Ye Xinren was Scrowling

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Jiang Yanxu's voice broke the quiet, but it was flat, mechanical, as if the words had been forced out against his will. "No."

To Ye Xinren, the reply sounded hollow—uttered out of obligation rather than truth. His senses sharpened at the tone, immediately detecting the indifference, the kind that sliced through the space between them like a cold wind. His brows furrowed, and he turned to face Jiang Yanxu fully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Liar," Ye Xinren muttered, the bitterness creeping into his voice. "Why are you being so indifferent to me? Did I do something wrong?" He didn't give Jiang Yanxu a chance to answer before he pressed on, his voice rising slightly. "Tell me, what is it? I'll apologize and promise I won't do it again."

The man's face remained unreadable, but Ye Xinren could sense the tension in the stillness of the room. Then, with a flicker of doubt, he added, "Or … could it be you're hiding something from me?"

Jiang Yanxu's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, before sighing as if the weight of the conversation had drained him. "It's not that. I just have a headache, that's all. I'm not feeling well. Don't make it out to be something else."

Ye Xinren's eyes darkened. He could feel his pulse quicken, the seed of doubt planted in his chest. He knew this man, knew how his affection had always been as constant as the tide—unwavering, even in moments of tension. So why, then, did Jiang Yanxu now act as though they were strangers? His instincts screamed that something was off.

Jiang Yanxu's love had always been a fortress for him. But now, it felt like that fortress was crumbling, like the ground beneath him was shifting, and Ye Xinren was struggling to keep his balance.

Ye Xinren had always been sensitive to shifts in Jiang Yanxu's mood. But this? This was different. Jiang Yanxu had never been this cold, not even after their worst arguments. The affection he had lavished upon him had never faltered, even when Ye Xinren had been at fault. So why now, after their wedding celebration—the night they had laughed and made love in the warmth of shared promises—did Jiang Yanxu seem to loathe his very presence?

Did he regret marrying me?

The thought stung, its sharp edge digging deep into his chest. He shoved the fear away, not wanting to entertain the possibility, but it clung to him like a shadow, suffocating him with doubt.

Maybe it was about Yan An. Perhaps Jiang Yanxu regretted his divorce, and Ye Xinren—he—was just the rebound. Jealousy gnawed at him, bitter and toxic, though he couldn't shake the uncertainty that this might be the truth.

But Ye Xinren refused to voice these fears. Instead, he swallowed the rising tide of suspicion and frustration, unwilling to make things worse. He stood up abruptly, snatching the towel from the ground with an almost mechanical motion.

Jiang Yanxu raised an eyebrow, the indifference in his eyes now mixed with a trace of curiosity. "Where are you going?"

Ye Xinren didn't even glance back at him. "I don't think there's room for me here right now. I'm going out to relax by the pool. You should take care of yourself first. Once you're feeling better, we can talk."

His words were soft, but they carried a weight that made Jiang Yanxu's heart tighten. He knew the truth in them: Ye Xinren was angry, hurt, and in this moment, unwilling to stay near him.

"It's cold outside," Jiang Yanxu called after him, but his voice lacked the usual urgency. "And it's early. There's no one out there, you know."

Ye Xinren didn't stop, his steps carrying him farther away from Jiang Yanxu's reach. "It's better than being here with someone who's in a bad mood," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but the sting of it cut through the space between them.

Jiang Yanxu said nothing as Ye Xinren exited the room, the door clicking softly behind him. His gaze lingered on the empty space where Ye Xinren had stood, a cold emptiness creeping into the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but it felt like his world was unraveling.

The silence pressed in around him, suffocating, until all he could hear was the beat of his own heart in his chest—fast, erratic. He sank back onto the edge of the bed, his hands trembling as he reached for a cigarette. His thoughts drifted to the past, to the memories he had buried beneath layers of pain and regret. And now, the weight of those memories threatened to pull him under.

Why am I like this?

The question echoed in his mind, unanswered. He had sacrificed so much for this marriage—his heart, his soul, his very sense of self. And yet, here he was, torn between the man he had once been and the man he had become.

Ye Xinren had always been his. He knew that. But now, Jiang Yanxu couldn't help but wonder: Had he ever truly been his?

The idea of losing him—of being rejected by the one person who had ever truly mattered—felt like a cruel joke. His chest tightened, and he wanted to scream, to vent the fury that had built up inside him for so long. But there was no one left to hear him.

I just want Yan An to love me again.

But as the sun began to rise, casting its pale light over the ocean, Jiang Yanxu couldn't shake the thought that perhaps it was too late.

The man he had once been—the man who had loved with abandon—was gone. In his place was a stranger who didn't know how to fix the damage he had caused. He thought of Yan An, of the life he had lost, and the possibility that he might never get it back.

With a shaky breath, he exhaled the smoke, watching the tendrils curl up into the air, disappearing into the morning mist. And for the first time, Jiang Yanxu realized just how lost he truly was.