Daylight flooded in.
He was covered in clammy, cold sweat.
Wen Yanyu slowly opened his eyes and saw several people sleeping in a circle around his bed.
His brain stalled for a long time, his thoughts sluggish.
What happened?
"Baby!" Seeing that he was awake, Jiang Wanrou immediately leaned closer. "Do you still feel unwell anywhere? Does your body hurt? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold?"
Wen Yanyu stared blankly at her for a long time before he slowly recalled what had happened at the foot of the mountain.
"You're finally awake." Roused by the commotion, Lu Mingxu hurried over and felt his forehead. "Your fever's gone."
Jiang Keyan also reached over to feel his forehead a couple of times, finally letting go of her worry.
"Should we take him to a hospital in the city?"
"Yes, we definitely should."
"The rain still hasn't stopped. We can't drive out."
"The fucking production crew secretly turned on the cameras yesterday. If I hadn't checked my phone, I wouldn't even have known. Once I'm done filming this damn show, I'm going to have it out with that bastard director."
Jiang Wanrou spoke helplessly. "Calm down first. Don't go hitting people at the drop of a hat. Your sister will get angry again."
"Take Yanyu to the village clinic for an IV."
"Food first! Food first. Feed Yanyu some porridge first."
"Come on, quick. Who's going to cook?"
They all talked over one another.
Wen Yanyu felt dizzy, memories of last night surfacing in fragments.
Wen Yanyu caught Lu Mingxu's wrist and said hoarsely, "I'm sorry. Did I cut you yesterday?"
At that, they all thought of what had happened last night, complicated expressions crossing their faces.
Lu Mingxu shook his head and brushed the hair over his forehead, playing it down. "It's fine. You didn't do it on purpose. Don't do that again."
Duan Mufeng couldn't help wanting to ask what exactly had happened last night.
Jiang Wanrou glanced at him and immediately cut in gently. "Baby, are you hungry now? Mom... Aunt Jiang will make you some porridge, all right?"
Wen Yanyu looked at the woman and froze for a long moment before nodding.
Jiang Wanrou sighed, tucked his covers back around him, then ushered the three others up and out.
After washing up under everyone's watchful eyes and barely managing to finish a bowl of porridge, Wen Yanyu sat back in a chair and finally turned on the phone he had left off all night.
When he unlocked his phone and saw the messages, Wen Yanyu's pupils trembled.
His phone screen showed more than two hundred missed calls packed in between four and nine that morning, and a flood of messages poured in.
4:21 a.m.
[Wen Yanyu, how did you get those things on your arms?]
4:36 a.m.
[Why won't you tell me anything?]
4:46 a.m.
[There was nothing there six months ago. What did you do? Why don't I know anything?]
5:01 a.m.
[How did you get that prescription? Your stomach isn't bad enough to need controlled painkillers. What the hell happened!]
5:23 a.m.
[Wen Yanyu, how much have you been hiding from me? Is toying with me that much fun?]
7:56 a.m.
[Wen Yanyu, I almost hate you to death.]
7:57 a.m.
[Wen Yanyu, this isn't over between us.]
Wen Yanyu's lashes trembled wildly, his fingertip hovering over the block screen again and again.
As if sensing it, another message popped up, and a call came in at the same time.
[Wen Yanyu, if you dare block me again, I'll come to your production crew right now and drag you home.]
Reading the message from the other end, Wen Yanyu glanced at the cameraman beside him, rejected the call, and hurriedly lowered his head to type.
[We're livestreaming. I can't take a call right now. I'll find a way to make up for what I owe you. Don't worry. I really won't drag you into another public controversy.]
[I know it's all my fault. I dragged you into that controversy and hurt you. If you want revenge, you can do whatever you want, but everything else is my private business. Stop looking into it.]
Wen Yanyu lowered his head, his typing hands shaking nonstop as his eyes reddened.
On the other end, he stared at the words "private business" on the screen.
Words were swiftly typed and just as swiftly erased, but his thoughts were as tangled as a ball of steel wire, scraping ceaselessly at his flesh, painful and chaotic. Fu Hanchuan clenched his teeth to keep himself from losing too much composure.
Why do you keep throwing my emotions into turmoil? Why can't I forget you even when I want to? Why did you have to be greedy...
Had to be greedy...
Fu Hanchuan's hands stilled, and his violently pounding heart abruptly skipped a beat.
In that moment of distraction, the glass beside his hand fell to the floor, shattering with a tremendous crash.
Everyone in the conference room flinched in unison. They looked up to see the man at the head of the table wearing a dark expression, the sight of him suppressing his fury sending chills through them.
Had half a month of nonstop overtime managed to piss off even the king of hell?
Fu Hanchuan paid no attention to the looks around him and lowered his head to type.
[When have I ever cared about that bullshit public controversy! Who's talking about your private business! You owe me this! Who do you think you are! I told you, don't even think about making me carry the weight of a human life!]
[Wen Yanyu, if you dare die, I'll drag you back even if I have to go to hell.]
His cold, sharp features looked as though they had been drawn in heavy ink, the suppressed fury in his gray-blue eyes almost spilling out as he slammed his phone facedown onto the table.
Fu Hanchuan closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he had regained his usual cold composure. "My apologies. I was dealing with a private family matter just now and took up your time. Let's continue."
With that, the man turned his gaze aside and continued explaining the various companies' recent plans to everyone.
He was clear, professional, and meticulous, as though nothing had happened. Only the broken glass scattered across the floor told everyone that what had just occurred was no illusion.
They silently exchanged looks for a few seconds.
They all marveled inwardly at the same time.
Sure enough, that seat belonged to a workaholic like him.
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