Hold Me

Among those helping Yan Zhen beat people up were several rich kids.

Once Wen Shaoyu came in, his signature silver hair gave away his identity.

One of the rich kids being held trembled uncontrollably in terror.

This was the Wen family!

The Wen family whose head was known as the Godfather of the Mafia!

The Yan family was merely a somewhat wealthy household. How could they ever have dealings with someone like that?

Yan Zhen had no idea who he had provoked. Seeing Yan Ningke push Shao Ke away, he screamed for them to let him go, only to fall quiet instantly after a hard slap across the face.

A burly man with real fighting skills was nothing like an amateur like Yan Ningke.

One slap was enough to make his face swell up on the spot.

Apart from the rich kids, the others who had been shouting along without understanding what was happening wisely shut their mouths at the sight.

Wen Shaoyu shook his head. "Be good, all of you. Their punches really hurt."

The man in black: "..."

Young master, you hit much harder than I do.

With their pleasant gathering interrupted, Shao Ke took Yan Ningke straight downstairs.

The moment they got into the car, Shao Ke ordered the driver to head to the hospital.

Yan Ningke was still dwelling on how he had not had enough fun. "I haven't learned how to play cards yet."

One look from Shao Ke, and he obediently shut up.

Shao Ke had never imagined that the moment he took his eyes off him, he would run off to fight-and take on several people alone, at that.

The pain belatedly caught up with him. Feeling unwell, Yan Ningke listlessly tilted to one side and rested his cheek lightly against Shao Ke's shoulder.

The scent of lily of the valley drifted into his nose, especially pleasant.

"Why did you fight?"

Through his haze, Yan Ningke heard Shao Ke's question.

He answered as though it were only natural, anger still in his voice. "He insulted you. I couldn't stand it."

Shao Ke said nothing more. Thinking he did not believe him, Yan Ningke explained hoarsely, a hint of grievance audible if one listened closely. "I wanted to leave, but he kept following me around, being an asshole."

"After insulting me, he started insulting you. I lost my temper and kicked him."

Growing angrier as he spoke, he sat up straight and pulled away from him. "He had a filthy mouth. I told him to get lost, but he wouldn't listen and kept insulting us. I hit him, and he still wouldn't stop. I wanted to beat the shit out of him!"

At the height of his fury, his own anger mingling with the original owner's resentment, Yan Ningke had genuinely wanted to kill him for a moment.

Fortunately, that group had rushed in and brought him back to his senses.

Falling into the abyss for someone like that was not worth it.

Yan Ningke still had a better future ahead of him.

Perhaps because he had been hit in the head, he felt a little dizzy. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the journey. Yan Ningke did not snuggle up to him again either, leaning against the seat with his eyes closed as he endured it.

Sure enough, before they arrived, Yan Ningke was already slipping out of consciousness. Shao Ke promptly called for emergency medical assistance.

The driver practically floored the accelerator hard enough to set it on fire. Finally, they reached the hospital before Shao Ke's expression could darken any further.

A gurney was already waiting at the entrance. Yan Ningke was lifted onto it and rushed into the emergency room.

After a round of examinations, apart from bruising on his back and thighs that amounted to superficial tissue injuries, the most serious injury was a mild concussion.

Yan Ningke had vomited several times since lying down.

His head hurt as though it would split apart. He could neither sleep nor get up.

Once he had been put on an IV and wheeled into an observation room, Shao Ke stayed beside the bed, staring expressionlessly at his pale face.

"If you need to throw up, throw up. If you feel unwell, tell me."

One second, two seconds...

Yan Ningke finally unclenched his teeth. "Mr. Shao..."

The hand he reached out was held securely.

"I'm here."

Still not fully lucid, Yan Ningke whimpered, "I feel awful. Will you hold me?"

When someone had lived alone for long enough, he lost the ability to cry out in pain.

Because he knew that even if he did, no one would answer.

He might as well stay silent. At least then, someone might tell him how strong he was, how well he endured.

But beneath that strength was merely forcing himself to hold on. There was no one behind him. He had no choice but to keep going.

No one had cherished Yan Ningke in his previous life. He did not know that sick people could ask for many things, that they could receive meticulous care.

He was only thinking, Just hold me. Just once, please?

In fairy tales, when a child fell ill, his parents would hold him for a very, very long time.

His weak body was gently shifted, and the next second, he found himself in a warm, solid embrace.

"Go to sleep. I'll stay with you."

A tear slid down his cheek and dripped onto the tip of Shao Ke's heart, searing and stirring.

He lowered his head and gazed at the back of the head against his chest for a very, very long time.

Only when Yan Ningke's breathing grew steady did Shao Ke gently lay him back on the bed.

After making sure he had not woken him, he got off the bed and left the observation room.

Shao Ke rarely smoked and generally did not touch cigarettes unless absolutely necessary, but he suddenly wanted one now.

Smoking was prohibited in the hospital, and he followed the rules.

"Where are they?"

Wen Shaoyu glanced at the row of people kneeling before him. "Still being held here."

Shao Ke's voice seemed edged with knives. "Yan Zhen. Break one of his hands."

The phone was on speaker. Cowering in a corner, Yan Zhen's eyes flew wide.

"Find whoever hit Yan Ningke in the head. Whichever hand he used, cripple it!"

Wen Shaoyu let out a whistle. "That brutal?"

But that was not all.

Shao Ke was cold and merciless. "Keep them kneeling. They don't leave until he's discharged."

Why should he be the only one suffering?

Wen Shaoyu perked up. "Well, damn. Going this far-is it serious?"

Shao Ke gazed into the pitch-black night, his voice quiet. "Shao Yu, I've never so much as laid a finger on him."

"Understood."

Wen Shaoyu put away the disconnected phone and began seriously sorting through the things on the table. "Come on, brave warriors. Step forward of your own accord."

The people on the floor broke into an uproar. A boy at the very end looked on the verge of tears as he stammered, "Young Master Wen, I'm from the Fu family..."

Crash!

A liquor bottle smashed down. Wen Shaoyu said, "If I were you, I wouldn't choose this moment to tell your story."

After all, their families had not been dragged into this yet, had they?

"Remember, a loose tongue brings trouble."

The rich kid understood. Clutching his head, he crouched on his knees on the floor, trembling.

Wen Shaoyu's blow was a powerful deterrent. Apart from Yan Zhen, who was still struggling, the other person had already held out his hand of his own accord.

He was no fool. Even the rich kid who led them did not dare provoke these people. For a small fry like him, resisting would only lead to a more terrifying end.

The broken liquor bottle plunged viciously into flesh, and a wretched scream pierced the sky.

Busy handling work on his phone, Si Yanzhuo frowned and said, "So noisy."

A bodyguard in black immediately pulled off the man's sock and stuffed it into his mouth.

Yan Zhen was already stupefied. A puddle slowly spread beneath him.

Wen Shaoyu stepped back twice in disgust. "That's all you've got, and you dared act so cocky earlier?"

He waved for the bodyguards to deal with it, then turned and sat back on the sofa, opening a match-three game.

The men in black worked swiftly and cleanly, gagging him beforehand to avoid disturbing their boss again.

Yan Zhen lay collapsed on the floor, his wrist drenched in blood.

In the days to come, this brutal scene would replay in his dreams, over and over again.