AFM 66

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, also known as PTSD.”

“It’s what people commonly refer to as the psychological trauma triggered after experiencing major trauma.”

“In the past, it often occurred in veterans after discharge.” The doctor looked up and spoke slowly: “Of course, this type of severe traumatic stress also includes survivors of natural disasters, major car accidents, the loss of loved ones…”

“The hardest part isn’t the day of the disaster itself.”

“But every single day that follows for the rest of one’s life.”

“A simple, specific scene can easily trigger symptoms. Patients may suffer from chronic nightmares, avoidance, depression, and despair.” The doctor tapped his pen against the thick stack of papers, sighed, and said solemnly: “But the most severe is what patients may face—trauma re-experiencing.”

“Simply put, with each episode, the traumatic scene from that day will replay vividly and realistically in their mind, as if they’ve returned to that moment.”

“In medical terminology, this is collectively referred to as ‘flashbacks.'”

“It’s equivalent to reliving that pain over and over again.”

“Without end.”

“About two-thirds of patients will never recover in their lifetime, finding relief only in death.”

“This is unimaginable.”

“…President Ren.”

Jing Mian unconsciously held his breath.

“Husband can’t be without MianMian.”

The man’s words were calm and deep, revealing no excessive emotion.

Yet the stiff-backed youth, frozen in shock, vaguely sensed boundless tenderness hidden behind these words.

The chaotic roar of traffic and crashing sounds that had been overwhelming his mind slowly faded away at this moment.

Jing Mian’s hearing became as silent and still as the sea before him.

The suffocating sensation receded.

Only the rustling wind remained in his ears.

Jing Mian took a deep breath, feeling the crisp, cool air rush into his nostrils, reviving every overheated nerve. His blood grew scalding before gently cooling again.

In a daze, it felt like being reborn.

Husband can’t be without MianMian.

Jing Mian repeated these words in his heart.

Actually, he knew the truth was the opposite.

…Precisely the opposite.

It wasn’t that Husband couldn’t be without MianMian.

But that MianMian couldn’t be without Husband.

Before the next wave could hit, Mr. Ren lowered his gaze, lips pressing together slightly as he reached out toward Jing Mian.

“MianMian.”

“Come home with me.”

Jing Mian’s pupils contracted in stunned silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Jing Mian looked down, unconsciously biting his lower lip as an unspeakable ache rose in his throat, making his nose sting.

He raised his hand, fingertips gripping the brim as he removed his hat.

The next second, he moved toward Mr. Ren.

No…

He ran.

The moment he tumbled into Mr. Ren’s embrace, Jing Mian felt Ren Xingwan’s arm wrap around his waist, the grip tightening instantly—so much so that his shoes left the water’s surface in mere seconds.

Dripping water trailed from his shoe tips.

Breathing in that familiar scent, Jing Mian couldn’t help burying his face against the man’s neck, nose trembling slightly.

Mr. Ren carried him all the way to dry sand beyond the waves’ reach. Only then did Jing Mian feel his feet touch solid ground again, the weight of reality settling in—though the arm around his waist never loosened.

Being held tight felt wonderful.

Especially when it was by the ever-reassuring Mr. Ren.

Jing Mian’s tense body gradually relaxed as if all strength had drained away, every nerve and muscle softening into a state of complete ease.

Mr. Ren…

Perhaps possessed some kind of magic.

“Husband.”

The man responded, “Hmm?”

“No one actually went to that birthday party.”

Mr. Ren’s eyebrows froze in surprise.

“I was tricked.”

The voice against his ear was soft and hoarse, slightly suppressed with a hint of nasal tone: “It was only after I returned to school that a classmate quietly told me.”

“Turns out none of them showed up.”

Jing Mian spoke calmly: “That birthday party for Brother… was just a fabricated prank they made up to fool me.”

“After that, for a long time, I was trapped in regret and confusion. I kept thinking about why, but could never figure it out.”

“What did I do wrong? Why me?”

His voice paused briefly.

Jing Mian whispered:

“But now… I think I’m starting to understand.”

“Maybe it was simply because… I didn’t have any friends back then.”

…

“Husband.”

“That night of the car accident…”

Jing Mian closed his eyes as a tear rolled down his cheek, landing on the man’s collar—warm and wet. The youth’s voice was almost inaudible:

“We were heading… to a destination that never existed.”

…

…

The grip in his palm was restrained yet heavy,

As Jing Mian was gradually held tighter in the man’s embrace.

Perhaps he was too exhausted tonight, because in this moment, the utterly drained Jing Mian had an illusion—

His husband’s arms holding him tight… seemed to be trembling slightly.

The night sea was gradually illuminated by the city’s edge, even the passing breeze turning gentle. The tide swept over the beach one final time, still finding nothing, before retreating gloomily.

Before succumbing to sleep from exhaustion, Jing Mian faintly realized one truth.

Mr. Ren…

Seemed… to care about him deeply.