Chapter 99 "The House-Viewing Man" "You're my pampered child..."
Jian Dieda sat stiffly on the bench, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest. He knew that Zhong Jiyao had said it on purpose for him to hear. The answers to those late-night companionships, the protection in times of crisis, the look in his eyes when he sang, and the gentleness when he handed him water—all of it had become clear.
But he was afraid—afraid of the system, afraid that this relationship was illogical, afraid that he was a soul from another time who couldn't give the other person a future, afraid that in the end, it would all be for nothing.
These were issues he would never have cared about before. He was a cold-blooded genius who would never see anyone's emotions, not even Zhong Yu, who would never receive a response from him.
But now the sound of his heartbeat tells him...
A man in the past used his own life to fire the final shot at Jane Dieda.
The bullet really did spin.
Jane was in pain.
He couldn't understand the love, hate, pity, heartache, and resentment that were all written on his face. He could no longer accept separation; this time, he wanted a result based on genuine feelings.
After an unknown amount of time, the door to the confessional opened.
A flock of white pigeons flew by just outside the door.
Zhong Jiyao came out with a blank expression on his face, but his eyes held a hint of relief and freedom. When he saw Jian Dieda, he carefully observed his expression and probably noticed something was wrong: "What's wrong? Why is your face so pale?"
Jian Dieda seemed a little dazed. He shook his head, stood up, and avoided his gaze: "It's nothing, I guess I've been sitting for too long."
That's actually a lie.
If they had enough time, they could sit here, idly chatting over a cup of coffee or a cup of milk tea, and never get tired of it.
He dared not look into Zhong Jiyao's eyes, afraid that the emotions in his eyes would be revealed, afraid that if he broke through this barrier, he would lose even the companionship he had now.
The system cannot allow everything to happen.
The program is going to be deleted again.
No.
The two then walked out of the church side by side. The setting sun had already dipped below the horizon, turning the sky orange-red. A gentle evening breeze carried the scents of sandalwood from the church and the aromas of street food stalls.
“Just now…” Zhong Jiyao spoke first, his tone tentative, tinged with a certain expectation, “Did you hear something?”
Jian Dieda paused, hesitated for a few seconds, nodded slightly, and quickly added, "I only heard a few sentences, but you seem to be under a lot of pressure facing the truth of the case."
A few seconds of silence hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension and unease. Zhong Jiyao stopped, turned to look at him, his eyes earnest yet tinged with caution: "So... do you have any ideas about rescuing someone like me who's lost—"
Before he could finish speaking, Jian Dieda interrupted him: "It's getting late, let's go back."
Zhong Jiyao suddenly grabbed Jian Dieda's arm. The selfish and self-serving devilish exterior of the man in the suit was completely enveloped in an angelic glow.
Zhong Jiyao didn't ask any questions, his hand still clenched tightly. Jian Dieda's heart had stopped pounding in his head, and he instinctively tried to break free, but was pulled into Zhong Jiyao's arms. Jian Dieda couldn't resist the contact, so he could only walk closer step by step. Zhong Jiyao probably knew he couldn't go too far, so he didn't hug him in the end, but simply stroked Jian Dieda's eyebrows with one hand.
He still called out to Jane, "BB, your face is so red."
“Let’s go.” Jian Dieda said, turning around and walking forward first, her ear tips still red.
Zhong Jiyao watched his retreating figure, a sly smile flashing in his eyes. He didn't ask any more questions, quickly followed him, and walked side by side with him.
They were separated by an arm's length, neither too close nor too far, maintaining a proper distance from each other, yet their fingertips brushed against each other unintentionally, carrying an indescribable flutter of the heart.
The setting sun cast long shadows of the two of them, overlapping each other, much like their feelings at that moment.
Even though they were already close, they still maintained a somewhat reserved distance.
They're just waiting for the right moment to break through that thin veil of secrecy and turn their hidden crush into an open and blatant commitment.
...
Night fell over the streets of Jordan.
After returning from church, the two didn't buy char siu bao. Instead, they went to a convenience store and bought a pack of cigarettes and half a dozen beers before returning to their apartment and sitting on the balcony to discuss business.
The evening breeze carried the aroma of cooking from the tea restaurant downstairs, mixed with a touch of coolness. Jian Dieda leaned against the railing, smoking, the cigarette between his fingers, the flame flickering.
Zhong Jiyao stood next to him, his gaze fixed on the tip of his ear. The words spoken in the church during the day still lingered in their hearts, and they were just one step away from breaking through that thin layer of paper.
He reached out and took the cigarette from Jane Dieda's mouth, his fingertips brushing against the corner of his lips, feeling the familiar coolness.
"You're smoking so fast again."
Zhong Jiyao sighed, brought the cigarette to his lips, and took out a lighter with his other hand, but instead of lighting it, he looked up at Jian Dieda with a seductive and ambiguous look in his eyes, "Mrs. Zhong, how about lighting it with your lips touching?"
Jane Dieda's heart skipped a beat. The word "Mrs. Zhong" sent shivers down his spine. The absurd words he had uttered in his dreams were now being spoken to his face. He didn't flinch, but instead leaned forward slightly, bringing his lips close to the other end of the cigarette.
It is reality, not a dream, but the stimulation of the senses is itself a catalyst for this moment.
Flames leaped up, tobacco burned, and the two men's noses touched, their breaths mingling.
Jian Dieda took a puff of his cigarette, and as if possessed, he leaned over and passed it to Zhong Jiyao.
The smoke swirled between his lips and teeth. Zhong Jiyao had been waiting for this moment, and took the opportunity to gently press his lips together.
The two of them slurped the smoke down their lungs together, the pungent smell mingling with each other's breath, sinking down their throats and burning their bodies until they felt weak.
"Top-notch, so good it's heavenly." Zhong Jiyao exhaled hot breath, hugged his head, and asked in a low voice, "My husband's not here today, do you want to try it with me?"
"Um... my husband is away on a business trip, so it's up to you." Jian Dieda said in a hoarse voice, her eyes glistening with tears, carrying a hint of indulgent reverie.
Zhong Jiyao gripped the back of his neck, firmly preventing him from escaping. His thumb caressed the corner of his reddened lips, his tone both playful and serious: "Even if the police come to investigate, they won't believe this is harassment. This is clearly collusion and adultery."
These words struck at the hidden thoughts in both of their hearts. Jian Dieda remained silent on the surface, but his eyes reddened. He reached out and grabbed Zhong Jiyao's trench coat collar, the force not too light, but not too heavy, with a hint of reckless ruthlessness: "I've always been a scoundrel. I used to wear Jian Xiang's mask and do all sorts of despicable things, but I had a sincere heart and a loving heart. What about you? You only know how to say nice things and sing sweet songs. Do you even know how to love?"
Zhong Jiyao stopped moving, the playful look in his eyes faded, leaving only a deep and unyielding affection.
He leaned down, forehead to forehead, his breath hot: "I didn't understand, so I learned to get close to you, to give you all the love I never had before. What are you thinking?"
Jane Dieda's mind was in complete turmoil; all her composure and concerns were swept away by the darkness and atmosphere of the night.
He learned from a fan's mindset, tiptoeing to kiss Zhong Jiyao's lips. His movements were somewhat hurried and clumsy, yet incredibly firm. "I miss you so much, I'm obsessed with you, I can't live without you, BB, I miss you too."
The three words were mixed in with the kiss, indistinct yet each one was sincere.
Zhong Jiyao's lips curled into a smile as he tightened his arms around Jian Dieda, holding him close. His cool fingertips traced Jian Dieda's back, slipping under his clothes to touch his warm skin, causing Jian Dieda to tremble. He deepened the kiss, lingering and caressing it, his tongue prying open Jian Dieda's teeth, stealing his breath, as if trying to melt all the waiting into the kiss.
The caressing motion was filled with a careful and cherished feeling, yet also concealed a long-suppressed eagerness. From the back to the waist and abdomen, and then to the back of the neck, every touch was scalding hot, dispelling the chill of the spirit and warming each other's hearts.
They kissed for an unknown amount of time before finally separating, both breathless, their foreheads still touching, their eyes filled with lingering affection and love. Zhong Jiyao pressed his lips against his and asked softly, with a hint of deliberate teasing, just like in their past dreams: "Is there a sound outside? Could it be Mr. Zhong coming home?"
Jane Dieda's cheeks flushed red, but he didn't flinch. He reached out and wrapped his arms around the tall, handsome star's neck. He ran his fingertips through the star's long hair, his voice carrying a touch of innocent charm, each word clear and distinct.
I don't know.
Zhong Jiyao raised an eyebrow, just about to tease the little baby—the child in his eyes—when he heard the handsome, clean-cut young man in a suit press his lips against his and utter the most touching confession: "Anyway, my husband is you now."
These words were like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating ripples that spread outwards.
Zhong Jiyao was like data released from the system's control; he could no longer restrain himself and lowered his head to kiss her again.
His caresses were both gentler and more firm, as if he wanted to etch this person into his very bones.
The evening breeze was still blowing on the balcony.
The trams clanged past downstairs, the warm yellow lights of the tea restaurant in the distance faded into the background, leaving only each other's heartbeats and breaths, and the feelings that had been hidden for so long, finally spoken aloud.
I love you.
Whether they are rotten people or lonely souls.
At this moment, their hearts, transcending life and death, finally embraced tightly with burning sincerity. The moonlight, in the early morning, splashed a silver lake on the windowsill. Accompanying their voices, the white rose by the window, which this morning was still wrapped in green gauze-like sepals, suddenly loosened its grip.
The first petal in the vase drooped down, and the two of them, as if finally giving up resistance, surrendered with satisfied sighs.
Jane's fingers were still resting on the spot where her pulse was beating, the last syllable of her words still lingering in the damp air: "...Do you... want to?"
Zhong Jiyao did not answer.
He used kisses, he used snatching, he used bloody bites.
Because this is the real him, the madman who would give his life to have someone see him.
This caused the third button of the suited man's shirt to quickly dig into his collarbone. He closed his eyes and took a breath. As he roughly ran his fingers through the young man's hair, the night wind outside the window happened to pass by, and the white rose trembled in fear.
“…Zhong Jiyao…”
"Hmm, bb." The man replied softly.
The second petal swirled down, brushing past Jane's burning earlobe, and fell into the shadows.
At their feet, on the carpet, it was impossible to tell who had stepped on whom first.
Then breathing becomes concrete and tangible.
His, his, intertwined into the transparent rope unique to the early morning, winding around the window frame, around the delicate stem of the rose.
The flower stem swayed gently in the glass bottle, creating intermittent, fragmented sounds on the water's surface.
“…Turn off the lights…” As Jian Dieda leaned back, his neck line stretched like a bridge in the moonlight, and Zhong Jiyao counted that even the tiny downy hairs on it were trembling. “Lights…”
The lights had been off long ago, but Jian Dieda's rationality was compressed into a drop of sweat, which was winding down Zhong Jiyao's spine.
“Name…” Zhong Jiyao clenched the word at the deepest moment, as if trying to plant the regret of a past life into the hollow between their shoulder blades.
"Call my name..."
“Zhong…Zhong…Zhong Jiyao…”
"..." No, that's not right...
"bell--"
"Ah Yao!!"
The windowpane was covered with a layer of fog.
The rose's shadow was cast upon it, each petal meticulously outlined, its contours shattered and rearranged. Just then, the strongest gust of wind arrived, and the entire flower bowed violently.
The third and fourth petals fell at the same time.
Then everything quieted down.
Zhong Jiyao, his forehead damp with sweat, pressed against Jian Dieda, whom he held in his arms, and laughed with a mixture of sadness and unease. The low laughter vibrated through the air between them, barely an inch apart.
White Rose watched as his fingers slowly loosened, and as his eyes remained moist.
The remaining petals seemed to be closing slightly, as if they were collecting the last secrets of the night.
It was almost dawn.
The truth of the case is about to come out.
As the first ray of gray-blue light climbed onto the windowsill, the rose that Zhong Jiyao had raised had fully bloomed that night.
And in the gradually brightening light, their hands finally intertwined.
Only deep within the soil, where the roots are buried, something pure white is silently bursting open.
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