Retching echoed through the third-floor bathroom.
Wen Yanyu's eyes were wet and red. Only after a long while did he press the toilet's flush button with a trembling hand.
Water rushed down, washing away the glaring red inside the bowl.
Blood loss left his head swimming, and reflexive tears covered his deathly pale face.
His hair, soaked with cold sweat, hung beside his face. Wen Yanyu barely managed to push himself up before collapsing weakly again, curling into a ball and clutching his abdomen.
It hurts so much...
His whole body had ached since the first day he came back. It had barely eased during his break at noon, but by evening, the pain had swept over him again.
He had gone to the hospital for some painkillers, only to be recognized by the doctor. He had barely managed to get a prescription after showing the doctor his wound.
Remembering the way that doctor had looked at him, Wen Yanyu let out a faint, helpless sigh.
The scars those worlds had left on him ran too deep. No matter what the system tried to heal him, every attempt had failed. In the end, it could only barely keep those injuries from threatening his life.
Wen Yanyu raised a hand to wipe away his tears and took two pills out of the medicine box. There was no water beside him, and he had no strength to look for any.
He simply shoved them both into his mouth. The tablets crumbled between his teeth, and bitterness instantly spread through his mouth.
Only after a long while did he manage to swallow the fragments, bitter and tasting of blood. Wen Yanyu pushed himself up, set an alarm for four, and curled up in the bathtub beside him.
The alarm rang in the early morning.
Wen Yanyu opened his eyes with difficulty, reached over to turn off the alarm, and climbed out of the bathtub. Bracing himself against the sink, he quickly washed up.
His legs trembled uncontrollably after being curled up all night. Wen Yanyu shook his head, hauled himself upright, and pushed open the door, ready to make a quick escape before Fu Hanchuan got up.
He poked his head out and looked around, then had just reached the front door to slip quietly outside.
"Wen Yanyu."
"What are you sneaking around for this early in the morning?"
A languid voice came from behind him, sending a tingle through the tips of his ears.
Wen Yanyu shuddered and stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned around, a trace of guilt entering his lovely, peach-blossom eyes. "Good morning."
Fu Hanchuan stood at the foot of the stairs in black loungewear, the buttons at his chest half undone, offering glimpses of his muscular chest. Perhaps because of his mixed heritage, he was exceptionally tall and well-built. His mere presence felt oppressive.
Wen Yanyu said nothing, and neither did Fu Hanchuan, who watched him in silence.
Their eyes met.
Wen Yanyu lowered his head.
"I woke up. I wanted to go home."
"We're thirty kilometers from the city. Are those legs of yours going to fly you back?" Fu Hanchuan crossed his arms, his sleeves rolled halfway up to his elbows. His gray-blue eyes fixed on him, betraying no emotion.
But after two years together, Wen Yanyu knew he was in a terrible mood.
Wen Yanyu lowered his head and rubbed his fingertips together. "I'll get a taxi."
"A taxi?" Fu Hanchuan repeated with a cold laugh. "You're going to get a taxi around here? Is this your first day staying at my house?"
"After that measly bit you ate last night, are you going out now so you can call an ambulance when your blood sugar crashes halfway there, or do you want me to call you a hearse?"
Wen Yanyu fell silent.
"Come back and sit down. Wait for breakfast," Fu Hanchuan said flatly.
Then he turned and went into the kitchen.
"Oh," Wen Yanyu answered weakly. He tiptoed back to the living room sofa and sat down, occasionally peeking at the man busy in the kitchen.
When did the male lead learn to cook?
He soon had his answer.
Wen Yanyu looked at the pieces of fried egg on his own plate, their shape just barely recognizable, then at those on Fu Hanchuan's plate, burned beyond recognition.
He ventured cautiously, "How about we swap?"
Fu Hanchuan's face darkened. "Eat your breakfast. Don't talk to me."
They sat neither too close nor too far apart.
Wen Yanyu lowered his head and ate the slightly salty fried eggs on his plate. Beside his hand were slices of freshly warmed bread.
Halfway through, his mouth felt a little dry. Wen Yanyu picked up his milk, but after just two sips, he suddenly froze, looking at the sugar cubes at the bottom of the glass that had yet to dissolve completely.
No more, no less. Exactly four.
Fu Hanchuan finished the failed eggs on his plate in a few bites, gulped down some soy milk, and looked up at Wen Yanyu, who was still sitting there in a daze.
He saw that Wen Yanyu had finished eating.
His well-defined fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Wen Yanyu looked up at him.
Only then did Fu Hanchuan speak. "Starting today, you're not allowed to take part in any dangerous activities. I've canceled those bullshit events you signed up for. I've paid the cancellation penalties, and I'll give you the money you were supposed to earn, too."
"I'll buy the apartment you're living in for you. You won't have to move. But you're not allowed to accept any media interviews or mention my name in public again. After today, we have nothing to do with each other."
His forceful tone left no room for discussion.
Wen Yanyu stared at him blankly, his eyes bewildered. "Why?"
Are you still helping me?
Fu Hanchuan pressed his lips together and looked away. "You saved my life. This is what I owe you. Now I've paid it back."
When Wen Yanyu still failed to answer, Fu Hanchuan turned his gaze back to him.
"You should know perfectly well how many times you've dragged me into a media storm. This is what you owe me. If you don't do as I say, I have other ways to make you."
"Wen Yanyu, don't mistake me for a good person."
Fu Hanchuan's eyes tilted up slightly, carrying a hint of irritation. His voice was bone-deep cold, and he made no attempt to conceal the threat.
As Wen Yanyu looked at the man before him, the sound of his heartbeat became painfully slow.
A piercing ache and sorrow welled up. He could not tell whether they came from the wound in his abdomen or his heart.
He was cannon fodder, a stumbling block in the male lead's career, and also a friend who had unwittingly grown close to him. He could not control his own body and had caused him trouble time and again.
His eventual death had been exploited by the male lead's rivals to launch a series of public-opinion attacks against him. Aside from the initial car accident, he could be called the greatest obstacle in the male lead's career.
He had hated that book, hated the plot, and even hated the man before him. Why did I have to be controlled by the plot? Why, when I'd finally fought against it and almost achieved my dream, was I still forced to give it up? Why was my death only for the sake of your story?
But when he had actually met him, the man had been dying after a car accident, even though he knew the man was the male lead and the plot would not let him die.
Yet the Hippocratic Oath he had once sworn made it impossible for him to stand by and let someone die, let alone allow the plot to leave the man disabled, falling from the heights of promise to rock bottom.
He could not let the man end up like him, driven toward tragedy by the plot. He had tried to resist the plot. He wanted to see whether this world would be just as cruel to its male lead.
Perhaps it was because he was a medical student, or perhaps it was because the male lead was, after all, the protagonist of the story. He had succeeded. That part of the plot had changed, and the male lead had not been left disabled.
But that rescue had also made the man cling to him completely. Over their two years together, everything about him had ultimately left Wen Yanyu unable to hate anyone.
He simply could not hurt him without feeling burdened by it.
His only friend when he was in control of himself.
But he could not control his body. He had still done the same things as in the plot, dragging the man into the maelstrom of public opinion again and again. He had watched the disgust in his eyes, the hurt in them after being betrayed.
He could only hate himself for being alive.
Milk sweetened with sugar cubes was sweet and cloying, his childhood favorite. After his mother passed away, no one remembered.
"I'm sorry..."
Wen Yanyu tried to hold back the tears in his voice, bending over as he began to sob softly. A coppery-sweet liquid spilled from his lips.
The faint chill in Fu Hanchuan's eyes froze, instantly giving way to panic and helplessness.
Before you continue