Chapter 59 – I Love Him

Li Tang, of course, remembered his words from before.

“In the future, you’re not allowed to bring up breaking up; only I can do that.”

But at that time, he thought he wouldn’t survive, after all, once humans stopped breathing, their romantic relationships would automatically dissolve.

What was awkward was that every attempted suicide seemed to end up being questioned, labeled with the tag “didn’t really want to die.” Li Tang didn’t know how to explain it himself, after all, disregarding the premise, just looking at the action of leaving Xucheng without bringing up a breakup was indeed quite scummy.

He also hadn’t expected Jiang Lou to be so stubborn, keeping those words in his heart for over seven years.

And it was rare for Jiang Lou, as Li Tang remembered him, to say something with such clear intent, so Li Tang was still somewhat uncertain. “When you say consider… “

“To be with me, let me continue being your boyfriend,” said Jiang Lou.

That tone wasn’t ambiguous anymore, leaving no room for guessing; instead, it was resolute, almost pleading.

Li Tang choked, taken aback by this series of uncharacteristic words from Jiang Lou, by the changes in him since they reunited.

His thoughts were jumbled, unable to form an answer, so Li Tang pursed his lips and remained silent.

After waiting for a moment, Jiang Lou saw his difficulty and added, “You don’t have to give an immediate response, I’m just providing an option, hoping it will be included in your considerations.”

After some thought, Jiang Lou continued, “Perhaps you’ve already made a choice to be with him, but it wouldn’t hurt to weigh it more carefully; I might not be unsuitable.”

Li Tang was startled that someone like Jiang Lou, who had always been so proud, would willingly place himself among the options.

It was also strange to him. “The ‘him’ you’re referring to is…”

Before he could finish, the glass door outside was knocked on.

Looking up, he saw Pei Hao’s head poking in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Then he looked at Jiang Lou. “Old Sun ordered medicine for you; don’t forget to take it.”

After saying that, he threw the yellow paper bag onto the table by the door and left.

Jiang Lou got up and walked over to pick up the paper bag.

Li Tang followed, seeing the name of the medicine inside and asked, “Are you running a fever?”

At that moment, Jiang Lou’s expression was calm, but in his heart, he felt a bit frustrated that the topic had been interrupted and the rare opportune atmosphere had been broken.

As for Li Tang, his focus immediately shifted to the fever. He took the medicine box, reading the instructions while asking, “What’s your temperature?”

Jiang Lou couldn’t remember such trivial matters, but luckily, the ear thermometer he had used in the morning was right beside him. Li Tang picked it up and, without further ado, beeped it against Jiang Lou’s right ear. Three seconds later, the reading came out, and Li Tang exclaimed, “Thirty-nine point five degrees!”

No wonder his face was particularly pale today; Li Tang had assumed it was due to staying up late working overtime.

Jiang Lou frowned. “It’s nothing…”

“No, taking medicine alone isn’t enough; you need to rest.” Li Tang asked, “Do you have a separate resting room here, somewhere you can lie down?”

Only after asking did he remember that he had been to the reception room on his first visit; it was large and spacious, accessible to anyone, and far from suitable for rest.

“Let’s go,” Li Tang decided. “I’ll take you home.”

However, Li Tang didn’t have a driver’s license, and everyone else had gone to eat.

They had to hail a taxi on the roadside. When the taxi arrived, Li Tang opened the back door for Jiang Lou and even raised his arm to shield him, making Jiang Lou extremely uncomfortable.

Once in the car, after Jiang Lou gave the address, the two fell into a thoughtful silence, each lost in their own thoughts until the taxi stopped near their destination.

Getting out of the car, they were greeted by a vast expanse of shrubs serving as a “boundary” between the road and the residential area. The density of the bushes hadn’t diminished over the years; even in early spring, when the green buds had yet to cover the bare branches, they couldn’t escape the sense of desolation.

Every time Li Tang arrived in this suburban area with its original ecological landscape, his first reaction was always to take a deep breath of fresh air. This time was no exception; as he exhaled, he said, “The air here is still so good.”

On the way uphill, Li Tang remarked again, “I thought this place had already been demolished.”

Jiang Lou knew that Li Tang’s unspoken meaning was—how could you still live here.

So he answered, “I couldn’t bear to leave it, so as long as I could, I continued living here.”

Li Tang didn’t speak again, silently savoring the phrase “couldn’t bear to leave.”

Passing the convenience store with its bright new sign and the fast-food restaurant that had stood there for decades, stepping on the old and weathered bluestone slabs, standing in front of that familiar door, Jiang Lou took out his keys and unlocked it.

First, he turned on the ceiling light; the furnishings inside were almost identical to seven years ago—the foldable table, wall cabinet, small fridge, and desktop fan.

Upon closer inspection, one could see signs of renovation, including freshly painted walls without a single crack.

And the rabbit lamp hanging by the door.

It was as if he had been instantly transported back seven years by a time machine; during every day off, Li Tang would come here, sharing a foldable table with Jiang Lou to do homework, explaining problems to each other, or leaning against the headboard in the inner room to listen to music, sharing a pair of headphones. Sometimes they would eat instant noodles together, wash dishes, hang clothes, and sit under the rabbit lamp, chatting casually…

Now, reflecting on it, those were some of the few stable times in his life thus far.

Allowing himself to indulge in nostalgia for a moment, Li Tang gathered his spirits and turned around. “This doesn’t look like the home of an IT tycoon; haven’t you thought about adding anything over the years?”

His voice gradually faded away because Li Tang noticed that Jiang Lou was still standing at the doorway, bathed in the slightly warmer white light, his figure lonely and solitary, giving the illusion that he had been standing there for a long time, waiting for a long time.

Looking into his deep yet distant eyes, Li Tang inexplicably knew that he and Li Tang had recalled the same memories.

Fortunately, no matter how humble, there was still a water kettle.

Li Tang boiled water and then, following the instructions, placed two fever-reducing pills on the table.

Jiang Lou glanced at the medicine, popped it into his mouth, swallowed with a gulp, and it was gone.

Li Tang: “…”

He should have made him take the medicine in the car earlier.

Well, it was true that someone with a fever should drink plenty of water anyway, so having it ready wouldn’t hurt. After the water boiled, Li Tang filled a cup and waited for it to cool while urging Jiang Lou to go to bed.

Jiang Lou said he wasn’t sleepy, and Li Tang replied, “Sleepy or not, you must sleep; you’re the patient.”

Jiang Lou seemed to ignore him, but Li Tang treated it as if his hearing aid had malfunctioned and moved to his right side. “Go to sleep.”

With no other choice, Jiang Lou stepped into the room, crossing the threshold, and then turned around, as if he had more to say.

Perhaps people always appeared vulnerable when they were sick. Li Tang looked into his fixed gaze, as if glued to him, and his heart softened.

“I won’t leave,” Li Tang promised without waiting for a question. “I’ll come in to accompany you soon, alright?”

This sentence, spoken as if soothing a child, successfully coaxed Jiang Lou into the room.

About ten minutes later, Li Tang entered the inner room with the cup in hand. Jiang Lou was already lying on the bed, the blanket reaching up to his chest.

Just as before, he only occupied half the bed, leaving the other half empty.

Li Tang walked over, placing the cup on the bedside cabinet and sitting down by the bed.

Then he turned around and gazed out the window. Today was overcast; the mountains were shrouded in mist, the boundary where they met the sky sometimes clear, sometimes hazy.

Li Tang lightly curled his lips. “Beyond the mountains and beyond the buildings, so that’s the meaning behind your name.”

Before, he had assumed it was a random choice, as the character “lou” was common and ordinary.

Jiang Lou didn’t expect him to remember the content he had glossed over during the previous recitation of the letter. He said, “I also know where your name comes from.”

Dawn’s “li,” and autumn begonia’s “tang.”

During their two “first meetings,” at age five and seventeen, Li Tang introduced himself this way both times.

And these two meetings coincided with the beginning of the “two things” Jiang Lou mentioned, leading to decades of intertwined destinies.

Li Tang reined in his smile, lowering his eyes, his mind a tangle of thoughts.

He was no longer the naive child he had been; he knew better than to judge his past self from the perspective of hindsight. And if given another chance, he might not have made a different choice.

Who could resist a tailor-made trap of tenderness?

He didn’t hate anymore, or rather, he never really hated.

But he was still afraid.

Afraid of every sound that came from the radio, afraid that every time he came here and passed this road, he would remember the person who died saving him, afraid of disappearing for no reason like that Christmas, even more afraid of suspicion and doubt, afraid that every love confession he heard was meticulously planned.

He admitted that he still had shadows lingering.

Finally, he resumed the unfinished conversation from earlier.

“Although you deceived me, I know that what you said to me wasn’t necessarily all lies,” Li Tang said slowly. “At least, during the time we were together, I was very happy.”

“Thank you for remembering so much and preserving these memories. I also hope you can let go and stop punishing yourself with imaginary crimes.”

This speech, akin to the prelude to a rejection, caused Jiang Lou’s heart to suddenly sink.

He knew that the seeds he had planted seven years ago had now borne fruit. Li Tang was wary of him, no longer trusted him, and perhaps… no longer loved him.

Subconsciously, Jiang Lou searched for a solution. “I can sign a document, accepting twenty-four-hour surveillance. If you find that I lied—”

Li Tang abruptly turned around. “No, don’t do that.”

There was fear in his eyes, as well as confusion. “…This is nothing like you.”

The Jiang Lou he knew was lonely but free, enduring hardships but never bowing to anyone, and never conceding like this, almost in a demeaning manner.

But Jiang Lou asked, “What should I be like then?”

Li Tang suddenly froze.

Indeed, the Jiang Lou he had seen before was skilled at disguising himself, always wearing a smile, but no one understood his inner depths.

Now, Jiang Lou had discarded his mask, hiding his thoughts even deeper and more secretly.

He seemed to have never seen the real Jiang Lou.

A sense of defeat welled up within Li Tang. His shoulders drooped, and he said dejectedly, “I don’t know. I even don’t understand you.”

“I just feel that there should at least be a reason, even if it’s for revenge… I don’t want to start a relationship again in a muddled state, unclear-headed and inexplicable, like before.”

Li Tang spoke abstractly, but Jiang Lou understood and sighed in relief.

At least it wasn’t a refusal.

“Maybe you don’t believe me,” Jiang Lou said, “but I’m very clear-headed right now.”

Li Tang said worriedly, “But I’m not too clear-headed…”

“Then get some sleep for now.”

Jiang Lou gently held Li Tang’s wrist, which was resting on the edge of the bed. “My fever is due to catching a chill; it won’t be contagious to you.”

Pausing for two seconds, Jiang Lou added, “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything.”

Saying that, however, his hand holding Li Tang’s didn’t loosen, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if enduring something.

Li Tang guessed, “Is this position not very comfortable for you?”

Jiang Lou grunted in agreement, then closed his eyes and turned over, facing Li Tang in a side-lying position.

Startled, Li Tang hurriedly turned to his side as well.

His hand was finally released, but Li Tang didn’t have time to relax because he realized that at that moment, his back faced Jiang Lou, and his curled body was almost nestled in Jiang Lou’s arms.

In a rear hug position.

And this position brought their bodies even closer together; Jiang Lou’s breathing seemed close enough to touch.

But there was no amorous intention. Li Tang suddenly realized that both of them had chosen the fetal position of an unborn baby lying in its mother’s womb.

Two people abandoned by their mothers, curling up their bodies involuntarily and locking each other tightly.

He couldn’t help but recall Jiang Lou’s words of “depending on each other for survival,” and “I wish you were my little brother.”

“Like this, no matter where you go, I can find you and watch over you as a matter of course.”

“If someone asks, just say we depend on each other for survival and should naturally be together.”

Before his vision blurred, Li Tang closed his eyes.

It seemed that he didn’t completely misunderstand him.

It seemed that he was increasingly able to understand his feelings.

But he still couldn’t sleep.

Suppressing the urge to cry, Li Tang helplessly propped open his eyelids. His gaze wandered around, landing on the hearing aid on the bedside table.

Jiang Lou hadn’t fallen asleep either, moving slightly behind him, his arm draped aimlessly around Li Tang’s waist.

Li Tang decided to strike up a conversation with him. “When did you start wearing a hearing aid again?”

Jiang Lou satisfied his curiosity. “In college, especially during the two years I spent as an exchange student. I encountered many new things and discovered that the world was far more inclusive and diverse than I had imagined. No one cared about how many ears I couldn’t hear with, and no one cared whether I wore a hearing aid or what model or style it was, so—”

So, it was better to accept his imperfections, shed unnecessary pride, and no longer be ashamed of being “different from others.”

Li Tang completed Jiang Lou’s unfinished words, thinking deeply that often what trapped oneself was not external forces but the cowardice deep within and some outdated, redundant, and rigid concepts. People still needed to break through barriers upward to liberate themselves.

However, Jiang Lou hadn’t finished speaking. Immediately afterward, he recounted another related incident.

“In my first year abroad as an exchange student, I participated in a mental health support group activity.”

It was Jiang Lou’s major professor who believed that his students, dealing with code and AI technology daily, inevitably became arrogant and cold, neglecting emotional connections with other humans. Therefore, he forced them to attend such gatherings and required them to write reflections, which he would review and factor into their final grades at his discretion.

To complete this “assignment,” Jiang Lou had no choice but to sign up for one session, and the theme of that session was—someone you can’t forget.

People from all corners of the world, with different skin colors, sat in a circle, crying or laughing as they told their stories. Some talked about deceased mothers, regretting not spending enough time with them while alive; some talked about former lovers, wishing they could take back hurtful words blurted out in a fit of impulsiveness; others talked about people they had met during their travels, unable to forget their smiles or gifts they had given them…

When it was Jiang Lou’s turn, he thought for a moment and said, “I once hurt someone.”

With fabricated lies and extremely vile methods, he had caused him to lose the courage to live, choosing suicide.

Hearing that the person was still alive, the group members either murmured prayers to God or closed their eyes in prayer. One black girl asked, shouldn’t you hate him for treating him that way?

She used the word “hate.”

“Hate” meant resentment.

After a long silence, Jiang Lou nodded.

He replied in English, “Yes, I love him.”

Yes, I once hated him so much, hating him to the point of wanting to live and die with him.

Hating him to the point that when he said he loved me, I had to repeatedly respond “I hate you” in my heart to catch my breath, to temporarily forgive myself.

So I love him.

It turns out, I love him.

For a moment, Li Tang was dazed, as if that voice had traveled through time and space to the present.

Later, he realized it wasn’t an illusion. It was Jiang Lou, his jaw resting in the crook of Li Tang’s neck, breathing heavily against his ear, saying heavily, “I love you.”

“Maybe you don’t believe it, but this is my reason.”

“Li Tang, I love you.”