Chapter 79: I only want one Xu Lin

Teach him? How? And why should he?

Xu Lin looked down at Ji Jinxuan, who lay with his head on his lap, holding him tightly. The tear that had slipped from the corner of his eye was warm, sticking to Xu Lin’s skin, burning as if it would peel away a layer of flesh.

When would someone like Ji Jinxuan cry? In front of whom would he show such vulnerability?

Xu Lin had seen it more than once. Three years ago, Ji Jinxuan, his gland damaged, had been strapped to a hospital bed without his pheromones. When Xu Lin had given him his pheromones and left, Ji Jinxuan, half-conscious, had called out to him and begged him to stay.

Three years later, Ji Jinxuan was once again in that state. Time had not healed him. If anything, he seemed worse, closer to death.

Perhaps Xu Lin should just leave, like before. But—

The basement was dimly lit, soft golden light falling on half of Xu Lin’s body. The space was quiet, save for their faint breathing. Ji Jinxuan’s arms were wrapped around him, trapping him there.

Even delirious, Ji Jinxuan had so much strength. Xu Lin did not want to argue. He had no time to.

In this state, Ji Jinxuan needed to see a doctor.

“Let go. I’ll get someone.”

No suppressants. The collar stuck. The only option left was to fetch a doctor.

Ji Jinxuan refused to let go. Afraid that if he did, Xu Lin would leave and he would never see him again.

And this might truly be their last meeting. Xu Lin was leaving tomorrow, never to set foot in this place again. Even if he did, it would not be to see Ji Jinxuan. They would never meet again. So what was there to make up for?

He did not need Ji Jinxuan’s compensation.

“Even if you hate me,” Ji Jinxuan pressed his face closer to Xu Lin’s stomach, his voice muffled, “for years, a decade, twenty years, forever—it doesn’t matter. I want to be by your side.”

His fingers, gripping Xu Lin’s clothes, were white-knuckled. “Let me see you. Just being able to see you is enough…”

Xu Lin was speechless.

Ji Jinxuan’s body was cold as ice, but his breath burned. He held Xu Lin, muttering incoherently.

He had recreated Xu Lin’s room in District Thirteen here, in this tiny basement, with a door lock that only he could open. When he suffered, he would hold onto an old shirt that had long lost Xu Lin’s scent and endure it in silence, where no one would know.

If he got through it, all was well.

What if he did not?

Xu Lin looked down. Ji Jinxuan’s breathing was rapid and erratic. He lay among scattered pills, still unconsciously pleading with Xu Lin.

Xu Lin said, “I’m leaving tomorrow. I probably won’t come back.” He was telling Ji Jinxuan that he could not just endure it every time he felt unwell. He needed to see a doctor. Even with the reverse marking, there had to be a way.

This time, by luck, Xu Lin was there to help. What if he were not? What would happen to Ji Jinxuan?

He would not be there anymore.

But Ji Jinxuan spoke next.

“But you’re here now.” Sweat trickled into his eyes. He struggled to keep them open, his voice hoarse. “You came to me.”

He even smiled, a trace of hope in his voice. “Why?”

Xu Lin froze.

Why.

He knew what Ji Jinxuan was asking.

Why did he care? Why had he come at this hour? He had said he wanted to cut ties. Why do something so unnecessary?

Was it to say goodbye before leaving?

No. Their relationship did not warrant a goodbye.

Then why? Xu Lin did not know. He did not understand how, ten minutes ago, he had moved unconsciously. His body had overruled his mind, bringing him here.

He had said it was to ask about Zong Xi. But what was that to him? Was it something he needed to know?

He regretted it. He knew he was wrong to come. His visit had given Ji Jinxuan false hope.

But…

“If I hadn’t come today, what would you have done?” Xu Lin asked.

“I would have gone to District Thirteen tomorrow, the day after, the day after that.” Ji Jinxuan’s gaze was hazy, his words fragmented. “To where you are. To see you.”

“How long would you keep doing this?”

“Until,” Ji Jinxuan said, “the last day of my life.”

To the death. He would never give up.

Under the light, Xu Lin’s lashes cast a small fan-shaped shadow on his eyelids. “There may be someone better suited for you.”

Ji Jinxuan smiled bitterly and shook his head slightly.

“There’s no one else.”

“No matter how many people there are in this world, I only want one Xu Lin.”

Click.

The faint bedside lamp flickered and went out.

The room went pitch black.

Without sight, his hearing grew sharper.

Ji Jinxuan kept talking. “Xu Lin is such a good, good person… I truly, truly love Xu Lin.”

Xu Lin’s ears rang.

“This time, I’m not lying. I’m not lying to you. It’s true.”

Ji Jinxuan had become like a flower abandoned in a corner, left to fend for itself, trying desperately to draw nourishment from the soil beneath. But what it got was never enough to survive.

Xu Lin was the parched earth. Ji Jinxuan was the withering flower. Together, they could never thrive. They would only be entangled until death.

Xu Lin was not a gardener. Ji Jinxuan was not his flower.

“Let go.”

Ji Jinxuan’s consciousness was fading. Fearing he might really be in danger, Xu Lin tried to pry his arms from his waist. He struggled, but Ji Jinxuan clung like a leech.

Helpless, Xu Lin turned his attention back to the collar. He fumbled with it until his neck was red and sore. Finally, with a soft click, it accepted his fingerprint and opened.

The collar fell to the floor.

He patted Ji Jinxuan. No response. He touched his eyes. They were closed. Startled, he checked his breathing—a faint, feathery breath brushed against his fingers.

Xu Lin breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he had only passed out.

He released his pheromones and tried to lift Ji Jinxuan off the floor. But he was too heavy, and his grip was too tight. In this position, Xu Lin could not get any leverage. He gave up.

After a long time, Ji Jinxuan let out a soft groan. He seemed to have woken, but not fully. He still clung to Xu Lin’s waist. Slowly, like a snake climbing a vine, he pulled himself up until they were chest to chest. His breath fell on Xu Lin’s neck. Then he stopped.

His head rested on Xu Lin’s shoulder. He held him in a posture of desperate dependence and tenderness.

Xu Lin stiffened. He pushed at Ji Jinxuan, but the man only tightened his arms in protest.

Now even closer, Xu Lin tilted his head back and let out a long breath.

He gave up. Leaning against the foot of the bed, he let Ji Jinxuan hold him.

As time passed, Ji Jinxuan’s breathing steadied. Xu Lin touched his forehead. No more sweat. His temperature had returned to normal. He was probably fine.

In the dark, Xu Lin could not see anything. He kept his eyes open, waiting.

His hand brushed against something on the floor. A pill. One of the scattered tablets. He slipped it into his pocket.

In the windowless basement, he could not tell the time. He did not know when dawn would come. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

He woke to a faint pressure on his chest. Something small was pressing against his collarbone. Not painful, but hard to ignore. He touched it. It was something under Ji Jinxuan’s clothes. Not a button.

Something on his neck. A small, round object. He felt for it, pushing aside Ji Jinxuan’s collar. He found a thin chain.

He was wearing a necklace?

He pulled it out. The small round object swung beneath his fingers. Light, small. He brought it closer. In the dark, his eyes adjusted enough to make out a faint shape.

Round. A ring.

He touched Ji Jinxuan’s right hand. No glove. He felt the raised scar on his hand, then the cold ring on his ring finger.

He was already wearing a ring. So whose was this one on his neck?

There was only one possibility. Xu Lin could tell immediately. This one was slightly smaller than the ring on Ji Jinxuan’s finger. The wild goose feather design.

They were a matching pair. The one around Ji Jinxuan’s neck was the one meant for Xu Lin. He had been wearing it close to his heart all this time.

For as long as Xu Lin had been gone. That was how long Ji Jinxuan had worn it.