PMWAIAAPM Chapter 66

Chapter 66 I Love You, Very Much

Tan Zhiyu waited for a long time in the corridor, fearful that the person returning was not Xing Yang, but seeing Xing Yang’s slightly rounded belly again made his heart ache.

Humans are complex creatures; the feeling of love is possessive, yet love only wishes the other to be well.

The streetlamp’s light filtered in through the window of the sixth floor, and Tan Zhiyu tightly held Xing Yang, as if pulled into an ancient myth, where love wanted to escape, happiness turned into disaster, and only the road to the Underworld allowed them to hold hands.

“Yangyang, what’s wrong?” Grandma Liu came upstairs with her grandson and shouted upon hearing the noise upstairs.

Duo Duo hopped up the stairs, holding onto the railing, peering into the dimly lit corridor: “Uncle Yang~”

The little child stood on the landing, watching the man on the seventh floor. That wasn’t Uncle Yang. He curiously looked around, just about to call his grandma, but Xing Yang had already gone inside and sent Duo Duo back home.

Today was New Year’s Eve, and Grandma Liu feared that Xing Yang would feel lonely at home with his big belly. She wanted to invite him over for dinner. Duo Duo came up and held his hand: “Uncle Yang, why are you crying?”

Hearing this, Grandma Liu, despite her inconvenient legs, leaned over to take a look: “Is it because the family on the fourth floor is talking behind your back again? I’ll go scold them! Not letting anyone have peace even on the New Year.”

Just a door apart, Duo Duo’s tender voice sounded outside: “Uncle Yang, don’t cry. Duo Duo will keep you company.”

Tan Zhiyu stepped into this old house, decorated with relics from last century: the lime-yellow cupboards, the overall smallish space, two bedrooms and a living room, brown hardwood floors with many corners chewed by insects.

But as soon as he entered, the dreamcatcher by the door jingled, and the table was cluttered with painkillers and a half-knitted sweater, cute and small, seemingly just a bit bigger than a palm. This old house was worn out but also warm.

He walked over in a daze, his fingertips brushing against the soft sweater, his nose suddenly feeling sour, his thin lips pressed tightly together, as if he were suppressing something.

Tan Zhiyu felt dazed; that feeling of unworthiness washed over him.

These three months of separation passed in the blink of an eye, as did Xing Yang’s days, didn’t he?

The outside duo left, and Xing Yang entered the door. The light inside the room was much clearer than in the corridor, and at this moment, Xing Yang felt a bit unfamiliar to him.

Xing Yang wrapped in a thick scarf, his cheeks deeply hollowed. The bulge on the bottom of his down jacket was prominent as he slowly walked over and placed the plastic bag on the table, his complexion as pale as paper.

Xing Yang six months ago was not like this; he wore a high-end suit with a delicate bow tie, mingling at various banquets, revered by everyone, called Mr. Xing. His brilliance was piled up like a king under stacks of money, and even though he had a tough background, he could stand firm in the capital city.

Now he wasn’t disheveled; he had tidied this old little house warmly and neatly. The curtains by the window were sky blue, and Tan Zhiyu stood in the middle of the living room. He could even see a stroller set up in the other room.

Yet Xing Yang resembled a wilted multi-petaled rose, starting to rot from the edge. No matter how many thorns he had, even if he was buried back into the soil, he wouldn’t live long.

Xing Yang looked at his slightly quivering lips and forced a smile, as if the guilt of exposing his clumsy lies had caught up to him.

“Want some water? Your hands are cold.”

“You said you got rid of it, didn’t you? Didn’t you have surgery? Can live well with the gland changed? What’s this?” Tan Zhiyu frowned, picking up the half-knitted little sweater from the table.

“Someone else’s, do you believe it?” Xing Yang gave a fleeting smile, appearing somewhat foolish, his usual sharpness gone.

The lie was shattered, cornered by truth yet unwilling to admit.

If he really admitted it, what would Tan Zhiyu do…

If he came a bit later, he might not have recognized him.

“Someone else’s.” Tan Zhiyu smiled with red eyes, an almost mad expression within.

How laughable, how clumsy a lie.

He couldn’t understand why Xing Yang kept pushing him further away, why he loved yet refused to admit it.

Suddenly, Tan Zhiyu walked over and wrapped him in his arms. Xing Yang had yet to react when the man’s scorching kiss descended. Xing Yang instinctively wanted to struggle, but Tan Zhiyu held him tighter, not allowing him to escape.

His tongue pried open lips and teeth, regardless of whether Xing Yang would bite, his heat devouring all whimpers and struggles.

A panic gripped Xing Yang’s heart, yet the strong, distinctly skeletal hand firmly pinned the back of his head. This kiss felt as though it wanted to meld him into the man’s body, imprint him into his bones and blood.

Xing Yang couldn’t struggle, not merely because Tan Zhiyu was too strong, but also because the rose pheromones burst forth in the room unexpectedly.

During the entire pregnancy so far, Xing Yang hadn’t sensed an alpha’s pheromones for a long time, as if someone suddenly pulled him down from a high altitude, making him slightly dizzy from the oxygen.

“Look into my eyes and say you don’t love me.”

Xing Yang’s eyes couldn’t even see Tan Zhiyu’s eyes clearly anymore.

“Yeah… I don’t love you.” It came out hesitantly, yet he still spoke it with difficulty.

Tan Zhiyu was nearly driven mad by Xing Yang’s definitive answer.

Xing Yang said, “We’re both adults. If we divorce, we’ll live our own lives…”

“I don’t want that,” Tan Zhiyu sighed. He spoke slowly, his voice faint yet gradually rising in fervor to claim authority: “I won’t allow it!”

“Only children say the most hurtful things, pushing their beloved further away.”

Pushing away the one he loved most was a hopeful plea for them to stay. This was a tactic Tan Zhiyu had used in childhood, but unfortunately, no one ever stayed for him, except for Xing Yang.

Now, if Xing Yang wanted to push him away, he would not allow it.

“…” Xing Yang stared blankly at him, but his breath involuntarily slowed down.

The increasingly thick pheromones made Xing Yang feel weak, his head spun from crying, collapsing into Tan Zhiyu’s embrace.

The hospital on New Year’s was busier, the emergency room filled with people injured by fireworks. Tan Zhiyu carried him into the bedroom and called Qiu Jing to check on him. During this period, Xing Yang didn’t have a primary doctor; his ALS was an unsolvable issue.

Other than slowly enduring death in this cramped little house, there was no other way out.

Qiu Jing seemed reluctant to see Xing Yang; after their last meeting at the hospital, he hadn’t contacted Tan Zhiyu again.

Yet he still came.

“Lack of pheromones during pregnancy, sudden fainting — it’s nothing to worry about.”

Tan Zhiyu remained by his bedside, gripping his hand tightly: “Okay, he’ll wake up soon, right?”

Qiu Jing hesitated a bit and nodded. He looked around the dilapidated walls; there was a trace of complexity in his usually flirtatious eyes.

Approaching midnight on New Year’s Eve, the festive fireworks outside echoed continuously.

Xing Yang’s room was simple, contrasting the warmth of the living room; his bedroom only had a bed and a bedside table, making the notebook on the bedside table particularly conspicuous.

Curiosity compelled Tan Zhiyu to open it. This was Xing Yang’s medication diary.

The first page contained the password for his phone’s screen lock and the answers to important bank security questions.

From the second page, the long diary of these three months unfolded.

Did Xing Yang ever have the habit of keeping a diary? Tan Zhiyu couldn’t recall, and he never understood the reason behind Xing Yang’s insistence on separating; perhaps he’d find the answer within.

[October 13 Today’s medication dosage is normal, but I almost poisoned myself by forgetting to turn off the stove while cooking. Starting tomorrow, I need to order takeout; the fruits in the fridge have gone moldy because I forgot to eat them, forgetting intermittently.]

[October 16 Starting to have morning sickness, worse than I expected; I can’t eat sweets; it makes me nauseous. The injection normally controls my pheromones. I saw Zhiyu on TV today; his new drama has finished filming, congrats to him. I wonder how he’s doing.]

[November 1 Today I forgot some high school events; looking at old high school photos, I can’t name a single classmate. But the good news is the piece of land I gifted to Zhiyu has appreciated due to government zoning. I wonder if he’ll be happy about that.]

Everyone said Mr. Xing was a fox with money as his only concern. He valued money above all else, believing it to be the best thing.

So he gave it to Tan Zhiyu.

The entries recorded ordinary matters: what he did each day, what he forgot, how his health was controlled.

But on the back of each page, the same words were written.

[I am Xing Yang, twenty-nine years old. My lover is Tan Zhiyu. I met him for the first time on the rooftop during our sophomore year; he was a devoted fan on Weibo. I really like his looks; he’s a very pretty person, loves sweets, like a boy who never grows up. Xing Yang, he’s beautiful and adorable, loves being cuddled and spoiled. His career is flourishing; who would imagine someone like him would be my alpha? If today, unfortunately, I’ve forgotten his name, then please get ready again, and strive to remember him today.]

Every page, every day.

The first thing Xing Yang did upon waking up was to see this jarring book in his room, reading the words above, finally writing down Tan Zhiyu’s name.

He truly was starting to forget; it was something beyond his power to intervene due to medication.

So he could only use the most old-fashioned, clumsy method, mechanically trying to remember.

[Ready. Today I didn’t forget Zhiyu, and today I love him very much.]

Tan Zhiyu lingered by the bedside, watching the gradually emaciated man on the bed, covering his eyes with one hand, tears flowing gently through his fingers.

The cold wind howled outside, seeping into his nostrils, making Tan Zhiyu’s heart ache uncomfortably.

Xing Yang, oh Xing Yang…

The fireworks outside exploded in vibrant colors, reflecting on the white sheets, and Tan Zhiyu tightly grasped his hand, kissing it over and over.

What is this…

Tan Zhiyu didn’t know how many times he cursed Xing Yang in his heart for being dead wrong. He was simply an unforgivable devil, but on his lips, he couldn’t speak lies; lying would make his nose grow long.

Xing Yang woke up, and Tan Zhiyu grasped his hand, crying as he said: “It doesn’t matter if you forget me. Please, please… don’t push me away, don’t abandon me…”

He couldn’t articulate what was good about Xing Yang; this man was selfish, recklessly breaking into his life just because he liked him, disregarding whether he was willing to love him, then abandoned him.

But Tan Zhiyu couldn’t control it; the heart that had been buried for years was beating for him.

He even felt he was going crazy; even if Xing Yang repeatedly pushed him away, he didn’t want him, as long as he was beside this person for even a moment, he was thinking that in this lifetime, he was really going to fall for him.

Xing Yang reached out to wipe his tears, hoarsely saying: “Darling, don’t cry.”

A few months ago, Tan Zhiyu was still vying with the fat orange cat for who was Xing Yang’s treasure.

His tears…

Were almost dried up because of Xing Yang. He really should be dead, playing with his emotions, calculating him in the palm of his hand.

But…

“I love you, I love you, I love you—” Tan Zhiyu tightly hugged him, crying and repeating over and over.

Xing Yang was embraced by him, gradually realizing he had failed again.

His deceit was never skillful.

He gently stroked Tan Zhiyu’s hair, inhaling the faint rose scent, softly calling his name.

“Zhiyu… it’s you… it’s you…”

[Please get ready again, today strive to remember him.]

Today he did not forget, and he was ready to remember him, to continue loving him.

Tan Zhiyu entangled himself, kissing his earlobes, cheeks, lips, both so close that it seemed they could see the depths of each other.

“I love you so much, Xing Yang, love you so much—”

Tears and sweetness, love and hate.

Eternally unchanged, for millennia.