Yet it was precisely this kind of irritation that lingered in his mind, scratching at his heart, and he found himself inexplicably addicted to it.
The lighter finally flickered with a faint glow, igniting tiny sparks on the cigarette butt. The pungent smell of nicotine once again filled the entire space.
Ji Zechen pressed his temple point, his gaze fixed on the boundless night outside the window, his restlessness deepening.
…
When Shu Qianzhi came down from the second floor, she caught a glimpse of several figures anxiously pacing back and forth at the staircase.
Seeing her appear completely unharmed, Wan Feng and Aunt Li were momentarily stunned in sync.
Aunt Li quickly approached her, scrutinizing her up and down. “Xiao Xi, why did you go upstairs? Did you see Master Ji? He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”
Three consecutive questions were enough to show how anxious Aunt Li was.
But Shu Qianzhi was puzzled.
Earlier on the second floor, she hadn’t seen anything particularly unusual. Moreover, when Ji Zechen noticed her presence, he didn’t seem particularly displeased, as if her going upstairs wasn’t a big deal to him.
If that was the case, why were Aunt Li and Wan Feng so worried?
Suppressing her curiosity, Shu Qianzhi shook her head and replied to Aunt Li, “Not at all.”
She then raised her arm to show the gauze on her elbow. “Brother even helped bandage my wound. He was really nice to me!”
Hearing this, Aunt Li secretly breathed a sigh of relief but exchanged a meaningful glance with Wan Feng.
She then pressed further, “You didn’t wander around after going upstairs, did you?”
“No,” Shu Qianzhi replied innocently.
But she was still pondering internally—could there be something hidden in a corner of the second floor?
Uncertain, she decided to test the waters and added, “I only went to find Brother. Is there somewhere on the second floor I’m not allowed to go?”
“You really shouldn’t have gone upstairs,” Aunt Li said, patting her shoulder with a mix of affection and helplessness. Her eyes drifted toward the second floor for a moment before she looked back and advised, “I told you a few days ago, child, the second floor is Master Ji’s private area. Don’t go up there again, no matter how much you want to see Master Ji.”
“Why?” Shu Qianzhi asked sincerely. “Brother didn’t say anything when he saw me there. He’s not even mad at me anymore.”
“You were lucky this time,” Aunt Li said cryptically, leaving it at that before Wan Feng changed the subject. Neither of them brought it up again.
Shu Qianzhi didn’t get another chance to probe further.
Aunt Li soon escorted her back to her room and left with Wan Feng. Though Shu Qianzhi was filled with questions, she couldn’t get any answers.
For now, she set aside her curiosity and focused on the gauze on her elbow, which Ji Zechen had personally bandaged. A secret joy bubbled in her heart.
Reflecting on the day, it had been full of twists and turns. She had thought she would be abandoned, but instead, she got to see Ji Zechen—a blessing in disguise.
As for the gauze on her arm, it was a trophy.
Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She went over, picked up a pen from the bookshelf, and with her left hand, clumsily drew an adorable little bow on the gauze around her elbow.
After finishing, she directly took a picture and sent it to Ji Zechen via MMS:
“This is the bowtie you owe me, brother. Now I’ve helped you make up for it—”
In the study on the second floor, the phone vibrated twice. Ji Zechen hooked his finger around the phone and glanced at the message.
Suddenly, he recalled what she had said when she asked him to help bandage her—she wanted a bowtie tied.
Pressing the power button, Ji Zechen rubbed his knuckles against the tip of his nose and chuckled softly.
She really was a burden who couldn’t even take care of herself, ignorant and foolish, always quick to cry.
But to be honest.
He didn’t seem to dislike it as much as he had imagined.
…
Downstairs, after sending the message, Shu Qianzhi didn’t expect Ji Zechen to reply. She even felt grateful if he merely saw the message.
Bored, she tossed her phone aside, took out some painkillers and swallowed a few pills, then burrowed directly under the covers.
As the pain in her arm gradually eased and she became more aware of the changes in her body, correlating them with the various reactions she’d had over the past few days, she suddenly seemed to have an idea and wanted to confirm it.
So she got up again, fetched an extra box of fever-reducing medicine and placed it on the bedside table for backup, then crawled back under the covers.
Drowsiness slowly set in. Shu Qianzhi couldn’t be bothered to think about anything, not even dinner. Soon after lying down, she peacefully drifted off to sleep.
In the middle of the night, as expected, she developed a fever again.
Fortunately, it was only a low-grade fever. She forced herself up, swallowed the prepared fever-reducing medicine despite the discomfort, and lay back down without disturbing anyone else in the house.
Wide awake, she could only stare at the dark ceiling, letting fragments of memories flit randomly through her mind.
She knew that, barring any surprises, by the time she woke up tomorrow, she should be lively and energetic again.