Zong Yan’s suspicion was correct; it was indeed gastrointestinal bleeding.
The pet had been too agitated, his emotions far more violent than she had anticipated. As she watched the pet she had finally managed to reclaim lying broken and tattered on the hospital bed, Zong Yan found it difficult to deny the twisted sense of satisfaction rising within her.
She sat by the bed and reached out to touch Si Jiang’s face.
He was pale and fragile. Even under the influence of anesthesia, his brow was slightly furrowed, looking both stubborn and insecure.
Before entering the operating room, Si Jiang had gripped Zong Yan’s hand with a death grip. It had taken the doctors and nurses quite some effort to pry him off. The looks they had given Zong Yan were filled with a touch of astonishment.
“...”
Her hand was gently pressed down.
Snapping out of her memories, Zong Yan saw a pair of clear, dazed eyes staring quietly at her.
With his cheek pressed against her palm, Si Jiang blinked weakly, as if he hadn't fully regained consciousness. He tried to move his body but gave up due to the pain, letting out a faint, hollow breath.
Then, he remembered.
Zong Yan saw those beautiful eyes tremble like the wings of a butterfly before a storm gathered. The faint pink of his lower lids gradually turned a deep crimson as moisture pooled within them.
“Stop.”
She decisively covered his eyes.
She felt the soft sweep of his lashes against her palm—aggrieved and furious.
“Stop your thoughts,” Zong Yan whispered. “Listen to me.”
Si Jiang’s lips were pressed into a thin, tight line. It took a long time before they finally relaxed.
“...Okay.”
Only then did Zong Yan move her hand. She gazed into his damp eyes and, meeting his suspicious gaze, spoke slowly.
“You just finished surgery. Do not get emotional.”
The pet glared at her. That wasn't what he wanted to hear.
Zong Yan toyed with his eyelashes; they were clumped together in wet bundles, looking very much like dandelions after a rain.
“Si Jiang, who am I?” she asked.
Feeling the slight coolness of her skin, Si Jiang whispered, “Master.”
“Does a pet question their master?”
“...”
His pupils constricted. He lowered his gaze, his mind in turmoil, his chest beginning to heave more rapidly. However, Zong Yan caught his face before he could turn away.
“Answer me. You don’t trust me?”
The Master’s cold expression was the same as always, but the gaze fixed on him was exceptionally focused.
Si Jiang pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He neither nodded nor shook his head, looking every bit the stubborn mule. He wanted to believe her, but... but his eyes wouldn't lie to him. Neither would his ears.
Since returning to the country—no, even longer than that—this Bai Mao had been a thorn in his side, a splinter in his flesh. Yet Zong Yan and that thorn were getting closer and closer, to the point where he couldn't even pull it out.
Everyone said their relationship was ambiguous. They said things like, *“The Master is the kitten’s senior,” “The kitten is here to find you again,” “The two of them came to school together again today...”*
Ugh.
It made him feel sick.
The Master didn't belong to anyone. Even if she did, she should be his Master first.
But he couldn't help but care. Every day, hearing the people in class whispering and joking, he wished he were deaf. He would slump over his desk and put on headphones, yet like a masochist, he would still secretly listen. Then he would curse himself for being so pathetic.
Sometimes he really wanted to rush over and scream at them that Zong Yan had nothing to do with that Bai Mao. She spent her nights at his house. He went down on her, she took him—what did Bai Mao have?
But in what capacity could he do such a thing?
He was nothing more than a pathetic dog who had been discarded and yet came crawling back. His already withered heart was being eroded daily by jealousy and self-loathing.
Zong Yan said she wanted him. She said she hadn't thought of abandoning him.
Of course he was happy; he was practically dying of joy. He was like a dying pet dog in a gutter who thought he had been abandoned and was living a wretched, mechanical existence, only to be scooped up again. He had been given a good bath and returned to a warm home.
How could a dog that had just been picked up dare to have any opinions? He was too busy being happy and confirming that this was reality; those feelings occupied his entire mind. A stray dog needs to stay pressed tightly against its master’s side to feel the security of not being abandoned again.
But then, he saw that the Master had another cat in her arms. A calculating cat that had swooped in during his absence.
Even though the Master said she hadn't done those things with him, how could he dare to believe it? Before, no one had ever been allowed to get so close to Zong Yan. She never showed such a soft expression to anyone. How could he believe there hadn't been a replacement during the years he was missing?
“You want me to believe you,” Si Jiang said, as if biting down on his own tongue. “Then I will believe you.”
His expression was bleak. He didn't want to be abandoned, so he had no choice. At worst, he would just have to watch her more closely from now on and not let anything else get near her.
“No,” Zong Yan refused.
Before Si Jiang could perform a tragic expression of *“I’ve already conceded this much, is it still not enough?”*, his jaw was gripped, forcing him to face Zong Yan.
She frowned, enunciating every word: “I do not need a pet who is incapable of trusting me.”
Si Jiang’s face turned as white as a corpse.
“I also do not lie to my pets.”
Si Jiang’s limbs were weak; he could only feel her control over him. He listened blankly.
“You either learn to trust me, or you...”
As if sensing what her next sentence would be, Si Jiang interrupted hurriedly, “I will! I believe you!” Then, with a thick, nasal tone, he added, “Don’t say that, okay?”
Zong Yan was somewhat puzzled. “What do you think I was going to say?”
“Or we... forget it...?” he whispered cautiously.
*Tsk.*
An inexplicable irritation rose in Zong Yan’s heart. She leaned down, closing the distance between her and the panicked man. “Si Jiang, why are you so stupid sometimes?”
On the surface, he pretended to be obedient, but his mind was filled with all sorts of nonsense. Si Jiang wanted to shake his head in denial, but he couldn't move.
“I do not break the promises I make.”
Zong Yan didn't form many bonds in her life, let alone set promises or contracts with others. It was impossible for her not to follow through to the end. The pet had begged her not to abandon him, asked her to have more patience and to teach him.
She had agreed. And she had never said she didn't want him.
This constant feeling of being doubted made her displeased.
“What I was going to say was: you either learn to trust me, or you learn to open your mouth and ask. Stop using that brain of yours.”
It was rare for Zong Yan to scold someone. But she truly felt that Si Jiang was sometimes stupidly cute. And pitiful.
Wasn't he quite clever when he was bullying her before? Now that he was a pet, had his IQ dropped in sync?
“I don’t like explaining things. Don’t make me say the same thing multiple times.”
“I’ve only ever fucked you.”
***
When Chen Bai came to visit, he expected to see a sickly Si Jiang—the half-dead brother he was all too familiar with.
Instead, what met his eyes was a guy with a ruddy complexion, looking even more energetic than a healthy person. He was sitting there with a beaming smile, peeling fruit as if he had sucked the life force out of someone. He had a look of disgusting happiness on his face.
“Can someone with gastrointestinal bleeding eat fruit?” Chen Bai asked numbly.
“Hmm?” Si Jiang glanced at him and shook his head. “No.”
“Then you’re peeling it for me?”
Had he guessed that he would come to visit today? Was their brotherhood still intact? Chen Bai was slightly moved and reached out to take it.
Si Jiang’s hand retracted instantly. His eyes lit up as he called out to someone behind Chen Bai, “I peeled an apple. Here.”
Zong Yan brushed past Chen Bai, sat down beside the bed, and took it. “Thanks.”
She took the jaggedly peeled apple and naturally placed a piece in her mouth.
Chen Bai: “...”
“Are you abusing the patient?”
A patient peeling fruit for the caregiver—what kind of bizarre social dynamic was this?
“What are you talking about? There’s so much fruit and I can’t eat it, so of course I give it to Mas—Zong Yan,” Si Jiang said, looking at him reproachfully. “Waste is shameful.”
“Stop pretending.” Chen Bai rolled his eyes. He glanced at the calm Zong Yan and said with a hint of schadenfreude, “Your parents already know you’re in the hospital.”
As soon as the Si parents investigated, they would likely find out about Zong Yan. Things would get complicated then.
Si Jiang’s expression cooled. He pulled out a wet wipe and wiped his hands, meticulously cleaning every spot between his fingers that had been touched by fruit juice.
“I know.”
Zong Yan didn't say anything.
He, however, flashed her a smile. “Don't worry about them.”
No one could stop a puppy who had returned home from enjoying his master's favor.
***
