His long fingers gently curled around Su Mu’s wrist, and his eyelashes lowered. Bits and pieces of the past gradually surfaced in his mind. Luo Beiyao pressed his lips together slightly, his expression tinged with melancholy.
At first, he and Su Mu had liked each other, and every day together had been fulfilling and warm.
Luo Beiyao had thought their life would always continue like that—until, at some point, Su Mu’s attitude toward him slowly grew distant. He always felt the other was hiding something. But when he asked, the usually obedient Su Mu wouldn’t utter a single word. Eventually, Su Mu had proposed a breakup, and their relationship had worsened rapidly.
The intimate moments that occurred when both of them were emotionally charged lacked warmth. Every word Luo Beiyao had spoken in his irrational anger had been extremely cruel to Su Mu, and his physical actions had been as rough as possible.
Later, Luo Beiyao regretted it. He believed he had gone too far—such things should happen only when both parties consent. But in his anger, he had chosen to hurt Su Mu.
Now, Luo Beiyao suddenly felt like a wronged husband trapped in a boudoir. One moment, he resented Su Mu’s coldness; the next, he regretted his own excessive behavior. He wanted to trap Su Mu by his side, yet his conscience weighed heavily against him.
He knew Su Mu no longer remembered the past, which explained his resistance to Luo Beiyao’s affections. He also knew Su Mu disliked overly intimate gestures—but he couldn’t help himself.
Luo Beiyao sensed Lu Shuangshuang’s feelings for Su Mu, so he often couldn’t resist showing his possessiveness in front of others. Yet deep down, he despised himself for ignoring Su Mu’s wishes.
This contradiction made him feel utterly ridiculous.
It was like someone harming others for their own sake, yet always pretending they had no choice but to do so.
Recalling all his previous actions, Luo Beiyao felt unbearably pretentious. His gaze gradually grew cold.
Ultimately, his so-called reluctance to hurt Su Mu was merely fear: fear that being too forceful would push Su Mu even farther away. If Su Mu were still as gentle and delicate as he used to be, he wouldn’t feel so anxious and insecure.
Just as Su Mu had proposed the breakup, he had clung desperately, refused to accept it, and, in a moment of irrationality, said harsh things and even physically hurt Su Mu.
What had he been thinking back then?
He knew Su Mu’s nature was soft, and he had grown used to being dominant and possessive in Su Mu’s presence. Usually, Su Mu obeyed him in everything—limiting contact with others, not working on holidays, staying home while he worked late. He had been dreaming of marriage. Yet Su Mu had proposed the breakup.
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Su Mu had never defied him like that before. In a moment of losing control, Luo Beiyao had shoved him, and the sharp shard of porcelain on the ground had sliced a long wound along Su Mu’s arm. In his irrational state, he had wanted to strangle him, feeling that one wound could never vent the fury inside him.
Perhaps he had been utterly spoiled, and spoiled him so much since being together. Aside from his possessiveness, he had thought he owed Su Mu nothing.
So he had believed that the inflicted pain was somehow deserved.
But at some point, he had grown increasingly insecure. He constantly feared that his forceful attitude would only push Su Mu farther away.
He didn’t know whether it was because he had been dreaming more frequently of Su Mu turning into a zombie, or because Su Mu’s increasingly cold temperament exacerbated his anxiety.
His thumb brushed heavily over the young man’s delicate lips. Fresh red blood welled from the small wound. Luo Beiyao recoiled as if burned, his knuckles curling tightly. Yet the young man in a deep sleep didn’t even furrow his brows.
Lowering his head, Luo Beiyao pressed his smooth forehead against Su Mu’s. Tiny strands of hair brushed against the skin, tickling slightly—just like Luo Beiyao’s heart, where something seemed to be stirring, ready to break through the surface.