Taming the Fierce Hound | Chapter 25 | The Only One | Novela.app

Si Jiang lay there in a state of total collapse, motionless as a pile of mud, his strength utterly spent. Once the venting was over, every discomfort came rushing back. He felt it was a miracle he could still draw breath. Zong Yan, however, had already recovered. Frowning as she surveyed the room's disarray, she moved to strip the sheets and blankets from the sofa, replacing them with fresh ones before telling Si Jiang to get on. Si Jiang looked at her helplessly. "Master, you’re more heartless than a man after he’s had his way." She had reduced him to this state, yet she didn't offer a single word of tenderness. Worse, she expected him to make such a strenuous move to the bed. He truly feared that the moment he tried to crawl up, he would be permanently disabled by the tearing. Zong Yan was momentarily speechless, not quite catching his drift. She looked at her pet’s face—still flushed with the remnants of lust, yet filled with a sky-high resentment as if he were at death's door. He tried to prop himself up with his right hand, but it trembled like he had Parkinson’s, his expression one of pure grievance. "Hiss..." As expected, the moment Si Jiang moved, the pain was excruciating. He was truly fuming, feeling like a cheap piece of goods that had gone looking for abuse. As his petulance flared, tears began to fall straight down. It wasn't until he heard a soft sigh that Zong Yan picked him up and carried him to the sofa. "Wait a moment," she said. She went to fetch a basin of water to clean the mess from his body. Even a soft towel felt too coarse for the injured areas. The moment it touched him, Si Jiang resisted vehemently. This wasn't working. Thus, under the pet’s shocked gaze—as if he were looking at a total scoundrel—she pulled him up from the sofa and, half-supporting, half-carrying him, moved him to the bathroom. Si Jiang decided he never wanted to remember the cleaning process for as long as he lived. By the time he was finally able to lie back down on the sofa, he didn't even care about the pain in his backside; he was on the verge of losing consciousness almost immediately. He didn't even realize that Zong Yan hadn't followed him up. It wasn't until even the sound of fireworks had vanished and the whole world had returned to silence that he jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. He looked around; there wasn't a soul in sight. Only a single desk lamp glowed quietly. Ignoring the aches racking his body, Si Jiang propped himself up and croaked out, "Master?" There was no response. He felt as if he had been dropped into an ice cellar. His voice trembling, he called out again, "Master, where are you?" His expression and voice were saturated with terror. Was it all just a dream? He struggled to get off the sofa, but his legs gave way, and he collapsed directly onto the floor, his head hitting the coffee table. "Master? Zong Yan? Where are you?" Si Jiang crawled on the floor, not daring to leave the circle of light, his mental state on the verge of collapse. He felt like he was suffocating. Why? Why was there no one there? "What are you doing? Why aren't you sleeping?" Zong Yan’s voice came from the doorway. She stood at the open front door looking exhausted, a plastic bag hanging from her hand. After changing her shoes, she walked over and hauled him up from the floor. Seeing the injury on his head, her brow furrowed deeply again. "How did this happen?" "Where did you go?" Si Jiang’s grievance surged instantly. "I woke up and couldn't find you. Where did you go?" She had just finished using him like that, and she knew perfectly well how much he feared being left alone in the dark. Zong Yan pursed her lips and set the bag on the coffee table. "I thought I’d be back quickly, but I didn't expect most of the pharmacies to be closed." She had run a long way before finding what she needed. Si Jiang’s gaze finally shifted to the bag of medicine, and his emotions suddenly became complicated. Zong Yan... had gone to buy medicine for him? He wasn't actually in any real danger; he was just a bit overused, with some minor tearing. Yet Zong Yan had actually scoured the streets for an open pharmacy on New Year’s Eve just for him... He lowered his head to hide his expression. No one had ever treated him like this. So, it turned out that being sick meant one could be treated with tenderness? One didn't have to force themselves to attend social events, didn't have to be scolded for being "delicate," and didn't have to hide away to take medicine alone to avoid being looked at differently? Someone would care about him; someone wouldn't think he had to be indestructible. Even though he was no longer the "Young Master Si," but a captive, humble pet who cried and begged not to be abandoned. Someone cared for him. He curled up on the sofa, warmed by the heater, as his Master’s hand, coated in ointment, reached into his messy wounds. She applied it gently and meticulously to every corner. Then, she briefly tended to the external injuries on his body and head. He swallowed an anti-inflammatory pill and a fever reducer, then slept beside his Master, finally finding peace as he touched her warm body. He was finally Master’s Si Jiang. Not the Si family’s Si Jiang. *** Zong Yan had a rare headache. The pet had been running a fever for three days straight, and even the fever reducers weren't doing much. The wounds in the back were healing slowly; it seemed she really had been too rough. If Si Jiang hadn't remained mostly conscious, insisting he felt like he was improving and refusing to leave the house even on pain of death, she would have taken him out for an injection long ago. But Si Jiang had become incredibly clingy. Like a pet who had gained enough of a sense of security, he began to act out with impunity. The moment Zong Yan left his sight, he would put on a pitiful expression. He even complained that the porridge and dishes she made for him were too bland. Because he couldn't move, he spent all day lying on his stomach on the sofa. He didn't even play with his phone, just seemed to be secretly enjoying something. Zong Yan’s phone was broken, and she couldn't buy a new one yet. She could only use his phone to set up a hotspot, log into WeChat on her laptop, and start working. Si Jiang immediately stared intently at her computer screen, making all sorts of noises to disturb her peace. "?" Zong Yan looked at him. Si Jiang rested his chin on the pillow, his long hair framing a face pale with illness as he feigned weakness. "Master, come sit over here to work. I’m a bit cold." "If you're cold, pull up the blanket." "The blanket presses on me and it hurts!" he huffed, glaring at her. Zong Yan thought about it for a moment, then picked up her laptop and walked over. She sat by the coffee table to work. Like a beast surveying its territory, Si Jiang stared at her WeChat interface and immediately scouted out the name "Bai Mao." Seeing that Zong Yan had only replied with a simple "Happy New Year," he let out a quiet, satisfied huff. *Little junior, Master won't want you anymore.* | Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation | | :--- | :--- | :--- | | 拔吊无情 | heartless once you've had your way | A vulgar slang term (literally "pulling out and being heartless") describing someone who becomes cold or indifferent immediately after sex. | | 司少 | Young Master Si | A respectful/status-based address for Si Jiang from his former life as a wealthy heir. | | 有恃无恐 | acting out with impunity | To act without fear because one has something or someone to rely on; emboldened by favor. | | 跨年 | cross into the new year | Celebrating the transition from the old year to the new. | | 消炎药 | anti-inflammatory medicine | Common term in China often used to refer to antibiotics or general anti-inflammatories. | | 退烧药 | fever reducer / antipyretic | Medicine used to lower a fever. | | 热点 | hotspot | Mobile data sharing. | ---