Chapter 86

Yan Mu was pulled all the way home by Jiang Zhihuo.

His palms were freezing, for he was simply too cold.

These past few days had left him mentally exhausted and chilled to the heart, cold from the inside out.

Fortunately, Jiang Zhihuo was warm no matter where; his warmth slowly spread upward from their joined hands.

Yan Mu began to long for his touch.

As soon as the door opened, Jiang Zhihuo was pressed against it. They kissed, exchanging slightly warm breaths that passed between them and returned again.

The lingering chill in his heart was gradually forced out of his chest.

They hadn’t seen each other for nearly ten days. Now entwined in a tight embrace, neither was willing to let go, each more consumed by desire than the other.

Jiang Zhihuo bit down hard on Yan Mu’s collarbone, leaving two distinct rows of teeth marks. Yan Mu grasped the back of Jiang Zhihuo’s neck, gently stroking over his gland.

They had fallen deep into it, their senses completely held in each other’s hands.

Yan Mu had been feeling stifled these past few days. Though they spoke on the phone daily, their conversations were brief. Yan Mu did his best not to show it, but Jiang Zhihuo could tell that Yan-ge had not been in good spirits.

Perhaps it was because they had gone too long without seeing each other, Jiang Zhihuo had started to forget how to breathe again. It seemed that without practice, even kissing could become unfamiliar.

Unable to breathe properly, he had no choice but to lean back slightly, pressing his forehead against Yan Mu’s shoulder as his chest rose and fell. His finger hooked around Yan Mu’s and gave a soft tug.

Then Jiang Zhihuo lifted his head, a flush of red trailing at the corner of his eyes, his gaze filled with laughter. “Yan-ge, you’ve had a hard time.”

Having just returned from outside, the two of them took turns showering. They hadn’t even considered going out for dinner. Everywhere would be packed at this hour, and whatever they wanted to eat would require standing in line.

In the fridge were the meat and vegetables Jiang Zhihuo had bought earlier that day. Yan Mu rolled up his sleeves and began cooking.

Jiang Zhihuo stayed nearby to assist, taking charge of chopping vegetables and handing over the materials.

That was about all he could manage in the kitchen. If he tried flipping the wok or taking the lead, he might very well blow up the entire room.

He took two bowls from the sterilizer and held them in his hands, ready to serve, his gaze fixed entirely on Yan Mu.

Every time he saw Yan Mu in an apron, the feeling returned, though it somewhat broke the cold, untouchable image of the top student; it made him seem all the more real, more alive.

Jiang Zhihuo looked at his Yan-ge. He was so handsome, and he belonged to him alone. He couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting at the thought.

But in the very next second, his breath suddenly caught without warning, and a faint heat began to rise at the back of his neck.

There were two muffled thuds.

Yan Mu turned his head.

He saw Jiang Zhihuo drop the two bowls in his hands and dash into the room without looking back.

“Xiao Zhou?” Yan Mu knocked on the door.

“Wait a second!”

Jiang Zhihuo hastily shoved a pill into his mouth, didn’t bother with water, and forced it down dry.

Worried that Yan Mu might abruptly push the door open, he scrambled to hide the pill packet under the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Mu asked from outside, without opening the door.

“Nothing!” After hiding the medicine, Jiang Zhihuo opened the door with a smile. He casually came up with an excuse. “I suddenly thought of another method to solve a problem. I didn’t want to forget it, so I came in to write it down.”

There was still some time before the meal was ready. Jiang Zhihuo followed the recipe absentmindedly, stirring the seasoning without much focus.

With Yan Mu away these past few days, he had been living alone, unaffected by any external disturbances. His perception of his own condition had grown unusually sharp. The symptoms of his estrus were becoming increasingly noticeable.

The night sweats and dizziness the doctor mentioned were only the mild beginnings.

In broad daylight, his pants could become wet for no apparent reason. A strange, indescribable sensation lingered in his lower abdomen, a discomfort that could last the entire day. When it became too much to bear, the only relief came through release.

A few days ago, Jiang Zhihuo had gone to the hospital again. The doctor said it was all within the normal range. There was nothing they could do. The doctor prescribed a few medications that could offer some suppression, but once the estrus period was due, it would come regardless. There was no escaping it. The proper course was to have inhibitors prepared in advance, communicate early with his alpha, and be ready to contact the hospital at any time.

Jiang Zhihuo: “……”

Damn it.

How was he supposed to talk to his alpha about this?!

He had taken the medicine just in time, and for the moment, the symptoms were under control. But what about later? What if they were sitting together and, out of nowhere, his pants got wet? How was he supposed to explain that?!

Yan-ge had only returned, and the shadow left by everything that had happened at home still hadn’t lifted. This wasn’t the right time to bring anything up.

Jiang Zhihuo jabbed the chopsticks into the bowl several times in frustration.

There was no way around it for now. He would have to rely on the medication and endure it, wait for the right moment to speak.

Over the days they’d been living together, Yan Mu’s cooking had steadily improved. Jiang Zhihuo, long accustomed to takeout, found the rare light and simple meal especially satisfying. He finished every bite, leaving nothing behind.

Dishwashing was usually Jiang Zhihuo’s responsibility.

Normally, Yan Mu would wait on the sofa while Jiang Zhihuo washed the dishes. The kitchen was small. There was no need for the two to squeeze in for dishwashing.

Yan Mu unexpectedly didn’t leave today. After placing the dishes in the sink, he stood quietly to the side, neither using his phone nor speaking.

Jiang Zhihuo kept a close eye on his physical condition. Even after finishing the entire meal, he still hadn’t figured out how to bring up the topic. No matter how he phrased it, it would be awkward.

Letting out a sigh, Jiang Zhihuo called, “Yan-ge.”

Yan Mu: “Mhm.”

Staring down at the bubbles and dishes in the sink, Jiang Zhihuo asked, “Have you finished your winter break homework?”

Yan Mu: “……”

Jiang Zhihuo lifted his eyes. One glance at Yan Mu’s expression, and it was obvious he hadn’t done it. All his time had gone into dealing with matters at home. There was no way he had found time for homework. Jiang Zhihuo deliberately twisted the knife. “Only five days of winter break left. Do you think you can finish it in time?”

Yan Mu: “………”

Jiang Zhihuo lowered his head with a muffled laugh, just as he heard the top student beside him say, “Let me copy yours.”

“The top student’s gone bad,” Jiang Zhihuo laughed. “Say that again later so I can record it. I’ll post it on the forum. I’ve already got the headline: ‘Shocking! The Top Student’s Image Crumbles, All Because He…’ What do you think?”

“Not great.” Yan Mu said. “Change the title.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Jiang Zhihuo asked. “You got a better one?”

Yan Mu thought seriously for a moment. “The Top Student Caught Copying from the Bottom Student of the Class—A Moral Collapse, Willful Depravity.”

Jiang Zhihuo laughed and gave Yan Mu a light kick. “Ya-ge, that’s enough. I scored over 500 on the finals this time. I am officially out of the bottom-of-the-class zone, thank you very much!”

“Mhm, credit goes to my tutoring.”

“Friend, where’s your dignity?! Where’s your face?!”

As they chatted, a few dishes were already washed. Jiang Zhihuo drained them and placed them into the sterilizer, then asked, “Do you want to work on some practice papers later?”

The top student never refused anything related to studying, but today, he shook his head with rare firmness. “Not doing it. I’m tired. I want to lie down for a bit.”

Jiang Zhihuo raised one eyebrow. “Then go ahead. Why are you still standing here?”

Yan Mu said nothing more. He remained where he was, unmoving, expressionless, yet everything he was thinking was written plainly in his eyes.

Jiang Zhihuo pretended not to notice. He dried his hands, picked up his phone, and began swiping aimlessly. His eyes were nowhere near the screen. Then he looked up, blinked innocently, and asked, “Why haven’t you gone yet?”

Yan Mu finally understood. Jiang Zhihuo was doing it on purpose. He knew everything but chose not to say it, deliberately teasing him.

At that point, Yan Mu no longer cared about keeping up appearances. His image had already crumbled. He grabbed Jiang Zhihuo’s hand and pulled him toward the room, saying, “Come with me.”

A winter bed was always comfortable.

The past few days had left Yan Mu worn out and overwhelmed. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep. Now, the moment his body touched the bed, he drifted off. His breathing was steady, his brows gradually relaxing.

Jiang Zhihuo had no intention of sleeping. He simply leaned against the headboard.

Being this close, he could clearly catch Yan Mu’s scent, not just his pheromones. Every person carried a natural scent unique to them. Even though the two used the same body wash, it still smelled different on him.

Yan Mu’s scent was especially pleasant.

Jiang Zhihuo raised his hand and gently pinched Yan Mu’s earlobe.

He had once believed that the inability to be touched was some kind of rare illness. Even though he couldn’t find anything about it online, he hadn’t thought much more about it.

However, what he never expected was that it had been caused by a drug!

Jiang Zhihuo couldn’t even begin to imagine what expression Yan Mu had worn when his father forced that kind of drug into him.

How terrifying that must have been.

Before, it was because he hadn’t thought to look deeper. Now, he didn’t even dare to.

Jiang Zhihuo felt nothing but a dull ache in his chest, like a fine needle pricking again and again, slow and persistent.

Not long after, Yan Mu opened his eyes.

It wasn’t the right time of day for sleep. He couldn’t sleep deeply.

His gaze, after waking, was clear and unguarded, carrying a quiet simplicity.

Yan Mu raised his hand and smoothed the space between Jiang Zhihuo’s brows. “What are you thinking about?”

Only then did Jiang Zhihuo realize he’d furrowed his brows at some point. Nevertheless, he didn’t try to conceal his emotions. He touched Yan Mu’s arm lightly and asked, “This… can it get better?”

Yan Mu understood what he meant. He answered, “I’m not sure.”

Jiang Zhihuo asked again, “Why can I touch you?”

Yan Mu replied, “I don’t know.”

Jiang Zhihuo let out a laugh. “Then tell me, Yan-ge, what is it that you do know and are sure of?”

“One thing.”

“What is it?”

Yan Mu closed his eyes again, his arm draped around Jiang Zhihuo’s waist. His voice was soft, yet solemn. “You’re too important, Xiao Zhou.”

He had said this once before.

But each time, Jiang Zhihuo felt it differently.

Some emotions just can’t be put into words. The ones that can are only fragments, phrases stitched together in written form. Language feels painfully inadequate at times.

A child’s memory is always fragile. They can’t truly grasp the meaning of parting. Holding on to thoughts of a childhood friend for over ten years, it’s the kind of story that belongs in novels or anime. In reality, most people can’t even recall the names of their elementary school classmates.

Nonetheless, there are certain memories, no matter how old you were when they happened, that stay with you for a lifetime.

—Like watching his mother collapse in a pool of blood, right before his eyes.

—Like his mother shaking her head at him, silently telling him not to come out.

—Like his father gripping his jaw and forcing a drug down his throat.

—Like the countless sleepless nights when everything ached, and no part of his body could bear to be touched.

—And like that one sunny afternoon, when he saw a proud and delicate boy standing in the light.

After half a year of renovations, someone had finally moved into the house across the street. The previous owner had planted a few cherry trees in the yard, and the new occupants continued to have them cared for regularly.

For a long time, no lively voices had echoed from outside. Wherever Yan Buwei was, the atmosphere remained perpetually lifeless.

So Qin Mu stood by the window, gazing out.

He saw a refined, gentle couple and a little boy dragging his own suitcase.

The sunlight was golden. The proud little boy stood beneath its warm glow, surrounded by freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, meeting his gaze from afar.

—That was the first time Qin Mu saw Yun Zhou.

So Yan Mu said, “I’ve forgotten what I used to think back then. The memory is too fragile.”

“But I’ve never been able to forget that feeling.”

The rest of the words, Yan Mu couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. He had spoken countless sweet nothings before, without blushing, without a skipped heartbeat, yet this one was hidden the deepest. It had been buried along with all the feelings that surged day after day, until eventually, it turned into a kind of quiet obsession, a silent, unspoken form of redemption.

—Because I saw you, I began to look forward to tomorrow.