WMAW Chapter 12

After being thoroughly indulged inside and out, Zhong Lin lay wrapped in blankets, pouting and grumbling. The rush from the pheromones had worn off, leaving him too exhausted to lift his arms, feeling a mix of grievance and satisfaction as he glared at Zhuang Yi, the instigator of his current state.

The culprit, Zhuang Yi, sat at the bedside, dutifully feeding his wife gummy bears, trying to coax him with a smile, “Wife, you still need to eat. Lunch was ready a long time ago. Have a few bites then sleep.”

“Who told you to do it till morning!” Zhong Lin complained hoarsely. Not particularly sleepy and feeling indulged, he ate a few bites then lay on the couch with his tablet, playing a puzzle game, with snow blanketing the outside world and the scent of skimmia lingering in the air.

“Husband, when’s your birthday?” Zhong Lin suddenly remembered something and asked Zhuang Yi, who was outside by the glass doors.

Zhuang Yi was gleefully making a snowman for his wife when he heard the question. Looking up, he saw Zhong Lin wrapped in a blanket, peeking out from inside, mouthing words at him.

“What did you say, wife?” Zhuang Yi walked over to the glass.

Zhong Lin pointed at Zhuang Yi, blew on the glass to fog it up, then wrote the word “birthday” with his finger in the condensation, winking through the clear lines of the letters.

Since their big harmonious moment, Zhuang Yi felt constantly dazzled by Zhong Lin. He watched the person inside, earnestly gestured a few numbers, then childishly pressed his lips to the cold glass to blow a kiss to Zhong Lin.

Blushing at the response, Zhong Lin felt the temporary mark on his gland heat up again. He turned away from the glass, curling back onto the couch to focus on his phone. Trying the birthday dates—Zhuang Yi’s first, then his own—indeed unlocked the iCloud. Zhong Lin felt a mix of joy and pride.

He began restoring photos, chat records, and apps, scrolling through the album and reminiscing about past travels during college, laughing at the memories. But his smile soon faded.

He loved to capture moments—food, fun, everything was photographed and filtered, living life with a sense of ceremony. His birthdays had cakes, fine meals, laughing friends, warm families, everything but Zhuang Yi.

Out of over five thousand photos, there was everything from a ladybug sunbathing to various dishes, but no photos of him and Zhuang Yi together except one. That photo was taken hastily in the studio after his car accident, where he smiled stiffly and Zhuang Yi looked emotionless.

What had Zhuang Yi said then?

“Why didn’t you bring me lunch?”

“Just making an appearance for the parents.”

Just making an appearance. Zhong Lin felt a chill. He seemed to have rushed headlong into a facade of happiness, the sweet numbness turning sour and painful.

He felt afraid, his hands trembling as he opened the chat app. Only on WeChat were he and Zhuang Yi friends. Their first message was from two months ago; he had sent a long message, and Zhuang Yi had taken a long time to reply.

October 3, 2021:
16:45 “Mr. Zhuang, sorry to bother you, my dad asked me to come home for dinner.”
17:40 “Mr. Zhuang, did you see it?”
18:00 “Mr. Zhuang, sorry for not telling you in advance, please reply when you see this.”
18:30 “It’s okay. I told dad you’re working late, take care and have a good dinner.”
19:27 “In a meeting, don’t send texts if it’s not important, I won’t see them.”

The few conversations were stark in contrast: his own careful tiptoeing and Zhuang Yi’s clear annoyance.

August 28, 2021:
Zhuang Yi: “I don’t eat ginger.”
Zhong Lin: “Got it, will remember next time.”
Zhong Lin: “I mean, I’ll tell the cook.”

August 4, 2021:
Zhuang Yi: “Don’t send lunch today.”
Zhong Lin: “Ah, too bad, the cook made your favorite seafood soup today, got up early to buy fresh ingredients.”
Zhong Lin: “Make sure you eat well, don’t drink on an empty stomach.”
Zhong Lin: “Take care.”

June 7, 2021:
Zhuang Yi: “Not changed yet?”
Zhong Lin: “Sorry Mr. Zhuang, I’m still looking, can you manage a few more days?”
Zhong Lin: “Is that okay? I need some time.”
Zhuang Yi: “Forget it, no need to send anymore.”
Zhong Lin: “No no no, Mr. Zhuang, I’m on my way there, it’s no trouble at all.”
Zhong Lin: “Just two more days, okay?”
Zhuang Yi: “Fine.”

Change what? Zhong Lin wondered, scrolling up.

June 3, 2021:
Zhuang Yi: “Change the maid, the cooking is terrible.”
This time, always quick to reply, he took a long time to respond, “Okay.”

May 11, 2021:
Zhong Lin: “Mr. Zhuang, are you interested in the project at Nanwan? My brother asked me to inquire.”
Zhuang Yi: “Have Zhong Ji call me.”

April 22, 2021:
Zhong Lin: “Mr. Zhuang, the curtains at home seem a bit dark, may I change them?”
Zhuang Yi: “Whatever. Just don’t touch my room.”

Fine, okay, whatever, forget it, tastes bad, don’t contact me for no reason, don’t touch my room. Each phrase stung.

Zhong Lin stared at the cold, distant exchanges, his vision blurring. He had not misunderstood; he truly loved Zhuang Yi, but he had made one mistake: he wasn’t loved in return. He hadn’t received any response.

Zhong Lin looked outside, Zhuang Yi was placing carrot noses on two closely snuggled snowmen, his hands visibly red from the cold. Just a casual mention during lunch, and Zhuang Yi had remembered, immediately building snowmen to make him happy after eating.

Zhong Lin couldn’t reconcile this Zhuang Yi with the one from the chat records.

He must be playing with me, laughing as I fall deeper into this sweet illusion. Why can a person change so drastically? Is it because I lost my memory that he’s playing these games?

If it’s not a game, just giving some sweet responses, is it just to tease? Ridiculous, I eagerly court shame, so cheap and easily deceived. I don’t remember, yet I can’t stop feeling hurt. The temporary mark on his gland felt especially ironic, and Zhong Lin couldn’t help scratching at the bite marks until they reddened.

Crying and making a scene, it’s tough for Zhuang Yi, a CEO, to play such a role so convincingly that he believed it was real.

Thinking about mutual affection, he really overthought it.

“Wife, I’m done!” The glass was tapped, and outside, Zhuang Yi excitedly showed his work to Zhong Lin, his hair and shoulders dusted with snow, beaming brightly. Zhong Lin watched expressionlessly, forcing a smile after a long pause.

But what can I do, I don’t want to expose it yet.

Zhuang Yi, shaking off the snow, came in to warm his hands before confirming that kiss. After the temporary mark, not only does the omega want to cling to the alpha, but the alpha feels the same. He kissed Zhong Lin’s reddened gland, then pulled him into an embrace, his voice gentle, “What’s on your mind, wife?”

Zhong Lin shook his head and snuggled into Zhuang Yi’s embrace, falling back into a light sleep.

Snowmen aren’t really meant for the afternoon sun. On the way back, Zhong Lin looked out at the two snowmen that had seemed so cozy together. As the snow melted, the connection between the two spheres grew until they dissolved completely, leaving only two drooping carrots, like Pinocchio’s long nose.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Zhuang Yi could deceive him for a lifetime.

Zhong Lin stared out the window, lost in thought. Zhuang Yi, worried, watched him, regretting perhaps having gone too far last night. He tried to start several conversations but got no response. Not adept at talking, Zhuang Yi eventually fell silent, focusing on the road.

As they neared the city, Zhong Lin came to, asking, “Did you know I had lost my memory before?”

“I didn’t know,” Zhuang Yi replied quickly, sensing Zhong Lin’s unhappiness. His heart raced with unease, hesitating for a long time before he ventured, “Wife, have you remembered anything?”

“No,” Zhong Lin turned to smile at him at a red light.

If you loved me, why didn’t you know I had an accident?

“I’ll be gentler next time, don’t be mad, wife,” Zhuang Yi breathed a sigh of relief, pulling Zhong Lin’s hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Okay,” Zhong Lin withdrew his hand and closed his eyes.