pdf-ebookys Chapter 293 My Heart Stopped Beating for You for 3 Years
Chapter 293 My Heart Stopped Beating for You for 3 Years
Tan Haoyu's pupils contracted sharply, as if he were back in that mourning hall filled with white chrysanthemums. The veins on his hand, which was gripping the ends of her hair, bulged: "Yes."
"Plop," warm liquid splattered onto the second button of Tan Haoyu's shirt. Zhu Ziqing suddenly curled up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her sobs mingling with the night wind: "So I've already 'died' once before..."
"So you've been lying to me all along! Using the story of your deceased wife as a cover!" Zhu Ziqing's nails dug into his arm. "All that tenderness in the dead of night, was it all an act for the 'dead' with amnesia?"
Tan Haoyu grabbed her wrist and pressed it against his chest: "I can lie to heaven and earth, but I can't lie to this heart that stopped beating for you for three years. I'm afraid of scaring you, afraid you'll remember the pain of the C-section, the hatred of being betrayed by your own father..."
"Liar!" Zhu Ziqing slammed into his chest, the surgical scar from three years ago throbbing with pain as she slammed into him. "You've even stolen my life!"
Zhu Ziqing retreated into the shadow of the streetlamp, her shadow stretched long and thin, much like her crumbling world: "I'm like a tree uprooted, I'll fall over with the slightest gust of wind." She hugged her arms tightly, her nails digging deep into her palms, "My dad... the one who said he would protect me for life, pushed me into hell with his own hands."
Tan Haoyu loosened his crooked tie, revealing a gruesome old scar on his collarbone—a scar from three years ago when he shielded her from a bullet. "From today onward, your roots are planted here with me." He knelt on one knee, his eyes churning with molten lava as he looked up. "I will help you regain all your memories, even if it means digging three feet into the ground."
Zhu Ziqing's eyelashes trembled violently, and she finally nodded heavily. A tear that hadn't yet fallen rolled back into her eye, gleaming like a pearl in the moonlight.
As Tan Haoyu stood up, he casually took her hand, his fingertips tracing the calluses on the back of her hand—marks left from holding a paintbrush. Zhu Ziqing lowered her head and chuckled softly: "As long as I'm with you..."
"Hey! Are you two arguing?" The woman roasting chestnuts suddenly poked her head out from behind her stall, banging her spatula against the wok. "Young man, don't let your daughter shed a tear!"
Tan Haoyu released Zhu Ziqing's hand and instead put his arm around her shoulder, half of the bandage showing from the cuff of his military uniform: "Don't worry, I've welded this flower to my side."
The older woman happily stuffed a bag of roasted chestnuts into Zhu Ziqing's arms: "Try these freshly roasted ones!"
"Thank you... thank you, Auntie." Zhu Ziqing peeled a chestnut with red eyes, and the hot chestnut made her nose tingle with sweetness.
A cool breeze, carrying the aroma of roasted chestnuts, dispelled the last vestiges of gloom. Tan Haoyu gently brushed his thumb across Zhu Ziqing's reddened eyes, then took her hand and continued walking.
The setting sun bathed Shenzhen in a sea of orange, and Zhu Ziqing's hand was held in Tan Haoyu's palm. A half-worn wristwatch peeked out from his suit sleeve, the ticking of the second hand mingling with the crisp sound of his leather shoes on the plane tree leaves, like a slow song from an old record.
Passersby frequently glanced at them—the man had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the woman had delicate features, and the warm golden light cast a soft glow on them. Zhu Ziqing looked at their overlapping shadows and suddenly remembered running around with a balloon as a child, the string wrapped tightly around her wrist like this, getting tighter and tighter.
"Do you remember this place?" Tan Haoyu stopped at the entrance of "Xinghe Life Supermarket," the glass door reflecting the subtle anticipation in his eyes. In the surveillance footage from three years ago, Zhu Ziqing always liked to tiptoe to reach the brown rice on the top shelf, and he would stand behind her as a human ladder.
As she pushed her shopping cart inside, a young couple was bickering over which bag of potato chips to choose. The woman stomped her foot playfully, and the man immediately surrendered—the sight made Zhu Ziqing's temples throb. She leaned against the shelf, panting, and vaguely saw herself in a floral apron, tiptoeing to reach the salt shaker, only to have a pair of slender hands reach it from behind her, the warmth of their palms seeping through the apron into her skin…
"Don't push yourself." Tan Haoyu's voice was cool, like a mint candy, as his thumb rubbed the pale blue veins on the back of her hand. "We have plenty of time."
The elevator numbers jumped to the 17th floor, and the key Tan Haoyu pulled out wasn't even scratched. The moment the door opened, the scent of cedarwood mixed with dust wafted out—the wedding photo on the living room wall was still hanging, Zhu Ziqing smiling with dimples in her mermaid wedding dress, and Tan Haoyu's tie was crooked just right.
Zhu Ziqing's high heels stopped in the entryway. Memories flashed through her mind like pieces of a torn puzzle: the aroma of pork rib soup wafting from the kitchen, her nestled in Tan Haoyu's arms watching financial news, his fingertips tracing circles on a stock chart as he ran his fingers through her hair... The images flashed by too quickly, and she groaned softly as she leaned against the shoe cabinet.
"Want to try some chestnuts?" Tan Haoyu deftly tied on his dark blue apron, skillfully slicing the pork belly into even, bite-sized pieces, the splattering oil leaving red marks on his wrists. Zhu Ziqing peeled roasted chestnuts, watching his muscles ripple under his shirt as he tossed the wok, and suddenly remembered what the older woman had said: "Their relationship is so sweet it's sickening."
"Ah—" Tan Haoyu tilted his head to indicate, his hand gripping the spatula tightly. Zhu Ziqing blushed and offered him a chestnut, but he bit her fingertip. The warm touch exploded from between her thumb and forefinger, like an electric current shooting up her spine to the back of her neck. She tried to pull her hand away, but met his suddenly darkening eyes.
"The oil is hot." Tan Haoyu suddenly spoke, his tongue brushing against the calluses on her fingertips. "Be careful, it'll burn you." As he turned, the strap of his apron brushed against her knees, carrying a faint scent of cedarwood.
"Your ears are all red." Tan Haoyu loosened his grip on Zhu Ziqing's fingertip, a low chuckle escaping his throat. He watched her jump away like a startled deer, flour from her apron sticking to the tip of her nose, making her almond-shaped eyes appear even brighter.
Images from three years ago flooded his mind—on their wedding night, she fed him osmanthus cake, just as shyly. Back then, he deliberately held her fingertip in his mouth, watching her earlobe burn all the way to her neck. Now their daughter was three years old, but she still couldn't learn to hide her racing heart.
"You're so glib." Zhu Ziqing feigned anger, but her fingertips gently pinched his arm. Through his shirt, she felt the raised area of his old wound—the one from when he took a bullet for her. She suddenly remembered her father's sinister smile hidden behind the medicine bottle, and her eyelashes trembled violently: "Let's cook first."
Tan Haoyu gripped her wrist, his suit sleeve slipping down to reveal his wristwatch: "Time will prove that my heart is more reliable than the gears of this mechanical watch."
The aroma of steak wafting from the kitchen filled the air as Zhu Ziqing sat at the wooden dining table peeling chestnuts. The light from the floor-to-ceiling windows cast a long shadow over her, and her occasionally furrowed brows resembled the ripples on a lake surface.
"Want to go for a walk in the living room?" Tan Haoyu poked his head out, half a paring knife sticking out of his apron pocket. "There's a Persian rug over there that you picked out yourself."
Pushing open the carved glass door, Zhu Ziqing's high heels paused at the edge of the Persian carpet. The light gray living room, unlike the luxury of Jiayuan, resembled amber frozen in time.
A white doghouse in the corner of the balcony caught her eye, and she suddenly heard a bell ring—a fluffy Pomeranian wagged its tail and paws glistening with dew from the lawn. "Little Flower! Stop it!" she blurted out, the imaginary touch of dog fur still lingering on her fingertips.
But upon closer inspection, the doghouse was completely empty.