Did My Wife Break Up With Me Today? - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: “It’s raining hard, let me give you a lift.”

The rain started again in the later half of the night—a pitter-patter occasionally accompanied by sharp gusts of wind.

Chen Kongqing first heard the sound of rain and frowned. He had finally managed to fall asleep, but the unbearable itch and numb, tingling sensation across his body began to surge again as his consciousness slowly returned.

It was hot.

Even though it was autumn in Kun City and raining outside—a time when one should feel a chill—he felt scorching. It was so hot that he kicked off his blanket and rolled to the corner of the bed that hadn’t yet been warmed by his body heat.

On his burning, sticky skin, it felt as if countless ants were crawling.

His heart felt empty, and his brain became incapable of thought. Everything converged into a single, shameful desire:

He wanted to be touched. He wanted to be embraced.

Preferably the kind of embrace so tight it felt like suffocation.

The young man’s brow furrowed deeply. He bit his lower lip in distress, forced to hug his carrot-shaped pillow even tighter. It seemed to help slightly; at least his frantic breathing leveled out. He forced himself not to open his eyes, commanding himself to fall back asleep.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he finally drifted off.

When he woke the next day, his temples throbbed with a dull ache and his nose felt itchy. He had likely caught a cold from kicking off the covers in the middle of the night.

“A-choo!” Chen Kongqing let out a massive sneeze, nearly dropping the jar of Angelica dahurica (White Angelica) in his hand.

“It’s been raining these past few days. Did you catch a cold?” his senior, Du Song, leaned over to ask.

The youth quickly hugged the jar of medicinal herbs to his chest and instinctively took a half-step back. An indescribable restlessness flared up on his skin again.

“Maybe I just caught a bit of a chill. It’s nothing, Senior,” he replied, turning to tuck the jar into the medicine cabinet.

Du Song didn’t notice anything amiss and went back to grinding herbs. “Then brew some ginger and jujube tea later. The damp chill is heavy lately.”

The youth gave a distracted hum of agreement. His palms felt hot, his arms felt hot, and everything was itching.

…

In the afternoon, he sent several messages to Ling Xiao.

Azurite: [Is your training over?] Azurite: [Are you coming back for dinner today?]

Ling Xiao had been preparing for the school’s basketball league recently, leaving early and returning late every day. Though it felt a bit like an afterthought, ever since Chen Kongqing’s leg injury had mostly healed, Ling Xiao was rarely home—claiming he was either in class or at practice. It had reached the point where, despite it being Ling Xiao’s apartment, it felt more like Chen Kongqing’s.

About ten minutes passed.

Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [Don’t know.] Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [Is something wrong?]

Chen Kongqing stared at the screen and pursed his lips, his fingertips tracing aimlessly over the glass.

He wanted Ling Xiao to come back. He wanted Ling Xiao to hold his hand, to give him a hug. But Ling Xiao would most likely ignore him.

Yet, he really felt terrible. After hesitating for several minutes, he typed: [My condition is acting up again.]

Azurite: [I want a hug.]

Ling Xiao knew about his illness. However, Ling Xiao only cared about the leg injury; he didn’t care for anything else. He wasn’t willing to help, and he often suspected Chen Kongqing was faking it.

Thinking of this, a flicker of loneliness passed through the youth’s willow-leaf eyes, which usually looked as though they were soaked in clear water.

Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [.] Azurite: [It’s for real.]

He instinctively wanted to prove it—to prove he wasn’t lying.

Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [If it’s real, go find a doctor.] Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [What’s the use of finding me?]

The youth bit his lip and stared at the screen in silence. Ling Xiao always spoke to him like this; he shouldn’t take it to heart. Since he liked Ling Xiao more, it was fine to yield a little.

Chen Kongqing quickly rubbed his eyes: [Okay.]

Azurite: [Then I’ll go see a doctor. Can you pick me up later?]

Just a pick-up, not to accompany him. He should agree to that, right? He gripped the slightly warm phone and waited a long while.

Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [Depends on the situation.]

At least it wasn’t a rejection. Thinking this, Chen Kongqing felt a bit happier.

He rushed to the lab to finish recording the day’s data, then booked a hospital appointment online. He wasn’t sure which department he should go to—dermatology?

The youth entered the dermatology clinic with an anxious heart. Two minutes later, he came out in embarrassment. The doctor told him he had registered for the wrong department.

Ten minutes later, Chen Kongqing stepped into the psychological consultation room with the same anxious heart. Well, having done a “rehearsal,” he wasn’t as nervous anymore. He was more worried about the gloomy sky—he hadn’t brought the pots of Trumpet Vines in from the balcony yet.

“Please come in.”

Chen Kongqing looked up distractedly, following the voice. Beside a minimalist desk sat a male doctor in a white coat. The man wore a strict surgical mask that covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes visible.

Initially, it was nothing special. But those phoenix eyes—the upward curve of the outer corners, the pupils as black as ink—bore a sixty to seventy percent resemblance to Ling Xiao’s eyes.

Chen Kongqing froze for a few seconds.

The doctor didn’t speak again either. Instead, he locked his gaze firmly onto the youth’s face. Something seemed to surge within those dark pupils, causing the air in the consultation room to become damp and inexplicably heavy.

Chen Kongqing was the first to pull away from this strange, silent confrontation. He averted his gaze and stepped forward timidly. “Hello, Doctor.”

The man finally withdrew his gaze and nodded slightly. “Please, have a seat.”

Chen Kongqing sat down. For some reason—perhaps due to that touch of “stickiness” in the damp air—his palms began to feel numb and itchy again. He pressed his palms against his knees, rubbing them against the denim to soothe the discomfort.

The moment the youth looked up again, the doctor removed his mask.

The lower half of his face was just as handsome as the upper half. On the right side of his elegant nose sat a tiny, greyish mole. It was very small, yet Chen Kongqing noticed it instantly. He had a fleeting illusion that he had seen this person somewhere before.

However, those ink-like pupils were projecting an emotion Chen Kongqing couldn’t quite describe. It was as if his eyes had something to say.

“My name is Xu Jingmo,” the man said, his eyes still shining. “I am your attending physician.”

The youth paused. Hearing the name, the first thing he thought of was… Jingmo (Semen Hippocastani/Prepared Ink), pungent in taste, neutral in nature, mostly used to stop bleeding and relieve pain.

Beyond that, it felt a bit strange. This was the first time he’d had a doctor introduce themselves personally during a check-up. “Hello, Dr. Xu. My name is Chen Kongqing.”

After speaking, he felt like something was missing, so he added silently: “I am… your patient.”

…So awkward.

Chen Kongqing felt his scalp tingle. He gave a dry cough and lowered his gaze, not daring to look Dr. Xu in the eye. Consequently, he missed the flash of loneliness and disappointment in the man’s eyes.

But quickly, Xu Jingmo suppressed those emotions. “Alright. Tell me about your specific situation.”

“Oh, okay.” Chen Kongqing loosened his grip on his crumpled jeans. “It’s just…”

It was actually a bit embarrassing to put into words. After all, it was a very strange illness. “It’s just… my skin feels very itchy and hot. I feel a strong urge to have contact with people—holding hands, hugging, things like that…”

Dr. Xu then asked more detailed questions about the episodes: how long they lasted, if there was a pattern to the timing, and so on. The youth answered each one seriously.

The man typed the medical history into the computer. Then, as if casually, he spoke again: “Are you in a relationship?”

“I am,” he answered. The image of Ling Xiao’s handsome face appeared in his mind.

After about five seconds, the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The palm he used to grip the mouse felt pained by the pressure. “Is the relationship good?”

Is the relationship good?

Frames of memories began to flash through his mind. There was him chasing after Ling Xiao to give him water. Him clutching his phone waiting for a reply. Him pushing Ling Xiao out of the way, only for his own leg to be crushed under a car tire. There was Ling Xiao frowning at him, impatient with him. Then Ling Xiao apologizing, letting him move into the apartment, and awkwardly caring for him while he was injured.

Finally, the memory settled on several years ago—the first time he saw Ling Xiao. Ling Xiao in a school uniform, laughing with his tiger-teeth showing.

“It’s quite good,” Chen Kongqing snapped back to reality and pursed his lips. Ling Xiao just had a bit of a temper and didn’t know how to love someone yet. So, their relationship shouldn’t be too bad.

The youth didn’t want to think deeper. He looked up again. “Doctor, what exactly is my condition?”

“Skin Hunger (Touch Starvation). Generally, the cause of this illness is a lack of emotional exchange and physical contact. If Mr. Chen’s emotional state is healthy, then it may be related to stress from studies, work, or life,” Xu Jingmo analyzed. His tone was steady, but the pen he was holding was currently being bent into an unbearable arc. “I will prescribe some supplementary medication to control the condition. Here are a few psychological assessments regarding the symptoms; I’ll need Mr. Chen to fill them out.”

Chen Kongqing nodded. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [Are you done yet?]

He spoke to the doctor with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, let me just reply to a message.”

The man smiled with gentlemanly grace. “It’s fine. Please, go ahead.”

Chen Kongqing tapped on the screen: [Almost. Can I wait for you at the entrance?]

After replying, he turned to the doctor urgently. “Can I do the questionnaire next time? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“You can. Take the slip to the pharmacy,” Xu Jingmo handed the slip to the youth.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Chen Kongqing reached out with fingers as pale as scallion whites to take the slip, then turned and hurried away.

He didn’t know why, but his back felt like it was burning. He hadn’t brushed against anything. Whatever—he’d just find some medicinal plasters at his master’s place later. But strangely, as soon as he left the consultation room, before he even reached the pharmacy, that burning sensation vanished.

He was in a rush and didn’t dwell on it. Grabbing his medicine, he scrambled toward the hospital’s main entrance.

As he moved, the gloomy sky finally unleashed the long-awaited downpour. Countless threads of rain struck the stone steps, turning into fluttering “rain butterflies.”

Chen Kongqing watched the cars turning around. Ling Xiao wasn’t there. He checked his phone and saw an unread message.

Ling Xiao [Heart Emoji]: [Something came up. Take a taxi yourself.]

The youth’s clear eyes looked as though they contained a misty block of ice, emitting an unshakeable coldness. His fingertips turned icy under the chilly wind.

He replied with a simple “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, letting out that coldness, and opened a ride-hailing app. But because the rain was too heavy and it was a hospital, many people were trying to get a car. He stared at the screen showing no drivers responding, a sour feeling layering over his heart. He was still worried about those Trumpet Vines on the balcony.

Suddenly, he felt that strange sensation on his back again. Just as Chen Kongqing was about to turn around, a slightly magnetic voice drifted into his ear:

“It’s raining hard. Let me give you a lift.”