Thank you, but we broke up

Wen Zhiyan greedily breathed in Jiang Lan's scent.

He kissed the side of Jiang Lan's neck and told him:

"No, Lan-ge. It had nothing to do with you."

Nothing to do with you.

Those words seemed to absolve Jiang Lan of responsibility, yet they did not make him feel the slightest bit better.

His fingers pressed against Wen Zhiyan's long-healed scar, trembling uncontrollably.

Jiang Lan knew Wen Zhiyan was stubborn. Forcing him would not pry his mouth open.

He let weakness enter his voice, making a plea Wen Zhiyan could not refuse.

"Tell me, Wen Zhiyan. Please."

Wen Zhiyan considered it for a moment, then said softly:

"It was just a little underhanded tactic I used to protect myself."

But in the end, he still gave no real explanation, only saying, "Don't ask, Lan-ge. It wasn't anything important. It's all in the past."

Just as Jiang Lan was about to press him further, Wen Zhiyan suddenly changed the subject. He released Jiang Lan, put some distance between them, and asked:

"What about you? What happened with the car accident?"

All the words Jiang Lan had been ready to say were swallowed back down.

He looked at Wen Zhiyan's newly serious face and frowned.

"Didn't I already tell you? I just broke a rib. It was an accident. Anyone can have an accident. That's perfectly normal."

Wen Zhiyan did not believe a single word Jiang Lan said.

He looked into Jiang Lan's eyes. "Was it right after we separated?"

Jiang Lan could not face being questioned by Wen Zhiyan like this.

He turned his head, took two steps toward the window, and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips.

But when he felt the lighter in his other pocket, he gave up on smoking and took the cigarette from his lips.

"Smoke if you want to," Wen Zhiyan said.

Jiang Lan kept his head turned, avoiding Wen Zhiyan's gaze as he said irritably:

"I didn't bring a lighter."

Looking at Jiang Lan's profile, Wen Zhiyan took out a silver flint-wheel lighter, lit it, and held it up in front of him.

The tiny flame illuminated Wen Zhiyan's long, clean fingers.

Jiang Lan did not want to look into Wen Zhiyan's eyes. He merely put the cigarette back between his lips and lowered his head to light it from Wen Zhiyan's flame.

He took a deep drag and answered Wen Zhiyan's earlier question:

"Three months after you left."

Wen Zhiyan fell silent. When he had first returned to the Wen Family, Old Mr. Wen had just been hospitalized for a minor ailment, but Wen Zhiyan's two brothers seemed to have sniffed out an opportunity and begun stirring.

Those first six months after Wen Zhiyan returned to the Wen Family had been a time when danger surrounded him and he was powerless to act.

Wen Zhiyan had been too overwhelmed with his own problems then to know about Jiang Lan's car accident, much less whether it had truly been an accident or someone had deliberately caused it.

He said nothing, and Jiang Lan remained silent too. The entire room became utterly quiet.

Only the scents of rusty roses and tobacco continued clamoring in the air, reminding Jiang Lan that, not long ago, he had nearly lost control here.

Jiang Lan could not tell what Wen Zhiyan was thinking. He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray on the table, raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, then turned and said to Wen Zhiyan:

"I'm heading back."

Only then did Wen Zhiyan seem to come back to himself. He caught the hem of Jiang Lan's shirt.

"You're going back so soon?"

Jiang Lan did not accept Wen Zhiyan's subtle invitation to stay. He looked back at him. "Are you in a hurry?"

Wen Zhiyan froze, first shaking his head, then chuckling softly as he released Jiang Lan's shirt.

"I'm not in a hurry."

Wen Zhiyan was not in a hurry. He could spend the entire rest of his life waiting Jiang Lan out.

Jiang Lan nodded, said, "Good," and left Wen Zhiyan's room.

He returned to his own bedroom, lay on the bed, and stared blankly at the ceiling for a while. Then he sat up again, took an old lighter from his pocket, and lit the incense box on the bedside table.

Only when the familiar scent of ebony slowly wafted out and surrounded him did Jiang Lan finally let out a long breath.

He lay back down and took his phone from the bag of new underwear beneath his pillow, first scrolling through the useful and useless messages from the past two days.

Only then, as though suddenly remembering something, did he log into his alternate account on a social media platform.

As expected, he had received a string of private messages from an account called [Waves].

[How are things?]

[Have you been discharged? What did the doctor say?]

[Make sure you rest and eat properly these next few days. Don't wear yourself out. Get in touch when you have time.]

Ever since Jiang Lan had messaged Waves a few days ago to say that his rut had arrived and he would probably need to be hospitalized, Waves had sent him a message after midnight every day, right up to today.

Jiang Lan replied:

[Thanks. I was discharged yesterday morning and didn't get around to replying. Sorry.]

The other person seemed to have been waiting for Jiang Lan's message. Almost the instant Jiang Lan sent it, a reply arrived:

[Still awake?]

There was, in a way, a bit of fate behind Jiang Lan's connection with Waves.

His main social media account had always been in his company's hands, managed by his agent, Ji Wanxing.

It usually only posted work promotions and various publicity-related content.

He had a private account of his own, unverified, which he had been using since college.

He used it to casually browse the news when he had nothing to do, and when he was in a good mood, he would leave a few comments and join in with other internet users.

He had first noticed Waves because, seven years ago, Waves had posted some reflections on a romantic relationship between two alphas.

At the time, Jiang Lan had still been with Wen Zhiyan and had deeply related to it. He had liked the post and sent a private message:

[Hope you two last forever.]

Back then, Waves had not replied to Jiang Lan's message.

Instead, two years later, he had suddenly come back from the dead to reply:

[Thank you, but we broke up.]

By then, Jiang Lan and Wen Zhiyan had broken up too.

So, after much hesitation, he had replied:

[Me too.]

After that, it had taken the other person another long while to reply to Jiang Lan.

He had said:

[Are you okay?]

Jiang Lan was not used to showing his vulnerable side to strangers. Though he felt he was doing very badly, when he saw Waves's message, he still replied in a joking tone:

[How should I put it? Still alive.]

Unexpectedly, the other person replied:

[Not so good. I think I'm about to die.]

That night, Jiang Lan felt he saw himself in the other person.

From an outsider's perspective, he spent a long time trying to talk Waves around-so long that, by the end, Jiang Lan could no longer tell whether he was comforting Waves or himself.

From then on, the two began talking more frequently.

Jiang Lan seemed to treat Waves as someone he could confide in, often telling him about his recent life without prompting.

But they were only strangers on the internet, after all, so Jiang Lan still took care not to reveal anything about his work or anything too private.

Now, looking at the message Waves had sent, he could not help wanting to tell him about Wen Zhiyan.

After all, aside from Jiang Lan and Wen Zhiyan themselves, Waves was probably the only person in the world who knew about their past.

He replied:

[I saw him.]