An hour later, Yang Jiabo figured enough time had passed and wandered back. From a distance, he saw Li Guizhen storming off angrily while Yang Jianguo’s expression was dark inside. Yang Jiabo sighed but said nothing, this was exactly what he’d expected.
When Yang Jianguo saw him return, he composed himself, leaving only concern for Yang Jiabo. Now that he understood more about his son’s condition, he called Dr. Liu to provide counseling. Though Yang Jiabo didn’t think it necessary, he cooperated under his father’s worried gaze.
But Yang Jiabo had underestimated Li Guizhen’s influence on him. It wasn’t until nightfall that he realized the nightmares hadn’t left him. He dreamed again of his past suicides, his consciousness drifting hazily between life and death. He knew he was dreaming but couldn’t wake up, forced to watch helplessly as everything unfolded.
After struggling for most of the night, he finally broke free from the dream as dawn approached. His eyes were sore, his head throbbed dully, and his body felt sticky with sweat. Yang Jiabo smiled bitterly, hating himself for his weakness. Rubbing his temples, he headed to the bathroom to wash off the discomfort. Sitting by the window, he stared blankly at the faint light on the horizon.
The nightmare lingered in his mind. He shook his head, trying to dispel the unpleasant images and focus on happier memories. Gradually, he realized that most of his vivid memories were of moments spent with Wei Jing.
Yang Jiabo was in agony. He knew his own feelings, he wanted to be close to Wei Jing, to rely on him, to be with him. But he couldn’t. Even if he weren’t ill, there were still pressures from family and society. More importantly, he liked Wei Jing, but Wei Jing might not feel the same.
What he didn’t know was that he wasn’t the only one struggling. Wei Jing was also staring at the predawn sky, lost in thought. Wei Jing had always maintained a strict routine, waking early without fail. But today was different, he had woken up startled from a dream.
The day before, Wei Feng had called him, and they’d talked at length about Yang Jiabo. But Wei Jing hadn’t mentioned a word about Yang Jiabo’s condition or private matters. After hanging up, he went about his usual routine.
But at night, he dreamed of Yang Jiabo - his frail body curled up, brows furrowed, looking helpless and vulnerable. Wei Jing couldn’t resist reaching out to smooth the wrinkles between his brows. He lay down beside him, pulling him into his arms and patting his back gently, as if soothing a child.
Yang Jiabo nestled closer, perhaps finding comfort, and the tension in his lips eased into a peaceful smile. Wei Jing stared at that smile, momentarily stunned. How long had it been since he’d seen Jiajia so relaxed?
He seemed to carry so many burdens, locking them away without sharing them with anyone. Outwardly, he appeared cheerful and easygoing, but alone, he was always weighed down, fragile as a child.
Perhaps craving warmth, Yang Jiabo nuzzled against him, but his thick black hair got caught on Wei Jing’s shirt button. The once peacefully sleeping Yang Jiabo opened his drowsy peach-blossom eyes, gazing at him blearily before breaking into a happy smile.
"Brother, you’re here."
"Mhm, go back to sleep."
"Then stay with me." Yang Jiabo pleaded like a child.
"Okay."
"Brother, you’re the best." Delighted, Yang Jiabo kissed Wei Jing’s cheek.
The soft touch startled Wei Jing, his gaze involuntarily dropping to Yang Jiabo’s moist lips. They looked so soft—would they feel the same? Acting on impulse, Wei Jing leaned in and kissed him. Just as he’d imagined, they were tender.
Then Yang Jiabo’s arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss. In that moment, Wei Jing forgot everything, losing himself completely, sinking deeper and deeper…
Just as he was about to lose control and claim the person in his arms, he jolted awake. After a cold shower, sleep eluded him. Wei Jing was bewildered, he had actually developed desires for Jiajia, whom he’d always treated like a younger brother. His heart was in turmoil. Remembering the dream, he didn’t know how to face Yang Jiabo. When had his feelings changed?
That day, Wei Jing was distracted. Nearing the end of work, he hesitated outside Ren Boying’s office before knocking.
"Brother Ren, want to grab a drink?"
"Sure." Ren Boying gave him a knowing look.
After work, they found a nice restaurant nearby. While waiting for their food, Ren Boying teased, "You’ve been absent-minded all day. Did your little sweetheart confess to you?"
"No, he just sees me as a brother." Wei Jing didn’t notice the slight dejection in his own voice.
"Oh, so the confession failed?" Ren Boying joked.
"Neither." Wei Jing organized his thoughts. "I might… like Jiajia."
Ren Boying stared at him in surprise. "Tsk, I never thought the ever-clever you could be so dense about feelings."
"Is it that obvious?" Wei Jing was stunned.
"The affection in both your eyes is practically overflowing. Anyone with eyes could see it."
"Then there must be a lot of blind people." Wei Jing thought Ren Boying was exaggerating—so far, he was the only one who’d noticed.
Ignoring his sudden contrarian tone, Ren Boying asked, "When are you planning to confess? I can tell Jiajia likes you too. As your elder brother, I advise you to take the initiative—otherwise, that turtle of a younger brother of yours will never dare to make a move."
"I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet." This sudden realization had left him unsure how to face Yang Jiabo.
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