The Ger's Contract Marriage [BL]
Chapter 579: Not Okay

Chapter 579: Not Okay

The anger, the suffocating frustration—it melted, just a little.

They walked in silence for a while, the tension still lingering between them, but not suffocating anymore.

Then, a quiet voice broke the stillness.

"I had a strong temper when I was young."

Xu Feng blinked, tilting his head toward Xuan Yang. Was his husband just comforting him? That wasn’t likely. Xuan Yang wasn’t the type to lie for the sake of false comfort.

His husband’s face was calm, unfazed as was common, but there was something... almost nostalgic in his tone.

Xu Feng huffed a quiet breath. "It’s an immortal bloodline thing?"

It wasn’t really a question. He already knew the answer.

He was a demon beast, through and through, but immortal bloodline carriers and demon beasts were cut from the same cloth. The true difference was the level of purity in their bloodlines.

What Xuan Yang had gone through as a child was likely not so different from what a young demon beast with a human form would experience.

And Xuan Yang...

Xuan Yang and Dong Yang were more than just immortal bloodline carriers.

There was too much there to ignore. Too much to unpack.

Xu Feng glanced at their joined hands, then back at his husband’s composed profile.

Someday, they’d need to talk about it. There was so much to talk about, and even thinking about Dong Yang squeezed his heart. The owner of his bonus space still hadn’t made himself known, and the cave he remembered was still out of his reach.

But for now...

There were other things he could talk about. Other glaringly obvious elephants he was trying to ignore. It was the perfect redirection.

The distance to Blooming Courtyard was far, but the walk stretched between them in quiet contemplation.

The greenhouse and the courtyard were nestled near the back of the estate, far from the front reception hall where the weight of Xu Feng’s decisions still lingered. The time it took to walk there gave him a chance to breathe, to let the cool autumn air settle against his heated skin.

The flora around them had finally begun to accept the changing seasons. The leaves had started to curl, no longer clinging to the last whispers of warmth and his residual energy. In past months, Xu Feng had fed them energy, keeping the gardens vibrant even in the off seasons. But now...

Now that he had let them go, he needed to conserve his energy where he could.

His steps slowed as they passed the outer edge of the courtyard, his gaze sweeping over the wilting blooms and the thinning vines.

He was tired.

He was more tired than he had realized.

Back in Dongmen, while fighting to survive in the zombie plane and retrieving as many supplies as he could, he had ignored the weariness. He had ignored the weakness in his body, the exhaustion gnawing at his soul.

But now, he couldn’t.

He was running on empty.

His abilities kept him going, but they didn’t make him invincible. He was healthy but tired. It wasn’t just his body that had been recovering for months—it was his very soul. It still felt raw in some ways.

And yet, Xu Feng had pushed it aside and pretended it wasn’t real.

Because acknowledging it would mean accepting what had happened.

They entered the greenhouse through the main entrance, the warm humidity washing over them like a comforting embrace. The underground space had always been a sanctuary, a carefully maintained world untouched by the outside. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and a variety of plants, the vines along the walls still heavy with their last yield of Dragon Chrysanthemums.

They sat at the same wooden bench where they had gathered around days ago, the memory of laughter and lighthearted chatter lingering in the space.

But now, it was just the two of them.

Xu Feng exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the polished wood beneath his fingertips.

And then, quietly, as if the words had been waiting for the right moment to escape, he spoke.

"I died."

The words settled into the warm air, too casual, too real.

Xuan Yang’s fingers tensed around his.

Xu Feng looked at him.

The man who had spent months grieving him. The man who had stood in the ashes of his supposed death and carried the weight of his absence like an unshakable burden.

The man who, despite everything, had been there when he opened his eyes again.

"You died."

Xuan Yang’s voice was choked, a whisper barely stronger than the rustling leaves outside.

Xu Feng swallowed.

Just days ago, he had been annoyed—annoyed by how clingy Jian and Yang had been, how they trailed him like leeches, unwilling to let him out of their sight.

But he had died.

Of course, they didn’t want to let him go.

Of course, they had been watching him like a hawk.

He died.

The realization slammed into him all at once, like an avalanche crashing down from a great height.

And Xu Feng began to cry.

Not the kind of crying that started with sobs, but the kind that crept up silently, slipping past his defenses without permission. His vision blurred, the edges of Xuan Yang’s face softening as tears welled in his eyes.

"I lost you both."

His voice cracked, his shoulders trembling.

"I made you hurt."

He could see it now.

He could see it in the hollowness of Xuan Yang’s frame, in the sharp angles of his cheeks.

This was because of him.

Xu Feng had dreamed of Yang missing him on the edge of what seemed like madness at the time. Had dreamed of Jian, too. Dreamed of their grief, their yearning, their self condemnation.

And if those weren’t dreams—if they were something else—he didn’t want to know.

But the weight of it pressed down on his chest, a suffocating guilt he hadn’t been able to shake for weeks.

"I’m so sorry, Yang."

His fingers tightened around Xuan Yang’s, his body shaking as he forced the words out.

"I wish I didn’t..."

Didn’t what? Didn’t die?

It wasn’t like he had chosen death.

The thought burned in his throat, bitter and sharp.

He let out a shaky breath, his free hand pressing against his chest as if that would somehow ease the ache.

The only thing keeping him from falling apart completely was the warmth of Xuan Yang’s fingers in his own, steady and somewhat warm.

And he was lucky the children were still asleep.

Xuan Yang was silent. He didn’t speak, didn’t move—he just held Xu Feng, his grip firm yet careful, as though if he let go, even for a second, his husband would slip away again.

Xu Feng’s body was still, but his shoulders trembled faintly.

Then, without a sound, a tear rolled down his cheek.

It was warm where their bodies pressed together, but everything else felt unbearably cold.

This moment—it was real. It was real for both of them.

...

For days, everything had felt like a fever dream. Xu Feng’s return, his laughter, his casual teasing, even the way he moved around the estate as if nothing had changed—it had all felt surreal, like an illusion too fragile to trust.

But this—this warmth in his arms, the quiet sobs muffled against his chest—this was real.

He had Xu Feng back.

He squeezed his husband tighter, as if to ground himself, as if to commit the feel of him to memory.

Neither of them spoke.

It was unknown how long they stayed like this, clinging to each other, finding comfort in the familiarity of touch, the solidness of their presence.

...

Finally, Xu Feng stirred. His voice was softer than before, raw but steady.

"Everyone has been walking on eggshells around me."

Xuan Yang blinked. He remained quiet for a moment, pondering the words, before tilting his head slightly in thought.

"Eggshells are often tender... so they are walking on them gently?"

His tone was almost hesitant, and despite himself, Xu Feng huffed out a laugh.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to meet his husband’s dark eyes. "Mmm, it means they’re being careful around me. Too careful."

Xuan Yang’s gaze flickered with understanding.

Then, Xu Feng closed the small distance between them, pressing a soft peck against up at his husband’s lips.

The response was immediate—two quick pecks pressed to his eyelids, one after the other.

Xu Feng’s smile brightened at the familiar gesture.

Xuan Yang hummed, his voice low but honest. "Yes. Jian and I have been taking things one day at a time."

His gaze didn’t flinch, as if he already knew what Xu Feng was asking—even the parts that weren’t spoken aloud.

"From Si, San, and even Lee Hua. Bai Mo, Hu Zhe, and Xu Zeng... we’re all holding ourselves back."

Xu Feng didn’t question how Xuan Yang knew. Because he knew the truth, too.

His first day back, the tears had been too much. He knew his reaction had made everyone try to put on a brave face. Even the ones who had cried, he had pushed their emotions aside, unwilling to face them.

He could handle some face slapping, but crying?

The memory of the girls’ tears flashed through his mind. Then, Lee Hua’s.

As for the men—he had been glad they hadn’t started the waterworks with him.

But had they?

Xuan Yang continued, breaking through his thoughts.

"Bai Mo had to receive some warnings from your brother." He said it with a small, amused smile.

Xu Feng’s brows furrowed. "Warnings?"

Xuan Yang nodded. "He’s surprisingly similar to you in certain ways... and worlds apart in others."

Xu Feng tilted his head. "How so?"