Qi Bailu drifted in a groggy stupor for an entire day. Zheng Kunyu had given him a cursory cleaning, but in the end, a fever took hold. He woke a few times, vaguely remembering Zheng Kunyu feeding him pigeon soup and medicine. The ointment smelled cool and refreshing, but once it touched his skin, it felt as though it could never be washed away; at the very least, it didn't hurt as much anymore. His constitution was somewhat weak, and his temperature refused to drop. Eventually, he became completely delirious, murmuring "Mama" as Zheng Kunyu took his temperature.
During the two hours when his consciousness was relatively clear, he still couldn't manage to pry his eyelids open. When he was little, he always cried whenever he had a fever, and his mother would wipe his body with alcohol to cool him down. A white porcelain spoon kept prodding into his mouth, clinking against his teeth and pressing down on his tongue to deliver the liquid. He strained to cast a sliver of a gaze outward, seeing an exquisite peony pattern painted on the spoon, followed by a ring on a finger and a section of a wrist beneath the loosely rolled-up sleeve of a robe.
Qi Bailu felt like vomiting; he couldn't keep anything down. He turned his face away again and again in resentment until finally, the person caring for him lost his patience. With a sharp *clink*, the spoon was tossed back into the bowl. The shadow looming over his face moved away. He felt a sense of joy, but beneath that joy lay a profound disappointment, as if he had finally been abandoned in a desolate wilderness.
He heard the sound of slippers walking away, the noise fading into the distance as his consciousness settled into the silence. Just as he was about to drift off again, the person returned to the bedside. He sat at the head of the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight, and pinched Qi Bailu’s chin to resume the feeding. The pigeon soup was hotter than before, nearly scalding him. This time, those hands became even more unceremonious, practically forcing the liquid down his throat.
Qi Bailu hated him to death. He turned the hatred over and over in his heart; for a moment, he hated everyone. He hated his mother; he hated how she had broken the spoon while shouting at his father. He also hated Zheng Kunyu—hated him most of all right now—but that thread of hatred was ethereal and drifting, like a wandering dandelion with nowhere to land. He had long since forgotten who Zheng Kunyu was; he only knew him as the obnoxious pest forcing him to eat.
There were no dreams, only a long, viscous darkness that coiled around his body and dragged him down. Qi Bailu knew he was being held; he even felt a strange kiss fall upon his brow, like the very first drop of rain falling in ancient times. He woke suddenly. It was still dark when he opened his eyes. Only a single floor lamp was lit in the room, and a humidifier "hissed" as it exhaled steam, lurking in the shadows like a serpent watching him.
The sound of steady breathing reached his ears. Qi Bailu kept his eyes open, his dull pupils slowly regaining their light. He seemed to finally realize where he was. He turned his head toward the other side of the double bed. Someone was sleeping on the other pillow, a sturdy arm draped across Qi Bailu’s chest, facing him.
Zheng Kunyu was pressed very close to him. With the light behind him, Qi Bailu couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, but he recognized the contours of Zheng Kunyu’s features and the scent of his aftershave.
He stared at Zheng Kunyu like that for a long time, slowly regaining his strength. It was as if his hatred guided his power, causing it to slowly coalesce. Qi Bailu’s hand, resting atop the quilt, slowly bunched the fabric into wrinkles.
Zheng Kunyu was a light sleeper. Perhaps because Qi Bailu’s gaze was too intense, it triggered a sort of instinct; Zheng Kunyu suddenly opened his eyes without warning. His chest rose and fell as he easily found the gaze fixed directly upon him. His voice still carried a trace of weary drowsiness. "You're awake?"
Qi Bailu turned his head away, wanting to sit up and get away from him, but the moment he tried to straighten his body, he was yanked back by a sharp pain in his scalp. The jerk nearly brought tears to his eyes because Zheng Kunyu had been resting his head on Qi Bailu’s hair while he slept.
A hand landed on the crown of Qi Bailu’s head. Zheng Kunyu sat up and clicked on the bedside lamp. The watery light poured down, illuminating Qi Bailu’s frowning face. Unused to the brightness, Qi Bailu shielded his eyes with his hand, which also happened to block Zheng Kunyu’s view. When he finally lowered his hand, he saw Zheng Kunyu looking down at him with a thoughtful expression.
Qi Bailu shifted toward the edge of the pillow. He remembered everything—remembered what Zheng Kunyu had done to him—and yet, facing the judgment of his gaze, the man wore such an expression. Zheng Kunyu leaned lazily against the headboard, still wearing that deep blue silk robe, the front hanging slightly open. One of his hands rested on top of Qi Bailu’s head as he asked, "Hungry?"
"Get out."
Qi Bailu’s voice was raspy, his throat dry and parched after the high fever, making the short command sound exceptionally harsh.
Zheng Kunyu withdrew his considerate facade, saying nonchalantly, "Turning your back on me the moment we're done sleeping together?"
He placed a hand on Qi Bailu’s shoulder, attempting to pull him closer, but Qi Bailu began to tremble uncontrollably. With a sharp *smack*, he slapped the arm away, his voice even more strained through gritted teeth: "Get out!"
Zheng Kunyu didn't care what Qi Bailu thought, nor did he care about his current psychological state; an extreme reaction was only natural. Thus, he threw back the covers and dragged Qi Bailu toward him, pulling him right to his side. "Going to take a shower?"
Qi Bailu wouldn't go. He wouldn't go anywhere. His body had only just recovered; he didn't have an ounce of strength left. The little energy he had for speaking had been exhausted just now, and it was impossible for him to get out of bed and walk. Zheng Kunyu slipped on his slippers and came over to pull him, but when he couldn't move him, he simply scooped the naked Qi Bailu up in a horizontal carry.
The moment Zheng Kunyu held him, Qi Bailu began to struggle, scratching and clawing at Zheng Kunyu’s arms. No matter how thin Qi Bailu was, carrying a grown man was still taxing, and that "Get out" from earlier had clearly displeased Zheng Kunyu. Consequently, for the few steps from the bed to the bathroom, Zheng Kunyu’s face remained set in a cold mask.
He quickly dropped Qi Bailu into the cold bathtub. Qi Bailu’s head struck the edge of the tub hard from the momentum. Zheng Kunyu saw it, but he simply sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the hot water. Then, amidst the sound of the rushing water, he cupped the back of Qi Bailu’s neck and said unhurriedly, "Bailu, you know I like you very much."
Qi Bailu pulled his knees to his chest and tried to shrink away, only to be hauled back by the neck. Zheng Kunyu leaned down, bringing his face closer. "Especially these past few days..." His tone was ambiguous, intended to lead Qi Bailu toward memory and emotion, but Qi Bailu only gripped his hand, trying to pry it off. Zheng Kunyu increased the pressure of his grip. "As long as you nod your head, I will give you whatever you want."
Seeing that he didn't speak, Zheng Kunyu assumed he was ninety percent certain of success; he didn't believe anyone would refuse such a combination of coercion and inducement. It had always been others begging him; this was the first time he had lowered himself to ask for someone. However, Zheng Kunyu felt that with Qi Bailu’s beauty, calling him a natural-born exquisite creature was no exaggeration, so bowing his head a little was no matter.
Zheng Kunyu waited for his answer, but Qi Bailu said nothing. After a long silence, he suddenly grabbed the shampoo bottle from the side of the tub and hurled it at Zheng Kunyu, followed by the bottle of body wash. That was his answer.
The shampoo bottle whistled past Zheng Kunyu’s waist and skidded across the floor. The body wash bottle, however, struck Zheng Kunyu square in the chest with a heavy thud before clattering onto the floor. Qi Bailu braced himself against the edge of the tub, trying to climb out, but Zheng Kunyu shoved him back down. They struggled like this several times, both exerting their full strength against the other, until finally, Zheng Kunyu was truly provoked. He grabbed Qi Bailu by the hair and shoved him down into the water.
The bathtub was enormous; Qi Bailu’s feet couldn't even reach the other end. He drifted and bobbed in the water, his legs kicking in a panicked struggle, his hands reaching out of the water to desperately grip the edge of the tub. Zheng Kunyu held him down firmly for over ten seconds before withdrawing his hand. While Qi Bailu sat up, coughing and gasping for air, Zheng Kunyu picked up the body wash at his feet and put it back in its place. He said coldly, "There is a limit to how much you should put on an act."
Qi Bailu wiped the water from his face. Hearing this, he let out a miserable laugh instead. He turned his head and said, "Zheng Kunyu, I misjudged you. I deserve this! You are nothing but a shameless villain, just like the rest of them!"
Qi Bailu’s face was deathly pale. Even though he was soaking in the steaming tub, the flesh on his chin was trembling as if he were freezing. Zheng Kunyu frowned, his eyes flashing with a hint of revulsion. Usually, no one dared to defy him like this; he seemingly hadn't expected Qi Bailu to possess such spirit.
Yet the more he resisted, the more Zheng Kunyu wanted to make him submissive and obedient. He reached out and unhooked the showerhead from the wall, holding it in his hand and pointing it directly at Qi Bailu’s face. The high-pressure stream of water sprayed against his face, drenching his head and pouring down. Qi Bailu couldn't even open his eyes, and Zheng Kunyu pinned his neck so he couldn't move. Qi Bailu opened his mouth to curse him, only to be immediately choked by the water.
Zheng Kunyu tossed the showerhead carelessly onto the floor, where it continued to "hiss" and spit out water. The water spread along the cracks of the non-slip tiles, silently flooding that section of the bathroom floor. The water in the bathtub, covered in snowy white foam, slowly overflowed and trickled down the outer walls of the tub.
Qi Bailu was truly terrified now. He lifted his upper body to push against Zheng Kunyu’s chest, but he couldn't budge him. In a fit of desperation, Qi Bailu struck Zheng Kunyu directly across the face with a slap. This blow used every ounce of Qi Bailu’s strength, nearly snapping Zheng Kunyu’s head to the side. Even Zheng Kunyu was stunned.
He had never been struck like this in his life, not even in his youth, let alone after his meteoric rise to a position where people only looked up to him. Zheng Kunyu slowly turned his head back and fixed his gaze on Qi Bailu’s face. His eyes became incredibly deep and sharp. Qi Bailu had been retreating the moment Zheng Kunyu paused, and now he had almost backed up to the head of the bed. Zheng Kunyu grabbed Qi Bailu’s leg and viciously yanked him back. Before Qi Bailu could even settle, Zheng Kunyu delivered a slap of his own. His strength was far greater than Qi Bailu’s, sending him sprawling across the sheets. To Qi Bailu, the slap felt like a car had run over his face; his teeth bit into his tongue, and his head rang incessantly.
Clear, red, swollen finger marks immediately rose on Qi Bailu’s face. Seeing him lying there motionless, clutching his face, Zheng Kunyu sneered, "I really couldn't tell."
He hadn't expected that Qi Bailu, who usually seemed so quiet and soft-spoken, would be so fierce in bed. However, his anger came quickly and seemed to dissipate just as fast. Zheng Kunyu calmed himself, deciding to settle the score slowly. His interest in inflicting pain had been piqued. He leaned down, hovering over Qi Bailu’s body, and pulled away the hand covering his face to stroke the red marks on his cheek. "You're the first person to ever make me raise a hand. If you're afraid of pain, remember this lesson."
Qi Bailu stared at the ceiling. He could only force himself to stare at a single point in the void, or else his consciousness would easily scatter. It was as if he were hanging from the pendulum of time, being constantly worn down and shattered by the passing seconds. His pain and endurance seemed to have become worthless things. Time moved tick by tick, notch by notch, always forward.
Time...
Qi Bailu felt as though he had suddenly grasped something—a point that had been overlooked. How long had he been doing this? How long had he slept? Was it day or night? In this room, time had lost its meaning; time was merely a mass of chaotic fog.
Qi Bailu struggled, his eyelashes trembling as he thought, his wrists trying to break free from their bonds. It was like a sudden wake-up call. He remembered—today was Monday. He had a full day of classes. He turned his head to look for his phone. Zheng Kunyu saw that he was looking for something.
As if by a decree of fate, a phone began to ring from the pile of clothes discarded on the floor. The ringtone was an instrumental from the movie *Léon: The Professional*. Zheng Kunyu clearly heard it too, pausing his movements amidst the vibration of the phone. Qi Bailu said, "Let me go!"
Zheng Kunyu glanced at Qi Bailu, then rolled off the bed to find the phone beneath a soft knit cardigan. He glanced at the name on the screen before bringing it back to show Qi Bailu. Holding the screen upright in front of him, Zheng Kunyu asked, "Going to answer?"
When Qi Bailu saw the contact name "Counselor," he immediately shook his head in despair. Zheng Kunyu, however, placed the phone by his ear and pushed back inside him. His finger hovered over the answer button as he commanded, "Answer it."
"No! Don't answer! Don't..."
Zheng Kunyu savored his breakdown. If the teacher heard the commotion on this end, if the teacher asked why he hadn't come to class today, if he cried out for help, if the teacher asked who the man answering the phone was—Qi Bailu didn't know how to handle any of those "ifs."
Zheng Kunyu said coldly, "Don't want to answer? Then I'll answer for you."
"No!"
The moment the call connected, Zheng Kunyu clamped his hand tightly over Qi Bailu’s mouth. His palm covered nearly half of Qi Bailu’s face, while his lower body did not cease its movements. Zheng Kunyu turned on the speakerphone; Qi Bailu knew he was doing it on purpose. He was doing it entirely on purpose. The phone emitted the static of a poor signal, followed by the "Hello?" of a middle-aged woman. The atmosphere felt as if an extra pair of eyes had appeared in the corner of the room to watch them.
"Is this Qi Bailu? I'm calling just to confirm—your uncle said you were hospitalized after a car accident and requested leave for you. Are you alright?"
Qi Bailu’s eyes snapped wide open.
"Hello?"
Zheng Kunyu watched with satisfaction as Qi Bailu froze in a daze, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then, he suddenly began to struggle like a madman, muffled sounds escaping his throat, but Zheng Kunyu covered his mouth even tighter, nearly suffocating him.
Zheng Kunyu lifted the phone slightly and thrust forward with brutal force. Watching the loss of control in the corners of Qi Bailu’s eyes and brows, he placed the phone to his own ear and said, "Bailu is sleeping."
"You must be his uncle? How is he doing now?"
"..."
Qi Bailu couldn't hear a single word of what they said after that. He thought he wouldn't cry anymore, but a large tear still welled out of his eye, silently rolling onto the surface of the sheet. So that was it. It turned out to be like this... They had hidden it from him, lied to him, sold him out. But why? Why did it have to be him?
After the call ended, Qi Bailu was still crying. When Zheng Kunyu moved his palm away, he saw that Qi Bailu had gone quiet. Zheng Kunyu remained silent for a moment as well, the desire to destroy him that had been boiling in his blood subsiding slightly. Zheng Kunyu kissed his lips, feeling a slight sense of regret, though he couldn't say exactly what he regretted. Zheng Kunyu said, "Bailu, you don't owe anyone anything. You only owe me."
He wanted his relatives to betray him, wanted him to lie to his teachers, wanted him to be unable to love anyone else. Zheng Kunyu didn't just want to cut off all other possibilities in his life; he wanted to sever all his paths of retreat, to violently tear him away from his family and install him by his side. It was like hanging the moon within a window frame, forever preventing it from lighting up the world.
Zheng Kunyu came to kiss him again. Qi Bailu did not resist. This kiss was devoid of sympathy—a kiss that sought to possess him, to consume him. He had cried enough. In the rising mist of time, he closed his eyes.
