There were many gravestones outside, and crows flew past inverted crosses. It could be called a hospital, standing all alone amid the desolation.
Dusk had seeped among the oaks, beeches, and pines, while the sinister firs swallowed the last mouthful of sunset.
When Wei Yanchi woke, the daylight spilling through the window was not harsh, but the air he breathed was cold and clammy.
He sensed someone beside him and turned his head slightly to look.
It was Mr. Xie De, seated beside him against the wall. A few loose strands of hair hung down, partly obscuring his face. As though sensing Wei Yanchi's gaze, he opened his eyes, his beautiful irises reflecting Wei Yanchi's figure.
"Xie..."
Wei Yanchi had only just opened his mouth when Xie De rose. Without looking at him, he turned and left.
"Sir, cough... cough..."
Wei Yanchi scrambled out of bed, seemingly knocking into the lamp on the bedside cabinet by accident. It fell with a crash of shattering glass.
Xie De stopped and turned to look at him.
Wei Yanchi looked somewhat lost. Still dressed in hospital clothes, he stood there barefoot, gazing innocently at him.
"Still pretending?" Xie De said expressionlessly. "Is this fun for you, Wei Yanchi?"
There was nothing wrong with Wei Yanchi's body. Or rather, even if there was, it was nothing serious, because Daoist Liu and 730 had long since made ample preparations for the day Wei Yanchi lost control. Wei Yanchi himself knew that too.
That dying act in front of him had been purely to coax a kiss out of him. Still, it could not quite be called deception. Thinking it over calmly, he should have realized that since 730 had already sent 455 out, preparations would certainly have been made. He had simply been too desperate