Chapter 92

Chapter 92

The moon had just reached its peak in the sky, and this was the liveliest time of night. It wasn't quite shoulder-to-shoulder, but close enough. Boats drifted along the river, people released floating lanterns along the riverbank, and couples—same-sex male pairs and young husbands and wives—lined the bridge. The vibe was in full swing.

Zhou Qingshan and his wife walked with Nannan, a family of three, and so

Zhou Qingzhu linked his arm through Chen Jue's, and the two of them looked just like a couple.

That left him trailing behind like nothing more than a nanny holding the baby.

Huo Jilin glanced at Zhou Qingzhu, but Zhou Qingzhu was completely oblivious.

Huo Jilin then tried to catch Zhou Qingshan's eye, urging him to take this third wheel away, but Zhou Qingshan didn't catch on and thought his eye was twitching.

Huo Jilin was speechless. This brother and sister were two extremes—one incredibly sharp, the other too honest for his own good.

Neither of them could balance the other out.

Huo Jilin never considered his own role in it: he usually kept a blank expression, and if he had a problem, he wouldn't say it directly, so Zhou Qingshan naturally wouldn't guess he wanted to be alone with Chen Jue.

Only Zhou Shun, who had been trailing Huo Jilin around the markets lately, understood. To make a living, Zhou Shun had learned to read people since he was a child, and now dealing with various bosses alongside Huo Jilin, he'd gotten even sharper at it.

He smiled and said to Zhou Qingshan, "Brother Qingshan, let's go pay our respects to the God of Wealth at the temple up ahead. I hear this one really works."

Zhou Qingzhu would surely be interested in paying respects to the God of Wealth—this guy was a total miser, hadn't been willing to buy a single lantern the whole way, let alone on a regular day. He worked his abacus more shrewdly than anyone.

He was Chen Jue's rock-solid support at home.

Zhou Shun handled the transport, delivery, and ordering of herbs and prepared medicines, dealing with Zhou Qingzhu at every stage of the process—especially when it came to pricing.

So over the past few months, he'd gotten to know Zhou Qingzhu quite well.

Though Zhou Qingzhu was a male omega, his intelligence rivaled any man's, and Zhou Shun rather admired him for it. Though a bit stingy.

Sure enough, when Zhou Qingzhu heard him mention paying respects to the God of Wealth, he immediately tugged Chen Jue along and said, "Brother Chen, let's go! We've got to go pay respects to the God of Wealth—let the old deity bless our pharmacy with a thriving new year and even more silver."

Chen Jue took a step to follow him when Huo Jilin pulled him back. Huo Jilin cleared his throat and said to the group, "You all go ahead and worship. I just spotted my father-in-law and his family—I'll go with Chen Jue to see them."

As soon as Zhou Qingzhu heard it was about meeting the father-in-law, he didn't tag along and just told Chen Jue, "Then I'll kowtow a few extra times for you too, Brother Chen!"

Chen Jue only nodded. He didn't put much stock in such things—if worshipping the God of Wealth actually worked, with all the modern people worshipping him, the deity would be run off his feet.

Only then did Chen Jue look at Huo Jilin. "Did you actually see my father?"

The odds of Chen's father coming out to see the lanterns were very low; the odds were higher of running into his older brother and sister-in-law.

Huo Jilin, seeing he'd been seen through, stopped hiding it. "No."

Chen Jue gave him a look. "Why did you deliberately send Qingzhu away?"

Huo Jilin looked back at him. "On this day, I wanted to walk alone with you—the three of us, as a family. Is that alright?"

He said it so solemnly that Chen Jue was momentarily at a loss for words. He'd thought Huo Jilin had something important to say.

Chen Jue didn't know how to look at those deep, profound eyes. The night was too deep, the lanterns too bright, and the multicolored lights reflected in them like a deep and enduring scene.

Chen Jue looked away from his gaze, turning to Huo Yu cradled in his arms. Huo Yu's hands were tucked inside his clothes now, so he couldn't chew on them; he was just moving his eyes around, looking at the various lanterns hanging along the road and above, unable to look away, looking remarkably well-behaved, not fussing at all.

After a moment, Chen Jue nodded. "Alright, let's go."

Huo Jilin shifted Huo Yu up in his arms and said, "The streets are crowded. Hold onto my arm so you don't get pushed away by the crowd."

He angled his elbow outward, signaling for Chen Jue to take his arm.

Everyone on the street was either in pairs or with family—some holding hands, some linking arms. Huo Jilin wanted Chen Jue to hold his arm too.

Chen Jue cleared his throat, reached up to adjust the cloak on Huo Yu, who was lying on his shoulder, and said, "Let's go. I won't get lost."

He grabbed a corner of the child's cloak, which counted as staying close to Huo Jilin. Huo Jilin didn't say anything more—change would come little by little; no need to rush.

The two of them admired the lanterns for over an hour, crossed the largest and longest bridge in Dongling County, released floating lanterns, and took a boat ride around, seeing the most lanterns they'd ever seen. Huo Yu kept his eyes wide open the whole time, not even blinking.

So on the way back, he fell asleep in the swaying carriage. He didn't even wake when they laid him on the kang—he slept, snoring softly, and going by past experience, he'd sleep straight through till morning without stirring.

Chen Jue washed up, made up the kang, and was about to turn in, but Huo Jilin asked him to wait a moment.

Chen Jue picked up a book and leaned against the small kang table to read. The candle wick was trimmed for maximum brightness, red wax drips running down.

As he was reading, a small red square box was pushed across the table toward him.

"Open it and see?"

Huo Jilin said to him.

The little box was exquisite, carved with patterns and finished in red lacquer—like the packaging they'd seen at Wanfu Gold House when they bought the silver bangles last time.

Chen Jue felt his hands grow hot. Huo Jilin was still watching him with an intense, burning gaze. He had remarkably keen eyes, perhaps from his training in the military in his past life—like an X-ray, piercing through flesh to see straight into your soul.

Chen Jue didn't want him to think he was nervous. He opened the box.

Inside were a pair of rings. Chen Jue's hand holding the box froze, wondering if it was too late to close it.

Huo Jilin smiled at him.

These were rings he'd been preparing for a long time.

People in this ancient era wore rings too, but rings didn't carry the marriage meaning they'd have in later times—they were purely decorative.

But Chen Jue and he were from a later era, and they knew what rings meant.

The rings had gemstones, similar to what wealthy families wore as ornaments in this era, so no one would misunderstand.

But what made these rings special was the engraved pattern on the inner gold—two English initials, which the craftsman took for decorative patterns.

Huo Jilin smiled at Chen Jue and said, "I had these rings made months ago and have been waiting for the right moment to give them to you."

When he'd become more impressive in Chen Jue's eyes. But now he wouldn't wait any longer.

A love confession should come sooner.

"Chen Jue, I like you. I want to be your partner for a lifetime."

Chen Jue watched the green gemstone glow softly in the light. It's beautiful, he thought.

No one disliked emeralds.

His mind hadn't yet processed Huo Jilin's words; he only asked in a light, airy voice, "Why?"

After saying this, Chen Jue also felt that he had asked a pointless question.

Sure enough, Huo Jilin looked at him, his gaze piercing.

Why?

Huo Jilin looked at Chen Jue, knowing that Chen Jue would ask this.

Because even he hadn't known until after he died.

In the past, he prioritized work above all else, a natural workaholic. He died at thirty, and in the moment of death, he realized that compared to those heavy workloads, one person mattered more—her death had hit him hard.

He was an extremely demanding person, harsh on himself, harsh on others, harsh on work, and naturally harsh on emotions.

What he wanted from love was something pure, unadulterated, even though he himself was gay.

Or maybe because he knew he was gay, he'd already cut off every possibility.

So in the initial confrontations with Chen Jue, he didn't realize it was affection.

His obsessive focus on Chen Jue was already a red flag.

But at that time, he didn't realize his feelings had already gone off course.

Standing in front of Chen Jue's body, he couldn't process it. He thought Chen Jue would be his work partner for life.

After all, they shared the same professional nature, even if sometimes they were on opposing sides.

He never imagined that one day Chen Jue would leave in such a way.

Not the end of their working relationship, but the end of his life—he'd never see him again.

This left him unable to cope for a long time after Chen Jue died.

Whenever he went to Zhonghai Hospital, he'd instinctively glance over to the other side, and when he saw that empty seat, his chest felt like a piece had been ripped out—hollow, with wind blowing through like a draft in a hallway.

He didn't know when he'd ever get used to it, and he died before he could.

In his last moments, as the sharp pain of air being torn from his chest shot through him, one thought crossed his mind: finally, it's over.

He'd never have to suffer that delayed ache in his heart after the anesthesia wore off again.

It was a pain he couldn't describe, one that left him gasping for air.

It had been delayed so long, dulled so long, that when it finally erupted, he had no defense.

Chen Jue had left a permanent mark on his heart.

Fate had tied them together, so it gave him a second chance.

Not just a new life, but a new chance.

He was reborn, and Chen Jue turned out to be his husband—fate had willed it.

But at first, he hadn't seen it as love, until he slowly sank deeper and realized he was head over heels for Chen Jue.

Love arises without cause, and once it starts, it runs deep.

He'd figured it out.

Chen Jue hadn't.

He couldn't blame him.

The vow he'd made when he first arrived—"I could never like Chen Jue"—had already come back to slap him in the face.

Chen Jue couldn't believe he'd fallen for him so fast.

Actually, it wasn't that fast. They'd known each other for a long time—a lifetime, in his case.

Dying once counted as a lifetime.

"Why can't I like you?" Huo Jilin asked, his voice soft but somehow weighty, because he sat cross-legged on the heated brick bed, back straight, expression calm. This was a formal confession, not the playful teasing he'd done before.

Chen Jue could tell—Huo Jilin was so serious that he instinctively sat up straighter, feeling oddly constrained.

He realized Huo Jilin meant business this time.

This man had casually said things like that before, calling him "my husband" in front of others, introducing himself as "I'm his spouse."

In the middle of the night, he'd sometimes swap places with the kid and come sleep on his side, and in the morning, he'd solemnly claim he was cold.

Even with thick quilts, he'd still crawl into the same blanket.

Even though he'd never made a move, Chen Jue had gotten used to it, no longer shoving him away like he did at first.

Chen Jue thought, that was the slow-boil frog approach.

Today, he figured the water was warm enough, and this frog was ready to be cooked.

Chen Jue was thirty mentally, definitely not a kid. He knew exactly what his sexual orientation was.

As for Huo Jilin's intentions toward him... he should've been clear on that too, but he'd always joked his way out of it.

It wasn't that he didn't like Huo Jilin—it was that he... wanted to just coast along.

That sounded kind of shitty.

But that was how he really felt.

"Chen Jue, do you like me?" This question was just as formal, asked with such sincerity that Chen Jue couldn't say no.

If he didn't like Huo Jilin, he wouldn't have let him play house like this. He was a doctor, not a saint, and he wouldn't let Huo Jilin crawl into his bed at night just because he was sick.

When had he started falling for him?

Just a year ago, he'd wanted to strangle him, to be sworn enemies.

People really are fickle creatures. Huo Jilin had given him a warm haven, handling all his daily needs, so he didn't have to worry about a thing and could focus on his work. And so he sank into that haven, becoming the frog in the slowly heating pot.

Chen Jue took a hard look at himself and found he couldn't find a single flaw in Huo Jilin.

He was gay, and putting aside past grievances, objectively speaking, Huo Jilin was an exceptional person.

Good-looking, smart, thoughtful, decisive, and able to cook—being able to roll up his sleeves and cook was a huge plus. Even if he also wanted to eat well himself, the fact that he could cook showed he was flexible and big-hearted.

Besides, Chen Jue knew Huo Jilin cooked for him, making dishes he loved. Even though fish was pricey and a pain to make, he'd still cook it because Chen Jue loved it.

And his harsh, controlling side, when applied to legitimate undertakings, is reasonable.

It's only right to demand the best, especially in the pharmaceutical industry where strictness is essential.

All in all, his charisma is just as impressive as his looks.

If Chen Jue were to speak fairly, Huo Jilin is a rare and invaluable partner.

He had been colleagues with him for five years in his past life, and now they have been living together for seven full months.

To say anything negative about him now would be a total cop-out.

But Chen Jue couldn't bring himself to say anything good about him either; he felt the pressure—the pressure of having to be together for the long haul.