Thanks to President Bo’s deep pockets, the Maybach sped past ordinary hospitals and arrived at a prime location in the city center — a private hospital owned by the Bo Group.
The hospital reeked of pungent disinfectant; Gu Qichi turned his head slightly, lost in thought. The corridors were not crowded; the exorbitant costs meant it was beyond the means of the average person, which significantly reduced patient traffic. Naturally, this spared Gu Qichi a great deal of trouble.
A commotion accompanied by the sound of leather shoes approached. Gu Qichi looked toward the noise and noticed Bo Yu’s expression was grim. He was holding what was likely his diagnostic report; tall and lean, he exuded an air of cold intensity as he stood before Gu Qichi.
“What’s the diagnosis?”
Bo Yu handed him the report, his thin lips pressed into a straight line. “Acute gastroenteritis. You need an IV drip.”
Gu Qichi gave a soft “Oh” and narrowed his eyes to study the report.
“You haven’t eaten in days. The doctor says your stomach is very fragile right now and can’t handle any irritation.”
They were standing on the twenty-second floor, with an unobstructed view outside. Rain had begun to fall again — a steady, gentle drizzle. Dim daylight and hazy night air cast a veil over the brilliant neon lights.
Gu Qichi brushed back a lock of hair near his ear; his tone was calm, betraying no emotion. “Four or five days?”
Perhaps even longer… He kept his head lowered; the vertebrae of his neck were slightly prominent, his fair skin glowing with a soft, jade-like luster. The sharp line of his spine was visible beneath his oversized shirt, giving him an air of fragility.
Bo Yu suddenly felt a strong urge to touch the side of his neck, just to see how he would react.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Gu Qichi didn’t even spare him a glance; his attitude clearly signaled a refusal to communicate.
“Gu Qichi, time for your IV drip.” A nurse hurried down the empty corridor and led Gu Qichi away.
Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, Bo Yu watched the glowing red tip of his cigarette flicker; he lowered his gaze, his long eyelashes casting a shadow that veiled the gloom in his eyes. He couldn’t quite name the emotions swirling inside him.
He had originally intended to catch the guy and teach him a lesson — and talk him out of any foolish notions. Yet Gu Qichi’s behavior made Bo Yu feel that the other man didn’t like him at all — nor did he have the slightest interest in him. It turned out he had been reading too much into things.
Just then, a sound came from the hospital room. Bo Yu stubbed out his cigarette and leaned casually against the doorframe.
The phone beside the bed kept buzzing incessantly. When Gu Qichi ignored it, the persistent ringing finally roused him. The sudden glare of lights made Gu Qichi instinctively raise his arm to shield his eyes — forgetting entirely about the IV needle in the back of his hand. His abrupt movement caused the skin to bruise instantly, and bright red blood backflowed into the tubing.
Gu Qichi squeezed his eyes shut. Then, someone forcefully grabbed his arm and lowered it back down. It was Bo Yu.
Gu Qichi’s lips parted as if to speak, but he fell silent again.
The contact name displayed was infuriating. Big Brother. It was Gu Yuan’an.
Gu Chengtian had been very particular about naming his children; he had consulted a master to ensure both names aligned with their bazi and carried auspicious meanings. Yuan’an. Yu’ning. Yu’ning had originally been intended for Gu Qichi. It was a pity it had been snatched away.
Gu Yuan’an was as domineering as ever, lecturing him without regard for time or place.
“Gu Qichi, what kind of stunt are you pulling now? You went to such lengths to get into the same cast as Xiao Ning — are you plotting something to harm him again?”
His voice was so loud that his anger was palpable even without speakerphone. Gu Qichi simply tossed his phone onto the bed, letting out an abrupt laugh. Mist clouded his vision, a single tear welling in the corner of his eye.
Gu Qichi laughed, his voice hoarse: “Gu Yuan’an, let me guess how you found out about this.”
“Was it Gu Yuning, tugging at your sleeve with teary eyes and calling you ‘Brother,’ claiming Gu Qichi was coming to bully him again? Or did he feign panic while holding a contract, ‘accidentally’ letting you see the news that he and I were in the same production?”
“It’s always the same old tricks — utterly stupid and incredibly tedious.”
In the past, Gu Qichi had been like a silent lamb; he would endure whatever Gu Yuan’an said without protest. This was the first time Gu Yuan’an had encountered Gu Qichi talking back.
Gu Yuan’an was furious: “Gu Qichi, who taught you to speak like that? Have you grown wings? Don’t forget whose name you use to throw your weight around out there — it’s the Gu family’s! Without the Gu family, how do you think you landed that role?”
His tone was aggressive — like a sharp blade plunging into a bleeding heart.
Gu Qichi sneered, his gaze cold and sharp: “Gu Yuan’an, I think you ought to go to the hospital and get that brain of yours — the one Gu Yuning has filled with nonsense — drained out to see just how much water sloshes around inside.”
Gu Yuan’an was left speechless, and Gu Qichi continued: “Ever since I returned to the Gu family at sixteen, I haven’t spent a single penny of their money.”
“As for my roles, I auditioned for every one myself. The only person truly using the Gu family’s name to throw weight around is Gu Yuning, I imagine.”
Most of the IV fluid had already dripped through. The night was heavy, and outside the window, darkness was shrouded in mist. While Gu Yuning basked in affection within the Gu household, Gu Qichi was left alone in the hospital, hooked to an IV.
Yet it was Gu Qichi who was the true young master — the one who ought to have been the center of everyone’s love.
Gu Qichi hung up, his lips frighteningly pale, blue veins showing beneath thin skin, like a fragile, shattered butterfly.
Bo Yu had been openly eavesdropping for quite some time, feeling not a shred of guilt. He hadn’t actually found time to read the dossier Bai Heng had sent; he had merely glanced at Gu Qichi’s face and name before plunging back into work.
Gu Qichi’s face was the sort that became addictive the more one looked.
Bo Yu felt a sudden wave of frustration — why hadn’t he taken time to properly look into Gu Qichi’s situation?
The fluid in the IV bag dripped silently until the last drop was gone. Gu Qichi withdrew his gaze and turned to the man beside him.
“Sir, can I go home now?”
“Don’t you want to rest here a little longer?”
Gu Qichi shook his head. “I want to go home.”
Unable to sway him, Bo Yu conceded, then brought up that night — seemingly in passing. “After that night… were you okay? Your body…” He thought of the marks on Gu Qichi’s waist; pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he continued, “Was there any physical discomfort?”
Gu Qichi hadn’t expected such a question; for the first time that evening, a spark of genuine interest flickered.
Recalling the wretched state he’d been in, he felt resentment. He had wept and begged the man to stop, but the man had turned a deaf ear.
Spurred by payback, Gu Qichi curled his lips into a wicked smile; a playful arc swept across his beautiful eyes.
“Your technique is terrible — absolutely awful.” He spoke with earnest sincerity that was infuriating. “Sir, for the sake of your future partner, I suggest you work on your skills.”
Bo Yu was so incensed he snapped the cigarette between his fingers. The man had a prominent brow ridge, deep-set eyes, long narrow upturned phoenix eyes. When he wasn’t smiling, he exuded an imposing aura.
But Gu Qichi wasn’t afraid. He held Bo Yu’s gaze, openly provocative. He smiled like a cat that had stolen cream.
Outside, Bai Heng was terrified; the last person who dared speak to Bo Yu like that had vanished without a trace.
Bo Yu, however, held his temper, his black suit jacket draped over his arm, looking away.
“It’s pouring out there. I’ll drive you home.”
Bo Yu’s reaction was unexpected; Gu Qichi raised his eyebrows slightly, offering no objection. The rain was torrential, and his health was poor. If he got caught in the rain, the cold might land him back in the hospital tomorrow. There was no point being stubborn, so he readily agreed.
When he returned to the apartment complex, the world was silent, save for the crisp patter of raindrops against his umbrella. Dim, amber streetlights were veiled by fine rain.
Gu Qichi walked toward the building alone, holding his umbrella, with Bo Yu’s jacket draped over his shoulders and a thermos of hot porridge in his other hand. Light washed over him, catching even the strands of his hair in a soft glow.
The window of the Maybach rolled down; the leaves of the plane trees, washed fresh green by rain, released a scent of damp earth.
Bo Yu simply watched in silence as Gu Qichi made his way home. The lights in the stairwell flickered on one by one, finally stopping at the sixth floor.
The restless agitation in his heart flared again.
“Bai Heng, send me everything you’ve found on Gu Qichi. Right now.”
He wanted to know everything about Gu Qichi. He couldn’t wait.