Han Yue was still full of suspicion about why Chu Ci had suddenly started taking codeine, but Chu Ci ignored him completely. Ren Jiayun didn’t dare tell him that he had accidentally angered the engineer into coughing up blood, so in the end the matter was brushed over.
Before Chu Ci was discharged from the hospital, Han Yue had to rush to the Qingdao base for business. Before leaving, he handed Chu Ci a key he had been carefully keeping, and said, “This is the key to your new home.”
Chu Ci only glanced at it and did not reach out to take it, not even moving.
He was wearing a loose white hospital gown, the kind that looked especially relaxed and comfortable. Leaning against the headboard, he was reading a thick hardcover novel bound in leather. Outside the window, the late spring sunlight spilled onto the lilies at his bedside. The room was filled with a faint floral scent, everything quiet and harmonious like a painting.
The only thing breaking this picture-like calm was Han Yue. Because of Chu Ci’s silent refusal, the veins on the hand gripping the key box were visibly bulging, making him look somewhat intimidating.
“It’s a three-bedroom apartment. It’s near your workplace—only a ten-minute walk. I already had it renovated, furniture, bedding, everything is ready. Even your professional books were moved in, a whole cabinet’s worth.”
Han Yue paused, then said in a low voice, “If I come back and you haven’t moved in, you’d better watch out for what I might do…”
He didn’t continue. When dealing with Chu Ci, threats were necessary, but saying them outright would hurt their relationship, so after some thought he left it half-finished.
In truth, if Chu Ci hadn’t moved in by the time he returned, he obviously wouldn’t break his legs or lock him up. At most, he would drag Chu Ci back home and “deal with him properly” in bed.
The thought made Han Yue slightly excited. Chu Ci had been in the hospital for so long that he was nearly suffocating. Although he could find others if he wanted, people would be sent to him within ten minutes, he still didn’t want that.
He had begun to think that sex required emotion. If body and soul were completely separated, then sex would become nothing more than release of desire—no different from animals in heat.
Humans were advanced primates after all; they had physical needs, but also emotional and psychological ones.
Chu Ci’s fingers paused mid-page. He looked up at Han Yue with an expression that was hard to define—definitely not friendly—and asked, “If when you come back, I’ve already disappeared, where exactly would you go to break my legs?”
It wasn’t Chu Ci’s fault for interpreting Han Yue’s unspoken threat as “breaking your legs.” In fact, that was Han Yue’s habitual phrase; he used it often when threatening people, and Chu Ci was the one who had heard it the most.
“Disappear? Where could you even go?”
“The world isn’t just Beijing.”
Han Yue stared at him, not angry but laughing instead. “Oh? So you’re planning to quit your job, abandon your assets, and disappear from Beijing completely? Hide in some small town for the rest of your life just to avoid me? Do you think if you run, I won’t track you down? I can spend ten, twenty, thirty years on it. I don’t even need to do it myself—one word from me and people will rush to investigate, more carefully than I ever would. But what about you, Chu Ci? Are you planning to spend ten, twenty, thirty years—or even your entire life—hiding from me?”
Chu Ci remained silent.
“Then your life would truly be ruined. You wouldn’t be able to work openly, buy property under your real name, run a business, or even go to a hospital. A respected engineer reduced to living in hiding, never seeing daylight. Is that the price you’re willing to pay just to escape me?”
Han Yue smiled, his rough thumb brushing over Chu Ci’s expressionless face as he softened his tone.
“That’s not worth it, Chu Ci. Stay with me. I’m not a good person, but I can learn to be better—and I genuinely like you. I still have a lot of shortcomings, but maybe in ten or eight years I’ll have changed completely.”
He lowered his head, affectionately rubbing against Chu Ci’s face, speaking into his ear. “And even if you don’t want to wait that long, you can always pray I die early. I’ll leave you my inheritance. Once I’m gone, you’ll be free…”
Chu Ci suddenly shoved him away. Han Yue was caught off guard, his face turned aside, but then he slowly began to smile again, not at all angry.
“Don’t worry,” Chu Ci said coldly. “I’ll die before you do.”
Han Yue wanted to say he was still young and shouldn’t talk so casually about life and death, but after thinking it over, he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in and quickly licked Chu Ci’s ear.
“Alright, don’t be angry. You should really go see the new place I arranged for you. I put real effort into it… I have to go now, the car’s waiting downstairs. I’ll call you when I arrive.”
Just then, Ren Jiayun pushed the door open and happened to see this scene. He coughed. “Hey, hey, mind the hospital environment!”
Han Yue laughed and hugged Chu Ci. “Old Ren, stop pretending. Don’t think I don’t know you got scolded by your family doctor for flirting with nurses in the duty room!”
“Ahem, that was just talk!”
“Talk still shows impure thoughts.” Han Yue let go of Chu Ci and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Baby, I’ve already arranged everything for your discharge. Just go home obediently, alright?”
Ren Jiayun rarely saw Han Yue properly saying goodbye to anyone. Since childhood, Han Yue had been drifting, then joined the military—always leaving quickly, barely even saying goodbye. Even people like Old Commander Han and his wife had never received this kind of careful farewell.
Ren Jiayun looked at Chu Ci and couldn’t help saying, “He really does like you.”
“But I really don’t like him,” Chu Ci said coldly, watching Han Yue’s departing figure.
Han Yue left Beijing, and less than two days later, Chu Ci was discharged.
By then, his body had recovered well. He didn’t need Ren Jiayun to drive him; he simply took a taxi himself. Ren Jiayun, feeling somewhat guilty, insisted on treating him to a meal at a private club to celebrate his discharge.
Chu Ci hesitated on the phone, then said, “I don’t have time at noon… evening is fine.”
“Alright, evening it is. I heard your car is still broken? I’ll pick you up then.”
Chu Ci agreed and hung up.
That evening, Ren Jiayun indeed came to pick him up. Both had just gotten off work and were wearing white coats over shirts and trousers, looking like ordinary colleagues. Ren Jiayun joked, “Don’t we look like brothers standing like this?”
Chu Ci didn’t even turn his head. “I’m not honored enough to have a brother like you.”
Ren Jiayun was instantly choked speechless. “Hey, Engineer Chu, you’re pretty cheerful when talking to Zhao Ting, why are you treating me like an enemy of the class?”
“I treat all of Han Yue’s friends the same.”
“This is indiscriminate attack!”
“You can interpret it as me being ungrateful,” Chu Ci said evenly, cutting him off.
Ren Jiayun froze as he watched Chu Ci walk into the hotel.
Coincidentally, that night the private club wasn’t only hosting Ren Jiayun and Chu Ci. A group of Han Qiang’s friends were also there.
Han Qiang himself wasn’t present, but Zhao Ting was. They had booked a private room upstairs, with a large group of young men and women drinking and singing, the atmosphere loud and high-energy. On his way back from the restroom, Ren Jiayun even saw Zhao Ting and stopped to talk with him for a while.
When he returned, Chu Ci was sitting in an armchair, slowly sipping vodka while watching the TV in the private room. Half a bottle of alcohol was already gone. Ren Jiayun immediately panicked, rushed over, and snatched the glass away.
“Are you crazy?! You just recovered from a gastric hemorrhage and you’re drinking? Do you want Han Yue to come back and kill me?”
Chu Ci glanced at him, his eyes faintly misted with drunkenness, then smiled.
“Why would he trouble you?” he said. “He once forced me to drink in front of other people. When I didn’t, he—”
The alcohol seemed to surge up in him. He covered his mouth briefly, then continued, “Don’t worry. He definitely won’t trouble you. He only ever yells at me and hits me.”
“You… you’re drinking to drown your sorrows?” Ren Jiayun sighed in frustration and moved the bottle far away. “Alright, alright. Whatever Han Yue is like, as a chronic gastric ulcer patient you shouldn’t be touching strong liquor at all. And you should smoke less too. Honestly, I heard you didn’t drink before—why are you suddenly downing so much today?”
“I’m not… not someone who doesn’t drink. I just don’t want to be… be forced to drink. Do you understand?”
Chu Ci tried to stand while holding onto the chair, but staggered and nearly fell. Ren Jiayun quickly rushed forward and caught him.
“You’re drunk!”
Chu Ci lifted his eyes to look at him. His face was lightly flushed from alcohol, and his eyes were as bright and clear as water, so bright it made direct eye contact uncomfortable. The way he looked while drunk was completely different from usual—normally he was expressionless, quiet, and sharp-tongued, often saying things that left others speechless. Now, however, he was smiling at Ren Jiayun, a strikingly gentle expression.
“Do… do you really understand?” he asked.
Ren Jiayun’s heartbeat skipped. He steadied himself quickly. “I understand, I understand.”
“I don’t want to… don’t want to be forced… do you know that?”
“Got it, got it.” Ren Jiayun turned his head away, unable to look at Chu Ci directly. “You’re really drunk. I’ll take you home now.”
Fortunately, Chu Ci was relatively obedient. Told to go home, he went home. Ren Jiayun half-carried him into the car, thinking that it was fortunate Han Yue wasn’t around—if he saw this scene, he would definitely become insanely jealous and “eat him alive.”
At first, Chu Ci was somewhat restless when drunk, but after a few minutes the initial stimulation faded. He leaned back in the passenger seat and fell asleep quietly. Even when they arrived, Ren Jiayun carried him upstairs, found the key from his pocket, and opened the door without waking him.
This was the apartment arranged by Han Yue for Chu Ci. The place was empty except for him, and he was sleeping so deeply that he showed no sign of waking. Ren Jiayun didn’t want to stay long, and he certainly didn’t want to remain alone in the same room as a sleeping Chu Ci, so he quickly settled him in, covered him with a blanket, and left.
It was 11:30 p.m.
At the same time, Zhao Ting was also drunk at a hotel.
Nightlife had reached its peak; the evening was just beginning to heat up. A newly acquainted, stunning woman helped him up, bidding farewell one by one to his equally intoxicated friends.
“Brother Zhao, where to?” she asked sweetly as she supported him out.
Zhao Ting slurred with a laugh, “To… to Chun Chang Garden!”
Everyone in his circle knew Chun Chang Garden was Zhao Ting’s private residence—a luxury apartment used for group gatherings, prostitutes, drinking, gambling, and the like. People of status were now cautious; they avoided hotels for such activities in case they attracted media trouble. A private “love nest,” though slightly more complicated, was ultimately safer.
Zhao Ting clearly could not drive. The woman skillfully took his keys, drove the car out of the parking lot, picked him up at the hotel entrance, and headed toward Chun Chang Garden. Once there, she helped him out of the car, but by then he could barely restrain himself, laughing as he groped her.
Fortunately it was dark; otherwise the scene would have been indecent beyond measure.
“Upstairs… upstairs!” the woman protested coyly, hitting him playfully. “You’re awful, not here outside!”
Zhao Ting agreed incoherently while trying to pull her into his arms. But when he reached out, he grasped nothing.
He squinted through drunken eyes—and saw the woman suddenly lying collapsed on the ground, unconscious.
His alcohol-numbed brain failed to process it. Then a sharp pain struck the back of his head, like a heavy blow. In an instant, his vision went black and he collapsed.
Something was wrong.
His sense of danger came too late.
In the final seconds before losing consciousness, he felt an icy pain erupt through his right shoulder, like a freezing wind piercing straight into his bones.
Zhao Ting forced his eyes open and saw a flash of bright blade cutting upward, followed by a spray of blood that instantly filled his vision red. He could see nothing clearly anymore, could feel nothing else. The last thing he heard was a dull thud.
That was the sound of his entire right arm hitting the ground.
His body twitched twice, and then he passed out.