Lin Qingyan stood behind a broad marble pillar, watching as the two figures ahead strolled side by side, their silhouettes unexpectedly well-matched against the hotel's elegant backdrop. The phone to his ear carried a familiar voice, warm and magnetic as always: "Yan Yan?"
Wen Yan lived up to his name—gentle, courteous, and seemingly intuitive. Once, Lin had believed that tenderness was his alone, but reality had dealt blow after blow, shattering every hope until only disillusion remained. Hadn't he said he was on a business trip? What "coincidence" brought him here with An Nanyi?
Clinging to a sliver of denial, Lin forced a smile, his voice deceptively light: "Ge, what are you up to?" His clenched fist at his side betrayed the turmoil beneath.
"I'm entertaining a client." Wen Yan darted a sideways glance at An Nanyi, who smirked back with playful scrutiny. He cleared his throat, feigning a cough, though his tone turned solicitous: "I heard about what happened. How are you holding up?"
Lies. All lies. Had Lin not witnessed this scene with his own eyes, he might have fallen for it again—his eternal flaw, this in matters of the heart, had made him an easy mark for Wen Yan's indiscriminate kindness for three long years.
"Not well. I'm really not well." Lin's face paled, the corners of his eyes tinged with a delicate pink, his clear gaze misting over. "Ge, I miss you so much." He'd traveled thousands of miles, only to be greeted by this.
Wen Yan hesitated, his expression softening unexpectedly. "I miss you too, Yan Yan. I'll come back as soon as work is done…"
In that moment, An Nanyi stumbled, letting out a small cry as he pretended to lose balance. Wen Yan caught him deftly by the waist, steadying the other man in his arms. "Yan Yan, I have to go—work's calling." He hung up without a pause, turning to his companion with evident concern: "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"
"Just a twisted ankle." An Nanyi frowned prettily, biting his lower lip in a show of vulnerability. "How clumsy of me to trip on flat ground."
"Don't blame yourself. Let me take you to the hospital."
Watching their intertwined figures, Lin lowered his phone and fled, as if escaping a nightmare. By the time he reached his room, tears streamed down his pale face, blurring his vision.
He'd been emotionally all his life, yet Wen Yan had been his sole exception. He'd offered his heart unguarded, believing sincerity would be met in kind. Now he understood too late: some hearts were stone, impervious to even the warmest devotion.
In the silent room, the slender youth curled into a tight ball in the corner, face buried in his knees. He muffled his sobs, biting his lip until it bled—a wound he'd never feel, thanks to the curse of his congenital insensitivity to pain.