Yushen was exclaiming that Xing Yang had dropped a juicy piece of meat into Tan Zhiyu’s hands, saying his son was indeed lucky.

The man driving in front babbled on: “Look, isn’t this your high school?”

Tan Zhiyu looked up.

The sign for Ninth High School had transformed from wood to gold leaf. As they approached the year-end, the city center roads were congested, needing to drive through city center to get back to Butterfly Manor.

‘Ding ding—’ A cyclist rolled through the snow beside them, creaking and wobbling past the car window.

The figure blocked the vendors selling firecrackers in the background, and Tan Zhiyu merely glanced over, giving a noncommittal sound.

Just as he was about to retract his gaze, he saw a familiar profile standing on the street, head down selecting fireworks.

Somewhat familiar, despite having their head covered by a hat.

The green light turned on, and the traffic resumed.

“Wait!” Tan Zhiyu let down the car window, preparing to get out.

Li Yue, who hadn’t spoken beside him, quickly interjected: “Master, what are you doing?”

Just as they passed an intersection, he turned back. The fireworks vendor had revealed their face, a distant view revealing it couldn’t be that person.

“Nothing…” He obediently sat back in the car, dazed for a while but couldn’t regain his composure.

The document in his hand still remained unsigned, and he was just lost in thought about what had happened to him.

Three months had already passed.

After Xing Yang recovered, he and Jiang Cheng had fun together, saying perhaps he might remember him. They hadn’t kept in touch for a while.

He had long forgotten him.

Perhaps he had debuted too early. Xing Yang had grown tired of him after so many years, having played with him, suddenly realizing he was just like that.

Upon arriving at Butterfly Manor, he hadn’t been back for a long time; recently he had swapped to a new house and was preparing to move out.

As he just got out of the car, Tan Yushen intended to remind him to remember to go abroad with him for New Year’s in two days.

Tan Zhiyu’s phone rang, and seeing the number on it, he frowned slightly. Someone who hadn’t called him in ages was indeed refreshing.

“What’s up?”

Chi Yanchuan’s background noise on the other end was very loud, as if his family was also busy preparing for the New Year.

Tan Zhiyu held his backpack: “Make it quick.”

“Do you still have contact with Xing Yang?” Chi Yanchuan asked with a smile. “I can’t reach him right now.”

“Why would I have contact with him? What do you want from him?”

“Jiang Cheng said recently he went paragliding again in L Country. My son wants them to shout his name while jumping once. Since they are playing together every day, could you ask them to call out my son’s name next time? He wants to take a video to show off at kindergarten.”

“Uncle Tan, please~” The little boy’s voice came through, sounding innocent.

What kind of tone could a boy speak in like this?

Chi Yanchuan’s partner couldn’t do intense exercise all their life, and he never left Jiang Ye’s side.

“I…” Tan Zhiyu wanted to refuse but didn’t know where to start: “I’ll give it a try.”

Chi Yanchuan happily moved his son to the side to play, then continued talking: “How did Jiang Cheng get close to Xing Yang? What about his previous boyfriend—”

“Wait, who had a boyfriend before?” Tan Zhiyu was taken aback.

He never mixed into the wealthy second-generation circle in the capital, being busy with work, and besides a few childhood friends, he rarely gossiped.

“This is a scandal concerning the Jiang family. It was a long time ago; it seems when he was still a minor, he was involved with his tutor, who was an omega. The person was older, and the Jiang family disallowed it, promptly sending someone to get rid of that omega. It seems that soon after, he died—forgot how, but it was witnessed by Jiang Cheng, who really got forced to death by the Jiang family. Jiang Cheng has hated communication with his family ever since; otherwise, as an alpha, why wouldn’t he inherit the family estate? It’s precisely because of this that he and his father are at odds to this day.”

Omega…

Dead?

Tan Zhiyu, recalling Jiang Cheng bragging about Xing Yang, felt pity for him, yet still gritting his teeth said: “He just likes older ones.”

“In our marriage, we can make our own choices, but you always have to pay something.”

Chi Yanchuan had jumped into the fire long ago to save Jiang Ye, giving away his mother’s dowry.

In wealthy families, true feelings are the least valuable.

Unless you could exchange for something of equal worth.

Tan Zhiyu casually ended the call, and Chi Yanchuan asked him to think of a way; he wanted his son to be the top dog at kindergarten.

After taking a shower, Tan Zhiyu rolled back into the bed he hadn’t been in for a long time, habitually grabbing for the little bear, then throwing it away: “Bastard—”

The plush little bear rolled far away.

Tan Zhiyu watched for a while before ultimately picking it back up honestly, hugging it tightly.

He used his phone to buy some New Year decorations, and big data pushed Jiang Cheng’s updates back to him.

[Your frequently viewed]

“I clearly blocked him, how is this frequently viewed?” Tan Zhiyu frowned and clicked on Weibo.

Inside was a photo of the two finishing their paragliding, bathing afterward; the intimate embrace made it enviable.

Their heads were blurred out by pixelation, as Jiang Cheng was unwilling to reveal Xing Yang’s appearance to the online community. He had selfish motivations, too.

Tan Zhiyu glanced at it and, bored, turned off his phone.

At this point, they might have already been watching lions migrate on the grasslands.

Why was he belittling himself here?

He closed his eyes, attempting to force himself to sleep, but after two minutes, he suddenly sat up.

Quickly opening his phone, Jiang Cheng’s photo was still there, showing two people wearing the same outfit; Xing Yang’s short sleeves had rolled up to his shoulders, the muscular details clearly visible, full of tension.

“What about the tattoo…”

Where is the tattoo?

Xing Yang had a butterfly tattoo on his chest, with the butterfly’s tail connected to his shoulder; he should have the tail there, but it was gone.

Was it washed off?

No way…

There are no traces.

In the past three months, Jiang Cheng had pixelated every picture of their outings, only showing backs and wearing masks. Their intimate photos had no flaws whatsoever.

Suddenly, the words Chi Yanchuan had said came back to him—Jiang Cheng had once been with his tutor.

Who said tutors had to be slender and not muscular?

Jiang Cheng’s IP was in L Country. Tan Zhiyu searched the current weather in L Country, which was similar in latitude and longitude to his own country, and it was a snowy, cold winter.

Why were the people in the photo wearing short sleeves?

Jiang Cheng’s caption read: [Hi, how are you?]

A string of sane thoughts snapped in his head, and he abruptly got out of bed, with his eyes—previously calm for three months—now filled with chaos.

That person in the photo was not Xing Yang.

Where is Xing Yang?

That Xing Yang who had undergone the gland transplant and was healthy, where was he?