Part 3
Jiang Shulu rubbed his back to soothe him. “Why do you cry so easily? Looks like I should have just stayed home and rested with you today.”
“No way! I want to know things others don’t know.”
Tang Yue’s tears fell behind Jiang Shulu’s ears, causing the person being hugged to tremble as well.
Once again, Jiang Shulu felt so clearly that he was loved.
But Tang Yue drew out all of Jiang Shulu’s desires, surging day and night after their reunion five years later.
Originally, Jiang Shulu thought he would have to plunder, but he didn’t expect the other party’s heart was already full of him.
Even at this moment, feeling his pain, sobbing thoughtfully: “It doesn’t matter if you can’t cry, I can cry for you.”
Before Jiang Shulu could respond, a woman’s cursing came from above—
“Who is it?! Not eating dinner at night but dating and crying in a place like this!”
“Are you sick! Don’t you know you’re disturbing the peace!—”
“Leave now or I’m throwing water!”
Tang Yue was so scared his hiccup went back down his throat. In the next instant, he was pulled away by Jiang Shulu, stumbling into the narrow door.
The sensor light was broken; it seemed to greet the visitors with a sizzling sound.
All the light came from the window in the stairwell, scattering on the steps. Tang Yue was pulled by Jiang Shulu, trotting upwards.
The steps were high. Just reaching the second floor, Tang Yue was already out of breath.
Jiang Shulu took out the key from his pocket. As he used his phone light to find the keyhole, he teased, “Teacher Tang, your stamina isn’t great.”
Tang Yue used his phone to shine the flashlight for him, retorting, “That’s just because you’re too good.”
He could always retort logically, mixing sarcasm with praise. He didn’t seem as dim-witted as the rumors suggested.
As Jiang Shulu opened the door, he said, “Then who was the one who said it wasn’t painful enough?”
Tang Yue grabbed the corner of Jiang Shulu’s shirt and followed him in, muttering, “My adaptability is very good, you really don’t need to worry about me.”
Because his background was fully exposed, his voice carried a hint of smugness. “Because I’m an alien, different from you men here. It… it counts as a special talent.”
Jiang Shulu had already experienced the specifics of that difference firsthand.
He laughed. “You mean you want to try something else?”
“I don’t want to go on variety shows anymore. Too many people watching, it’s hard to be intimate with you.”
He was extremely honest about his desires, as direct as a burst of flame.
“I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing you.”
Jiang Shulu turned on the light. “Everyone knows anyway.”
He nodded. “It’s hard for me to hold back, too.”
“If only you showed just me.”
He glanced at the attic. It was truly too small; even the table folded down from the windowsill.
There was still wallpaper that hadn’t been fully torn off on the walls, and traces of scribbles.
“After I was taken back, my sick mother was also sent to the Jiang family’s hospital,” Jiang Shulu said.
“This house was rented out later, changed hands many times. The year I turned eighteen, I bought it back.”
He lifted the white cloth on the wooden chair, sat down, opened his arms, and signaled for Tang Yue to come over.
This way of holding was common for adults and children, but for two adults, it was a bit too close.
Ambiguity surfaced. The breath of speech sprayed against the other person’s ear, making the narration seem deeply affectionate.
But the content made Tang Yue’s heart ache terribly. He didn’t want to be held like this; he turned around to face Jiang Shulu.
Jiang Shulu indulged him.
“And then?” Tang Yue asked.
“But I bought it behind the Jiang family’s back, so I couldn’t come here openly. I could only pretend to pass by and stand at the alley entrance for a while.”
He smiled. “I even had someone open an influencer coffee shop there, so I had a reason to come.”
“But you don’t look like the type to go to influencer shops.”
“I can be an investor, can’t I?”
He mentioned the name of the coffee shop, and Tang Yue finally remembered.
It was indeed famous. He vaguely recalled scrolling past its history, which seemed to have started in the old district.
But Tang Yue wasn’t interested in any of that. He only cared about the person in front of him.
Tang Yue didn’t know if he should offer comfort. He just wrapped his arms around Jiang Shulu’s neck, feeling the other’s body temperature, the unique intimacy of this moment.
Above was an old light bulb. Even opening the wooden window couldn’t disperse the stale smell of the place.
The old home Jiang Shulu bought back had long lost most traces of the mother and son living there back then.
Only the poster of the millennial boy band behind the wooden cabinet, and the crooked characters carved into the wall behind the door with a key, reminded Jiang Shulu.
You really existed.
That part of himself he had lost was scattered here. He once thought he would never find it again.
But Tang Yue caught it and returned it to him.
“Are you crying?” Tang Yue asked.
“No.”
Tang Yue tried to lift his head to check, but Jiang Shulu pressed him back into his embrace.
“What’s wrong with that?” Tang Yue said.
“Can I cry?” Jiang Shulu asked.
Tang Yue paused. “In the past, when I saw you smoking on the balcony, I always felt like you were crying.”
Outside, the cold wind howled, shaking the window frames.
Whose heart was also raging with a storm, howling out years of accumulated sadness?
“If being Jiang Shulu is too tiring,” Tang Yue said, “then be my Xiao Chou. Or you can be my…”
He thought for a long while before shyly squeezing out two words—
“Husband.”
“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t call each other that before marriage?” Jiang Shulu asked.
Tang Yue couldn’t resist looking up. Under the light, tears were indeed pooling in Jiang Shulu’s eyes. He was far more vivid than the “Jiang Shulu” written in the book.
He is tangible. My lover.
“But we already have a child,” Tang Yue said.
He reached out and touched Jiang Shulu’s face. “If Shulu-ge thinks crying is embarrassing, I can accompany you.”
“Then that would be laughing together,” Jiang Shulu said.
“Isn’t that good?”
Jiang Shulu hummed an assent. Tang Yue couldn’t help swinging his legs, and the wooden stool made a creaking sound.
“That sound is a bit weird,” Tang Yue groaned.
Jiang Shulu laughed. “You have such an imagination.”
He mentioned the bedtime story he read to Tang Yue that year. He thought he had just seen the ordinary side of a teenager, but he didn’t expect the other person’s nature to be so passionate as well.
“Is it a subconscious association from reading too many novels?” Jiang Shulu asked.
Tang Yue heard his teasing and huffed twice, thinking: You are the Fated Lover I got from reading too much—
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