Chapter 11

Jiang Heng didn’t know when he had fallen asleep.

In his dream, the tip of his nose was filled with the scent of jasmine.

That wasn’t actually the fragrance Lu Yichuan usually wore; he preferred perfumes with bitter and astringent notes. Jasmine was simply his favorite.

When he was a child, Lu Yichuan had given him a pot of jasmine flowers. But Jiang Heng wasn’t skilled at tending plants. After two years, instead of blooming, the leaves only grew more withered. Fearing that the jasmine would silently perish under his care, he could only clutch the pot and seek out Lu Yichuan.

At that time, Lu Yichuan was a high school sophomore, tall and slender as he was beginning to grow into his frame. His loose loungewear only emphasized his lean physique.

Jiang Heng was just a chubby middle schooler then, constantly being fed by Lu Yichuan in various ways, growing round and plump. Holding the flowerpot, he waddled in like a clumsy penguin.

Lu Yichuan took the pot from his arms, placed a hand on his waist, and effortlessly lifted him into his embrace.

The large and small bodies naturally nestled together—no one would think their closeness strange. Over the years, this was how they always hugged.

Jiang Heng leaned back, feeling the hard chest against his own, which was uncomfortable due to the lack of flesh. He shifted, then pointed at the pot to complain.

“Look at the flower you gave me. It just won’t bloom, and you lied that it was jasmine.”

The afternoon sun was strong. The boy’s laugh was lazy and pleasant. “You’re the one killing the flower, and now you blame it for not blooming?”

Jiang Heng pouted. “It’s too delicate. I water it every day, but it still ended up like this. What can I do?”

Lu Yichuan wrapped his arm around his waist, resting his head on Jiang Heng’s shoulder. He reached out to touch the wilted leaves, his warm breath tickling the ear.

“Your ‘delicate’ means not watering it for ten days, then soaking the entire pot at once, right?”

Jiang Heng was speechless.

Lu Yichuan continued, “Now it’s on the brink of death, and you want me to come clean up the mess?”

Jiang Heng kicked his calf with a serious face. “Can you blame me? If you hadn’t given me this flower, I wouldn’t have to take care of it.”

The boy grabbed his calf in punishment, squeezing it. “Jiang Xiaoheng, I see you’re pretty good at shifting blame. Who was it that saw this pot at the flower market and wouldn’t leave without it? Dragged me along to buy it, saying it was an early birthday gift. Now it sounds like I begged to give it to you.”

Jiang Heng puffed his cheeks. “Lu Yichuan, you’re so annoying.”

A faint vibration came from the chest behind him, followed by laughter, rising from low to high. Jiang Heng couldn’t help but poke him.

Lu Yichuan caught his hand, his long fingers curling around the soft palm, his tone both helpless and indulgent. “I think this dying jasmine can still be saved. Let’s ask Rongrong to give it a new home. Come back in a few months and see if it blooms.”

Jiang Heng caught the teasing beneath his words and puffed his cheeks again. “Lu Yichuan, you really are annoying!”

“Should I apologize then?”

“Is this your way of apologizing?”

Lu Yichuan’s arms circled his waist, spinning him around so they faced each other. Jiang Heng’s back pressed against the table, with the boy’s enlarged face before him. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his dark eyes, sparkling with a smile.

“What kind of attitude would you call sincere? Kneeling and begging Lord Rongrong for forgiveness? Or maybe pampering Lord Rongrong first? How about making something delicious?”

Jiang Heng tilted his head, thinking.

“Then I want sweet and sour pork ribs.”

Dinner was settled just like that. With nothing better to do, Jiang Heng lay in Lu Yichuan’s arms watching him do homework. After a while, he tilted his head to sniff the boy’s neck.

“What’s that smell on you?”

Lu Yichuan paused his pen, pushing his fuzzy head away. “I went with my dad to an event this morning. This should be the scent of his cologne.”

“What kind of scent is that? I’ve never smelled it before.”

To keep him entertained, Lu Yichuan tore off a piece of biscuit and popped it in his mouth, answering carelessly, “Bitter orange.”

Lu Yichuan rarely changed his favored items; this scent stuck to his collar and accompanied Jiang Heng for years.

Unexpectedly, after years apart, the first fragrance to fill his nostrils now was sweet, cloying jasmine.

…

When Jiang Heng woke, he was still somewhat dazed. The jasmine scent faded, replaced faintly by the smell of disinfectant.

Above him hung a glaring incandescent light. Voices came in broken fragments.

He turned his head and saw Lu Yichuan standing in the light.

The man wore a black windbreaker, his skin pale and cool. His eyes lowered as he held a pen to sign a document. He handed the paper to a doctor in a white coat ahead, saying with no emotion, “Thank you for your trouble.”

The doctor took the paper, glanced at Jiang Heng, and hesitated. “Its condition isn’t very good. We can’t guarantee we can cure it...”

“That’s okay,” Lu Yichuan said softly. “Just do your best.”

“But the cost—”

“Don’t worry about the cost. Contact me if you need money.”

Seeing this, the doctor stopped pressing the matter. He accepted the form and assured, “Our hospital is the best pet clinic in City A. Rest assured, we will do everything we can to save it.”

Lu Yichuan’s face showed little expression. He zipped his jacket up to cover half his chin, preparing to leave.

As he turned, he paused, glancing toward a nearby cage, locking eyes with Jiang Heng.

They shared the same wide, round eyes. Even in dreams, Jiang Heng considered such a stare a luxury—yet here it was, seen in a cat.

To say they looked alike—how could cat and human eyes truly resemble each other? Yet whenever Lu Yichuan met those eyes, he was struck by a fleeting illusion.

Rongrong...

His Rongrong.

His heart trembled violently. He turned his head and coughed once. Afterward, he reached inside his chest through his clothes, his trembling fingertips touching a hard outline hidden there.

The sky, which had been sunny moments ago, darkened without warning. The temperature dropped sharply, and so did his own body heat. The object pressing against his chest radiated a cold chill.

No matter what, he couldn’t warm it.

A metallic, sweet tang surged up his throat. Lu Yichuan released his hand, never looking back at the cat in the cage. Grabbing his car keys, he left the pet hospital.

Jiang Heng was stunned. He turned over and hurriedly called out, staring at Lu Yichuan’s retreating figure.

“Meow!”

Lu Yichuan!

The man’s footsteps faltered slightly. He tilted his head imperceptibly but ultimately didn’t look back, disappearing from Jiang Heng’s sight without turning.

“...”

Jiang Heng opened his mouth, confused why Lu Yichuan left him behind.

The doctor comforted him, “Don’t be afraid. He hasn’t abandoned you. You’re sick and need hospitalization. After you recover, you’ll be back with him.”

The doctor opened the cage and, wearing gloves, tentatively touched the small cat. “Don’t be scared. I’ll take you for a bath first, okay? After the bath, we’ll treat your illness properly. Once you’re well, you can meet your owner.”

The kitten shrank and lowered its gaze, unresponsive to the doctor's words, but it didn’t resist when lifted.

The doctor sighed with relief and carried the cat to the bathing area.

An assistant had already prepared the water. Seeing the cat in the doctor’s arms, she frowned with pity. “I thought it was pitiful at first glance, but now looking closely, it’s even worse. Damn it, how could anyone treat such a tiny cat like this?”

The doctor, gloved, ran his hands through the cat’s matted fur. “No wonder it’s so dirty. I see glue stuck in the fur—sticky and hard to wash off.”

The assistant asked, “What should we do?”

“Try washing first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll have to shave its fur.”

The doctor placed the limp cat into the bathing basin. Whether from illness or something else, the kitten was incredibly docile, not trying to escape even when submerged in the water.

As the assistant poured water over it, the fur shrank, revealing the cat’s skeletal frame. The bones on its spine protruded sharply. A ladle of water poured over its head turned the basin water black instantly.

Jiang Heng pressed his ears, feeling a bit embarrassed.

The assistant chuckled, “I thought it was a black cat, but now it seems not.”

She raised the ladle to pour another scoop, then paused suddenly, reaching to brush Jiang Heng’s back. “Boss, there’s a wound on its back.”

The doctor leaned in to inspect and indeed found a five to six centimeter-long cut hidden beneath the fur, showing signs of inflammation in the warming weather.

The assistant dared not continue washing. She lifted the cat out and, ignoring the dirt, carefully dried it with a towel.

“I don’t get how that man, looking all proper, could let the cat end up like this.”

The doctor said, “This is clearly a stray cat. The man was kind to rescue it. It’s lucky—infected with feline infectious peritonitis. Most wouldn’t save it, not strangers or even owners.”

The assistant fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Can it survive?”

The doctor sighed, “I don’t know. We can only do our best and leave the rest to fate.”

It seemed the bath was futile. The doctor retrieved tools, preparing to shave the cat’s fur, which was so dirty its color was indiscernible.

But before shaving, they had to notify Lu Yichuan, who had brought the cat.

The doctor put the call on speakerphone. The phone rang a long time before someone answered.

Lu Yichuan’s slightly cold voice came through, making Jiang Heng scramble to sit up.

Seeing his eagerness, the doctor handed the phone over. Jiang Heng leaned his head close and called softly.

“Meow...”

Lu Yichuan.

The man hesitated, his tone colder than Jiang Heng had ever heard.

“Is there something wrong?”

The doctor hurriedly explained, “Mr. Lu, the cat you brought has a wound on its back that’s inflamed. It’s not suitable for a bath. Would you like us to shave the fur off?”

“Oh...” Lu Yichuan replied indifferently. “Then shave it.”

Jiang Heng leaned closer to the phone again.

“Meowow...”

Lu Yichuan...

Beep—

The call ended abruptly.

Jiang Heng’s unspoken plea was left hanging in the air.