The nuisance had finally left.
Si Jiang breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the dining table. He dragged his chair over, huddling close to Zong Yan as he sat down. His expression soured instantly.
Zong Yan looked down at his stiff thighs and asked, "Does it hurt... back there?"
The pet’s pale ears turned crimson. He answered in a small voice, "It’s okay. I just sat down too fast."
The unruly arrogance that usually defined his features had unknowingly softened, the gloom washed away to reveal the striking handsomeness of his face. If he were walking outside, he would undoubtedly be the target of many lingering stares. But right now, this handsome man was like an animal exposing its soft underbelly, completely relaxed as he leaned against Zong Yan, quietly eating.
"Master, have you eaten?" Si Jiang suddenly remembered to ask.
"I’m not hungry."
"Oh."
Zong Yan stared at his neck, where faint scratch marks still lingered. She fetched the medical kit to give him a simple treatment.
"Hands."
Having finished his egg, Si Jiang obediently presented both hands. His expression was one of embarrassment.
"Master... you don't have to worry about it. It’ll be fine in a couple of days."
"How did this happen?" Zong Yan didn't let him withdraw his hands, scrutinizing the marks on his arms. It was obvious that fingernails had dug deep into the skin, gouging it. The chaotic, overlapping scars were a manifestation of extreme mental distress.
"I just... wanted to keep myself grounded. To not let the hallucinations win."
As he watched Zong Yan hold his scarred hands in hers, he suddenly felt a sharp sting. Si Jiang hadn't originally cared about these small wounds. When he was in the hospital, he had inflicted much worse on himself.
The most severe was likely the gash on his wrist. He still remembered that time—his collar was gone, and he had lost all hope. Unable to sleep at night with the constant noise in his ears, he had gone to the bathroom.
The face in the mirror was rotting. He suddenly wondered why he was still fighting when he had nothing left. His dignity, his heart, his trust—all had been trampled into ash.
Zong Yan had discarded him. The collar was gone, the wax blocks were gone. So why was he still here? He should rot along with everything else.
And so, the person in the mirror slowly raised his hand to his mouth, opened his cracked lips, and bit down hard with his canines...
It hadn't even hurt.
A year had passed since then, and the wound had long since healed. But Zong Yan’s cool hand happened to touch that raised scar. A pain so sharp it reached his bones suddenly flared from that small patch of skin, leaving Si Jiang’s heart aching with bitterness.
Zong Yan naturally noticed the prominent white scar. She rubbed the uneven skin as if soothing a shattered soul.
"Don't do this again," she said.
Si Jiang’s voice carried a hint of a sob as he shook his head. "I can't do it on my own."
He slid down, resting his head on Zong Yan’s lap, feeling her rough fingers fall upon his hair and the back of his neck. The familiar sense of being controlled brought him an incomparable sense of peace.
"I’ll only promise if you keep me under control. Never leave me."
Don't let him sink into that quagmire of despair again.
Si Jiang’s short hair pricked her palm, but with a little pressure, she could still feel its softness. He was just like that—strong on the outside but hollow within, using his perfect family background and appearance to mask an empty heart, expressing pain through aggression. He looked tall and strong, but in reality, his resilience was poor.
Just like in the past and now, he lacked the strength to fight his own shadows. The moment someone with a resilient heart like Zong Yan appeared, his mask would fall, revealing a panicked, fragile state. He wished he could cling to her like a dodder flower, adopting a posture of absolute inseparability.
He shouldn't have approached Zong Yan. If he hadn't provoked her, perhaps he could have spent his whole life wearing the glamorous mask of "Young Master Si."
Zong Yan was also wondering how she had become entangled with such a person. In her worldview, he was someone with almost no redeeming qualities. And yet, he had become a pet she couldn't bring herself to discard.
"Master..." Because Zong Yan hadn't responded, Si Jiang looked up anxiously, his eyes filled with extreme unease.
Perhaps it was because of this.
Zong Yan’s fingertips brushed against his eyelashes, watching the pet’s eyes flutter like wings. Though it was uncomfortable, he didn't pull away. He was like a butterfly that had voluntarily landed in her hand, completely unafraid of the threat to its life.
Zong Yan thought: *Since you came here on your own, then break your own wings. Never fly away again.*
"You said it yourself," she said. "Letting me control you."
Si Jiang nodded. "I’ll be obedient. If... if I ever fail to listen, just tell me a few more times. My personality might be bad, and my emotional intelligence isn't great, so I might not guess what's on your mind. But as long as you tell me twice, I’ll definitely listen."
"Fine."
Zong Yan finally gave him the answer he wanted. The pet immediately propped himself up in joy, seeking a kiss. However, Zong Yan blocked him, and amidst his dissatisfied gaze, she issued her first requirement.
"In a little while, apologize to your classmates. And to the people you hit today."
They still had to study at this university, after all. Mistakes had to be handled promptly.
"I know..." Si Jiang muttered. Why bring up other people at a time like this? They were just insignificant trifles. Still, he submissively agreed.
He looked up again, his mouth slightly open as he stared obsessively at Zong Yan’s face. "I’m being good. Kiss me."
He only wanted this cold, indifferent face to see him. To see only him.
Zong Yan lowered her head, tilting his chin up. Her lips drew closer...
Si Jiang could hear his heartbeat spiraling out of control. Just as their lips were about to touch, Zong Yan suddenly stopped and covered his mouth. "And tomorrow’s basketball game—play it seriously. Only after the work is done will there be a reward."
Having said that, she went to sit on the sofa and pulled out her laptop to work.
"Clean up the dishes yourself when you're done. Also, don't burn so many candles in the room; it's a fire hazard."
*Aaaaaaaah!*
*So annoying!*
*He really did hate this woman!!*
Si Jiang’s ears turned explosive red. Thinking of the room full of candles and wax that represented his unspeakable moods, he ducked his head and rushed into the master bedroom.
How did she see them after all?
Ah, he really had no dignity left...
***
The first half of the semi-finals was an unexpectedly crushing defeat. The class fell into a slump. After Si Jiang left the court, the remaining players couldn't concentrate at all. In the second half, they were suppressed so hard they didn't score a single basket.
Why did Senior Si Jiang suddenly do that? No one could figure it out.
In the class group chat, people were sending a chain of "sighing" and "I want to die" emojis. The atmosphere was heavy. At this rate, was there any hope for tomorrow's game?
In truth, many people harbored resentment toward Si Jiang. A person with normal values could never accept his malicious foul and his physical assault on others. While basketball involved physical contact and occasional conflicts, those were usually moments where emotions ran high. Si Jiang’s actions were of a different nature.
The incident had even spread throughout the school, making their class the glorious center of public discourse. After all, this was the famous Young Master Si...
At ten o'clock that night, a new message suddenly appeared in the group. The sender’s profile picture was the character "Si" in formal calligraphy. He said: "Today was my fault. Tomorrow, I’ll definitely lead us to victory."
Even his apology was arrogant; his personal style was far too strong. Aside from Si Jiang, who else would dare speak like that?
At the same time, several boys who had left the infirmary grumbling all received different phone calls. Some had parents whose companies suddenly received massive orders; some had suddenly won a lottery; others had luxury cars appear at the roadside with drivers saying they were there to take them to the hospital for a check-up...
The common denominator was that the sponsors were all named "Si."
***
His phone’s mission accomplished, it fell onto the floor outside the bathtub. The son of the wealthiest man, who had just completed a series of arrogant, high-handed apologies, was currently kneeling on the porcelain tiles.
One hand gripped the bronze faucet, veins bulging. The room was filled with white mist, the high-temperature steam turning his body a flushed red.
The young master, who had never known the meaning of "sorry" before, used his right hand to pull himself open, exposing his softness and vulnerability. Fingers as smooth as jade, devoid of any calluses, sank into the valley, trembling as if about to bloom.
His face was like a peach blossom in April, the corners of his eyes carrying a suppressed, kneeling beauty, brimming with tears as he turned his head.
"I... I did it all."
"Master—"
His voice then shattered into gasps, gradually losing its rhythm. His pampered, scar-crossed body was forced against the hard, cold porcelain wall, slowly pressing out marks of red.
Just before a bruise could fully form, he was flipped over, allowing the hot water to soak his chest. During the movement, Si Jiang inadvertently nudged the hot water valve, and a fresh, scalding stream spread from below.
"Ugh..."
It was so hot. From his tailbone to the back of his head, goosebumps erupted like an electric shock. The hot water flowed in.
"No, don't."
The man who couldn't endure hardship began to shake his head frantically, begging the woman before him for mercy.
"It’ll burn..."
"It won't."
Zong Yan shook her head, firmly pinning him down. She moved slightly away from him, then close again. The water surged like ocean waves, scattering the soul of the one enduring the impact.
Flesh twitched and writhed, searching frantically and desperately for the only life-raft, wrapping around it layer by layer, clinging to it. It was as if he felt he was breaking at every moment—and even if he were to break, if it were because of her, wouldn't that be his wish fulfilled?
Zong Yan was also breathless from the steam filling the room. Her breathing quickened as she pulled him into her arms. Listening to his incoherent sobs, she calmly reminded him:
"I told you not to do it again today, but you insisted."
"Do you remember what you said?"
*"Master, can you keep f—ing me all night?"*
"I reminded you that you have a game tomorrow. You said your body is in great shape, and even if you were broken open, you could still win."
Si Jiang buried his head in Zong Yan’s hair, his voice tearful. "I... can still win... haah..."
"Then stop whining."
Zong Yan silenced him. She didn't want to hear any more of his pampered complaints; she knew that if she just waited a little longer, she would hear much longer, sweeter cries.
***
The next day, Zong Yan arrived in the classroom almost exactly on time. Because a certain someone had been whimpering about pain here and there, she had nearly been late. She stood at the classroom door, the target of countless gazes.
"Go in." Zong Yan pushed up her glasses and nudged the person behind her.
The people in the classroom looked over curiously, only to see the usually "don't-touch-me" Si Jiang slowly poke his head out from behind her. His expression was a bit awkward, but it held a rare brightness. He wore a white high-collared sports jacket and grey sweatpants—the quintessential look of a clean, handsome college student.
Everyone: *Who is this herbivore-style hottie?*
Zong Yan didn't move, giving him a flat look. Si Jiang then stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked reluctantly to the podium.
Once again, solemnly: "About yesterday’s game, I’m sorry."
He had never done anything so embarrassing in his life! Ignoring everyone’s shocked expressions, he hurried down from the podium and sat to the side with a stiff face.
Only then did Zong Yan move. Si Jiang’s gaze was like spider silk, stuck to her, watching her movements nervously. He watched her walk in step by step, finally passing her usual seat and stopping beside him.
"Scoot in." Zong Yan held her books and looked down.
Si Jiang stared at her blankly. For a moment, he seemed to see several different versions of Zong Yan from different ages walking past him. From the initial indifference, to picking up his pen, and finally, this person’s eyes finally held him.
She sat down by his side.
***
The long whistle blew; the basketball game was over. The championship match on the adjacent court had also concluded.
On this side, Si Jiang hadn't been boasting. Using a body that had been complaining of pain in his backside, waist, and throat all morning, he led the team without any hindrance to win the game by a narrow margin.
They took third place.
As the representative, Si Jiang stood lazily in the middle of the court, waiting for the teacher to give him the third-place banner. Boring. Who cared about this worthless scrap of fabric? But he had no choice; his Master wouldn't let him just walk away.
Holding the gaudy red banner, Si Jiang pulled back the corners of his mouth, forcing a formal smile for the group photo.
The moment it was over, he grabbed the banner and ran toward the spectator stands. Zong Yan stood on the steps, watching him quietly. Si Jiang ran to the spot below her and looked up, his smile radiant and pure.
He shouted loudly, "Is that water in your hand for me?"
Zong Yan: "Yes."
Si Jiang continued to shout, as if afraid someone wouldn't hear: "Then from now on, can the water in your hand belong only to me!"
He didn't care at all that he had become the focus of the entire venue. Someone gasped.
A clear smile began to appear in Zong Yan’s eyes.
Si Jiang pulled off his jacket and threw it over the railing, revealing his upper body clad only in a tank top. He held the banner in front of him and shouted triumphantly, "Third place. I did it. So, can I claim my reward now?"
Zong Yan noticed that, at some point, he had put on an inconspicuous collar around his neck, and his treasure was already hanging from it.
Leaning against the railing, Si Jiang looked up at Zong Yan—the woman who was never high-profile except for her grades—under the gaze of everyone present. He blinked, his voice soft and tender.
"Master."
*Click.* Someone took a photo.
The cold, short-haired woman leaned down, her finger hooking into Si Jiang’s collar to pull him close. Their necks brushed as they leaned in. Their lips met.
Those standing close heard it.
Zong Yan said, "You may."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
司少 | Young Master Si | A respectful/status-based address for Si Jiang, reflecting his wealthy background.
季军 | Third Place | Specifically the second runner-up in a competition.
菟丝花 | Dodder flower | A metaphor for a parasitic or extremely dependent person.
项圈 | Collar | A physical symbol of the "pet/master" dynamic between the leads.
