Chapter 72 The more anxious you are, the more you'll think...
Xia Zhiyao lay on the bed, trying her best to find a comfortable position, but she still felt something heavy pressing down on her heart. She stared at the ceiling with her eyes open, her breathing slightly erratic, unable to calm down.
The sound of water in the bathroom gradually stopped, and in the silence, only the soft sound of water droplets falling remained. After a moment, the door was gently pushed open.
Zhou Yue walked out, his shoulders and chest still steaming with lingering heat. The dim light outlined his strong physique, and his skin appeared even darker from the steam. He wore only a loose white towel around his waist.
In that instant, the entire room seemed to be filled with the moist scent he brought with him. He looked down at Xia Zhiyao, who was lying properly on the bed, his eyes flickered slightly, and a faint smile appeared on his face.
Then, he lifted the covers and naturally leaned closer. His body temperature and breath instantly enveloped me, along with the warm steam, the light scent of shower gel, and that uniquely masculine aroma.
"Go to sleep." His voice was deep, carrying the languor and restraint of someone who had just taken a shower, and his tone was gentle as he soothed her.
Xia Zhiyao closed her eyes, but her heartbeat became increasingly erratic. Her shoulders were pressed tightly against his burning chest, and her breathing was forced to match his. Every rise and fall tugged at her nerves.
She wanted to relax, but she couldn't. Her body tensed up involuntarily, her breathing was shallow, and she tossed and turned, unable to truly sink down.
Her movements were very light, and Zhou Yue's hand on her waist was very steady, with almost no room to loosen. He caught every slight struggle of hers.
She knew he wasn't asleep, but she still pretended to keep her eyes closed. Her heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand; the more she struggled, the more chaotic it became.
Zhou Yue lowered his head, his voice low and husky, brushing against her ear in the darkness: "What's wrong, still can't sleep?"
Xia Zhiyao didn't respond immediately, but just gave a soft "hmm". She curled up, her shoulders rising and falling gently with her breath. The quietness seemed to have been suppressed for too long, and even her breathing seemed cautious.
Zhou Yue gazed at her, his eyes so deep it seemed he could see right through her. After a moment, he slowly reached out and gently brushed aside a few strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek with an almost cautious tenderness.
He spoke softly, his tone conveying both helplessness and reassurance: "If you really can't sleep..."
He paused for a moment, as if considering his words, then tightened his embrace, holding her more firmly in his arms: "Shall we talk?"
Xia Zhiyao slowly opened her eyes. In the darkness, her gaze met his. The night swallowed most of their expressions, leaving only a glimmer of light in their eyes. Her voice was soft: "What do you want to talk about?"
Zhou Yue gazed at her quietly, his eyes churning with too many unspoken emotions—a mixture of repression, bitterness, resentment, and stubbornness.
He remained silent for a long time before slowly raising his hand, his fingertips twirling a strand of her hair, stroking it repeatedly, as if using this action to pull himself back from the brink of losing control.
After a long silence, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice: "Let's talk about... how I've spent the last two years."
Zhou Yue remained silent for a long time, as if weighing the matter repeatedly in his mind, before finally speaking out, his tone suppressed and unsteady: "I guess you've already figured it out... I have a pretty serious anxiety disorder."
“It’s not because of you!” Zhou Yue added, afraid that she would misunderstand, “It’s not entirely because of you. I was already like this before you went to New York.”
He lowered his eyes, his fingers tracing her hair again and again, his voice carrying an almost self-deprecating honesty: "After you came, I realized that being with you, especially... after we've done it, that anxiety is gone. I can even sleep through the night, which is why I... want it so often."
He paused for a long time, as if swallowing a bitter pill, before continuing, "But after you left, I was completely thrown into chaos, even more so than before."
He paused, his breathing becoming labored, a hint of unease flashing in his eyes, his voice low and almost trembling: "I have to tell you, but... don't be angry."
Xia Zhiyao looked at him quietly, her heart tightening little by little, as if she had already anticipated that something harsh was about to happen.
Zhou Yue closed his eyes, as if he were going all out, and finally revealed the secret he had been keeping in his heart: "After you left, there were a few times... when I almost went to hook up with other people."
*Smack*
The desk lamp suddenly turned on. Xia Zhiyao turned it on, and Zhou Yue subconsciously squinted. The disheveled and nakedness in his eyes could not be hidden in the light.
Xia Zhiyao had already sat up, her back straight, her gaze fixed on his face. Her lips were tightly pressed together, but she didn't show the anger he had imagined.
In that instant, she simply gazed at him silently, a nameless bitterness welling up in her eyes, slowly engulfing her completely.
Zhou Yue felt a pang of panic under her gaze, as if she had seen through him or was being judged. He hurriedly spoke, his voice trembling, "I didn't do it... I held back."
Xia Zhiyao remained silent for a long time, her eyelashes trembling slightly. Finally, she spoke in a low voice, "I'm not angry, I..." Her words caught in her throat. She lowered her eyes and after a long while, she continued with difficulty, "Actually... I have no right to interfere with you."
“Sometimes I think… if you tried with someone else, maybe you would be better than me.” As she finished speaking, she lowered her head, her eyes completely dimmed. In that instant, she was plunged into self-loathing and pain, as if even her breathing was filled with suppressed sorrow.
Zhou Yue was stunned for a moment, and then almost subconsciously reached out and pulled her into his arms, tightening his grip as if he was afraid she would utter another word, thus nipping the suffocating sense of alienation in the bud.
His face was buried against her neck, his nose touching the faint, cool fragrance and her delicate skin, his breath hot and disordered.
His voice, muffled in the crook of her shoulder, was urgent, certain, and trembled slightly: "I know... you're jealous, aren't you?"
He spoke cautiously, as if coaxing a child, each word carrying an undeniable stubbornness: "Zhiyao, you're jealous."
Xia Zhiyao did not answer; her soft breaths escaped from her lips, and her shoulders trembled slightly.
The cold, hard shell finally cracked open. She herself might not have realized it yet, but he had already clearly seen through the most secret and unacknowledged thoughts in her heart.
Only their breathing could be heard in the room, as if even the air itself had tightened. Her most deeply hidden vulnerability was gradually revealed as he drew closer to her in his embrace.
“You might not understand,” he whispered in her ear, his tone revealing a rare frankness and vulnerability, “that’s… a kind of psychological defense mechanism. The more anxious you are, the more you want to relieve it through that method.”
He paused, as if searching for words, and took a few quick breaths before continuing: "That kind of anxiety is not simply panic or insomnia, but... it's like your whole body has been hollowed out, your heart is being tightened little by little by iron clamps, you can't breathe, your mind is a mess, but you can't find a way out."
He looked up at her, his eyes filled with naked vulnerability: "Later I found that when I was with you, when we were making love, I would calm down completely, and all my anxiety and fear would disappear. At that moment, I felt like I was alive."
Xia Zhiyao's breath hitched, and her fingertips trembled slightly.
Zhou Yue looked at her, a hint of pain flashing in his eyes: "But that's not desire itself. It's that I turned my anxiety into sexual impulse. The more anxious I am, the more I want you, the more I want to confirm that you're still here."
“But after each ending, I fall into a new cycle, losing control, feeling guilty, and hating myself.” His voice choked as he said softly, “Because I know that I don’t want you, but I want a temporary sense of security.”
He took a deep breath, his eyes red: "After you left, I almost completely collapsed. At that time... I did have the idea of asking someone out, but when I entered the hotel, I felt like I had been detached from everything. I had no thoughts at all. That emptiness was more like an abyss than anxiety itself."
Xia Zhiyao was stunned for a moment, her heart trembling slightly. It wasn't that she didn't understand at all, but it was the first time she had heard it from him. His frankness was tinged with an almost naked sense of shame, but it also allowed her to hear his loneliness and struggle over the years.
She didn't speak, but simply reached out and gently placed her hand on his back, her fingertips brushing through his hair and slowly descending down the back of his neck, as if to soothe him, or perhaps to remind him: I'm here.
She pursed her lips, but finally spoke, her voice low, yet trembling with barely concealed emotion: "Then why didn't you tell me?"
Zhou Yue paused slightly, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes. He tightened his arms around her, as if trying to meld her into his very bones. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against her temple, his voice low and hoarse: "Because back then... you were already gone."
His breathing was rapid, his chest heaving as if he were finally pouring out all the words he had suppressed for so long: "After you left, I didn't even dare to say a word in my messages, afraid that you would delete me even faster, afraid that you would never want to see me again."
He closed his eyes, his voice low and trembling, as if it were being torn from his throat: "Back then, I couldn't sleep at night, I was going crazy thinking about you. But there was nothing I could do, my mind was filled with... images of us together."
He tightened his knuckles, as if pressing all his desire and pain into his palms: "I remember how you looked beneath me, the sound of you calling my name, and how you held me tightly."
He took a deep breath, his eyes bloodshot: "But you're not here. I can only live on these memories, like a madman. Zhiyao, do you know, those days... really killed me."
Xia Zhiyao stood frozen in his arms, her heart aching with a tightness in her chest. She wanted to speak, but a sour feeling welled up in her throat, choking her words.
Zhou Yue pressed his forehead against her shoulder and neck, his voice low and hoarse, as if he was finally breaking down: "Zhiyao, I dare not tell you... because I'm afraid you'll never come back."
Zhou Yue held her, and after a long silence, his breathing gradually calmed down. As if he had been gathering his courage for a long time, he finally spoke in a low voice: "Later... in the end, I actually made a friend."
Xia Zhiyao paused, then subconsciously looked up at him.
Zhou Yue met her gaze, his eyes not darting away, but carrying a kind of candor born of extreme exhaustion: "She has a PhD in psychology. At that time, I was on the verge of a complete breakdown, and she could tell at a glance. She forced me to see a psychologist. Later... I actually went."
He paused, his fingers slowly stroking her hair, as if searching for a stable foothold for his narration: "At first, I resisted, always feeling ashamed, as if admitting that I was incomplete. But slowly, the symptoms really did improve a lot."
As he spoke, his voice lowered, tinged with a shy yet cautious sincerity. At that moment, she suddenly realized that in the two years she had been gone, he hadn't been standing still waiting for her, but had been struggling alone with anxiety, insomnia, and despair, stumbling and struggling to survive in the mire of pain. The bittersweet feeling, mixed with guilt and heartache, made her eyes well up with tears.
Reason told her that he was just stating the facts, but her emotions completely spiraled out of control at that moment. A bittersweet feeling, heartache, and even a hint of untimely jealousy washed over her like a tide, making it hard for her to breathe.
Zhou Yue looked down at her, a hint of guilt and caution flashing in his eyes. He reached out and gently stroked the back of her hand with his fingertips, his voice low: "Zhiyao, don't misunderstand. She's just a friend. From beginning to end, she's been helping me... I don't have anyone else in my heart."
Xia Zhiyao remained silent, her gaze fixed on his chest, as if held back by something. The lamplight cast a faint shadow on her eyelashes, making her appear both fragile and stubborn.
Zhou Yue panicked and hugged her tightly, pressing his lips to her hair, his voice low and hoarse, almost pleading: "What I said is true. Since I came back, you've been indifferent to me. Every time we meet, your face is cold, as if nothing has ever happened between us."
At this point, his Adam's apple bobbed violently, and the emotions in his eyes surged fiercely, almost to the point of clenching his teeth: "But every day when I see you, all I can think about is... how you abandoned me. Not even a goodbye, as if I were nothing to you."
As soon as he finished speaking, he tightened his embrace, as if he wanted to embed her into his very bones: "But the angrier I get, the more I miss you. I think about you every day, whether you are doing well, whether you have someone by your side, and whether you will never want to see me again."
Zhou Yue's breathing became increasingly erratic. "You know what," his voice was low and hoarse, trembling almost broken, "I'm tormented by [something] every night, like I'm going crazy. My mind is filled with you, so much so that I can hardly recognize myself anymore."
He raised his hand and gripped her back tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force, his eyes filled with barely suppressed pain: "But when I see you during the day... I can't do anything. You're right in front of me, so close, but I can only pretend nothing's wrong, act as if nothing ever happened between us."
His throat bobbed, his voice so hoarse it was almost cracking: "That feeling was worse than death. It was like a fire burning in my heart, but I couldn't even get close to you."
The last few words were almost choked up, the voice trembling, as if tearing open a wound little by little.
Xia Zhiyao froze in his arms. She opened her mouth, trembling for a long time, before finally whispering, "I'm sorry."
Zhou Yue seemed to be ignited by those words. He suddenly raised his head, stared intently at her, his eyes churning with emotions that had been suppressed for too long, so red they looked like they were about to burst: "You know what I fear most is hearing you say that."
His voice was terribly hoarse, yet it carried an almost uncontrollable stubbornness: "I don't want you to apologize to me! I don't want you to push me further and further away, I just want you to stay, even if you don't say anything."
Zhou Yue's chest heaved violently, his eyes fixed on her, his voice low and hoarse, almost naked: "That night later... I did it on purpose."
He gritted his teeth, his lips twitching as if mocking himself: "I didn't drink that much, I was faking it."
The light reflected in his reddened eyes as he forced out each word: "I just want you to come home with me. I just want..."
By the end, his voice was almost trembling, carrying a confession that had been suppressed for too long and was finally breaking free. He stared at her, as if laying bare his most shameful desires before her, leaving her no room to escape.
Zhou Yue's gaze was fixed on her face, his voice low, hoarse, and resolute: "I just want to do it with you."
He paused, his breathing quickened, and his Adam's apple bobbed as if he were forcing himself to say what he was about to say: "And... I succeeded, and you didn't reject me."
As soon as he finished speaking, he lowered his eyes, a bitter smile appearing on his lips, as if he were mocking himself: "But after I vented, I realized... I didn't feel any better at all."
He looked up, his eyes red and his voice hoarse: "That emptiness is still there. I'm holding you, but my heart is still clenched, still panicked. You're right beside me, but I'm still afraid you'll leave. That's when I realized that I didn't want to vent at all; I just wanted you to stay."
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