Shen Zhaoran was visibly stunned when she heard this.
“As expected.” Song Heyan had guessed that Shen Zhaoran would not be completely oblivious, though she likely would never have suspected him.
Unlike Shen Junhuai, Song Heyan believed that breaking the current stalemate might be agonizing, but was it really any easier to endure the daily prick of an invisible thorn? In his view, as long as Shen Zhaoran could be moved, Shen Junhuai had already won.
Shen Zhaoran pondered for a moment and said, “You are not allowed to cheat.”
Song Heyan countered with a smile, “Do you think I am that desperate?”
Shen Zhaoran asked again, “Then what if you win? Do I also get to ask you a question?”
Song Heyan had not considered that possibility. “Let us just drink.”
“Fine.”
Song Heyan had someone bring over alcohol and a dice cup, specifically requesting the lowest-alcohol sparkling wine available.
Shen Zhaoran shook the dice cup and rolled three fives. She looked at Song Heyan with excitement, only for him to roll three sixes.
“Are you sure you are not cheating?”
“Is it not possible that I just have good luck?”
After three rounds, Song Heyan realized it was not his luck that was good; it was simply that Shen Zhaoran’s luck was abysmal. He had intended to help his friend, but now that Shen Zhaoran had consumed three glasses, he felt his friend might actually want to stab him even more. Of course, given the nature of his help, Shen Junhuai might not appreciate it anyway.
He secretly manipulated the dice to roll a two, two, and a three, thinking this would be a safe bet, only to see Shen Zhaoran roll three ones.
Song Heyan thought to himself, “I was too restrained. I should have just thrown one die away entirely.”
Jiang Qian found them at some point. Seeing them playing dice, he laughed, “Zhaoran’s luck is indeed a bit poor.”
“Are you just comparing who has the higher roll?”
Shen Zhaoran, frustrated by her terrible luck and slightly tipsy from the alcohol, confessed, “We also placed a bet.”
“What kind of bet?”
“If I lose, I drink. If I win, he tells me who my brother likes.”
Jiang Qian wondered if he had heard wrong. He looked at Song Heyan with disbelief. Song Heyan met his gaze but remained seated, perfectly calm, offering no explanation.
Jiang Qian rubbed his temples and stepped outside to call someone.
Shen Junhuai arrived quickly. Naturally, he did not come alone; the others who had been chatting nearby joined him. Fearing that the madman Song Heyan would say something reckless, Jiang Qian asked Ji Yunchen to lead the others away first. Although confused, Ji Yunchen followed instructions.
Shen Junhuai walked up to Shen Zhaoran and asked softly, “How much have you had?”
“Not much.” Shen Zhaoran was unwilling to accept her defeat. She pushed the dice cup into Shen Junhuai’s hand and said, “You do it.”
Shen Junhuai had no choice but to roll three sixes for her.
Shen Zhaoran peeked at his hand, saw the three sixes, and shoved the dice cup directly in front of Song Heyan. Her eyes clearly spelled out the words, “You can talk now.”
Song Heyan thought, “My dear sister, look at your brother’s expression. Do you really think he can talk right now?”
Shen Junhuai looked at Song Heyan, his tone cold, “Did you leave your brain behind when you went out?”
Song Heyan smiled, a somewhat manic expression on his face, “I did not even bring my soul back.”
Jiang Yu happened to walk in to deliver Shen Zhaoran’s coat, and Ji Yunchen returned as well, asking with confusion, “What are you all doing here?”
Knowing Shen Zhaoran was already drunk, Shen Junhuai took the coat from Jiang Yu and said, “Thank you.” He then wrapped the coat around Shen Zhaoran, scooped her up, and walked out.
Song Heyan’s voice rang out behind them, “She will know sooner or later, and it will only be worse then.”
Shen Junhuai lowered his gaze toward Shen Zhaoran. Though she did not want to leave without the answer, she was obedient and did not make a scene.
Shen Junhuai only left one sentence behind: “Do not drag her into this.”
Watching their retreating backs, Jiang Yu walked up to Jiang Qian and asked in a whisper, “Who were they talking about?”
Jiang Qian did not answer her. He only looked at Song Heyan, feeling exhausted but unable to say anything. At least Shen Junhuai had a choice, but Song Heyan did not; he had always been pushed forward by forces beyond his control.
“If you need it, I can refer you to a psychologist.”
Song Heyan downed the wine in front of him, stood up, and patted Jiang Qian’s shoulder, “Recommend a few more to Junhuai. I do not need one.” With that, he walked out.
Jiang Yu tugged at Jiang Qian’s arm, “Brother!”
Their conversation had been veiled and cryptic, but she could tell it definitely involved Shen Junhuai.
Jiang Qian only said, “Do not ask. Be obedient.”
He then addressed Ji Yunchen, who was about to speak, “You do not ask either.”
Ji Yunchen asked, “What is this secret that I am not allowed to know!”
Jiang Qian felt a headache coming on. He could not manage whether these friends of his needed psychologists or not; he needed to go see one himself first.
Shen Zhaoran had already fallen asleep on the way back. As soon as Shen Junhuai went to put her down at Tianhai Bay, she snapped awake, grabbed him, and refused to let go.
Shen Junhuai patted her arm with helpless affection, “Zhaozhao?”
“Brother, you are unhappy, aren’t you?”
“Why do you think so?”
Shen Zhaoran held him even tighter, nuzzling into the crook of Shen Junhuai’s neck, “I just know.”
“If you like her, go chase her. I will help you.”
Shen Junhuai only felt a lingering bitterness in his mouth. In the end, he said nothing; he merely patted Shen Zhaoran’s head, “Stay here. I will go make you some hangover soup.”
There were no housekeepers at Tianhai Bay, so Shen Junhuai had to handle it himself. He poured Shen Zhaoran a glass of warm water, covered her with a blanket, and then rolled up his sleeves to enter the kitchen.
He had just turned on the stove when he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt a warm presence draw near.
Shen Zhaoran hugged him from behind, her little face nuzzling against his back, “Brother, do not be unhappy. Let us hug.”
When she was a child, whenever Shen Zhaoran was sick and miserable after drinking medicine, Shen Junhuai would always hold her and coax her, saying, “Zhaozhao is the best girl. Brother is holding you, do not cry.”
Shen Zhaoran was drunk. In her subconscious, an embrace was the most effective cure for pain.
But Shen Junhuai wanted far more than this.
He briefly abandoned his rationality, turned around, and pulled Shen Zhaoran into his arms. He held her in a possessive, inseparable embrace, allowing himself to press close to her, whispering softly, “Zhaozhao.”
“Brother, I am here.”
That single word, “Brother,” was like a bucket of ice water, chilling Shen Junhuai to the bone. They shared the closest bond in the world, yet they could never take another step forward.