Chapter 28: Echoes of an Old Friend Part 2

“Why say ‘spared my life’?”

Between their grinding lips and gasps for air, Yan Xinfeng’s scorching lips pressed his ear, kissing while stubbornly pressing. His voice carried broken pleading. “Why? Hm? Tell me…”

Wei Tingxia was kissed breathless, chest stuffy with rage and deeper panic intertwined. His reason collapsed completely. He grabbed Yan Xinfeng’s wet hair and yanked back, almost roaring. “—I didn’t know back then!”

The kiss stopped abruptly.

He asked word by word. “You didn’t know what?”

They embraced awkwardly. Wei Tingxia couldn’t see Yan Xinfeng’s expression but instinctively sensed things were veering into unexpected territory. He pursed his lips, trying to backpedal. “Nothing. I said it casually.”

Yan Xinfeng laughed.

“Xiao Xia,” he scoffed with a hum, sighing by Wei Tingxia’s ear. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah?” Wei Tingxia sniped sarcastically. “I think you are—”

“—Did someone tell you something?”

Wei Tingxia finally understood Mrs. Yan’s feelings earlier.

He hadn’t wanted Yan Xinfeng to know.

Losing his dad was unlucky enough; no need to stir up more waves in already scarred memories.

Wei Tingxia’s eyes widened. The sharp retort stuck in his throat, his mind blank. All his movements halted abruptly. He only felt himself pressed deeper into that wet-cold-yet-scorching embrace. The rain outside was warmed by Yan Xinfeng’s body heat and dripped heavily onto his neck.

“No.” He denied it subconsciously, his voice carrying a bewilderment that even he himself had not noticed. “Don’t overthink it.”

Yan Xinfeng’s jaw rested against the hollow of his neck, rubbing gently in a comfort that bordered on greed.

“I’m sorry.”

With those words, what more was there for Wei Tingxia not to understand?

Yan Xinfeng knew everything.

That was why he had rushed back to the villa through the rain, hugging him tightly as if afraid of missing a final goodbye. This embrace was both belated consolation and wordless fear.

He feared the past repeating itself, feared that Wei Tingxia would leave decisively once more.

“I’m sorry?”

Wei Tingxia’s voice trembled uncontrollably, as if squeezed out from his throat. “Yan Xinfeng, you have nothing to be sorry for, and besides…”

Besides, there really was nothing.

No one knew what Father Yan and he had truly discussed in that meeting. Some might assume he had been threatened or coerced, but in reality, Father Yan had simply shown Wei Tingxia a few photos of Yan Xinfeng from middle school.

When a man held a high position and could obtain anything he wanted with ease, he disdained using direct violence to solve problems. Instead, he made the source of the problem realize that they simply did not measure up.

In the photos, the sixteen-year-old Yan Xinfeng brimmed with youthful vigor, the world his for the taking. Yet at twenty-one, because he chose to stand side by side with Wei Tingxia, the world had slipped away from him.

Father Yan laid the photos out one by one before Wei Tingxia, using actions to tell the boy that they did not match.

Then he said, “I’ve found a girl that Xinfeng likes. They grew up together, childhood friends, a perfect match.”

Wei Tingxia’s Adam’s apple bobbed silently, his gaze glued to those old photos. Seeing this, Father Yan tapped the desk lightly with a fingertip and continued slowly, “To be frank, I’ve looked into how you two get along. I see no future for you.

“My son has never taken a liking to anyone from childhood to now, so he easily mistook physical attraction for true love, unwavering to the end. But even if he believes that, his actions still reveal the problems.”

The way Yan Xinfeng expressed love was with money. He presented Wei Tingxia with a tray filled with cash, as if that tray held his own fervently beating heart.

Wei Tingxia lowered his eyes slightly, remaining silent. However, the faint tremble of his fingertips betrayed the stormy waves surging in his heart.

“Young man, you’re young and good-looking; you need plenty of money to embellish your life, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re not limited to just Yan Xinfeng as a choice,” Father Yan continued his calm persuasion, as if mapping out the safest path of retreat. “You should think more about yourself. Otherwise, once they’re married, what will become of you?”

Wei Tingxia’s head snapped up. “He’s getting married?!”

Father Yan’s expression did not change as he nodded. “Yes, it was decided long ago.”

Later, Wei Tingxia also saw a photo of that girl. She was beautiful, with light in her eyes, standing under the shade of trees on a private beach, bright-eyed and radiant.

Wei Tingxia said nothing. Hatred surged from his chest like fire, scorching him. He lifted his head and smiled obediently; no one knew what he was thinking then.

Five years later, sitting in the dressing room, Wei Tingxia smiled as he recalled, “Back then, I really wanted to drag you into the river with me… Luckily, I didn’t.”

Yan Xinfeng silently tightened his arms around him, hugging even closer, as scalding teardrops fell onto Wei Tingxia’s waist and back, bringing a sorrow heavier than the damp air.

“I’d rather you had dragged me into the river.”

“Really?” Wei Tingxia’s voice was very soft, like a feather brushing through heavy air. He turned his head slightly, his jaw nearly resting on Yan Xinfeng’s hair. “Yan Xinfeng, you’re so pitiful.”

“If you love me, then I’m not pitiful.” Yan Xinfeng said.

He still refused to look at Wei Tingxia, determined to hide this moment of vulnerability no matter what.

Wei Tingxia sighed.

“I love you,” he said softly, coaxing like one would a child. “Of course I love you. Otherwise, why would I marry you?”

In a corner of his heart that he would never squarely face, Wei Tingxia had to admit that his sudden departure back then carried some deliberate intent for revenge.

He sought revenge for Yan Xinfeng’s betrayal, revenge for Yan Xinfeng daring not to love him. He had been heartbroken, so Yan Xinfeng needed to hurt even more.

Wei Tingxia recalled that mood thoughtfully and added, “If I didn’t love you, you might have died long ago.”

As soon as he said it, he realized he shouldn’t have brought it up.

Fortunately, Yan Xinfeng did not mind.

Wei Tingxia had a true heart, hidden behind his sharp coldness. On this rainy night, Yan Xinfeng finally witnessed it with his own eyes, touched it with his own hands, and felt the raw, bloody throbbing of that heart. Nothing mattered more than this.

A long while later, Yan Xinfeng released his embrace and straightened up.

Wei Tingxia smiled as he examined Yan Xinfeng’s reddened eyes, realizing with a start that this was the first time he had seen Yan Xinfeng shed tears—unforgettable in his lifetime, worthy of being recorded in the history books.

Yan Xinfeng confirmed in a low voice, “You really… don’t mind all this?”

“What’s there to mind?” Wei Tingxia shrugged nonchalantly. “He lied to me. If he were still alive, I might have minded a lot; but since he’s dead, whatever.”

With that, he fixed his gaze on Yan Xinfeng’s expression and asked in return, “What about you?”

Yan Xinfeng tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know.”

Learning that his father was the culprit behind the tragedy of his marriage would not make anything better. Yan Xinfeng struggled to describe his current mood—a nameless stagnation clogged his chest.

“That’s normal,” Wei Tingxia nodded, emphasizing once more, “It’s not your fault.”

Then, he added clearly, “It’s not mine either.”

The dressing room lights were dim, the rain outside gradually easing, the sounds of wind and rain fading away.

Wei Tingxia leaned back against the wardrobe, his fingertips idly dipping into the little black box at his side, fiddling around. The silver ring clinked repeatedly against the box walls, producing crisp, tiny sounds.

He was pondering the possible impacts of tonight’s events on their future, completely unaware of the shift in Yan Xinfeng’s gaze.

“You’re still keeping it.”

Yan Xinfeng’s eyes followed from the phone tossed aside to the little black box; he had already identified the source of the sound.

Wei Tingxia came back to his senses.

“Ah, yeah.”

He lowered his eyes awkwardly, his gaze flitting about randomly before he finally lifted his head to look at Yan Xinfeng after a moment.

Yan Xinfeng’s gaze softened.

“I told the whole world to believe that you loved me. They all said I was crazy,” his voice was low, yet carried a certainty like dust settling. “But look, I was right.”

Wei Tingxia did love him—maybe a bit twisted, a bit sharp, but from beginning to end, their hearts had never been apart. Nothing in the world mattered more.

Yan Xinfeng felt the last stifled breath in his chest dissipate, his mind clearing. Only then did he belatedly realize they had stayed huddled in the dressing room too long and should leave.

So he stood up, shaking the water stains from his cuffs, planning to clean himself up first before anything else.

But just as he reached the door, he heard Wei Tingxia call out from behind.

Yan Xinfeng turned back and saw his newlywed husband still leaning against the wardrobe. In front of him, Wei Tingxia removed the ruby diamond ring, then took the silver ring in hand and examined it repeatedly.

“Yan Xinfeng.”

After looking for a while, Wei Tingxia raised his eyes, gazing clearly at Yan Xinfeng.

He tossed the silver ring up and caught it steadily, asking, “Do you want to propose to me?”

The silver ring had been bought as an engagement ring back then, when they were dirt poor and could only afford this one.

Witnessing this scene, Yan Xinfeng suddenly broke down.

They had never had a proper proposal. From lovers who weren’t quite lovers, enemies who weren’t quite enemies, they had leaped straight into marriage, missing too many sweet memories they should have had.

The secret he had kept hidden in his pocket from the start suddenly burned hot, like a string of electric currents striking his ribs.

Like a drowning man grasping for driftwood, Yan Xinfeng fumbled frantically up and down before finally pinching a small ring from his pocket. He staggered closer, knelt before Wei Tingxia, his fingers trembling violently almost beyond control, yet stubbornly held up that ring.

“I never had the heart to throw it away, even when you left,” he said softly in the darkness. “Throwing it away would be like throwing away you.”

The similarly old and tarnished silver ring gleamed faintly in Yan Xinfeng’s trembling palm. Silent for five years, waiting for five years, it finally received its belated mission in this dim, quiet dressing room.

“Later, I thought of melting it into a new ring, but I couldn’t bear to.” Yan Xinfeng halfheartedly stroked the ostentatious ring on Wei Tingxia’s finger, his voice shaking badly. “…It was never quite right.”

Before his words finished, tears finally burst forth. Yan Xinfeng held the silver ring before Wei Tingxia, his voice as light as the last breath from his chest, as faint as the final wisp squeezed from his lungs, yet as heavy as if it bore the full weight of his life’s meaning.

“Wei Tingxia,” he called his lover’s name, raising the ring with the last shred of hope as tears streaked his cheeks.

“Will you become my partner?”

Yan Xinfeng was a man holding a lamp amid ruins.