Chapter 172

Tang Xian’an had heard there was a trick in life called expectation management.

Keep your expectations low, and life would be full of pleasant surprises.

For example, although he’d fallen in love with Lu Yan at first sight when he was eighteen, he’d never expected to marry him at nineteen.

He’d just waited. Day after day, year after year. Firmly believing the future he’d once seen would arrive, that they would have their happy ending.

Tang Xian’an had waited it out.

Now, in the year 2XXX, the Pollution Disease had been gone from humanity for seventeen years.

The world, after its agony, had settled into a strange calm. There was even an ineffable sense of closeness and goodwill among people—after all, they had truly stood together, shoulder to shoulder, against a shared fate.

No missions. No perilous, contaminated zones. Some of his friends, his comrades, had died in the past, never to return. But many were still alive.

Most importantly, Lu Yan was by his side.

Realizing this always sent a wild, irrepressible joy surging through Tang Xian’an.

Though most of the time, he just felt a quiet, shy sort of peace.

Peace itself was a kind of happiness.

They were like the most ordinary young couple. Going to work during the day (no soul-crushing hours, flexible schedules, good pay, and fulfilling jobs), coming home in the evening to cook, do the dishes, and chores together. Taking Xiao Tian for a walk at night. Or finding other forms of entertainment.

Occasionally, they’d travel. Even though Tang Xian’an had seen many of the sights before, going with Lu Yan made everything feel different.

So, when Bai Ze asked him, “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. Any plans with Mr. Lu?”, Tang Xian’an was actually taken aback.

Was a special arrangement required? Weren’t they celebrating Valentine’s Day every day already? His love was already at its peak—it wouldn’t increase because of a holiday, nor decrease without one. The romantic rituals in their life weren’t confined to a single date.

More importantly…

Lu Yan was even more fond of quiet than he was. He probably wouldn’t want to partake in such a frenzy.

More importantly.

Tang Xian’an had died on February 14th.

Still, after returning home, Tang Xian’an sought Lu Yan’s opinion.

“Valentine’s Day?” Lu Yan looked up from his case analysis notes, his gaze sweeping over Tang Xian’an.

He set the file down, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth. “What did you have in mind?”

That subtle, almost imperceptible smile made Tang Xian’an’s head spin. He walked over and sat down beside him.

Taking Lu Yan’s hand, the words tumbled out. “I want to go back to the past with you. To see you when you were little… Is that okay?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Lu Yan’s expression.

His lips parted slightly, as if in thought.

Childhood?

Lu Yan didn’t like to bring it up. Rarely recalled it.

Childhood trauma? Psychological scars? Not exactly.

Lu Yan had always lacked the emotional responses of a normal person. The past, for him, was just something that had happened.

Perhaps that in itself was the greatest wound.

Seeing the anticipation shining in those golden eyes, Lu Yan finally gave a slight nod. “Alright.”

Frequently shuttling through time with another person, even for Tang Xian’an, was a tremendous drain.

So, Lu Yan briefly borrowed Tang Xian’an’s talent.

[Sequence 3 - Time]

Along with [Sequence 279 - Invisibility]

On Valentine’s Day, after lunch at home, Lu Yan took Tang Xian’an’s hand. “Which point in time would you like to return to?”

Tang Xian’an countered, “Which part are you willing to show me?”

Lu Yan was silent for two seconds.

He let out a soft sigh, and then the world dissolved around them.

Night.

A small Lu Yan, hugging his knees, curled up on the floor.

His clothes were filthy, clearly unchanged for a long time. Fresh and old scabs dotted his skin.

He slept in a narrow cage. Sometimes, Lu Cheng would switch to a different cage, one where Lu Yan could only sleep standing up. If he could sleep at all.

The young Lu Yan seemed to have just jolted awake from a nightmare. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling uncontrollably. He wanted to scream, to cry, but with no one to call for help, the sound was choked back in his throat. He writhed in agony, his nails scratching at his own arms. Soon, thin red lines bloomed across his frail skin.

Tang Xian’an took an instinctive step forward, but Lu Yan’s hand closed around his arm, holding him back.

The young Lu Yan couldn’t see them. And the past could not be changed.

Lu Yan stated calmly, to Tang Xian’an alone, “This should be the day I first dreamed of ‘Little Brother’.”

Their voices were audible only to each other.

In the past, this had been the greatest despair and terror Lu Yan had ever experienced.

A psychic onslaught from a higher dimension, far surpassing anything in the physical world.

That he hadn’t gone mad was only thanks to this body not truly being human. Just a vessel retrieved from the deep sea.

The door to the room creaked open.

Lu Cheng walked in. The man was still young, appearing scholarly and refined. Like a meticulous, respectable academic.

If one ignored his gloomy expression and the… tools in his hand.

Lu Cheng muttered, almost deliriously, “I can sense His presence… So, my experiment was a success? My child, can you understand the significance of all this?”

He crouched beside the small Lu Yan, stroking his head.

The child merely watched him, silent and still. After such intense suffering, his eyes held almost no emotion. This calmness sometimes bordered on defiance.

A strange, grating laugh rattled in Lu Cheng’s throat. “Heh, I know you hate me. But you’ll understand your father’s good intentions someday. The world is about to change dramatically. We can’t keep living as mediocre humans… The pain now is for the glory to come.”

He raised a hammer.

And brought it down on Lu Yan’s joints.

Even though he’d been mentally prepared, had read the sparse descriptions in the files—

In that instant, Tang Xian’an froze, as rigid as the young Lu Yan on the floor.

Lu Yan lifted a hand, covering Tang Xian’an’s eyes. Soon, he felt the warm wetness of tears against his palm.

Tang Xian’an—a man who hadn’t shed a tear even when every bone in his body had been broken—was now crying uncontrollably.

“You’re the one who insisted on seeing this,” Lu Yan said, a hint of teasing in his tone as he held his weeping lover.

Tang Xian’an couldn’t form words for a long moment, his voice shattered. “I… I…”

Worried Tang Xian’an might be overwhelmed, Lu Yan simply blocked out the external sounds and images.

He soothed, “It’s really alright. I don’t feel anything anymore.”

[I can attest to that,] the System stated solemnly.

Unfortunately, Tang Xian’an couldn’t hear it.

Not only did Lu Yan feel nothing, but somehow, Tang Xian’an’s tears inexplicably lifted his mood.

He gently wiped Tang Xian’an’s tears away. “Why are you still crying?”

Tang Xian’an choked out between sobs, “The person I love… endured such harm in a place I never knew. That thought… it hurts me terribly.”

Harm could not be dismissed just because the victim felt no pain.

It existed objectively within everyone’s framework of value.

Lu Yan truly couldn’t feel the hurt. But he thought, perhaps, he could feel Tang Xian’an’s love.

A love that was encompassing, undimmed by time, and utterly unreserved.

For the second point in time, Lu Yan chose at random. An ordinary day during high school.

In a dorm room for four, three roommates were chatting animatedly. The moment Lu Yan walked in, they fell silent in unison.

Not that Lu Yan cared. He finished washing up, went straight to his bunk, closed his eyes, and began to sleep.

He was strikingly good-looking—a trait that should have been an asset in social situations. But it coexisted with a cold, almost inorganic social demeanor.

He wasn’t humorous. Lacked responsiveness. Rarely spoke. Reacted to others’ enthusiasm with near-zero engagement.

No discernible hobbies or interests. Every day followed the same routine. His roommates sometimes thought he was like a pre-programmed robot.

From the first day of school until now. Lu Yan always woke up on time, slept on time. Never exchanged an unnecessary word.

He even ate the same meals every day, in the same place: the school cafeteria.

Fortunately, being in school, his impeccable, unquestionably excellent grades shielded him from much of the gossip.

Teachers would whisper privately. That child lost both parents. So pitiful. We should look out for him.

“This day, my father had just been taken away by the Research Institute,” Lu Yan said. “I was actually very happy.”

He pointed at the teenage Lu Yan’s lunch tray. “See. Because I was happy, I had an extra egg in the morning.”

Lu Yan usually had one egg for breakfast.

That day, he bought two.

The cafeteria lady hadn’t even registered it; the card reader still charged him for one.

They watched from morning until night. Followed the teenage Lu Yan back to the dorm, watched him close his eyes, sleep, ending the day.

Lu Yan spoke into the darkness. “After that, it was university, and the time working at the hospital. Just studying, performing surgeries… Aside from the first Pollution Disease surgery, nothing left much of an impression. You know the rest.”

He said it casually, lightly.

But Tang Xian’an couldn’t control the ache in his heart.

The pain seeped from his flesh and blood, spreading to his heart—a heavy, dull, lingering throb.

They returned to the present.

It was already 11 PM. Valentine’s Day was nearing its end.

Tang Xian’an was a defeated, wretched dog.

He pressed his entire body against Lu Yan. “Yanyan. Yanyan.”

He nuzzled and rubbed.

Lu Yan had heard that emotionally detached people often subconsciously chose a partner who was emotionally abundant.

That partner would shoulder part of the duty—the duty of expressing feelings that should have been their own.

Tang Xian’an’s nature wasn’t warm. In fact, years of work had made him increasingly quiet.

He had his own pain, far exceeding that of most people in the world.

Tang Xian’an could endure his own suffering. But he couldn’t endure Lu Yan’s.

Is this love? Lu Yan thought.

The greatest gift fate had ever bestowed upon him.

This feeling of profound calm.

And this lingering warmth.

Lu Yan nestled with him on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Next time, I want to see yours.”

[Valentine’s Day Extra • End]