After being moved to tears by the sworn enemy's pheromones - Chapter 92

For Shen Jin, it was only a matter of responding to the anesthesiologist’s questions and lying down on the operating table for a few seconds before his consciousness slipped away. The surgery lasted over two hours, but to him, it felt like a blink of an eye. 

Before the surgery, he joked with Gu Yu, telling him, “I’ll allow you to play games outside the operating room.” But when he saw Gu Yu again, he vaguely noticed that Gu Yu’s face had no color, as if he had just lost 20 ranked matches in a row while constantly being MVP of the losing team.

He wanted to reach out to Gu Yu but couldn’t move. The doctor seemed to be saying something to the people around him. Shen Jin struggled to breathe, wanting to rest for a moment, and soon realized he had returned to his hospital room.

The room had three beds. The left one was empty, the right one had just been vacated by someone discharged. The entire room should have been quiet, but countless noises flooded his groggy mind through his auditory nerves. In the end, he heard his own voice, unfamiliar and weak, repeatedly calling Gu Yu’s name. His voice had a crying tone as he said he felt awful and was scared.

The alpha quickly touched his forehead and softly comforted him, worried that Shen Jin might lose consciousness again, which could interfere with the post-anesthesia assessment. So, Gu Yu kept forcing him not to fall asleep. That familiar hand, usually warm, was unusually cold in the palm.

Shen Jin had almost no strength to open his eyes. He felt like he was sinking into a swamp, as if his clothes were soaked, weighing him down so much that he couldn’t lift his arms. Yet Gu Yu wouldn’t let him rest, constantly pushing him to talk.

A flood of grievances surged in Shen Jin’s heart, and he could only sob as he tried to turn over, vaguely accusing the alpha in front of him of being a bad person, saying he wasn’t good to him at all.

Gu Yu seemed stunned for a moment. His tightly pursed lips looked like a dam on the verge of collapse.

“Damn,” Qin Zhu’s voice rang out. “Don’t cry too, Shen Jin is just speaking in our local dialect. He didn’t mean that—it just sounds similar to Mandarin.”

Now, Gu Yu seemed genuinely frustrated: “…Aren’t I a local too?”

“Wow, clever one, you caught that.” Qin Zhu bent down towards Shen Jin. “Haven’t reached level six yet, sweet coconut puff? I’ve already farmed the jungle.”

Seeing Shen Jin anxiously grab Gu Yu’s sleeve, Qin Zhu pressed further: “Still sleepy? If you sleep, I’ll steal your buff too.”

Then he asked Gu Yu, “Got it?”

“Bullying your senior…” the little alpha wolf was genuinely upset, “No VIP seat for you at the wedding.”

“I’ll sit on top of the two of you.” Qin Zhu teased Shen Jin a bit more before asking, “Should we leave you two alone for a while?”

Jiang Lan and Tao Yan, who had also come for the surgery, had known each other since their days at Qingyun Mountain and agreed with Qin Zhu’s suggestion.

“We’ll grab something to drink and get lunch while we’re at it,” Jiang Lan said. “My treat. Xiao Yu, want us to bring anything back for you?”

Since there was no response, he regretted his rashness, “You probably don’t have the appetite, huh? We’ll just pack some dishes, and you can eat what you can.”

Before Tao Yan could comment that it might not be necessary, the young master Gu, unexpectedly, made a specific request: “…Sweet and sour pork ribs with more vinegar, less salt, no sesame. Stir-fried potato with chili, nine-tenths soft, extra spicy, no Sichuan pepper, and exactly 18 scallions. Plus, American ginseng chicken soup with free-range mountain chicken.”

“…Do I look like a mountain chicken?” Jiang Lan almost kicked him but refrained, seeing how pitiful he looked. “Fine, fine, we’ll get it. You stay here and take care of things.”

After exchanging glances, the group quickly left the hospital room, leaving Gu Yu alone with Shen Jin.

He brushed the hair from Shen Jin’s forehead, his eyes only seeing the pale face in front of him and the few tubes connected to his body.

The last time he had seen such a scene was before his dad passed away. 

He thought he had gotten used to it, but this “familiarity” seemed to be a self-deception. He was merely clinging to the last bit of pride, not wanting anyone to see how fragile he really was, and how powerless he felt against life and death.

When his dad told him he wanted to stop treatment, Gu Yu had just sat by the bedside motionless. After a long time, he finally nodded, obedient as always, softly saying “okay.”

In C City’s early spring, the rain was always drizzling, seemingly never-ending. The same rain now fell outside, as Gu Yu sat beside another hospital bed, talking to a half-conscious Shen Jin.

“Am I really that bad to you?” Gu Yu’s fingers fidgeted with Shen Jin’s pale fingertips as he earnestly voiced an impossible thought. “If we could do it over, don’t choose me again, okay?”

He thought, if it weren’t for liking him, Shen Jin probably would have long found a healthy and happy relationship, never having to go through so much pain—let alone this.

“Mm…” But Shen Jin, his sleepy eyes half-open, said, “But I want your ice cream puffs…”

Gu Yu pursed his lips, annoyed at Shen Jin’s low ambition. “Not being with me doesn’t mean I can’t make them for you.”

Even back when they were bitter rivals, hadn’t Gu Yu eagerly made all kinds of desserts and waited for Shen Jin to show up and eat them?

“Really?” Shen Jin rubbed his eyes, seemingly deep in thought. “Then, when I get married, you can still make them and bring them to my place?”

He was seriously concerned about his future with ice cream puffs, and Gu Yu didn’t contradict him: “Sure. As long as your husband doesn’t mind, I’ll bring them anytime.”

After pondering for a while, Shen Jin shook his head: “My husband gets jealous too easily. Even the toy bear almost turned into a pile of cotton in his hands. It was terrifying…”

Just as Gu Yu was about to retort that no one gets jealous that easily, Shen Jin confidently held his hand. “Little strawberry… You can sneak in; we won’t let my husband find out.”

At first, Gu Yu’s heart was filled with a mixture of heartache and regret. Now, he was starting to get serious with Shen Jin: “Sneak in? What do you want me to sneak in for?”

“Stop asking so many questions…” Shen Jin, utterly exhausted, clearly didn’t know what he was saying anymore. “You’re so disobedient.”

“…” Gu Yu grumbled, “So, are you suggesting we have an affair behind your jealous husband’s back?”

He waited for Shen Jin to refute him, but to his surprise, the guy nodded repeatedly, tugging Gu Yu’s hand with some guilt: “He’s got a bad temper. You be the side piece, okay?”

“Shen Jin!” Gu Yu was so frustrated he wanted to shake Shen Jin awake, unsure if he was supposed to be the main or the side piece in this scenario. “No more ice cream puffs for you!”

Shen Jin immediately furrowed his brow as if he’d suffered the greatest injustice.

Gu Yu had no choice but to coax him softly, “Fine, fine, I’ll be the side piece,” which seemed to satisfy Shen Jin. He continued to babble incoherently until evening when he finally fully woke up.

But when his consciousness returned and the breathing aids were removed, Shen Jin appeared even more frail.

Even Qin Zhu became serious: “The doctor just said everything was normal… I didn’t imagine that, right?”

In his eyes, Shen Jin was far from normal—pale complexion, bloodshot eyes, and even his voice was faint.

“It’s fine. Just listen to the doctor.” Gu Yu covered the back of Shen Jin’s hand, licking his dry lips with effort. “Omegas generally have worse constitutions than alphas and betas. He’s in worse condition than most omegas, so it’s normal that he’s not handling such a major surgery as well.”

With careful care, at most, he’d just recover more slowly than others.

But in that moment when Shen Jin could hardly breathe from the pain, the others still noticed Gu Yu quietly raise his hand and quickly wipe the corner of his eye.

For the first time since they had come of age, they were so directly confronted with the stark differences between omegas and themselves when it came to secondary gender traits.

“I’m so tired, Gu Yu…” Shen Jin blinked wearily and grasped at Gu Yu’s fingers in a plea. “But… it hurts a little…”

It hurt so much that he couldn’t sleep, but he was still trying hard to restrain his expression.

“You’re amazing.” Qin Zhu clenched his fist. “No wonder back then you could tell us with a straight face that it was like having a common cold.”

Gu Yu wanted to hold Shen Jin’s hand but didn’t dare to squeeze too hard, afraid of touching the IV needle in the back of his hand. Instead, he gently cupped Shen Jin’s cheek. “Do you want to sit up and eat something? After eating, it might not hurt as much, and you can sleep better.”

Shen Jin hadn’t eaten all day and was probably hungry. “Mm… I’ll just eat a little.”

But when the spoon came to his mouth, he blushed and backed away. “I don’t want you to feed me…”

With so many people watching, his pride as an older brother was probably at stake.

“If you keep being so reserved, you’ll pass out from hunger,” Xu Tingyun urged anxiously. “It’s not like we haven’t seen Gu Yu feed you before.”

The memory of the last time, during their hotpot argument, was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Jiang Lan chimed in, “Young Master feeding someone? I’ve lived nearly 20 years and have never seen anything like it.”

Finally, Gu Yu managed to get the first spoonful of custard into Shen Jin’s mouth, and Tao Yan quickly offered, “I’ll go warm up some milk for you, Young Master.”

After fussing around until about 9 p.m., Shen Jin nestled into Gu Yu’s palm and quietly closed his eyes to rest.

*

The sky had darkened, and the hospital was much quieter than during the day.

Since waking up that evening, Shen Jin hadn’t mentioned feeling any more discomfort, but Gu Yu couldn’t forget the two surgery marks. He knew all too well that they had become wounds, the flesh stripped away from Shen Jin’s fragile omega body, leaving scars that would never completely fade, even after healing.

Regret twisted in his heart, creating a sharp, pathological ache in his chest. But aside from wiping his eyes occasionally, there was nothing he could do.

If it weren’t for the few friends by his side, lightening the mood with their jokes, he didn’t know how he could have coped.

There are so many twists of fate in this world. Perhaps half of them are due to alphas maturing later than omegas and betas. In their youth, they were impatient, proud, and immature, unwilling to lower their heads, not knowing what it meant to cherish someone. Only after losing that person did they realize that the punishment would be felt in every moment of the long years ahead.

Gu Yu understood that he was no different from those other alphas. His punishment was right in front of him.

Though the others hadn’t left yet, Gu Yu leaned against Shen Jin’s bedside, quietly crying.

No one in the quiet hospital room interrupted him. The only movement came from Shen Jin, who stirred slightly in his sleep, as if he heard something and wanted to comfort him.

If his body weren’t already at its limit, Shen Jin would have woken up in a panic, worriedly asking what was wrong with his little strawberry.

“Shen Jin…” Gu Yu gripped his hand, his brow tightly furrowed as tears fell uncontrollably again. “I don’t even want to be your little wife anymore… Please don’t leave me…”

Though Shen Jin showed no signs of waking, his brow suddenly furrowed, and he broke into a fit of coughing. The sight startled Gu Yu into a panic. He reached for the call button by the bed, but a hand stopped him, breaking the silence.

“Stop talking nonsense,” Qin Zhu’s voice remained firm, leaving no room for argument. “Ever since he went into surgery, you’ve looked pale. I brought you potato pancakes with scallions and purebred mountain chicken soup, but you barely touched them. If Shen Jin found out, each one of us would have to face his wrath.”

Before the surgery, Shen Jin had quietly instructed them to take care of Gu Yu, knowing that he might not be able to hold on through sheer willpower. He didn’t want the younger one to be too heartbroken or blame himself and do something rash—like jump off a building. At the time, Qin Zhu had thought Shen Jin was joking. How could a calm and mature alpha like Gu Yu need looking after? But now it seemed Shen Jin hadn’t been exaggerating at all.

“He’s not going to leave you.” Qin Zhu didn’t bother keeping his voice down to let Shen Jin rest. “You probably regret how you treated him back in high school, to the point that you wish you’d never met him. But I can tell you this: when he talks about the past, he’s always happy. He even said he was glad he looked at you that one time during the exam.”

Being falsely accused by the proctor and his mother didn’t seem like a fond memory, but Qin Zhu was blunt: “Yeah, you messed up a lot, and of course, he’s been hurt. But he’s never regretted it, not for a single second.”

Not once did Shen Jin regret loving Gu Yu.

He chose Gu Yu. That was his only option.

Gu Yu stared at Qin Zhu in silence, as though caught on the edge of an invisible whirlpool, unable to speak. Seeing this, Qin Zhu handed him a cup of water and said, “So you’re not allowed to regret it either. Got it? And when he wakes up, don’t even think about letting him leave you.”

“Drink some water, or you’ll get thirsty.”

Fate’s twists and turns don’t always lead to parting ways.

Though alphas may be immature and fail to appreciate what they have, their lovers know who’s worth forgiving.

“Wait, didn’t Shen Jin’s instructions not include ‘Yeah, you messed up a lot’?” Xu Tingyun recalled, and Qin Zhu cut him off: “That’s my objective evaluation. Disagree, and fight me.”

After a bit of back-and-forth between them, Gu Yu finally wiped away his tears, drank most of the water, and accepted the candy Tao Yan handed him.

“Your omega really is silly.” Tao Yan said, “We planned to come on our own, but before that, he asked me and Jiang Lan to check in on you. He said no matter what, he’d shamelessly trouble us to come.”

“He said it was just a minor surgery, but he knew you’d be anxious.” Jiang Lan sighed, patting Gu Yu on the shoulder. “In his words, our invincible Young Master Gu is as fragile as a newborn child, and we were all shocked when we heard that.”

Gu Yu closed his mouth and stayed silent for a while. His voice, now a bit less hoarse, finally replied, “…Don’t call him silly.”

How could he still be thinking about him even while being so sick?

Though this wasn’t a life-threatening surgery, in the face of the hospital’s high walls, Gu Yu’s calm exterior masked nothing but deep pessimism.

The moment the surgery lights came on, everyone knew that in a few hours, the doctor would come out and calmly reassure them that everything went well. But Gu Yu could only feel panic, his mind unable to form a coherent thought.

He stood there for over two hours, not even noticing that his face had gone white as paper.

If it weren’t for Shen Jin’s understanding and compassion, and even his “threats” to their friends to take care of him, Gu Yu might not have even dared to cry aloud.

Only that unique combination of tenderness and strength made him never once regret their encounter.

The clean light reflected off the water Qin Zhu handed him and off Shen Jin’s sleeping face, making the world feel peaceful again.

Gu Yu turned to look at Shen Jin’s fluttering eyelashes, his eyes heating up again.

“Someone tell him not to always think about me.” He forced down the lump in his throat, finally sounding more like himself.

“When he wakes up, I’ll accept the criticism, alright?”

Shen Jin seemed to understand, his face contorting in discomfort, and Qin Zhu shook his head: “I can already imagine your future life as a henpecked husband.”

From that, it was clear how Shen Jin usually described his “marriage” with Gu Yu. Trying to calm down, Gu Yu couldn’t help but question, “Henpecked?”

“Yeah,” Qin Zhu was always straightforward. “He said if it weren’t for the restrictions of secondary gender and his soft heart, he would’ve long since taken you. Calling you ‘husband’ in public is just

 for your pride.”

“…For my pride?” Gu Yu looked back at Shen Jin, unable to resist touching his face. “And he was going to ‘take me’? Take me where? To buy insurance?”

“Mmph… mmph.” Shen Jin failed to escape Gu Yu’s mischievous hand and had to settle for nuzzling it before sinking back into his dreams.

Their conversation had somewhat disturbed Shen Jin’s sleep, but Qin Zhu had no sense of guilt. “Might as well wake him up and clear this up.”

He moved closer, only for Xu Tingyun to grab him, practically stabbing him in the back with a glare. “Enough. Stop causing trouble. We should go. We’ll come back after classes tomorrow.”

Tao Yan and Jiang Lan agreed. Giving Gu Yu some quiet time with Shen Jin seemed like a good idea.

After reminding Gu Yu of a few things, they headed downstairs and grabbed dinner near the hospital.

Over drinks and gossip, they pieced together Gu Yu and Shen Jin’s relationship, and finally, Qin Zhu summed it up: “You alphas… are all idiots in your own way.”

“Personal attack?” Jiang Lan, who had a low alcohol tolerance, drunkenly poked Tao Yan’s nose. “Did you hear that? Qin says you’re an idiot. You tried to steal my childhood friend, and in the end, neither of us won.”

Under the clear night sky, Tao Yan gazed at him for a long time and asked, “Do you still like Song Yizhi?”

Jiang Lan waved his finger, almost ready to climb onto the nearby chair to threaten him, “It doesn’t matter if your Jiang Lan brother likes him or not, but you’re not allowed to like him.”

“Oh.” Tao Yan wrapped his arm around Jiang Lan’s waist, preventing him from losing his balance. “Since you put it that way, who would dare? My dear Jiang Lan brother?”

“Smart.” Jiang Lan rested his head on Tao Yan’s shoulder for a moment, but it still wasn’t enough for him. He wrapped his arm around Tao Yan’s neck, voicing some concerns about the current situation. “After all our fighting, I hope Xiao Yu doesn’t end up being the first to get married.”

“What are you worried about?” Tao Yan replied leisurely while gazing at him. “We’ll both hit the legal age before Xiao Yu. Why worry about not being able to register first?”

“True.” Jiang Lan seriously considered it, then confidently smacked Tao Yan on the chest. “Idiot, I’ll definitely find an omega before you.”

“…” Tao Yan frowned. “Who said we must find an omega?”

Jiang Lan suddenly realized Qin Zhu was present and quickly corrected himself. “Betas are great too, I like them. A few of the betas in our group are really cute.”

But Tao Yan loosened his hold on him. “Yeah, cute. Is Jiang Lan brother finding everyone cute these days?”

Jiang Lan swayed a bit, completely confused, but immediately grabbed Tao Yan’s hand and put it back around his waist. “What’s wrong? Jealous of me? But you can’t forget to protect me.”

Though the person in front of him obediently held him again, Tao Yan turned his head away and continued eating, showing signs of silent frustration.

Jiang Lan had no choice but to lean in and coax him, “Look at you being all petty. How about I make you my best man when I get married?”

Being the best man was usually a role reserved for elders, so it was a gesture full of honor. Yet Tao Yan’s expression lost its earlier composure, now tinged with a childish annoyance. “Sure, then I’ll have a front-row seat to witness your CP in action.”

Jiang Lan couldn’t figure out why Tao Yan was upset. After grumbling for a while, he turned to Qin Zhu. “See this? Alphas are so temperamental—best to avoid them.”

“I’m not blind.” Qin Zhu knew it wasn’t polite to speak this way to someone he’d only met twice, but politeness was never his intention. “Dude, how did you even get into college with a brain like that?”

Jiang Lan, realizing he’d been insulted, tried to argue back but was completely outmatched by Qin Zhu, a professional in-game trashtalker. To make matters worse, Tao Yan even nodded in approval at Qin Zhu’s victory. “This one’s on me.”

“No need.” Qin Zhu grinned triumphantly but still moved to pay the bill himself, considering Jiang Lan had paid for lunch. However, as he looked up while walking to the counter, he spotted a familiar figure standing at the entrance.

The other person, failing to avoid eye contact in time, greeted him, “Senior…”

It was He Senzhou.

Qin Zhu showed no surprise, only asked calmly, “Here to see Shen Jin?”

“Yeah… I just came from the hospital.”

The implication was clear—He Senzhou knew Qin Zhu didn’t want to see him, so he had purposely avoided meeting him.

Qin Zhu stopped Tao Yan, who had also come up to pay, and addressed He Senzhou, “Didn’t I tell you to get out of my sight? How come we’re still running into each other?—How about you pay for this meal as compensation for the damage to my eyes?”

Despite Qin Zhu’s brutal tone, the younger student still scanned the payment code.

Jiang Lan and Tao Yan couldn’t help but feel puzzled. Jiang Lan even wanted to approach and ask, but Xu Tingyun, who had followed behind, quickly pulled him back. “Don’t. You’ll get slapped, and we might get dragged in too.”

Jiang Lan, sobering up instantly, muttered, “…What kind of play is this?”

After He Senzhou paid and left, Qin Zhu answered their confusion openly, “He’s a junior, also the most idiotic alpha ever. I don’t usually treat other alphas like this.”

“…I can’t see any difference,” Jiang Lan remarked, still shaken but also curious. “Does he like you?”

“Oh?” Qin Zhu feigned surprise. “You can figure this one out in an instant, yet you’ve been looking at someone else for ten years and still can’t tell?”

“That one? Who?” Jiang Lan was full of questions, but before he could continue, Tao Yan pressed down on his head, cutting off his thoughts. “Let’s go, time to head back.”

Qin Zhu and Xu Tingyun stifled their laughter as Tao Yan cast them a pleading glance before quickly dragging Jiang Lan into a cab and escaping. Once their cab had driven off into the distance, Xu Tingyun asked Qin Zhu, “Are you really not planning to forgive Senzhou, give him a chance?”

Qin Zhu shook his head. “Nope. I’m not Shen Jin.”

“You’re built like reinforced concrete,” Xu Tingyun sighed. “Who knows how long he’ll keep at it.”

Qin Zhu glanced up at the sky and let out a puff of white breath, joking, “He can persist as long as he wants, but eventually, he’ll probably realize I’m just a beta and end up marrying some omega with a higher compatibility score.”

Xu Tingyun glanced a hundred meters away, where that familiar figure had already gotten out of the cab but hadn’t left. But he knew there was no point in advising Qin Zhu, so he simply hailed a taxi and left with him.

As the car sped forward, some eyes avoided the view outside the window, while others stood alone in the wind, leaving behind the usual desolate silhouette.

*

The next day at noon, Shen Jin slowly woke from his sleep.

This nap had lasted too long, to the point where he couldn’t remember if the doctor had come by that morning, and he could barely recall what had happened the day before.

The only thing that mattered was that he seemed to have heard Little Strawberry crying.

Driven by instinct, he reached out to touch Gu Yu’s poor little head to comfort him, but the blurry figure was sitting by the bedside, just out of his reach.

“Gu Yu… You didn’t sleep?” Shen Jin’s eyes weren’t fully open yet as he tried to grab Gu Yu’s hand and question him, “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“The sun’s almost setting. I just woke up earlier than you.” Gu Yu grasped his flailing hand and gave it a gentle shake. “I’m here, no need to worry.”

Shen Jin’s breathing settled a little as he clasped Gu Yu’s hand in return. “But I dreamed you were crying the whole time, couldn’t even eat…”

Before Gu Yu could respond, Shen Jin’s vision cleared, and his frown deepened. “You didn’t even shave.”

Realizing it, Gu Yu rubbed the stubble on his chin and shamelessly asked, “Senior doesn’t like it?”

In theory, this could be seen as a mark of maturity for an alpha, but Shen Jin found it utterly displeasing. “You’re so oily, you could fry food. I want my pure, innocent Little Strawberry back.”

Gu Yu calmly complained, “Senior’s defiled me so many times, how can I still be an innocent Little Strawberry?” Shen Jin wanted to argue, but when he finally got a good look at Gu Yu’s face, he was stunned into silence.

There was a shadow of exhaustion under Gu Yu’s eyes, his lips were dry, and even the usual crystal-clear brightness of his eyes was tinged with a faint, tired redness, out of place with his typically clean-cut features. Combined with the stubble on his chin, it made him look like a bedraggled little lion whose mane had gone all scraggly.

The little lion helped him to the bathroom to wash up, leaving Shen Jin with just one question. “Have you not slept for almost two days?”

Instead of answering directly, Gu Yu continued wiping his face as he said, “I’ve still got at least three days before I risk sudden death, senior. Don’t worry.”

“Who’s worried?” Shen Jin, mustering all his strength, pushed him away, seeming a little angry. “Just don’t forget to write my name on the insurance—I won’t be losing out.”

This amount of strength was obviously not enough to push anyone. Shen Jin wanted to exert more force, but a sharp pain pierced through his side, making him take a sharp breath, and his steps became unsteady.

Gu Yu panicked and quickly grabbed his arm, anxiously softening his tone, “Don’t, don’t move… It’s my fault. I promise I’ll get a good night’s sleep today. Please, don’t be mad, okay?”

Before Shen Jin could snap out of the sudden sob in the alpha’s voice, he was already being helped back to the hospital room. He looked at those tired, red-rimmed eyes, and suddenly realized that Gu Yu’s affection for him might have long surpassed his imagination. 

Forget about playing a couple of games outside the hospital room—Gu Yu remembering what 1+1 equals would probably require some serious willpower.

“Don’t worry…” Shen Jin carefully lay back on the hospital bed, his complexion already looking much better than the day before. “If I don’t move, it doesn’t hurt as much. The doctor said it’ll improve a lot after the first three days.”

Gu Yu covered his face, probably realizing his overreaction. 

“My fault,” he said after calming down for a moment. He handed Shen Jin a cup of warm water and said, “You’re already feeling so terrible, and you still have to worry about me.”

Shen Jin shook his head, his voice still a bit weak. “So… you really cried on and off for so long last night? That wasn’t a dream?”

Gu Yu touched Shen Jin’s pale face to make sure he could still swallow before he began feeding him small spoonfuls of food and medicine. But his words remained stubborn, “If it wasn’t a dream, then you must’ve encountered a monster. Either way, I didn’t cry.”

“Alright, alright, you met a monster.” Shen Jin smacked his lips, and the tasteless liquid food seemed to have a bit more flavor. “With that mouth of yours, you could lay the foundation for a skyscraper and it’d hold at least three hundred floors.”

Gu Yu stubbornly corrected him, “The number of floors a building can have isn’t determined by the foundation alone.”

“Really?” Shen Jin pretended to be hurt.

In less than a second, Gu Yu gave up his professional belief with a blank expression. “Fake. However many floors you say, that’s how many floors.”

Shen Jin was pleased and asked, “Will you still go along with everything I say after I’m discharged?”

He teased Gu Yu, expecting him to retort with something like “no way.” But this time, as Gu Yu blew on the food, he gave a brief and serious reply: “Yes.”

Shen Jin’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, wondering if he had misheard. “You said it… Every time we argue in the future, I’m going to bring this up. What will you do then?”

“… I won’t argue with you anymore.” The alpha seemed to have made some childish resolution, but looked a bit uncertain, and quickly retreated a step, “At most… at most once a year.”

Shen Jin initially wanted to laugh at how there was an annual quota for arguing, but because he had talked too much, he couldn’t help feeling chest pain and dizziness. By the time he recovered, he had already collapsed against the alpha’s hand, and all he could see was Gu Yu’s worried and anxious face.

“It’s okay…” Shen Jin steadied his voice, though he couldn’t hide his weakness. “Just keep talking. I’ll listen.”

For an alpha who wasn’t fond of idle chatter, this didn’t seem like a pleasant task, but Gu Yu nodded, as if he suddenly had endless things to say to him.

From the terrifying flickering of the surgery lights to the doctor jokingly telling him, “Kid, you scared me enough to confirm the surgery results three times,” to how the potatoes Jiang Lan brought actually had 20 chives sprinkled on top—Shen Jin listened to it all. Sometimes he smiled, other times he frowned, “… What chives?”

“… Don’t worry about that.” Gu Yu, like a serious vagabond, quickly changed the subject to how Qin Zhu had scolded him yesterday. He pretended to casually ask, “Have you really never regretted meeting me?”

Seeing his face made Shen Jin want to laugh. He couldn’t stay serious at all. “Can you shave that stubble off and get some beauty sleep before you open your innocent big eyes and ask me such a dumb question?”

The alpha’s breath suddenly came closer, almost pressing against Shen Jin’s face. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“I do, I do.” Shen Jin laughed for a while before cupping his face, speaking seriously, “I love you so much that I’ve never regretted it.”

The two of them gazed at each other, and the alpha’s stubborn yet soft lips finally replied, “That’s more like it.” Shen Jin immediately turned his head to kiss those warm lips, whispering softly as if telling a secret: Even when he was 18, walking alone in the pouring rain at night, he was only heartbroken, but never regretful.

He only wanted him.

Even if he could live his life over a thousand times, this moment would still be the only ending he wished for.

The room was quiet, and the entwined kiss didn’t last long before ending in Gu Yu’s nervousness. He touched Shen Jin’s cheek and asked, “Can you still breathe?”

Shen Jin’s heavy breathing echoed in his ears, and finally, the omega pushed against Gu Yu’s chest and gently shook his head. “Next time… next time we’ll kiss.”

With his heart pounding, Gu Yu helped him lie down again, continuing to tell him those fragmented stories.

After night fell and the other visitors had left, Gu Yu took a deep breath and brought out a bronze bracelet, slipping it onto Shen Jin’s right hand, the one with fewer needle marks.

The cold sensation startled Shen Jin, and he asked, “What is this?”

But the moment he raised his hand, he already knew.

It was engraved with intricate cloud patterns. In C City and the surrounding provinces, these were common amulets to bless children with long life and good fortune. 

For girls, they were made of silver; for boys, of bronze.

His youngest twin siblings had been in poor health since they were young, and when they were ten, their parents had asked for a pair of these for them. 

But at the birthday banquet, his second younger brother threw a tantrum, demanding one for himself. Their parents, unable to appease him, bought him one too.

At the time, their father seemed to notice Shen Jin’s expression and asked if he wanted one as well. He even said that the bronze accessories were quite expensive, but he’d get one for him after he got paid next month.

Shen Jin almost laughed out loud and replied that he was practically an adult—what would he want with such a thing?

Later, his second brother quickly grew tired of wearing the bracelet and tossed it into a corner of his room. Shen Jin secretly picked it up and tried it on, but in the end, he put it back.

“Is this for me?” Shen Jin turned the bracelet on his wrist and asked Gu Yu, “When did you buy it?”

“It was something my stepdad got for me. They say it’s very lucky.” Gu Yu replied. “But after he passed away, I never wore it again.”

This answer surprised Shen Jin, and his throat tightened. “Why didn’t you wear it?”

“Because after that, I didn’t really want to live a long life.” Gu Yu gently covered Shen Jin’s cold hand. “But now, I want you to live a long life. So I’m giving it to you.”

This cheap, childish bronze ornament—Shen Jin had thought he would never have one in this lifetime, nor did he want one. But now, it circled his pulse, like a belated yet overwhelming blessing.

“Uncle Lu will be mad at me…” Even as his heart ached, Shen Jin hurriedly tried to take off the bracelet and return it to Gu Yu. “This was a gift for his beloved child, wishing them a long life.”

But Gu Yu pressed down on his hand. “You were always meant to be the child he loved the most.”

Shen Jin wanted this bracelet so badly, yet he was overwhelmed with guilt and tried to pull away. But Gu Yu was much stronger than him—the other man held onto him, gripping as if he would never let go in this lifetime.

“Shen Jin, grow old with me. Let’s live long lives together. Will you?”

Outside the window, moonlight bathed them, tender and lingering, like the soft lullaby a mother hums to coax her child to sleep.

When tears rolled down Gu Yu’s face, Shen Jin froze and stopped struggling, then slowly nodded. “Alright.”

After a long while, he raised his hand to wipe away Gu Yu’s tears. “Why are you crying?”

Gu Yu didn’t move at all, nearly lying through his teeth. “I’m not crying. You’re seeing things. I told you playing video games hurts your eyesight.”

“My eyesight is 5.1. Don’t go blaming me, my dear wife.” Shen Jin muttered, unconsciously fiddling with the bracelet, and softly added, “Actually… every time I get sick and make you come to the hospital, I know it brings back sad memories for you…”

“Once I’m feeling better in a few days, you don’t have to sleep at the hospital anymore. The bed’s too small, and you have to curl up. It’d be better to eat dinner and then go home early.”

“What sad memories?” But Gu Yu saw right through his concern. “

My stepdad stayed in a VIP suite—practically like a five-star hotel. This regular three-bed hospital room doesn’t bring back any memories at all.”

“Got it?”  

 

“…” Shen Jin was stunned for a second and asked, “Does this hospital have VIP rooms too?”  

Gu Yu answered, “Of course there are,” which made Shen Jin look shocked: “Then why aren’t we staying there?”  

 

Weren’t you supposed to pamper me like a bossy little Gu always does? When the patient in the next bed hadn’t been discharged yet, they would talk in their sleep all the time—it was terrifying.  

Gu Yu saw him looking dazed, and although he felt guilty, he couldn’t resist teasing him, “It’s 80,000 a month, not covered by insurance. Senior, should I sell my left kidney or my right?”  

“…” Shen Jin was shocked again. He had no idea VIP rooms were that expensive. “I thought… it would only be a few hundred or maybe a thousand more…”  

 

He regretted exposing his ignorance and wanted to cover his head and pretend to sleep. Gu Yu, however, pulled the blanket off him, telling him not to hide: “Sorry, Senior… I’ll work hard in the future to make sure you can live in the biggest, best house.” 

 

Then Gu Yu added, “But not in a hospital.”  

 

“Hmph, empty promises again~” Shen Jin, prideful as ever, couldn’t resist sneaking a few glances at him. “I can win a few more championships myself and buy a big house—who needs yours?”  

 

“You can buy your own house, but you still have to accept the one I give you.” Gu Yu helped Shen Jin sit up and take the last of his nightly meds. As Shen Jin swallowed the pills pitifully, he reminded Gu Yu that just a house wasn’t enough—he’d already mentioned cars, luxury watches, and even an entire esports team as compensation. Gu Yu nodded and made a mental note, completely ignoring whether Shen Jin was joking or not.  

 

Of course, even though Shen Jin talked about wanting cars, houses, and luxury watches, just a cheap old copper bracelet was enough to make him happy for a long time.  

 

In the days that followed, Gu Yu often caught him secretly admiring the cloud pattern on the bracelet, as if he were looking at priceless jade or gold.  

 

By the time Shen Jin was discharged, his spirits had recovered considerably. But when a familiar doctor passed by and saw Gu Yu, they couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Have you lost a few pounds?”  

 

Gu Yu had insisted on taking time off to stay by Shen Jin’s side every moment, and he likely hadn’t rested well either. He did look noticeably thinner.  

 

“He’s an alpha. Just take some protein powder and drink more water, and he’ll be fine.” Qin Zhuo waved his hand dismissively, while Xu Tingyun nudged him and joked to Gu Yu, “Don’t mind him, my son just talks like that.”  

 

Gu Yu smiled and nodded, feeling oddly grateful that Shen Jin had such strong-willed friends.  

When they finally returned to their long-missed apartment in the university town, Shen Jin pushed Gu Yu down by the couch, looking both excited and worried: “I don’t ever want you to end up in the hospital again. How much weight have you lost?”  

 

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself first?” Gu Yu pinched his cheek, almost unable to grasp any flesh. “…It took me so long to fatten you up a little.”  

 

His first attempt at “rabbit farming” had completely failed.  

 

“Old Zhang gave me an extra week’s leave; I can eat more.” Shen Jin rolled into his arms and said, “I messed you up just six months into college. I’ll make sure you get the full experience of university life.”  

 

His eyes sparkled with excitement, clearly full of ideas: “We can take evening walks at the sports field, watch the dance groups, try out all the dining halls of every school in the town, feed the swans at the agriculture college, check out the super-long starlit tunnel at the art school, and the new phases of West Street are opening soon. I hear there’ll be a summer music festival, maybe even better than the acts at Happy Valley.”  

 

“That sounds pretty fun.” Gu Yu leaned his head on him. “I thought university life was just studying for exams, attending classes, prepping for grad school, and maintaining a good GPA.”  

“Uh…” Shen Jin thought for a moment. “Well, I can also accompany you to the library and help draft plans for the team, as long as I can stay by your side.”  

 

“Just kidding.” Gu Yu smiled. “We won’t miss out on any fun. I just hope you can keep up with the physical part.”  

 

Shen Jin boasted that once he recovered, he’d reverse the roles and “take on” the alpha. Gu Yu nearly burst out laughing and asked how someone who trembled with just a touch planned to do that. Shen Jin, full of pride, tilted his head and said in the strongest voice possible, “Can’t I just kneel down and beg you?”  

 

“No matter how you beg, I won’t agree,” Gu Yu responded firmly, carrying him to the bedroom. “Go wash up and rest early. Don’t forget to tell me what you want for breakfast tomorrow.”  

But even as sleepiness washed over him, Shen Jin couldn’t decide between custard buns and beef dumplings.  

 

Curled up weakly in Gu Yu’s arms, still recovering, he murmured, “Can I have both…”  

Gu Yu couldn’t refuse: “Of course.”  

 

But Shen Jin, getting bolder, completely forgot if he could even finish it all: “Then… then I also want coconut milk cake, strawberry tarts, and baked cheese sticks.”  

 

Gu Yu hugged him tightly: “Might as well cook you an entire cow, Senior.”  

 

“Mm…” Shen Jin leaned against his chest, panting softly. “Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll come to campus and wait for you after class. We’ll bask in the sun on the lawn, and then we can go to the dining hall with the others for dinner. We’ll…”  

Go to many places, do many things.  

 

Just like when we were younger, walking together down the tree-lined avenue in front of the school gates.  

 

You stood at the crossroads, looking at me, like a tall tree covered in spring blossoms, standing quietly and tenderly.  

 

“Okay,” Gu Yu kissed Shen Jin’s forehead and whispered, “From now on… we’ll do everything together, Senior.”  

 

The long spring and summer of City C came again. The flowers bloomed as they always had, and before I reached the corner, I heard your voice, the one I longed for day and night, calling my name in joy from behind the wall.  

 

“Gu Yu, Gu Yu, I’m here.”  

 

Flower petals filled the air, and I quickened my pace without thinking, because I knew, this time, you would finally appear in front of me, just as I had always wished.  

 

From then on, we would be together forever.