12
Actually, I Am a Little Angry
Chapter 12: Actually, I’m a Little Angry
Fu Jing was left speechless. Seeing Jiang You in this state, he had no heart to argue further.
Time seemed to have slowed down, the small room filled with tension and urgency.
Medical staff took turns performing chest compressions and CPR.
Round after round.
Jiang You’s chest was pressed until it turned crimson.
After the fourth defibrillation attempt, Jiang You’s vital signs returned.
The hands that had been gripping Fu Jing’s throat finally loosened their hold.
After placing an oxygen mask over Jiang You’s face, the medical staff hurriedly lifted him onto a stretcher.
Zhao Linsheng took off his jacket and covered Jiang You with it, concealing half of his face, leaving only a pair of tightly closed eyes visible.
Fu Jing followed closely behind, but Zhao Linsheng turned back and said, “President Fu, please rest well.”
Fu Jing was left standing there, blocked from following.
With a loud bang—the door was forcefully shut.
The room instantly fell into dead silence. Fu Jing bent over, arms resting on his knees, collapsing weakly onto the bed.
The next day, news of Jiang You’s emergency hospitalization late at night made headlines again.
The previous incident had been somewhat better since it happened overseas, but this time the domestic coverage was even more intense.
Although Jiang You’s face was covered in the leaked photos, Zhao Linsheng beside him was recognized by everyone.
Many people knew that Jiang You had accompanied Fu Jing to celebrate his birthday the previous night, making Fu Jing the target of public criticism.
Fu Jing didn’t understand why Jiang You—an entrepreneur who also worked as a minor director—garnered so much attention.
When he went to the hospital to see Jiang You in the morning, Jiang You was still asleep. Although Jiang You had looked terrifying during the rescue efforts the night before, his current appearance wasn’t much better—his face was as pale as a vampire who hadn’t seen sunlight for a hundred years.
Fu Jing touched Jiang You’s hand; it was finally warm.
After staring at the ring on Jiang You’s ring finger for a moment, Fu Jing turned and left.
When he returned that evening, Jiang You was sitting on the hospital bed handling work.
His skin appeared bright and fair, his lips rosy—already looking like his healthy self again.
His recovery was quite fast; he was indeed resilient.
Next to the laptop was a pile of cosmetics, clearly indicating that President Jiang had just done his makeup.
Seeing Fu Jing enter, Jiang You glanced up at him before calmly returning his attention to the computer.
“Are you angry?” Fu Jing crossed his legs and sat in a nearby chair.
“No.”
“Then why aren’t you speaking?”
Jiang You looked at Fu Jing again; he didn’t know what to say.
Actually, he was indeed a little angry, but he could process it on his own. It would pass in a day or two.
Even if he couldn’t handle it himself, there was no other way—Fu Jing wouldn’t comfort him.
“Have you eaten?”
This seemed to be the question he asked Fu Jing most often.
Fu Jing replied, “Not yet. I came here directly from the company.”
Jiang You called Zhao Linsheng and asked him to buy more food since Fu Jing was there.
After hanging up, he continued working. The quiet room was occasionally punctuated by the sound of keyboard tapping.
An IV catheter was taped to the back of Jiang You’s hand, below which were his slender wrist bones, pale like jade artifacts. Jiang You’s entire body had that kind of porcelain-white complexion, as if never exposed to sunlight.
It looked extremely unhealthy.
“I didn’t know you couldn’t drink,” Fu Jing suddenly said.
Jiang You looked up, his expression stunned. He felt that Fu Jing might be offering an explanation.
Fu Jing had never explained anything to him before, so he felt somewhat pleased.
“Now you know.”
His tone was forgiving.
Fu Jing knew that Jiang You had a good temper.
“A man who can’t drink,” Fu Jing said, crossing his arms and leaning his head back.
Jiang You retorted, “I can drink.”
Fu Jing sneered, “Right, you can drink—straight to the hospital after finishing.”
Jiang You stared at him, opening his mouth several times but failing to make a sound. He could only pretend to focus on his work again.
He truly had zero alcohol tolerance.
Soon, Zhao Linsheng returned, carrying not only food but also a box of cake.
Jiang You was surprised. “You bought cake?”
“Mm.” Zhao Linsheng placed the cake on his desk. “Want some?”
Jiang You didn’t reply, but his eyes remained fixed on the cake.
“Eat it after your meal,” Zhao Linsheng reminded him.
“Okay.” Jiang You nodded obediently, his tone and demeanor both compliant.
Whenever these two were together, the atmosphere always felt sticky and intimate.
“Assistant Zhao, is there only one piece of cake?” Fu Jing asked with a smile.
Anyone with eyes could see there was only one.
Before Zhao Linsheng could respond, Jiang You said, “You can have it if you want.” He picked up the cake box and handed it to him.
Fu Jing turned to Zhao Linsheng. “Assistant Zhao, may I eat it?”
Zhao Linsheng’s jaw tightened. Fu Jing had never provoked him like this before—he had no idea what had gotten into him today.
“The cake belongs to President Jiang.”
This statement could be taken literally.
Or it could be understood as him having no right to decide—only Jiang You had the final say.
Fu Jing nodded. “The cake is Jiang You’s. Jiang You is mine, so the cake is also mine.”
“…” Zhao Linsheng and Jiang You stared at him silently.
“Right, Jiang You?” Fu Jing turned to look at Jiang You.
Jiang You opened his mouth, then closed it, silently nodding.
Fu Jing didn’t want such an ambiguous answer—he wanted Jiang You to say it aloud.
He asked again, “Is it true? Speak.” His tone carried a command.
Jiang You looked at him, his eyelashes fluttering slowly, and nodded in agreement. “Mm, it’s yours.”
“What is mine?”
Jiang You answered honestly, “Everything is yours.”
So obedient.
Fu Jing curved his lips, seemingly satisfied.
Zhao Linsheng said nothing, but his face was dark. He turned to Jiang You. “I’ll head out first. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Alright, drive safely,” Jiang You reminded him.
After he left, the two sat together to eat.
Jiang You occasionally stole glances at Fu Jing. It had been a long time since they’d sat together so peacefully for a meal.
Fu Jing seemed off today, as if he’d taken the wrong medicine. Because of his words—”Jiang You is mine”—Jiang You now felt as if he were drunk, dizzy and lightheaded, almost floating.
In truth, Fu Jing was a good person by nature; he only turned harsh when facing Jiang You.
And it hadn’t always been that way.
Just before their internship began, Jiang You once had a high fever. It was a Friday evening, and all his dormmates had gone out to eat or hang out at internet cafes.
Jiang You had no medicine and was lying in bed, burning up alone.
Fu Jing lived in the neighboring dorm and happened to stop by to see one of Jiang You’s roommates. That’s when he discovered Jiang You with a high fever.
At the time, Jiang You was delirious from the fever. Fu Jing found fever-reducing medicine and warm water, lifted him up, and personally fed him the medicine. He even made a special trip to the cafeteria to buy food and bring it to him.
Only after watching him finish a bowl of porridge did Fu Jing leave, thoughtfully placing a cup of warm water by his bedside before going.
It was after that incident that Jiang You could no longer suppress his feelings for Fu Jing.
He was no longer content to watch and yearn from the shadows.
He resolved to make Fu Jing his, no matter what it took.
When he stole another glance at Fu Jing, their eyes met.
Caught in the act, Jiang You quickly lowered his head and stuffed a large spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
Jiang You was usually aloof, so this uncharacteristic discomfort on his face made him appear much more animated.
“What do you want to say?” Fu Jing set down his chopsticks.
Jiang You lifted his head again, his expression having returned to its usual calm. After hesitating for a moment, he said, “Actually, I am a little angry, Fu Jing.”