Chapter 45 - The Madman's Embrace
Pei Cangyu watched with a heavy, sinking heart as Bai Shi stood there, his hand a gruesome mess of haphazardly wrapped bandages. The white fabric was already soaked through, a vibrant, alarming crimson blooming across the gauze like a macabre flower. Bai Shi, however, seemed utterly indifferent to the injury. He rose with a predatory grace that felt entirely alien compared to his usual refined, scholarly demeanor.
In the dim, flickering light of the room, the "Young Master" persona had vanished. His hair was pushed back messily from his forehead, and his eyes burned with a manic, uncontrollable volatility. He looked less like a man and more like a pale, towering beast, driven by some internal fever that Pei couldn't begin to comprehend. He moved toward the collection of bottles, his silhouette casting a long, jagged shadow against the wall, and grabbed another bottle of liquor.
Pei Cangyu instinctively tightened his grip on the bottle he already held, shaking it slightly. He realized then that even if Bai Shi wanted more, he wouldn't stoop to snatching it from Pei’s hand. There was a strange, twisted code of conduct still operating within the madness. Bai Shi sat back down heavily, the floorboards groaning beneath his weight. He used his teeth to wrench the cap off the new bottle, the sharp crack of the seal echoing in the oppressive silence.
Before Bai Shi could take a drink, Pei Cangyu reached out and snatched the bottle away. It was a gamble, a desperate provocation. He stared into Bai Shi’s eyes, searching for a flicker of the boy he thought he knew, wanting to see how the monster would react to such a blatant challenge.
Bai Shi merely spared him a glance—a look that was chillingly vacant yet intensely focused. Without a word, he began to stand again, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he intended to simply fetch another bottle, and another, until the world drowned in alcohol.
"Wait," Pei Cangyu rasped, his voice cracking. He lunged forward, his fingers closing around Bai Shi’s wrist. Bai Shi’s skin was slick with sweat, burning with a heat that felt unnatural. The physical contact sent a jolt through Pei, a mixture of revulsion and a lingering, unwanted familiarity.
Bai Shi stopped. He looked down at Pei, his expression unreadable. His left hand continued to bleed, a steady, rhythmic drip-drip-drip onto the floor that seemed to mark the passage of their dwindling sanity. The bandages were useless now, nothing more than sodden rags.
Pei Cangyu looked up, his gaze pleading despite the fire in his heart. "I’ll bandage your hand," he offered, his voice a low murmur. "But you have to fix my leg. Set it back."
The pain in Pei’s leg was a constant, throbbing roar, a sharp reminder of the violence that had brought them to this point. He was a "Free-Style Brawler," the "Big Brother of Peace Road," yet here he was, reduced to bargaining for basic mobility with the person who had broken him.
Bai Shi stared at him for a long moment, the silence stretching until it felt like it might snap. "I already told you," Bai Shi said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Wounds heal. They always do."
Pei Cangyu’s hand trembled as he slowly released Bai Shi’s wrist. He watched, paralyzed by a sense of profound helplessness, as Bai Shi sat back down and began to methodically strip away the blood-soaked bandages from his left hand with a cold, detached efficiency.
It was a cycle they couldn't escape. They had spent years engaged in ill-timed probings and harbored self-important, secret crushes that never found the right moment to bloom. They had torn off their masks, screamed until their throats were raw, and traded blows that left scars on both skin and soul. They were two celestial bodies trapped in a decaying orbit, utterly incapable of understanding one another, yet constantly pulled back together by a gravity they couldn't defy.
In the end, it always came back to this: the two of them, forced into a fragile, hollow peace, huddling together in the dark.
Compromise was the only currency left, yet it felt like a betrayal. If Pei didn't bend, his own anger and disappointment would only act as a boomerang, circling back to strike him down while Bai Shi remained unmoved. Bai Shi was true to his name—a "White Stone," calcified and indifferent to the storms raging around him. Now that the "beast" had shown its face, he no longer felt the need to hide behind a facade of civility. He simply existed in his own terrifying reality, unyielding and absolute.
Pei Cangyu closed his eyes, a wave of pure, cold despair washing over him. He finally understood the depth of the abyss he had fallen into. He wasn't just trapped in a house or a situation; he was entangled with a madman.
The realization crystallized in his mind, sharp and clear. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't let the darkness of the "White Stone" swallow him whole. He had to get out. He had to find a way to break the orbit and flee from the suffocating embrace of the madman before there was nothing left of himself to save.
