The moonlight was like water, and the chirping of the cicadas outside the window had finally fallen silent.
The elevator reached the designated floor with a crisp *ding*.
When the person beside her didn't move, Zong Yan glanced at him and stepped out first. Only then did Si Jiang follow.
He walked toward the door on the right with his head down. As he faced the smart lock, his haggard and wretched face was reflected in its mirrored surface.
*Click.*
The door opened.
Zong Yan stood where she was, dressed in a simple white T-shirt and jeans. Her expression was calm and indifferent, showing no intention of stepping forward. Under the dim, yellowish light of the hallway, Si Jiang stood with his back to her, his expression hidden.
"You're home. I'm leaving now," Zong Yan said.
She raised her hand to press the elevator button. "Remember to tend to the injuries on your body."
"...I don't know how."
"What?" Zong Yan asked, not hearing him clearly.
"I said I don't know how to handle them."
The words seemed to be squeezed out of his throat, his back still turned to her. His voice was muffled and small.
Silence fell over the air again.
Si Jiang kept his head down, staring at his shoes. They were this year’s limited edition; he had originally liked them very much, but now they looked eyesore.
Why wasn't she saying anything?
Why wasn't she answering?
He took a deep breath and straightened his hunched back, unwilling to let even a shred of vulnerability show. She probably thought he was a nuisance, didn't she? She couldn't even be bothered to deal with him. He, Si Jiang, wasn't a shameless person; he would never show his pathetic side to this woman again.
She didn't want to deal with him? Fine.
Then she could just get lost...
"You can go—"
"Is there medicine in the house?"
The scent of soap—so familiar it made his soul tremble—approached him from behind. Si Jiang’s neck stiffened.
"Aren't you going to let me in?"
He heard Zong Yan’s habitually cold voice, sounding as if she were interested in nothing at all. At first, he had thought it was because she was impatient or disliked talking. Later, he realized that this was simply her natural tone; most of the time, it carried no personal emotion.
Si Jiang snapped out of his daze.
He walked a few steps into the apartment and opened the shoe cabinet. There were no guest slippers. On the floor, there were only his house shoes and the slippers Chen Bai often wore.
"..."
He had forgotten that he had only been back for a couple of days. Many things had been thrown away.
Zong Yan’s eyes shifted slightly as she took in the general layout of the apartment. She looked down and asked again, "What should I wear?"
A pair of obvious men's slippers was tossed at her feet.
"There are no spares. Wear mine." After saying that, the man who still refused to meet her eyes added neurotically, "It’s no use being disgusted. This is all there is."
Zong Yan changed into the slippers and replied, "Mhm."
*Mhm? What does 'mhm' mean?*
Did it mean she didn't mind, or was she truly disgusted?
Si Jiang loathed Zong Yan’s habit of being sparing with her words. Getting her to say a few more sentences or explain a situation was always harder than climbing to heaven. Thus, he could only guess—guess, guess, guess—until he was more frustrated than when he was forced to grind through practice exams.
*Why the hell do I still have to guess what you're thinking!*
Barefoot, he stomped into the house, his feet slapping loudly against the floor.
A flash of amusement flickered in Zong Yan’s eyes. When he was angry, he finally showed a state of being that a living person should have.
Si Jiang slammed a bottle of mineral water onto the coffee table.
His expression was intentionally defiant. "I’m going to take a shower first. Make yourself at home."
After walking a few steps, he turned back and switched on the air conditioner. He stole a sideways glance and saw Zong Yan sitting on the sofa, watching him. He quickly retracted his gaze and headed for the bathroom.
Zong Yan didn't mind. She pulled out her phone to check her messages.
A dark shadow stood beside her again.
Zong Yan looked up. "?"
Si Jiang snatched the remote control from beside her, turned on the television, and then tossed it back to her.
"Watch TV if you're bored."
Zong Yan caught the remote, placed it on the coffee table, and gave another "Mhm."
Only then did Si Jiang leave with satisfaction, not turning back again.
[Senior, are you not back yet?]
[Mhm, I have some things to do. Go to sleep early.]
[Okay. Don't work too late, Senior. Goodnight!]
[Goodnight.]
She relaxed slightly after replying to Bai Mao’s message. Bai Mao was a very sensible person who never overstepped boundaries. He didn't pry into her private affairs, nor did he seek explanations or promises from her. Just like today, when she had suddenly told him halfway through their walk to go home first because she needed to return to the school, Bai Mao had simply nodded and told her to go ahead. He didn't even ask what she was going back to the school for.
Anyone would feel comfortable getting along with someone like that.
Si Jiang... was his polar opposite. If he didn't hear what he wanted to hear or get what he wanted to get, he would never let it go. He was egocentric to the extreme.
Zong Yan turned off the television; she had no interest in the lively images on the screen. She stood up and walked around the living room before finally finding what she was looking for in a cabinet.
*Splash, splash.*
The water washed away the sweat and bloodstains. He took a "combat shower," and after a quick cleaning, he took off his towel, wrapped it around his waist, and hurried out of the bathroom.
Whenever he was home, every light in the house was turned on. They wouldn't be turned off all night, making the place as bright as day. However, the brighter the house was, the emptier it seemed. Aside from the occasional visit from Chen Bai, Si Jiang was always alone here.
That was why Zong Yan, standing by the bed holding a picture frame, looked so prominent. Her back was to the bathroom door, and her head was slightly lowered as if she were carefully examining the frame.
Si Jiang stood dazed for a moment, wondering how she had ended up in his bedroom. But then...
He rushed over, snatched the frame away, stole a glance at it, and quickly shoved it into a drawer.
"Why are you touching my things?"
Thinking of the photo of himself with several beautiful women, he felt a bit guilty. That was years ago; he had almost forgotten the photo existed. Of course, he didn't know why he was so flustered. Regardless, he had to strike first.
Zong Yan nodded, following his lead. "My fault. Sorry."
Si Jiang hadn't expected Zong Yan to apologize. He blinked in shock, and a drop of water fell from his hair, dampening the bedroom carpet.
"These marks on your body?"
It wasn't until Zong Yan spoke that he looked down at himself.
Oh. He wasn't wearing clothes.
Damn it! He wasn't wearing clothes.
Except for his waist, almost his entire body was exposed, without a shred of cover. Consequently, the dense thicket of scars on his upper body was laid bare for all to see.
Si Jiang bit his lip, wanting to hide those unsightly scars, but under Zong Yan’s frank gaze, a different emotion surged forth. It was an emotion of sourness and dull pain.
Seeing his resistant expression, Zong Yan didn't press the issue. She simply patted the bed.
"It’s just as well. It’s easier to apply medicine this way. Sit down."
With a stiff neck and rigid steps, Si Jiang sat down in front of her.
"Stretch out your arm."
He stretched it out.
Zong Yan gripped his arm, turning it to look at the elbow. She frowned. "The medicine applied earlier is gone. You need to keep the wound dry when you shower."
"Oh," Si Jiang blurted out stiffly.
Zong Yan sat down as well. She took out the medicinal liquid, soaked a cotton swab to wipe away the tap water from the wound, and then reapplied the medicine.
The body temperature of another person was so close. Si Jiang, who hadn't let anyone near him for a year, felt uncomfortable all over. Zong Yan took a white bandage and wrapped it around his arm a few times before giving the next command.
"Lower your head."
The silver-gray head hung quietly before her eyes. Zong Yan ran her fingers through his damp hair to support his head, her thumb brushing aside his bangs to examine the swelling on his forehead.
"It’s alright. No open wound."
Her cool fingers brushed past his face, leaving only the lingering sensation of her touch. Si Jiang’s hands, resting by his sides, quietly clenched into fists.
"The injury on your neck needs a cold compress. Starting tomorrow, use a hot compress every day. The bruising should fade in about a week."
Zong Yan handled his strangulation marks with practiced ease, as if it wasn't the first time she had dealt with such an injury.
"How do you know it will take a week?" Si Jiang asked.
"Personal experience," Zong Yan replied casually, without further explanation.
Strangulation marks were something she was all too familiar with. When she was a child, they had almost become a second birthmark, permanently hanging around her neck.
"..."
Si Jiang was very dissatisfied with this answer. He gripped the bedsheets, his heart filled with misery.
*Oh, she probably doesn't want to waste words on me. It doesn't matter anyway.*
She wouldn't even bother with a perfunctory excuse.
Did she think he wouldn't know just because she didn't say it?
During the time he was searching for Zong Yan, Si Jiang had even found her hometown—the place where her family first lived. Between that and the security guard at the abandoned building, he had heard countless tragic childhood stories related to Zong Yan.
A mentally ill, abusive father; a selfish mother; a cold, alcoholic stepfather; and a police force that didn't care about domestic matters—not a single person was normal. Everyone had only added frost to the snow of Zong Yan’s life.
Including him. He was nothing more than Zong Yan’s nightmare at school.
And so, he, Si Jiang, had arrived at this ending.
"There should be ice packs in your fridge. Remember to apply them yourself tonight." Zong Yan packed everything back into the medical kit and stood up, giving him one last instruction.
Si Jiang looked at her gloomily. "And then?"
"And then what?"
"You're leaving?"
"What else?" Zong Yan’s expression remained unchanged as she looked down at him, her dark pupils devoid of any emotional fluctuation.
"You're in such a hurry to leave?" Si Jiang’s gaze was mocking, his tone bitter and strange. "What, is there someone waiting for you at home?"
There was indeed a little dog waiting for her to come home. Thinking of Past, Zong Yan’s expression softened, and she nodded. "Yes."
But in the next second, the medical kit in her hand was snatched away and slammed violently onto the floor. The contents spilled everywhere.
Si Jiang glared at Zong Yan, a fire burning in his bloodshot eyes.
"Then what about me?" he demanded.
"You?" Zong Yan countered.
The man, who had been sitting obediently on the bed, grabbed her collar and pulled her body close. He pointed to his own eyes.
"You ruined me like this! You made it so I have to sleep with the lights on every single night, yet there hasn't been a single day where I could actually close my eyes and sleep!"
"Do you know how much medicine I've taken?"
He dragged Zong Yan over and yanked open the nightstand drawer, pulling out several pill bottles.
"These, these—they're all sleeping pills! They're all useless! I've taken so many I'm about to vomit, but I still can't sleep! I can't sleep!"
"Zong Yan, this is all your fault. Shouldn't you have to pay the price?"
Si Jiang was highly emotional, his hands trembling as he gripped Zong Yan. He picked up a pill bottle, intending to smash it on the floor as well.
"Useless!"
His wrist was gently caught.
Si Jiang sniffled, looking at Zong Yan in agony.
"Don't throw things just because you're angry."
The hateful woman was still so calm—so calm that Si Jiang wanted to tear her face open to see if she truly didn't care at all.
"If you want me to pay the price, why don't you call the police?" she asked.
Since Si Jiang had regained his freedom and returned to the Si family, he could completely call the police and tell them everything Zong Yan had done to him. If he did, Zong Yan would not be able to escape prison.
"..."
Si Jiang gritted his teeth, unable to believe she would ask such a thing. "Do you think going to prison could ever compensate for what you did to me?"
Zong Yan: "Then what do you want me to do?"
She smiled slightly. In that rare smile, there seemed to be a hint of the indulgence from a certain moment in his memory.
Si Jiang missed it. He simply clutched his chest with hatred, squeezing out a sentence that betrayed his own weakness.
"I want to sleep."
"Stay and sleep with me."
"Okay," Zong Yan replied.
***
